Jane Feather - [V Series] (28 page)

“Perhaps you’ll allow me to act as chaperone occasionally,” Judith offered. “Maybe Harriet would like to accompany me to Almack’s for the subscription ball next Thursday.”

“Oh, you’re too kind.” Letitia dabbed her lips with a lace-edged handkerchief soaked in lavender water.

“Not at all. We’d be delighted if she’d join us for dinner beforehand. I’ll send Sebastian with my carriage for her.”

“Oh, you mustn’t put yourself to such trouble.”

“But I’m certain my brother will be only too happy to escort her,” Judith said, offering a conspiratorial smile. It was returned with more than a hint of self-satisfaction.

“Ah, Harriet, that was quick.” With relief, Judith greeted Harriet’s return to the salon. “What a very dashing hat.”

Harriet blushed. “Your brother was kind enough to compliment it.”

Judith chuckled. “I can imagine. It’s very much a
Sebastian kind of a hat.” She rose from her chair. “If you’re ready …”

Outside, Harriet regarded the high-axled vehicle with some trepidation. “It’s quite safe, I assure you.” Judith mounted easily and held her hand down. “I can safely promise that I won’t overturn you.”

“No, I’m not in the least afraid of that,” Harriet declared, bravely taking the helping hand and climbing up to sit beside Judith. “But it’s most dreadfully high up.” She regarded the restless bays with the same trepidation. They were tossing their heads, bridles jingling in the crisp autumn air.

Judith felt their mouths with a sensitive movement of the reins. “They’re very fresh,” she said with a cheerful insouciance that Harriet couldn’t begin to understand. “I didn’t drive them yesterday so they’re anxious to shake the fidgets from their legs.” She told the boy holding them to let go their heads and the pair lunged forward the minute they were released. Harriet shuddered and suppressed a cry of alarm. Judith drew in the reins, controlling the plunge and bringing the animals to a sedate walk.

“That’s better,” she said as they swung around the corner into a busy thoroughfare. “I’ll give them their heads when we reach the park.”

Harriet made no response to this declaration of intent, but clutched her hands tightly in her lap as a curricle dashed past, narrowly shaving the wheel of the phaeton. A scraggy mongrel ran between the wheels, a dripping piece of meat in its mouth. It was pursued by a red-faced man in a blood-smeared apron, waving a cleaver. One of Judith’s bays reared in the shaft as the dog dodged its hooves and the smell of blood from the meat hit the horse’s nostrils. Harriet emitted a tiny scream, but Judith calmly steadied her horse, peering
down into the street to see what had happened to the dog. “Oh, good,” she said. “He managed to escape. I wouldn’t fancy his chances with the butcher’s cleaver, would you?” She laughed, glancing sideways at Harriet.

“Oh, dear, did that scare you?” she said, seeing the girl’s white face. “I promise I can handle these horses in any situation. Marcus made me do all sorts of things, including driving a bolting team through a narrow gateway, before he was satisfied I was competent to drive this pair.”

Harriet gave her a wan smile, and Judith took another tack. “Do you like to ride?”

“Oh, yes, and particularly the hunt.” There was real enthusiasm in the girl’s voice, and Judith heaved an internal sigh of relief. Sebastian was a bruising rider to hounds, and it was hard to imagine him with a soulmate who regarded the sport with the same apprehension she regarded perch phaetons.

They turned into the park, crowded with fashionable London. Judith watched with some amusement a young lady in a dashing driving dress struggling to control a pair of blacks between the shafts of a phaeton, while a visibly anxious groom sat beside her. Not every young woman who had rushed to emulate the daring Lady Carrington had her ladyship’s skills. Those who did had formed an exclusive circle with Judith at its center. Judith raised her whip several times in greeting as one or other of these friends passed, and drew up several times to acknowledge other acquaintances, introducing Harriet where necessary. Harriet seemed to enjoy the attention and soon began to relax, chatting openly about her life, her family, her likes and dislikes. She had a ready sense of humor, Judith discovered, and it gave ample opportunity to hear her entrancing, musical laugh.

“I believe Lady Barret’s waving to us,” Harriet observed as they started their second circuit.

Agnes and Gracemere were standing on the path, smiling and waving. Judith drew rein beside them, saying pleasantly, “Good afternoon, Lady Barret … Lord Gracemere. As you see, Harriet and I are enjoying the air.”

