Anne Barbour (6 page)

“Well, then,” replied Richard with an exaggerated leer. “Come with me, my pet, for a turn on the terrace, and I shall whisper delightful words into your shell-pink ear.”

With that he whisked his wife off toward the French doors that lined one wall of the ballroom. Just then Clea was approached by a very young officer of cavalry, who shyly bespoke her hand for the set of country dances now being formed. With another tinkling laugh, she whirled away on his arm.

To her dismay Tally found herself alone with the viscount. His eyes smiled down into hers, but his voice was grave as he spoke.

“We seem to find ourselves deserted by our nearest and dearest, Lady Talitha, and must cling to each other for support. Shall we join the dancers?”

Tally dropped her eyes. Her heart was banging like a child’s drum beneath the yellow muslin pleated in awkward layers over her bosom. Her tongue seemed to have swollen to twice its size and was now stuck to the roof of her mouth.

Chelmsford’s dark brows lifted quizzically.

“I have not asked you to take part in an execution, you know. Do you find a dance with me so distasteful?”

“No!” replied Tally in a strangled gasp. “No, of course not! It’s just that just that I--I do not enjoy dancing,” she finished lamely.

Jonathan experienced a moment of amused surprise. He was unaccustomed to having his invitations to the dance received with anything less than delighted acceptance, and, as wide brown eyes stared into his with what could only be described as consternation, he felt a stir of interest.

“Excellent,” he replied. “I, myself, have little taste for country dances. Besides, I believe the Italian soprano will be inflicted on us soon. I shall procure some punch for you, and then we can retire to one of the smaller salons for a comfortable coze.”

From the expression on the Lady Talitha’s mobile features, it was obvious to the meanest intelligence that she found this prospect similarly unpleasant. Undaunted, Jonathan took her small hand in his own, suppressing an urge that was as unexpected as it was unbidden to warm those cold fingers with his lips. He drew her toward the refreshment table, and shortly thereafter, punch cups in hand, he settled her on a small confidante in a secluded nook.

“Now, then, Lady Tally—or should I say, Miss Burnside—I think we have matters of import to discuss.”

Once again her eyes flew to his face, and once more Jonathan felt himself oddly affected by the unusual combination of strength and vulnerability displayed in her brown velvet gaze.

“I was,” he continued, “in communication with George Mapes this afternoon, and he tells me that you and I are to be collaborators. I must say, I look forward to our partnership.”

He glanced down to where Tally nervously twisted the small ring she wore. It was hard to imagine those fluttering fingers gripping a pencil with surety and purpose.

Tally followed his gaze and blushed, separating her hands with a jerk, only to resume the activity almost immediately.

“It is a most unusual ring, Lady Talitha.”

He smiled, and with an effort, she once more curled her fingers into her lap.

“I can see why you are fond of it.”

Tally stared mutely at the oddly shaped pearl which formed the ring’s centerpiece. Around it swirled a delicate pattern of seed pearls, the whole nestled in an old-fashioned setting of wrought gold.

“It was my mother’s,” she murmured. “One of the few pieces of jewelry she left me. I wear it always.”

So saying, she folded her hands firmly on her knees and faced the viscount.

“I—I hope you don’t mind that I divined the book’s authorship, my lord. I caught a glimpse of one of…”

“No—that is—I would have wished that no one be aware of my literary efforts, but, since you have the same desire, I feel I can trust your discretion—as you will have to trust mine. Besides, it will make matters a great deal easier. As George pointed out, it will be better if we meet on a fairly regular basis, if we’re to pull this thing off.”

“Mm-mm, yes,” Tally replied, her breathing returning to normal now that the conversation had taken a more businesslike turn. “I fear there will be some difficulty, my lord. You see...”

“Do you think,” Chelmsford teased lightly, “that we could dispense with “my lord”? Since we are to be partners, and, I hope friends, perhaps we could flout propriety and leap directly to the use of our first names.”

A gasp of laughter escaped Tally.

“Very well, Jonathan. Partners and friends. Now,” she continued more soberly, “about these meetings. I don’t see how we are to see each other on a regular basis without exciting comment. Perhaps you could send our material via messenger.”

