Midnight Masquerade (13 page)

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Authors: Joan Smith

Tags: #Regency Romance

BOOK: Midnight Masquerade
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“I don’t wish to take advantage of the situation. It isn’t fair,” Deirdre replied with a noble toss of her head.

“All is fair in love and war,” her aunt pointed out.

“But this is not love.”

“No, ninny, it is war. You’re fighting for a husband. I’ve done the reconnaissance for you. I’ve worked him into a corner and spiked his guns. Ha, he’ll have you now. See if he don’t.”

“But I don’t want to marry him.”

“Enough of your but’s,” the duchess said peremptorily. “You didn’t want to marry Lord Twombley either, a perfectly respectable earl, with ten thousand a year. What do you want? I am not a hard woman, Deirdre, but I am not quite a fool either. I’m eighty years old, and if I see eighty-one I shall count myself blessed. I have a fortune to leave you. I mean to see a decent gentleman in charge of it and you before I go. Belami is well to grass. He ain’t overlooking my money, but he ain’t marrying you for it either. He has plenty of his own. What’s amiss with the fellow? I swear I could take a tumble for him myself, if I were half a century younger. He’s got a flashing eye in his head that could melt a milestone.”

“Well, it doesn’t melt
me
,” Deirdre said mulishly.

“I said a milestone, not an iceburg. Have you been trotting after that nipper of a Bidwell?” the duchess asked, wearing a sharp, questioning look.

“Certainly not. Where does everyone get that idea?”

“Belami seemed to think so. I took the notion he was very jealous.”

“Really?” Deirdre asked with a little smile turning up the corners of her lips.

“Why, he asked a million questions about him and you,” the aunt exaggerated wildly. She was indeed no fool. She knew a girl didn’t smile at a charge of jealousy on her lover’s part if it didn’t please her. And why should it please her, if she was as indifferent as she claimed regarding Belami? “If you want to hold off a little on the announcement, it is quite all right with me. You may tell him I said so,” the duchess added, to ensure another meeting between the brangling lovers.

“Thank you. I shall,” Deirdre replied. With a pretty curtsy, she turned and darted from the room to seek out Belami, and if she had any opportunity to flirt with Bidwell in front of him, she’d do that as well.

She went to Snippe’s door and rapped. Pronto opened the door an inch to squelch any caller. “We’re busy,” he told her.

“I wish to speak to Belami. It won’t take a moment,” she told him, and pushed her way in.

“Matter of fact, I want to speak to you,” Pronto decided, and shut the door. “That aunt of yours—a regular Captain Sharp. ‘Pon my word, she yanked a pair of kings from her sleeve and fleeced me with them.”

“She only cheats when she knows she’s playing with a Johnnie Raw,” Deirdre said, then turned to Belami. “I spoke to Auntie. You are not to announce the engagement this evening after all,” she told him, with a vastly superior smile. “
Ac
-tually, I doubt that you’ll ever be announcing it at all.”

“I am much obliged to you, ma’am,” he replied with a stiff bow.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

“One hesitates to disagree with a lady, but I must insist the pleasure is mutual.”

“Then you should have been firmer with Her Grace,” Deirdre answered, trying to control her rage at his arrogant sneer.

“I am but a reed in the wind, vis-à-vis the ladies. They command, and I am honored to obey.” A little bow accompanied this satirical utterance.

“I must go and speak to Bidwell now,” she retaliated. “You wouldn’t know where he is, Pronto?” she asked, never looking within a right angle of Belami but noticing from the corner of her eye the sudden jerk of his head toward her.

“Billiards room, all alone and smoking a cigar. Place is blue with smoke.”

“Thank you.” She left the room, slamming the door behind her.

It was opened much more quietly than it had been closed, to allow Belami to watch her route. She did not go toward the billiards room, but returned upstairs to begin her toilette for dinner.

“Bidwell. Looks black,” Pronto said wisely.

“She didn’t go to him,” Belami pointed out.

