Just Deserts (11 page)

‘
Dear me, Seph, how you do take one up,’ exclaimed Penelope,
shifting the hat about with agitated fingers. ‘Why in the world
should you think I care for that?’

‘
Because I have seen how your eyes light up whenever he
comes near. And you are blushing.’

‘
I wish you will not be so absurd. Drat this thing!’
Penelope snatched the hat from her head and threw it aside. ‘I made
a mistake ever to suppose I could wear white with these yellow
curls. I shall have to take it back.’

Persephone watched her sister’s petulant action without
further comment.

‘
I dare say you are right, in any event,’ she said,
reverting to the original subject of her discourse. ‘It is more
than likely that your Fitz will not take me. It would be unfair to
ask it of him. I shall have to think of something else.’

She moved to her sister, who was plucking at the
disarranged coils of her hair, crimping them back into shape.
Putting an arm about her, she smiled at their joint reflection in
the mirror.

‘
Take the hat back, dearest. It is perfectly insipid.’ She
reached for the offending white beaver and placed it on her own
head. ‘You see?’

The unusually sober expression in Penelope’s face gave way
to her sunny smile. ‘Hideous! I must have been mad.’

An hour later, Penelope was stepping out of the
milliner’s door in Bond Street, a perfectly charming feathered hat
of dark beaver set at a rakish angle upon her elaborate coiffure,
when she came face to face with Digby Norton-Fitzwarren himself,
as
point-device
as ever.

A look of sparkling pleasure leapt into Penelope’s eyes.
Then, remembering her sister’s words, the light quickly died again
and she gave him an uncharacteristically prim nod.

‘
Miss—Penelope?’ Fitz asked, doffing his own high-brimmed
hat. He peered somewhat anxiously at her unresponsive features. ‘It
is you, is it not, Pen?’

His intimate use of the short form disarmed her and she
smiled, unable to prevent the twinkle from creeping into her
eyes.

‘
Yes, Fitz, it is I. Don’t you know one has positively to
drag Seph to visit a milliner?’

‘
So I should imagine,’ he responded, relaxing. Then he
frowned. ‘You are not alone, I trust? Where is your
maid?’

‘
No, no, Mama is with me. She will be here presently. I
stepped out merely to go to the perfumiers across the
road.’

‘
Pray allow me to escort you,’ Fitz said, promptly offering
his arm.

Penelope hung back. ‘But you are occupied. I must not keep
you.’

‘
Gammon. My whole desire is to visit the perfumiers. I have
just recollected that I am in need of some—er—jessamine
drops.’

Penelope broke into her trilling laugh. ‘To sprinkle upon
your hands? For shame, Fitz. Am I to think you a very
fop?’

He gazed with apparent solemnity upon her, but the quizzing
gleam was in his eye. ‘Madam, you mock me!’

‘
Sir, you began it!’

He laughed. ‘Come, that is better. I had begun to think I
had offended beyond forgiveness.’

‘
I—I don’t know what you mean,’ Penelope stammered,
blushing.

He took hold of her gloved hand and raised it to
his lips. ‘I
did
offend you. That day at the
docks.’

‘
Not at all. I—I—’

‘
Dear Pen,’ he interrupted, ‘we began as such friends. I
have so much missed that easy, confiding air. May we not begin
again?’

Penelope stared into his smiling eyes, aware of a
fluttering in her breast. She
had
liked him on first
acquaintance. Very much. Then he had appeared to doubt her
integrity. She was a little afraid still to trust, but this was an
olive branch. If she refused it he might withdraw altogether. And
that she could not bear.

Her smile was a trifle tremulous. ‘I think there
is something melancholy in second beginnings. As if the first had
gone awry. Let us say we are
still
friends.’

‘
Indeed we are.’ He pressed her hand slightly before
releasing it. His eye gleamed again. ‘And in a spirit of true
friendship, I will offer to show you far more entertaining marts
than these.’

