A Spinster's Luck (23 page)

I say, Severely,” the younger man began a little breathlessly, “I hope I'm not overstepping, but I have need to speak to you.”

Severly had gritted his teeth in an effort to control his tongue. If this were another buck hinting at offering for Celia, he would be hard-put not to be rude.

After the duke nodded for the younger man to proceed, Chandley said, “Was just at my club and encountered Pembrington. Not to tell tales, but he was already a bit over the boughs.”

This statement had caught the duke's attention.

”Well, he was prattling on about making Miss Langston an offer. Said you weren't her guardian and he was going right over to Severly House. Heard him give his coachman your direction.” He paused a moment. “It would not at all be the thing for Miss Langston to be embarrassed. And with Pembrington being halfway foxed …” His voice trailed away.

I take your meaning,” the duke had said, swinging his mount around. “Would you care to accompany me, Chandley?” He made this offer out of sheer politeness.

“If you'll permit, your grace,” the earl had replied.

The last thing Severly had contemplated happening, as he and Chandley rode posthaste back to Severly House, was to find Pembrington laid out on the rug, Severly recalled with a grim smile.

Now, standing in the middle of his salon having a drink with Chandley, the duke pondered the disturbing question of Miss Langston.

The assembly rooms at Almack's were prodigiously warm. Celia fanned her flushed cheeks vigorously as she stood with Imogene and Major Rotham at the edge of the parquet floor.

So this was the much-vaunted Almack's, she thought as she gazed around the rather plain room. Granted, those assembled were the crème de la crème of the beau monde. Everywhere she looked she saw beautiful ladies with bare shoulders and gentlemen in black satin knee britches.

As they made their way around the room, Celia smiled at those who greeted her, unable to be heard well enough to converse through the waves of laughing chatter around her.

Almack's was not at all what Celia had been anticipating.

“I do not believe that Miss Langston is properly awed by Almack's,” Major Rotham said to Imy with a grin.

“No, indeed, David. Celia, don't you think this is the most beautiful place in London?” she asked with a mischievous smile to her friend.

“I will admit that for a place I've heard described as the zenith of society and the seventh heaven, this is not what I expected,” Celia admitted with chagrin.

“If you are not impressed with the decor, you will be even less so with the refreshments,” Major Rotham said with a laugh.

Celia looked upon her friend's smiling face and couldn't help wondering when they would marry. It was obvious to her that Imy was in love with the major. And looking at the major's handsome face smiling down at
Imy, he had probably never been out of love with the beautiful duchess.

Knowing how much it meant to Imogene for Celia to have received her voucher made Celia determined to behave in a manner above reproach. During the coach ride over, Imogene had cautioned Celia about the patronesses who ruled Almack's with iron fists.

No one, despite rank or wealth is permitted to enter Almack's a minute after eleven o'clock,” Imy informed.

Even the Duke of Wellington was turned away when he begged entrance after eleven.”

Celia also knew that the patronesses could be terribly censorious. They were not beneath using their influence to blackball from the hallowed halls of the most exclusive club in London anyone who displeased them.

At that moment, Sir John Mayhew approached her and claimed his dance, expressing in his drawling tones that she had never been in better looks.

Smiling at the very slim gentleman, Celia beseeched, “Oh, Sir John, I find I am quite fatigued by the last reel. Would you mind attending me while I catch my breath?”

“At your service, Miss Langston. I would gladly bask in your stimulating presence, dancing or no,” he said with a flourishing bow.

Within moments, Celia saw the Earl of Chandley making his way through the crowd toward her. Trying to steel her emotions, Celia gave Imy a look of panic.

“Do not fret, Celia; just remember what I said yesterday,” Imy whispered her encouragement.

Yesterday. Celia would rather not be forced to think of that horrid day. After she had told Imy of the whole sorry incident with Lord Pembrington, Celia had asked in distress, “How can I ever face Chandley again? How am I to explain?”