Gracemere raised heavy-lidded eyes to Judith’s smiling countenance. That now-familiar shark of interest darted in his gaze as he offered her a conspiratorial smile. When she fluttered her eyelashes at him, his smile broadened.

“I was coming to call in Brook Street, Harriet,” Agnes said. “To bring back your ribbons.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Harriet murmured. “It was so careless of me to forget them.”

“Oh, young people have other things on their minds, I’ll wager,” Gracemere declared with an avuncular chuckle that sounded to Judith more like the cackle of a hyena.

“Do you know, Lady Carrington, I really think I must ask you to take me up beside you.” Lady Barret stepped up to the phaeton. “It’s such a dashing conveyance. His lordship will be happy to bear Harriet company, I know, for one turn.”

Judith felt Harriet tense beside her. Glancing down, she saw the girl’s gloved hands tightly clasped in her lap. “There’s nothing I’d like better, ma’am, but I most solemnly promised Lady Moreton that I’d return Harriet within the hour. On another occasion, I trust you’ll do me the honor.”

Harriet’s hands relaxed. Lady Barret’s smile stiffened, her eyes chilling with unmistakable annoyance. Judith’s own expression remained blandly affable.

“I shall hold you to your promise, Lady Carrington.
Until later, Harriet.” Agnes bowed and stepped back, laying her hand on Gracemere’s arm. He, too, bowed, and Judith dropped her hands, setting the bays in motion.

“You don’t care for Gracemere,” she said without preamble.

Harriet shivered almost unconsciously. “I find him loathsome. I don’t understand why a woman of Lady Barret’s sensibility should make a friend of him.”

And not just a friend.
But that Judith kept to herself. “His manner’s a trifle encroaching,” she said.

“He’s forever trying to walk and talk with me. I can’t be uncivil, of course—especially as he and Lady Barret are such particular friends—so I don’t know how to avoid him.”

“Mmm.” Judith said nothing further on the subject, but Gracemere’s intentions were clearly worth exploring. If he and Sebastian were rivals for the heiress, it would add another knot to the tangle. Presumably, a rich wife needn’t interfere with Gracemere’s liaison with Agnes. If they deceived Sir Thomas, there was no reason why they’d scruple to deceive a young wife.

She encouraged the bays to a smart trot, weaving her way through the curricles, tilburys, and the more sedate laundelets and barouches thronging the carriageway. When she caught sight of Marcus approaching, driving his team of grays between the shafts of his curricle, she slowed her horses to a walk. An idea occurred to her that would nicely kill two birds with one stone.

“Harriet, I’ve just remembered an errand I must run immediately. I’m going to ask my husband to take you home.”

“Oh, no … no, please, it’s not necessary … I’ll accompany you,” Harriet stammered, utterly daunted by the prospect of enduring the Marquis of Carrington’s
exclusive company. What could she talk about with such an intimidatingly lofty member of the ton?

“You’ll find it a dead bore,” Judith stated. “And I know your mama will be pleased to see you escorted home in such irreproachable fashion.”

Harriet looked up at her, startled, but then a glint of comprehension appeared in her eyes. “Yes, I’m certain she will,” she said.

Judith smiled at her, well pleased. Harriet was quick on the uptake.

Marcus reined in his horses and the two carriages drew abreast of each other. “I give you good afternoon, madam wife.” He greeted her with a narrow-eyed smile that spoke of many things before bowing to her companion. “Miss Moreton.” Harriet blushed and returned the bow.

“Marcus, you’re the very person I need,” Judith said. “I’ve just remembered an errand I must run immediately. It’ll be a great bore for Harriet, so you may escort her home for me.”

Laughter sprang in the ebony eyes. Marcus, also, was quick on the uptake. “It’ll be my pleasure.” He tossed his reins to his tiger and sprang down from the curricle. “Miss Moreton, allow me to assist you.”

Harriet’s blush deepened when his lordship caught her around the waist and matter-of-factly lifted her to the ground before handing her into his own more easily managed vehicle.

Marcus stepped closer to the phaeton, resting one hand on the front axle. “Devious minx,” he said. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. You’re more artful than a wagonload of monkeys.”

Judith smiled demurely. “Since Sebastian has so little to offer as a suitor in his own right, he’d better make the most of his other family connections.” Immediately she
regretted the light, bantering words. They were too close to home, too close to the bitterness that had been so sweetly resolved.

