Anne Barbour (22 page)

To her pleasure, she discovered that Seth was in attendance as well. She warmed at his expression of delight as his eyes met hers from across the room. Since she had spent the afternoon in his company, their greeting was brief and informal.

"You said nothing this afternoon at the foundry," he said after hurrying to her side, "to indicate that I might see you tonight. By the by, I hope you enjoyed our somewhat unusual outing."

Eden smiled widely. "Indeed, I did. What a marvelous idea to visit your father's foundry. I've never thought of viewing such an establishment."

"I did not know what you might think of it. Most females of my acquaintance would not have considered so much as setting a toe in a great dirty, noisy factory, much less demanding to be shown about the place."

"You must know me well enough by now, my good man, to realize that I haven't a grain of feminine sensibility. I found the place fascinating. It seems to me that more gently bred women should be given the opportunity to visit our factories and workshops. We would all benefit greatly from at least a moderate understanding of the industries that provide us with our carriages and houses and... and all the other necessities we take for granted."

"Oh, very well said, Madame Firebrand. Are you next going to tell me that your fascination with the wheels of progress were not wholly connected with the drama of the furnaces and the rivers of molten metal you were sketching so furiously?"

Eden laughed. "Indeed, I did find that aspect compelling. If I ever decide to do one of those panoramic extravaganzas so popular now, I think I'd like to try to reproduce such a scene. I think," she mused further, "that with the men caught in the blaze of light from the furnaces, toiling so inexorably, it would be rather like creating a vision of hell."

"I'm sure the workers would agree with you. But, come, this is not a topic for such a frivolous gathering. Are you enjoying the musicale?"

"Oh, yes," was Eden's enthusiastic if somewhat breathless reply. It seemed to her that their conversation was taking place on two levels. One consisted of the light prosaic chatter that one always managed at these events. Under the surface, however, Eden was aware of an undercurrent, swift and dangerous, that seemed to flow between them. It was as though everything that had transpired between them since the first day he had appeared at Clearsprings seethed thickly to pull them toward one another in a vortex of wanting. She shook herself and continued brightly. "Lady Childers has apparently spared no effort to provide her guests with the best entertainment in the city. I thought the violinists particularly talented."

"Indeed, my lady is famous for her musical parties. I do not see your father here, by the way. Did he not accompany you?"

"Oh, yes." Eden glanced around. "He must be in the card room. Mama and Zoë, as usual, prevailed on him to come. Mama does not like to attend a function like this without masculine support. She still feels rather uncomfortable in such exalted company."

"Good heavens, Eden, your father is a peer. He and his family must be at home in any social gathering."

"I suppose, but I must say it came as a surprise to receive Lady Childers's invitation. And then—oh, did I tell you? Mama told me that your aunt was especially insistent that we come."

Seth frowned in sudden suspicion. "Did she? I was unaware that she had interested herself in your affairs."

"Yes, I thought it quite odd, too, but... Oh, my gracious, what is
he
doing here?"

Seth's gaze followed Eden's to behold his brother enter the room. Stopping only to greet his hostess, he made a path directly for Zoë.

Chapter Seventeen

Zoë turned slowly with studied casualness as Bel approached her, but it was as though Eden could reach out and touch the tension that fairly radiated from her sister's body.

"Good Lord," exclaimed Seth. "I had no idea he planned to put in an appearance here. At least he seems sober. On his best behavior, actually," he concluded, watching as Bel lifted Zoë's hand in his to press a kiss to her gloved fingertips.

Seth growled, "Are his attentions toward your sister becoming bothersome?"

"I don't know," replied Eden slowly. "To my knowledge, they have not seen each other since the episode at Covent Garden. There can be no doubt he is taken with her. Whether he feels something deeper, I cannot say."

Seth snorted. "I doubt that Bel would recognize a deep emotion if it bit him. What about Zoë? Do you think—?"

"Yes," said Eden unhappily. "She has confessed to being ... well, smitten. I can only hope it is a passing fancy—on both their parts."

