Emily Hendrickson (15 page)

“I suspect she might be, or perhaps she is naught but an innocent gossip—if such a thing exists.”

“And you draw her as a cat?” The maid studied the little sketch again, then shivered. “Improper,” she concluded.

“On the contrary, she will be thrilled,” Chloe predicted with a grimace. “It strikes me as distinctly odd how one can do the most outrageous things and get by with them. They think it wickedly clever that I sketch what I see within their hearts. I must admit, I wish I had not begun this pastime.”

“Shame to let talent go to waste,” Ellen said quietly while gazing at the contents of Chloe’s wardrobe.

She wore such a gloomy face that Chloe had to smile and shake her head.

“Is it so very bad? Perhaps I might think of a way to convince Grandmama that I need a new gown and hope that she will be too busy to accompany me. I hope I may have need of your presence.” She exchanged a significant look with Ellen, then began her search for her grandmother.

The dowager was discovered in the library, of all places. She was examining a book on wild animals of the world, a collection of drawings Chloe had looked at time and again for inspiration.

“Dull,” the dowager pronounced.

“But frightfully accurate, I have no doubt,” Chloe countered.

“I imagine your clever renditions are more likely to provoke interest,” the older lady said with a shrewd nod.

“Perhaps,” Chloe admitted reluctantly. She would rather avoid that topic if possible.

“Laura said she was going to the mantuamaker’s for a new gown to wear to Lord and Lady Sefton’s party. All my gowns are becoming dreadfully shabby. I should like to order a new one—or possibly two. I am certain my man of business will not cavil at such an expenditure.”

Where she found the daring to speak so boldly Chloe did not know. She had thought of the man who believed and supported her and found the image of St. Aubyn inspired her to defy her grandmother as never in the past.

“You think to go off with Laura Spayne and her mother?” the dowager said in a dreadful manner.

Refusing to back down, Chloe gave her grandmother a stubborn look with a tilt of her heart-shaped chin. “I do.”

“Well, then, go. I am tired and must rest before we go out this evening. You have a drive in the park late this afternoon. Do not forget your obligations, my girl.”

With those astounding words, the dowager rose from her chair and marched from the room, looking every bit as tired as she claimed.

Chloe stood still, pondering the results of her daring. Her grandmother appeared to actually feel the effects of the rushing about in Society. For this Chloe felt sorry. But…she had succeeded wildly beyond her dreams. She ran from the library and up the stairs to her room.

“Quick, fetch Rose. We shall take her along with us in the event I am late for the drive in the park. I have permission to buy two gowns. I need you along to assist me in my selection, for I have never had the choosing of a dress for myself before and I may make a mistake. I cannot depend that Laura will be able to help me.”

Ellen said nothing in reply, but helped Chloe into a pelisse, then whisked herself down to the scullery. Since the cook was in the stillroom at this hour, she had no difficulty in sneaking the child up the back stairs and into Lady Chloe’s room.

Rose looked utterly terrified.

Dismayed by the girl’s appearance, Chloe dug around in a bottom drawer to find an old but presentable dress she had once liked and hated to toss away. When held up to Rose it proved to be large, but still acceptable.

The trio who tiptoed down the stairs and out the front door escaped from the house with no one being the wiser. Scroggins was no doubt harassing the housekeeper and the rest of the servants were about their duties, which did not involve a presence in the entry hall.

At Laura’s house they discovered she was out.

“Do you know this means we shall be on our own!” Chloe declared with glee.

“Indeed,” Ellen agreed with a snap of her head.

The hackney had just deposited them in front of the mantuamaker’s when Chloe caught sight of St. Aubyn. He was studying the window of a shop that catered to gentlemen who used canes and umbrellas.

Heartened merely by the sight of him, she took a deep breath and entered the elegant little establishment. She had not been there before, but her cousin Elizabeth had mentioned the woman to her.

“Madame Clotilde,” Chloe began, “my cousins referred me to you…the Dancy girls?”

At the mention of that name the woman beamed a smile and drew Chloe to a chair. “You have need of a gown or two, perhaps?”

“I have permission for two gowns.” Chloe unwittingly revealed her longing when she gazed at a bolt of peach blossom sarcenet.

The door opened behind them and the mantuamaker gazed with affection at the person who entered.