“Mm.” Jonathan frowned. “I don’t think that would work well at all. Look here, we can’t go into this right now. Would you meet me tomorrow? Early? How about a ride in the Park?”

Tally brightened.

“Oh, I’d like that! I used to ride every morning at Summerhill, and I brought my little mare, Blossom, with me to Town. Would seven be too...?”

“There you are!” A high feminine voice interrupted. The speaker was revealed as Lady Belle as she peeped into the room. She looked none too pleased to find her fiancé in a tête-á-tête with a strange female, but when, on closer inspection, the female was shown to be the newly arrived country mouse, a sparkling smile curved her lips.

“How very naughty of you, Jonathan, to hide away. I have been searching for you this hour!”

Jonathan rose and drew Clea into the room.

“But we have been here only a few minutes, love. Tally is not used to our giddy party ways and required sustenance and a place to catch her breath.”

Clea’s perfect brows lifted for an instant at the sound of the mouse’s first name on the lips of her betrothed. She cast Tally a sidelong glance.

“And have you been enjoying a giddy time, Lady Talitha?” she murmured, her tone conveying only too clearly the absurdity of such an idea.

Tally raised her chin.

“I have enjoyed the dancing, my lady.”

Clea’s smile was brittle as she turned to Jonathan. “Only see, dearest,” she cried as she opened her reticule. “I have been lucky at cards tonight!”

Jonathan’s smile was a trifle thin as he replied. “Perhaps that will offset the guineas you lost last night.”

“Oh, don’t scold, darling. You do not wish to spoil my pleasure, do you? I do enjoy my little flings at the table.”

As Tally watched uncomfortably, Clea drew close to Jonathan and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. She clasped his hand in her gloved fingers and twisted slightly, so that it seemed entirely by accident that her breasts moved tantalizingly against his arm, and his hand was drawn along the curve of her hip.

Jonathan stilled for a moment, and the response that flickered in his eyes made Tally turn her head.

As though having accomplished her purpose, Clea drew back, and, grasping Jonathan’s sleeve, began urging him toward the doorway. Jonathan hesitated.

“It will be time for the first supper soon, Tally. With whom will you go down?”

“I have been promised to Sir Geoffrey Prestwood,” she replied modestly, observing with pleasure the startled expression that crossed Clea’s face. Sir Geoffrey, a man possessed of considerable wealth and charm, was a highly eligible bachelor. That Tally owed his attention to Cat’s machinations, she had no intention of divulging to either the viscount or his fiancée.

Tally did not speak with Jonathan during the remainder of the evening, though she was intensely aware of his presence. Her eyes were drawn again and again to that thatch of dark hair rising above a pair of broad, muscled shoulders.

Chapter Five

It was late when Richard ushered his ladies into the house on Half Moon Street. Tally, thinking of her early morning appointment with Jonathan, bid Cat a hasty good night and repaired to her bedchamber. Much to her surprise, she had just snuggled under her comforter, when a light tap sounded on the door, and Cat thrust her head into view.

Observing that Tally was still awake, she paused for a moment, and, chuckling mischievously, she scuttled into the room and launched herself in a flying leap onto Tally’s bed. Tally, after an astonished moment, snatched up a pillow and began to pummel her friend. Cat availed herself of a second pillow and retaliated with a fierce barrage of feathery thumps. Soon the two young women dissolved in a fit of giggles.

“If Miss Pinfold could only see us now,” gasped Cat at last.

“Young ladies, I declare!” cried Tally, contorting her face into an expression of frigid disapproval.  “You must stop this instant, or I shall be forced to....”

“... deal with you most severely!” they finished in unison.

The two, collapsed against each other in a final burst of laughter.

“Oh, Cat,” wailed Tally, “you absurd creature. Whatever made you think of those days? You’re a respectable matron now!”

“I don’t know. I guess it was the sight of your two big, brown eyes, peeping over the comforter, looking for all the world like the mischievous chit I remember from so many years ago.”

With a last swipe at her tormentor, Tally replaced the pillows and leaned back with a sigh, while Cat disposed herself comfortably on the counterpane.

“It was a long time ago, wasn’t it?” sighed Tally. “And look at us now. You, happily married, and I...”