“Mentioned him. Going to tell him she don’t have to marry you. Pleased as punch about it. Quite a facer for you, Dick, being jilted.”

“It’s better than being shackled to her.
Ac
-tually, I’d sooner fry in hades than be that woman’s husband.”

“Expect you’ll get your wish,” Pronto told him with a hateful smirk.

Deirdre made a careful toilette, to appear in best form to flirt with Bidwell and make Belami jealous. She had not previously indulged in the primeval pastime of flirtation and had therefore little idea how to set about it. Her aunt was right. This was war. In her mind there was a vague intention of bringing Belami to his knees before her. He was a toplofty, haughty, spoiled rake who deserved a lesson.

She chose a white crepe gown with spider gauze overskirt. She had to arrange her own hair, as the duchess monopolized the woman who, in theory, was dresser to them both. As she brushed out her dark curls, she remembered Belami’s request that she wear it loose, for him. Why had he said that if he was so happy to be free of her? She would wear it loose and be sure to mention to Dick that Bidwell preferred it this way. It looked rather nice, she thought as she brushed back a wave, which fell forward again in a provocative curl at her temple. She usually wore simple pearl earrings, but for this occasion she borrowed a much finer pair of her aunt’s dangling diamond drops, which bounced against her cheeks when she turned her head. The scent bottle was used to anoint her wrists, the back of her ears, the hollow between her bosoms, as she had seen Lady Lenore do. Why would she put perfume there? In her innocence, she supposed the perfume wafted up, to enchant a lady’s partner.

When she was finished, she pirouetted in front of the mirror feeling strangely reckless, with the heady perfume around her, the earrings bobbing against her cheeks, and her hair untrammeled and abandoned, now that it was free of its pins. She smiled at the image in the mirror and found the smile unsatisfactory. It looked cold, unenchanting. She remembered watching Lady Lenore the night before. A strange, lazy smile she had, with her eyelids half closed, while she peered up through them at her admirers, with her head tilted. Deirdre tried this trick, and was satisfied that it added warmth to her manner. She played with her fan, covering her lips with it and batting her lashes, then slowly sliding it aside from her lips. It was really quite simple, once you got the hang of it.

When she descended with her aunt to the saloon for a glass of sherry before dinner, she was careful to take up a chair beside Bidwell.

“How have you managed to get in this long day, Bidwell?” She pitched her voice low, to lend it an intimate sound.

He turned and cast a surprised smile on her. “I have been desperately lonesome, ma’am. Where did you choose to hide yourself?”

This uninspired reply brought forth a throaty laugh that sent Belami’s head turning to observe her. Throwing herself at Bidwell to the top of her bent, the hussy!

“Here and there,” she said, plying the fan. “Mostly in the music room. Just me and one very much out-of-tune piano.”

“Lucky piano! Had I been there, I could have accompanied you. I sing out-of-tune quite naturally. We shall have plenty of time for duets. I fear we’re here for a few days, since the road hasn’t been cleared.”

“You’ll know where to find me next time,” she told him.

The innocent flirtation continued. Once Belami had established in his mind what was afoot, he didn’t pass another glance in that direction, but went to Lady Lenore to engage her in some more advanced carrying on.

“I see Charney has recovered sufficiently to come downstairs,” Lenore mentioned.

“I’m the one who deserves to be in bed. I must stand buff if her jewel isn’t recovered.”

“Poor Dickie,” she cooed. “Lucky we have Paris to look forward to. When will be convenient for you?”

“Tonight would be convenient for me,” he answered daringly.

She laughed and tapped his wrist with her fan. “Naughty boy! Chamfreys wouldn’t like that. Be patient. I can get away the third week of January. Is that date good for you?”

Panic rose in him. He didn’t want to become heavily enmeshed with Lenore, but to make an excuse would put her out of sorts, and cut off any help she might give him in solving the case. “The sooner, the better,” he said with a good semblance of eagerness.