“What? Lady Chloe here and alone? Where is the dragon?” He ignored the presence of Ellen and her little shadow, who perched in a corner in awed silence.

“Mr. St. Aubyn!” Chloe cried with pleasure.

A shrewd look from the glowing young woman to the premier scoundrel of London and the mantuamaker sat a trifle straighter. Quite obviously all was not as she had suspected, her expression said had Chloe chanced to look at her. That beloved scoundrel gazed with more than fondness at this girl, if he but knew it.

“Madame,” St. Aubyn said with suave persuasion, “I wish you to spin forth a gown of incredible daring. It must be somewhat discreet—Lady Chloe is unwed—but it must reveal luscious promise, intriguing possibilities. Dare I hope you can invent such a thing?”

“Not only can I, I have,” the mantuamaker declared with a certain triumph. To Chloe she added, “Every once in a while I permit myself free reign of my talent. I dream of a special design, then create it with my own hands. I thought of such a one not long ago. Come with me, for it just may be near enough of a fit for you to wear.”

Within short order Chloe blushingly exited the fitting room. With the pins fitting the dress to her figure artfully concealed, she hesitantly walked to the room where she suspected that St. Aubyn waited to see what had been conceived.

Julian stared with amazement at the delicious apparition that hovered in the doorway. He could not have envisioned a more apt gown for his little protégé. Delicate peach aerophane crepe swirled about her figure, revealing, concealing in a tantalizing manner. Beneath that almost transparent fabric, a shimmer of pale gold gossamer satin hinted at a lovely, youthful figure. A scandalous gown for one so young, for she resembled nothing more than a naked peach blossom.

“Oh, miss,” Ellen ventured to say. She was quelled to silence by a look from St. Aubyn.

“She will take it,” he ordered without consulting a stunned Chloe, who had just caught sight of herself in a looking glass and most likely wouldn’t have been able to say a word anyway.

“Oh, but…” Chloe managed to sputter.

“What else for you this afternoon? You have not forgotten we are to have our drive?” he said with a lift of his brows.

Chloe darted a glance to where Rose huddled behind Ellen and nodded. The change of topic took her mind from the incredible garment she wore for a moment.

Not St. Aubyn. “You can have this altered for her in time for the Sefton ball?”

With a decisive nod, the mantuamaker agreed, then suggested, “Perhaps Lady Chloe will like to consider a new carriage gown?”

“Carriage gown, evening gown, day gown, especially a riding habit, she needs everything!” St. Aubyn declared with an apologetic and understanding look at Chloe.

Her resistance faded at his apparent comprehension of her problems with Grandmama and gowns. “She said I might have two,” Chloe admitted. “But, sir…” she began, only to be interrupted by St. Aubyn.

“You need more, however. Forgive me for asking, but does she pay the bill? If so, I will see to it.”

Blushing furiously, Chloe shook her head. “My inheritance covers all my expenses.” Then, determined to be heard, she said, “It is scandalous for you to help me select one gown, much less several. What would Society say if we are found out?”

“It will support my claim to your interest,” he said with such great authority that she decided not to argue.

“Very well,” she said with spirit, “I will proceed.”

“Well, then.” St. Aubyn tilted his chair back against the wall and smiled a trifle wickedly, “Forget the drive in the park. I believe we shall be entirely too busy to go. You, my dear Chloe, are to have an entirely new wardrobe. Your man of business may expire from the shock.”

With a delightful sparkle in her eyes, Chloe grinned at him and then whirled about to face the fascinated Madame Clotilde. “First we shall choose the designs, then the fabrics, and then you may take my measurements, for St. Aubyn has the right of it. I am turning over a new leaf.”

And thus began the emergence of a new Lady Chloe, darling of the ton.

Chapter 9

Elinor Hadlow paused before a milliner’s shop, a look of fury crossing her face before she carefully smoothed her expression. She was not mistaken in what she had seen. An assignation!

She never could confuse St. Aubyn’s distinctive figure in gray with his signature cane in hand for another. And she had most assuredly seen that twit of a niece enter the expensive mantuamaker’s establishment—one Elinor could afford to patronize only once or twice a season.