After conversing with Zoë for a few moments, apparently in the most unexceptionable manner, Bel turned to greet his aunt, who had hurried over to grasp his arm insistently. Zoë swung back to her friends. Eden and Seth parted as well, and Eden had barely entered into conversation with another lady of her acquaintance when Lady Shipstead approached, her arm tucked into that of her nephew. Bel smiled dutifully as the countess expressed her delight at encountering Miss Beckett. Her brother, the duke, had intercepted Eden earlier in the evening to express similar sentiments. Eden had then observed the duke deep in animated conversation with Lord Beckett, causing Eden to wonder once again what it was about the Beckett family that seemed to have endeared them so to the Derwents.

"It's a dreadful crush, of course," Lady Shipstead said in a high, breathless voice, plying her fan vigorously, "but these things always are. It's my belief that Honoria calculates the number of persons who can comfortably be accommodated in her rooms, then invites three times that many. Bel, you remember Miss Beckett, do you not?"

Eden nodded coolly and offered him two fingers. Bel bent gracefully over her hand, but refrained from kissing it. He shot her a bland glance that did not hide the mischief glittering beneath it.

"How very nice to see you again. Miss Beckett."

Eden said nothing, merely nodding rigidly.

"Are you not afraid your neck will snap when you do that?" asked Bel innocently. Eden gasped, and Lady Shipstead rushed in to fill the ensuing appalled silence.

"Did you enjoy Monsieur Dubonnet's performance. Miss Beckett? I vow, I have never heard the pianoforte played with such feeling. What a coup for Lady Childers to acquire him for her musicale, for he turned down an engagement at Woburn, I understand." Lady Shipstead rattled on at some length in praise of M. Dubonnet before apparently running out of information on the subject. Another awkward silence fell on the little group until Lady Shipstead, undaunted, tittered nervously. "My dear," she said to Eden, "you must join us for the string quartet that will be playing immediately after supper—in the ballroom, I believe." She whirled to face Bel. "You
will
sit with me for the performance, will you not, my dear?" Her tone was honeyed but contained an unmistakable edge.

"I am sorry, Aunt," he replied smoothly, gently removing his arm from beneath her hand. "I shan't be staying for supper. I'm promised to a group at White's and shall probably spend the rest of the evening there." Smiling benignly, he murmured, "Miss Beckett," before easing himself back into the swirling throng of guests—like an eel, thought Eden, sliding back to his ocean haven after a visit to the shoals.

Lady Shipstead's face creased in what looked very much like a thwarted pout. Goodness, what plans had Bel ruined by his precipitate departure? Surely, they could not have involved her own humble self. How very odd. She watched speculatively as Bel made his way about the room, his behavior entirely proper, greeting friends and acquaintances of the family. To her vast relief, he did not seek Zee's attention, and she eventually lost sight of him.

Nor did she see Seth again until supper was announced. She had been claimed for this intermission in the musical program by a Mr. Wiggam, a gentleman of some five-and-forty summers. He held a position in the Exchequer and was said to be an influential Whig. They had been introduced at the duke's dinner party, and the gentleman had made it a point at every function attended by both to claim her attention for at least part of the evening. Eden enjoyed his easy air of address and his breezy good humor.

As they descended the stairs to the dining chamber, Eden caught a glimpse of Lady Weirhaven, the mother of her current portrait subjects. With the well-known perversity of events, plus the rise in her social status thanks to the duke's still unexplained interest in the Beckett family, Eden had seen the countess at a number of
ton
gatherings, but had successfully avoided her. On this occasion, she scurried down the stairs, to Mr. Wiggam's obvious startlement, and was ensconced in her chair when Lady Weirhaven was seated at a safe distance.

Seth, she noted, had escorted Maria, the Viscountess Fanstead to the meal. The viscountess was an acknowledged Beauty, willowy of form and possessed of classic features. She was also reputed to maintain the most casual of relations with her accommodating husband. Her affairs were notorious throughout the
beau monde.
Eden was annoyed at the spurt of jealousy that shot through her at the sight of Seth's dark head bent over the viscountess's auburn curls.