When Imogene had finished laughing, she brushed a tear away and said, “There is no need to explain, Celly, dear. The earl shall never mention the incident; nor shall Drake. Needless to say, Lord Pembrington has no desire to bring it up. So in public, behave as if the whole silly thing never occurred,” she explained. “But in private I
shall endeavor to mention your first proposal as often as possible,” she teased, setting off into gales of laughter all over again.

Continuing to keep the polite smile on her lips, Celia met the earl's smiling blue eyes with some trepidation.

“Miss Langston, your servant.” He made an elegant leg before her. Celia instantly relaxed and greeted him as naturally as she could.

Celia stood trying to converse with the gentlemen as she allowed her eyes to scan the room for a certain dark head and broad shoulders. There was no sign of Severly.

The strain of trying to keep up this polite chatter so set her nerves on edge that Celia considered feigning illness. Just as quickly, she dismissed the notion, knowing Imy would insist on returning home with her. Celia could not bear to cut short the evening for her friend. Imy was so proud of her. She could hardly hide her triumph over Celly's rapidly filling dance card.

But Celia could find no satisfaction in the number of her admirers this evening. The duke had made good on his promise to avoid her, for she had not encountered him since she had escaped the blue salon yesterday afternoon.

Of their own volition, her eyes again scanned the crowded room, and her gaze clashed with a pair of china-blue eyes. Lady Kendall, standing nearby, was staring at Celia with narrowed eyes and excited, flushed cheeks.

Celia immediately looked away. Celia had no desire to risk a repetition of the embarrassingly personal conversation they had had at Kensington Gardens. If she hadn't been so distracted, Celia might have wondered over Lady Kendall's curious behavior. But she was much too occupied with her own disturbing thoughts and trying to attend to the many attentive gentlemen hovering around to take real note of anyone else.

Forcing her gaze to the earl's face, Celia pushed thoughts of the duke from her mind for the tenth time of the evening.

At that moment, the noisy chatter in the assembly room reduced by half and all heads turned to the doors.

The Duke of Severly, with a grim expression on his face, made his entrance.

Celia's heart leaped at the sight of him. Fanning herself vigorously, she came to a difficult decision: She was going to apologize to him as soon as he asked her to dance. After much reflection, she had come to realize that she had deeply insulted him with her accusations of his heartlessness toward her when she had been younger. Now, reflecting upon the past with the eyes of an adult, she could see that she had been mistaken about him. He had not intended for Imy to put her out, and she had been childish to harbor such grievances all these years.

She still refused to examine the kiss that had transpired between them at Chandley, but she was determined to do what she could to put their friendship back on the former easy footing they had established since coming to London. Celia watched him make his way through the crowded room.

He looked in her direction and she gave him a tentative smile. His gaze passed over her coldly. Celia barely suppressed a gasp. He had snubbed her. He must hate her for what she had said to him, she realized with a numbing pain in her heart. A welcome wave of shock rolled over the pain that gripped her chest. She blindly turned to Sir Belford as he claimed her hand for a country reel.

Lady Kendall had also noticed Drake's arrival.

Handing her glass to a passing footman, she approached a small group of her intimates with an unflattering set to her jaw. Calling a gay greeting, she said, “Lady Baldridge! Lady Pembrington! I have the most shocking news. You must swear not to breathe a word.” The ladies immediately ceased their own conversations and gathered around the countess in excited anticipation.

“We have all been duped!” Letty made her eyes go very wide. “I have it on the most reliable authority that our delightful Miss Langston is not what she appears to be.”

“She's not an heiress?” Lady Pembrington asked urgently,
the green plumes in her turban dancing. She had not spoken with her son since he had informed her of his intention to ask Miss Langston for her hand. “It would be
vey
distressing if she were not an heiress.”

“No, she is an heiress.” Lady Kendall paused dramatically. “But before she received her inheritance, she was the Duchess of Harbrooke's
paid companion.
“

After a moment of complete silence, the small group gasped and tittered at this most delicious gossip.

“No, you must be mistaken!”