When she casually strolled past the shop window she caught a glimpse of Julian with Lady Chloe, discussing something with Madame. Julian had
never
assisted Elinor in selecting her gowns, laughingly complaining about the tediousness of the matter. Yet here he was with Lady Chloe Maitland—the little baggage—instead of Elinor Hadlow, her far more experienced and beautiful aunt.

That Julian St. Aubyn might have a genuine interest in the girl never crossed Elinor’s mind. She could not conceive of such a circumstance, at least with a scoundrel like St. Aubyn. No, Lady Chloe must be conspiring to lure Julian away from her aunt, in spite, perhaps—jealous of the other’s beauty and poise. That, Elinor could comprehend, for it was something she would have done in an instant, the situation being reversed.

Forgetting her intention of selecting a charming new bonnet to enhance her carriage gown, she summoned her waiting carriage and fumed all the way to her new home.

Once there she paused on the top step to gaze across the square to St. Aubyn House. Oh, that man would regret spurning her. And as for Lady Chloe, well, something was bound to answer if she just thought hard enough. All Elinor needed to do was put her devious little mind to work.

She had discussed the problem with Twisdale only that morning and he had said something that might offer promise. Now she had greater provocation and motive for revenge. Oh, it would be so sweet, she would do both of them in at the same time.

It was close to six of the clock when Chloe took a delighted parting from Madame Clotilde. The vast number of garments ordered had put Chloe into a dizzy whirl. And she adored every minute of the momentous occasion.

It was a major step in her life, a declaration of independence, if you like. Although she would remain as dutiful as she might, she would not permit her grandmama to again place her under an unwanted thumb. A way would be found; St. Aubyn would help her find one.

Even her knowledge that she was most improper in allowing St. Aubyn to assist her in selecting her gowns had not brought it to a halt. She suspected that only ladies of questionable virtue allowed such familiarity. And yet she had not sent him away, even though she knew she might experience a punishment of sorts for her outré behavior. His charm and indisputable good taste had tempted her and she had succumbed. The look in his eyes had made the hazards well worthwhile.

They paused on the walkway. Chloe was about to send Ellen for a hackney when St. Aubyn put out a staying hand.

“And now to the scullery maid,” he said, surprising Chloe with his astonishing memory. Although she supposed she ought to have expected him to remember his offer of help, it pleased her that he did.

“Rose came with us, sir,” Chloe said with some hesitation. Even with a decent dress on, the child looked what she was, a maid of no background or education.

“So you are little Rose,” the awesome figure in smooth gray Bath coating said to the young girl who peeped from behind Ellen.

“If y’please, sir,” she whispered back, looking astonished that she had managed to utter a word.

Bored with the chit, and wanting to savor the memory of Lady Chloe in the peach aerophane crepe over pale gold gossamer satin that appeared to be a second skin, he motioned to his carriage that had drawn alongside the walkway at the sight of him. “Inside.”

Rose scrambled inside the carriage, huddling to the far side of the rear-facing seat. Huge eyes studied the adults who remained on the walkway as though she wondered if her fate would be any better off with them.

“Take her to the house and feed the chit. Keep her below until Rogers goes to the country in the morning. She is to go along with him.” He dismissed his coachman with a gesture, then turned to Lady Chloe.

Chloe stared after the carriage and the little face that dared to peep from the window. Waving an encouraging good-bye, Chloe turned to the maid’s benefactor.

“Just like that you can alter her life,” Lady Chloe marveled. “And I suspect you did the same for mine. What my grandmama will say to my surfeit of new clothes I shudder to contemplate.”

“You will not back down?” he queried, gently leading her along the walkway and away from the mantuamaker’s. If seen together in front of that place, a few might draw intelligent conclusions.

Ellen gave a sniff of disdain. “Not likely, she won’t.”

Surprised that the silent maid would so much as dare to utter a word, St. Aubyn was about to offer a reproof when he caught sight of Chloe’s bemused face.

“Ellen is right. I have made my decision and will abide by it, even though I may know reproof for permitting your part in this escapade.” She confessed her knowledge of her somewhat improper behavior with a prosaic spirit, and not the least hint of the coquette in her manner. “But tell me, sir, what do I do when the dresses begin to come?” She bestowed on him a look of complete faith in his ability to give her an answer that almost undid him.