“And you on the brink of a new life,” finished Cat. “Which brings me neatly to my next subject, Lady Talitha Burnside. You are starting out anew,” she continued in response to Tally’s questioning expression. “You said yourself that you will be going out and about. Now, Tally, I hope you won’t take offense at this, but you need a new wardrobe for your new life.”

“But, I have a new wardrobe. The gown I wore to the ball—the carriage dress I arrived in yesterday—Cat, what on earth are you talking about?”

“Who selected that new wardrobe?” demanded Cat.

“Why, Henry’s wife, Gertrude.”

“I thought so. And who was your modiste?”

Tally uttered a muffled snort.

“Modiste! Surely you don’t think Henry would go to the expense of hiring a modiste. He won’t do that even for Gertrude. No, the job of putting together my ensembles went to the village seamstress.”

Cat closed her eyes.

“Tally, have we or have we not been like sisters for the past sixteen years?”

“Well, yes, of course we have, you goose, but...”

“Then, as a sister, let me tell you, my dear, those clothes are absolutely dreadful!”

“Um, I guess they are, rather,” agreed Tally mildly. “But what difference does it make? I mean, they are in a reasonably fashionable mode, and they cover the areas of my person that are supposed to be covered. What more can I ask?”

Cat stared at her as though she had just given it as her opinion that tomorrow the sun would turn blue.

“Tally, even if those gowns fit properly, which they do not, they are screamingly unbecoming.”

“Well, I can see why that would be a consideration for you. You’re beautiful, and a beauty should be complemented by what she wears, but I—well, I guess that’s one more advantage of being plain. I could dress in a dish clout and it wouldn’t be particularly noticeable. Oh, I don’t mind, Cat,” she added quickly, as she observed her friend’s stricken expression. “Papa taught me when I was quite small that it didn’t matter that I am not pretty, since exterior beauty cannot compare with beauty of the spirit,”

At this Cat caught an astonished Tally by the shoulder and shook her.

“I can just hear him saying that,” she growled. “I remember once listening to him call you plain as a pump handle.”

“Yes,” replied Tally defensively. “Papa, you know, valued Truth Above All.”

Cat cast her hands skyward.

“Heaven knows your father was a fine man, with a brilliant mind, and no doubt his words were spoken out of love, but I think at this moment, if he were here in this room, I’d—I’d--well, I’d give him a piece of my mind—and all those feather-witted nannies and governesses to whom he left your upbringing, as well. As for you!” This, accompanied by another shake. “I could just strangle you. You may not have been a pretty child, but have you looked in a mirror even once during the last four years? Yes, you are plain, but now it’s because you make yourself so.”

She tumbled off the bed, and with Tally still in her grasp, she brought the bedside candle to the dressing table and thrust Tally into the seat.

“Now, look at yourself. To begin with—You’re not even thin anymore. You’ve filled out. Now—well, now, you’re slender. Do you understand? And see? You have lovely, velvety brown eyes, and long, curly lashes.”

Tally gazed at her reflection for a long moment. Yes, it was true. She had been vaguely aware that the clothes she had worn in London before were now a bit small, especially around the chest. That was one reason Gertrude had consented to talk Henry into the new wardrobe. And her eyes. Yes, in a dim light they could surely be called pretty.

“But my nose,” she said plaintively. “It turns up at the end, and you have to admit, my mouth is just huge.”

“I would rather call it generous. And there are those, you know, who consider a turned-up—that is, a slightly uptilted nose quite piquant. The thing is,” she continued before Tally could utter any more caveats, “the thing is, if you are going to be seen in the Polite World, you are going to have to get another wardrobe. That’s all there is to it,” she finished with immutable finality.

Tally simply gaped at her.

“I think you must be mad! It took every penny I could squeeze from Henry to provide me with the clothes I have now. Right this minute I couldn’t so much as purchase a reticule. Perhaps, after Mr. Mapes begins paying me for my drawings...”

“No, no, no. That’s unacceptable. Now, I have talked this over with Richard, and he has agreed that we will stand the ready for anything you require.”

Tally drew herself up in some indignation.

“Now, I really do believe you’ve gone round the bend! Do you suppose for one minute I would let you and Richard pay to dress me in finery that I neither want nor need?”

Cat laid a placating hand on her arm.