“Are you
very
sure, Lady Kendall?”

“Of course I'm sure,” she said haughtily, “I have it firsthand. She has only recently come into her inheritance.” Lady Kendall was not quite as confident as she sounded. Her information regarding Miss Langston's past was sketchy at best. When Sophie, her maid, had come home from Severly House with this tale, and the news that Miss Langston would be at Almack's, Letty knew she could not possibly pass up such a perfect opportunity to expose the chit.

Letty felt incredible pleasure at the avid expressions surrounding her. She had been so pleased with her maid; she had even given the young woman a few of her old gowns. What a stroke of luck that Sophie's cousin had become Miss Langston's lady's maid.

By the knowing looks her friends were exchanging, Letty was confident that the information would be heard by all the
ton
within half an hour. And soon, Miss Langston would be held in such contempt no one would deign to speak to her, Lady Kendall's thoughts continued gleefully.

A short time later, as she stood conversing with Lady Jersey and Imogene, Celia suddenly noticed some odd looks cast her way. A few ladies even seemed to be whispering and giggling in her direction. The Countess of Milfordhaven approached them, apologizing profusely, but insisting she must speak with Lady Jersey. The two women went off with their heads close together.

Imogene turned questioning eyes to her friend, wondering
if Celia had an idea as to why they suddenly seemed to be the object of speculation. Celia gave a helpless shrug to Imy's unspoken question.

A moment later, they were set upon by Lady Cowper and a few of her acid-tongued cronies.

“La, the Duchess of Harbrooke and Miss Langston, what a delightful sight the two of you make. So
companionable!
” The ladies tripped off with gales of laughter. Celia and Imy looked after them in surprised confusion.

The orchestra opened a quadrille, and Celia unexpectedly found herself partnerless. She gazed around the assemblage trying to hide her growing confusion and embarrassment. She avoided the knowing looks as best she could. What could explain this odd turn of events? Could they be following the duke's example? She knew he was a leader of Society—where he went others did also. It seemed the only explanation to this mystery.

She wanted to leave. Being stared at and whispered about was unnerving in the extreme.

She turned to Imy, ready to express her desire, when Lady Kendall approached. By now, a large number of people were paying close attention to Miss Langston.

Watching her mischief at work, Letty had grown triumphant in the last half hour. She was delighted that Severly had not gone near Miss Langston since his arrival. Half of those assembled seemed to be watching in curious anticipation as Lady Kendall greeted the duchess and Miss Langston. After a few stilted pleasantries, Letty turned sweet eyes to the duchess.

“I've been hoping to ask your advice, ma'am.”

“Certainly,” Imy said graciously, trying to hide her suspicion.

“You seem to have such luck in finding good help.” She looked pointedly to Celia. “How would you advise I go about finding a good lady's companion?” Those nearest them gasped and goggled. Letty was a bold one indeed.

The murmuring grew.

Westlake, who was standing near enough to hear this exchange, turned away angrily to seek out Severly.

He found him playing cards in an antechamber. After catching Severly's eye, Westlake gave him a significant look and tilted his head toward the door. Momentarily, Severly excused himself from the game.

“Severly,” Westlake began as soon as they were private, “I've grown to admire your Miss Langston. Her poise is to be commended.”

“She is not my Miss Langston,” Drake responded in a tight voice, wondering what his friend was about.

“Be that as it may, she is a guest in your home. You have not danced with your guest this evening, and that curious fact has added credence to the rumor that is now circulating the assembly rooms.”

“What are you speaking of?” the duke said irritably, running impatient fingers through his thick hair. He wondered why he had stirred himself to attend this evening. He had always found Almack's a dead bore.

“Miss Langston is now the object of vicious gossip. It is rumored that she has been trying to pass herself off as a lady. Everyone is giving her the cut direct and whispering. Lady Kendall had just asked your sister her advice on finding a good lady's companion. Your sudden inattention toward Miss Langston seems to confirm these rumors.” Westlake spoke casually, as if he were discussing the latest play.