But to her relief, Marcus chose to respond as if he had no memory of that confrontation. “You’re a shameless baggage, but I’ve no objections to assisting Sebastian. However, I do have one crow to pluck with you.”

“Oh?”

“Where is your groom?”

Judith pulled a face. “Grooms are the devil in an open carriage. They make it impossible to have a comfortable conversation.”

“Nevertheless, they are indispensable.”

Judith sighed. “The despot speaks again.”

“And he will be obeyed.”

It was a minor concession and a limited inconvenience. Matters were going so smoothly between them at the moment that she was not prepared to throw a wrench in the works over something so trivial. “Very well, if you insist, I’ll not drive out again unaccompanied.”

Marcus nodded. “You’d better take Henry with you for the moment.”

“Oh, no!” Judith exclaimed. “That’ll spoil everything. If you don’t have your tiger, you won’t be willing to leave your horses in order to call upon Lady Moreton when you return Harriet. The whole impact of the Marquis of Carrington’s escort will be diminished.”

Marcus couldn’t help laughing. “I don’t know why I should allow myself to be embroiled in your plots, but if you don’t take Henry, then you must return home immediately.”

Judith inclined her head in acknowledgment, waved gaily to Harriet, and started her horses. “Immediately” was a word open to interpretation, she decided, and she had given no verbal promise. Marcus would be safely
occupied outside the park for at least forty-five minutes, and the opportunity to encourage the shark in Bernard Melville’s eyes couldn’t be missed.

She ran her quarry to earth near the Apsley House gate. He was engaged in conversation with a group of friends, but there was no sign of Lady Barret, which relieved Judith of the need to find a way of offering to take up Gracemere while excluding the lady.

“My lord, we meet again.” She hailed him cheerfully. “Harriet has been returned home; may I offer to take you up for a turn?”

“I’m honored, Lady Carrington. I shall be the most envied man in the park.”

“Fustian,” she declared, laughing.

“Not in the least,” he protested, swinging himself up beside her. “You’re such a noted whip, ma’am. Did Carrington teach you?”

“No,” Judith said, starting the horses as she prepared to water the seeds already sown. “In truth, my husband doesn’t entirely approve of this turn-out.” She gave her companion an up-from-under look as if to say: You know what I mean.

“But he doesn’t exactly forbid it?” Gracemere asked.

“No, I don’t take kindly to forbidding.” She gave him an arch smile.

“I’m surprised Carrington is willing to yield. He’s generally thought to have an unyielding temperament.”

“He does,” Judith said with a note of defiance. “But I don’t see why I shouldn’t amuse myself as I please.”

“I see.” Fancy Marcus of all men marrying a spoiled brat. It was a delicious thought and all the better for his purposes.

“However,” Judith went on, her voice now low and confiding, “my husband remains adamant about refusing to receive you under his roof.” She touched his knee
fleetingly. “I think it a great piece of nonsense, myself, but he won’t be moved.” She gave him another arch smile. “So we’ll have to pursue our friendship a little more … well, obliquely, if you see what I mean. As we’re doing now.”

“Yes, I see exactly what you mean.” He could barely contain his amusement at having such a ripe plum fall into his lap. “But you’re not afraid you might come across your husband in the park?”

Judith shook her head. “Not this afternoon. He’s about some errand that will occupy him for at least an hour.”

“I see you enjoy flirting with danger, Judith … I may call you Judith?”

“Yes, of course. It’s not so much that I enjoy courting danger, sir; but I claim the right to make my friends where I choose. If Carrington can’t accept that, then I’ll circumvent his disapproval.” She glanced sideways at him with a coquettish little pout. “Do I shock you, Bernard, with such unwifely sentiments?”

His eyes held hers for a long minute and the shark skimmed the surface of his gaze. “On the contrary, I’ve always appreciated an unvirtuous wife. My tastes have never run to the milksop, and if you wish to cultivate me in order to assert your independence, then, ma’am, I’m honored to be so cultivated.”

Judith allowed a moment to pass while she continued to keep her eyes on his, then a small, inviting smile touched her mouth. “Then we’re agreed, sir.” She held out one hand to him, across her body. He took it, squeezing it firmly.

“We are agreed.”

“But it’s to be our secret.”

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “My lips are sealed.
We shall be merely civil in public and save our friendship for moments such as this.”

“Just so, my lord.” Judith contrived to produce a flirtatious little giggle that brought a complacent but condescending smirk to his lordship’s lips.