‘
But I thought Bond Street was the most fashionable place to
shop.’

‘
So it is. But on the dull side, don’t you agree? Do come
with me. Tomorrow?’

‘
But where?’

‘
Let that be my secret. I will call for you at eleven. And
if you are thinking of the proprieties, we will invite your mama to
go with us if my groom is not chaperon enough.’

But Penelope was not at all in favour of her
mama’s presence ruining what promised to be a delightful
tête-á-tête
.

‘
Fiddle. I am not so missish. And if anyone should remark
upon it, we will tell them that the customs obtaining in Bombay are
markedly different.’

‘
Indian manners, Miss Winsford?’

‘
Of course,’ she agreed, twinkling.

When Mrs Winsford presently came down and Fitz took his
leave, she went off with her cheeks in a glow and her head in the
clouds.

***

Persephone, meanwhile, in pursuit of her determination to
see Lord Chiddingly’s horse, had bethought her of the one person
whom she could ask about Epsom without further betraying the baron.
For, hate him though she might, she could not reconcile it with her
conscience to speak of this secret trial to anyone who might use
the knowledge for some unscrupulous purpose.

She was not so lost to all sense of propriety as to think
she might with impunity visit a man at his home. Besides, she had
no idea where Lord Goole lived. She wrote a note, therefore,
requesting him to visit her, and directed one of the footmen to
deliver it.

His lordship, caught on his way to conduct some business of
his own, arrived at the Winsfords’ house in Hanover Square in no
very amiable mood. He could not imagine what Persephone wanted of
him, having no illusions about his conspicuous lack of attraction.
When she bluntly asked him to direct her how to get to Epsom, his
jaw dropped.

‘
You are not thinking of crashing this trial?’

‘
Yes, I am,’ Persephone said, bridling. ‘Why should I not?
You said yourself the horse must be worth seeing.’

‘
I know, but—’ He stopped, frowning in suspicion. ‘Why come
to me? I had supposed you to be upon good enough terms with Chid,
or even Fitz, to permit of your securing an invitation.’

‘
You supposed wrong. I did not ask you here to question my
actions, but to provide me with information. If you decline to do
so, it is all the same to me.’

‘
Egad, ma’am, if this is your manner of obtaining
favours—’

With a strong effort Persephone controlled her rising
temper. ‘Will you have the goodness, sir, to help me, or will you
not?’

‘
I will not,’ snapped Goole, who had his own reasons for not
encouraging this interest.

‘
Obliging of you. Obviously it is useless to request you to
escort me.’

‘
Quite useless. If you can afford the loss of reputation,
ma’am, I certainly cannot.’

Persephone stared at him in surprise, her anger forgotten.
‘What can you mean?’

‘
Never mind,’ he said hastily. ‘Let me assure you, you had
as well ask Laetitia Smith to escort you as myself.’

‘
Laetitia Smith? Who in the world might she be?’

‘
She is—well, a—a
friend
of Sir John
Lade. You will recall I spoke of him yesterday.’

‘
Oh yes, the notable whip.’ The grey eyes were intent
suddenly. ‘Is he not a racing man?’

‘
Among other things,’ Goole said on a dry note.
For Sir John Lade’s vulgarities and the reckless nature of his
gambling propensities had led the
beau monde
to regard
him with disgust.

‘
It makes no matter,’ Persephone said quickly. ‘I dare say
it will be better for me to remain here, after all.’

She had an idea, and was now as eager to get rid of Lord
Goole as she had been to see him, so that she might put it into
execution. He was glad enough to go, and she waited only until the
front door shut behind him before running upstairs to fetch a hat,
gloves and an outdoor garment. Warmed by a thick spencer over an
old habit, she walked round to the mews where Rossendale stabled
his horses, reflecting that no one would look twice at her in such
a garb.