She determinedly ignored Seth's presence throughout what had become an interminable evening. She laughed at inane witticisms until she thought her face would splinter, and she exchanged mindless tidbits of scurrilous gossip with the matrons gathered on the fringes of the gaiety. As ordered, she sat with Lady Shipstead during the string quartet's virtuoso performance. The music was exquisite, but, perhaps because of the heat and the crush of the number of those in the audience, Eden soon developed a thundering headache that stayed with her until, at long last, the family took their departure.

Inhaling deeply of the cool night air, she participated little in the animated chatter taking place between Zoë and her mother.

"Dearest!" exclaimed Lady Beckett. "I could not help but notice that the Viscount Hadley is becoming most particular in his attentions. And I thought it extremely auspicious that his mama made it a point to converse with you at length."

"I just wish he possessed a trifle more ... dash," said Zoë, a slight pout in her tone. "He told me he much prefers his seat in Warwickshire to Town, and would not come here at all except that he is interested in politics and sits in Parliament religiously. That's all he speaks of, and I must own I'm getting heartily sick of it."

"You could do a lot worse," grumbled Lord Beckett. "I've been hearing good things about young Hadley. He's a loyal Whig, and he's making a name for himself. He may be up for an important position in the near future."

"In which case," breathed Lady Beckett, "you would find yourself in Town for most of the year."

"Mm, there is that." Reflectively, Zoë plaited the fringe adorning her reticule.

Eden suppressed her distaste at Zoë's single-minded drive toward wealth and status. On the other hand, if the idea of marrying a viscount on his way up the political drainspout was an antidote to her attraction for the undesirable Marquess of Belhaven, Eden could only applaud her sister's goal.

"In truth," she said to Seth the next day, "I could wish her to elope with the man tomorrow if it would keep her out of the clutches of your wretched brother. No offense," she added hastily.

"None taken," he replied, chuckling.

He had come at Eden's request that they begin the oil portrait of him she had suggested at Clearsprings. He sat with her now in her studio as she mixed a batch of paints. He watched her appreciatively, her slim form enveloped in a sturdy cotton apron. Her hands moved swiftly and capably as she manipulated bladders of paint and bottles of thinner, as well as an assortment of small paddles, palette knives, and even brushes until she attained just the blend she sought.

The early afternoon sun slanted through the garret windows to brush her cheeks with gold and to touch the depths of her dark hair with flaming highlights.

He jerked himself to attention as she continued speaking while she settled him prosaically into position. "His attitude toward her last night was far from loverlike. He was merely polite, as any other young man attending a function at which he would just as soon have avoided. I must say," she added suddenly, "your aunt. Lady Shipstead, was most cordial. She actually smiled at Zoë, and she was charm personified with me. And I saw your father chatting with mine as though they were lifelong cronies. Have you any idea what brought about this sudden benevolence toward us on the part of your relatives?"

Seth's stomach plummeted. Good God, his father must have confided his plans for Eden to his aunt. and the two of them had already begun their campaign to bring Eden into the family as Bel's wife. Seth had put off talking to the duke, for he knew their conversation would degenerate quickly into an unpleasant confrontation, but he must not let this go on. Lord, what had possessed the old man to take matters into his own hands? Usually, he was content to let Seth arrange such matters. Had he sensed Seth's reluctance to be a part of the unsavory business? Seth laughed shortly. Not that that had ever given the old man pause before.

Shaking his head in denial of her question, Seth sought a diversion. "What is that you're working on now?" he asked, pointing to a shrouded canvas that stood on a nearby easel.

Eden moved to flip the muslin covering. A street scene stood revealed, a small portion of the great square on which Mrs. Nassington's house fronted. A housemaid could be seen, polish can in hand, rubbing the railing in front of an elegant home. Toward her rolled a sailor, his hand lifted in a flirtatious greeting. Pedestrians in the street included a high-nosed damsel, followed by her maid, carrying a number of packages. An urchin swept the ground before her, while a scissors and knives man trundled along the pavement a respectful distance away. Looking farther toward the square, a dandy on horseback fairly strutted in his saddle as he waved a greeting to a distant acquaintance in a smart curricle. Other shapes, vaguely delineated, filled out the impression of a busy thoroughfare, its inhabitants a microcosm of the city as a whole.