While a groom saddled the big bay for her, she engaged him
in conversation, taking the precaution of sliding a gold coin from
her pocket and playing it ostentatiously between her gloved
fingers. She had not lived in India, the daughter of a wealthy
merchant, without learning the power of money.

‘
Do you know of Sir John Lade?’

‘
Aye, miss, that I do,’ the groom averred, licking his lips
as he eyed the flashing coin.

‘
And you are familiar with his doxy, too, I dare say?’
suggested Persephone, betraying her understanding of Goole’s veiled
conversation.

The groom might have become more used to the peculiar
conduct of his master’s cousin, but this patently shocked him. He
stared, mouth agape.

‘
Come, come,’ Persephone said, digging her hand into her
pocket and bringing out a second gold piece.

The groom’s eyes glistened. ‘I know her, miss, if it was
that there Letty Smith you was meaning. Smart little house he give
her, up Bloomsbury way.’

‘
Good. I wish you to guide me there. But say nothing of this
to anyone, do you hear?’

The groom nodded his agreement. ‘Mum as an oyster, miss.’
Who was he to quibble when the lady was so open-handed?

Laetitia Smith, however, when informed of the identity of
her unconventional visitor, was moved to bluntness.

‘
Plaguy odd it is in you, ma’am, and I don’t know what
people might say, but I’m very happy to meet you.’

Persephone took the outstretched hand and shook it warmly.
‘Thank you. I don’t know why you should be, however.’

‘
Ha! Miss Winsford, I myself am accounted something of an
equestrienne. I am naturally agog since all the world is talking of
your skills.’

‘
The devil it is. I had no idea of it. Word spreads fast in
London, I perceive.’

‘
Don’t it, ma’am? And all the faster when the word is
blameful.’

Persephone gave a scornful laugh. ‘I don’t fear
critics.’

‘
Well, you should, if you’ll pardon the liberty,
ma’am,’ said Miss Smith with feeling. ‘Lord knows I’ve had a
bellyful—I mean, I’ve had
my
share
of them,’ she corrected
herself.

‘
Don’t put yourself about,’ Persephone soothed. ‘No one
knows I am here. Besides, we are accustomed to treat very
differently those ladies less fortunately circumstanced than
ourselves. In Bombay, if you could but come by a ring, you would
very soon be accepted.’ Her gurgling laugh escaped her. ‘And bored
to death, too. I’ll wager you relish doing the pretty as little as
I.’

Laetitia laughed. A great, raucous belly-laugh that
indisputably stamped her origins upon her. Persephone had a
fleeting vision of her aunt Rossendale’s face, if she could see her
now, and hid a mischievous smile.

‘
Right you are, ma’am. More at home in the saddle than a
drawing-room. Though, for my part, I’ll take the ribbons for
preference any day.’

‘
I, too, am partial to driving,’ Persephone agreed, ‘but as
yet I have not set up a stable and my cousin Rossendale has only
one team of decent cattle for the purpose.’

For a few moments the two ladies fell deep into
conversation and discovered in each other the same fanatical
devotion to horseflesh. Formality went by the board, and within a
very short time they were addressing each other by name, like old
friends. They sat together in Miss Smith’s cosy parlour, its
inelegant and old-fashioned chairs and sofas built more for comfort
than for show. Like the hostess herself.

Laetitia Smith was a handsome woman, who affected a mannish
diction and whose career had spanned dubious connection with a
highwayman and a number of other unsavoury characters before she
had fallen in with Sir John Lade, and she was fully alive to the
dangers for Persephone in association with a woman of her
class.

‘
Well, Seph, I’m bound to say I’d give a pony to see you
with even a pair in hand,’ she said at length, ‘but I don’t for the
life of me see how it can be managed, situated as we
are.’

This was Persephone’s cue. ‘Letty, I have now to confess my
whole reason for coming to see you.’

‘
Ah, thought we should come to it. Tell me it
all.’

Persephone complied and found Letty to be as keen as she
was herself.