“You’ll have to advance me some blunt, dear boy. I’m as poor as a church mouse.”

“What of Chamfreys?” While he spoke, his mind was busy with deductions. So she was having trouble getting monies from her escorts!

“He pays in things,” she explained. “A lovely diamond bracelet this trip. I have half a dozen of them. I was hoping for a necklace, but it seems my price is a bracelet. I shouldn’t have told you so, should I?”

“Very unwise.”

“Are we to hear an interesting announcement this evening, Belami? An odd time you chose for a liaison in Paris, when your betrothal is about to be made in public. Can’t say I blame you,” she added with a look across the room to Deirdre, who had returned to respectable behavior when she noticed that Belami wasn’t looking at her.

Belami’s hands clenched into fists, involuntarily. He hardly knew why, but he knew he was angry at the slur on Deirdre’s attractiveness. He took a hasty glance across the room and was struck at how well she looked this evening. Her cheeks wore the soft pink flush of a sea shell. Her eyes glowed with the gleam of youth, and on top of it, she looked elegantly respectable. In comparison, Lennie looked like a well-worn and slightly gaudy silk rose. “There will be no announcement,” he said with bored indifference.

“I see! I’m catching you on the rebound, am I? Did she turn you off, or was it
la duchesse
?”

“We agreed to disagree.”

“Pity. It would have been an interesting match, to see whether you debauched the child or she reformed you. I think you would have won. See, she’s already learned how to flirt. A vast improvement, if I may say so.”

Looking toward the corner, Belami watched as Deirdre resumed her flirtation. She hit Bidwell’s hand with her fan, in a good imitation of Lenore. Anger surged through him again, causing him to ignore Lenore’s question. She spoke on again.

“How does the case go on?”

“Superbly. I shall be announcing the solution shortly.”

“Then we’ll see her casting her wiles in earnest, I think,” she said with a speculative look at Bidwell.

“You know about her and Bidwell, then?” he ventured, and listened sharply for her answer.

“I surmised. Truth to tell, I didn’t suspect it before this visit. Does the duchess approve?”

“She won’t, after I have solved the case,” he said, to gauge how she reacted to hints of knavery on Bidwell’s part.

“Oho, so that’s the culprit! I can’t say I’m surprised. Who else could it be, when all’s said and done? I’ll tell you this, Dick: he was silent as a mouse all the time Chamfreys and I were—were in the next room,” she said with a nervous look around her. “And when he called us, I noticed a few droplets of water on his hair. Melted snow, it must have been. I didn’t mention it to him.

“Nor to me either, Lennie. Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Was anyone with him in the next room?”

“I don’t believe so. Why do you ask?”

“Because two glasses were broken.”

“No, there was only one smashing sound,” she said, surprised. “You must be mistaken.”

“You were preoccupied. You might have missed one.”

“Chamfreys is not all that distracting. The noise alerted me that it was time to scramble into my gown and return downstairs. And by the by, it was discreet of you to have found Chamfrey’s watch fob in the ballroom, and not in my bed, where he lost it. I noticed he wore it when we went upstairs. When did you retrieve it?”

“That same night, while you were at dinner.”

“I’m glad you did. I feared Bidwell had pocketed it. He was in my room when we came out. He’d been down and heard about the robbery, and came darting up to tell us. It occurred to me Chamfreys might have dropped it in my dressing room. It means a great deal to him. We’d been on our hands and knees searching the floor for it.”

Deirdre’s flirtation across the room was not observed. Belami had gotten new nuggets of information and was busy gnawing at them. If only one glass was smashed, what was the other bit of glass ground into the grate? Lennie was awake on all suits; he didn’t think she was mistaken about that. Or about Bidwell’s wet hair either. And why had Bidwell returned to her room to tell them of the robbery? Wouldn’t it be more natural to remain below, where excitement and gossip must have been rampant? So why had he really returned? Had he smashed the other glass then? Lennie denied this at once. No, no, they had all run down together at once.

His musings were interrupted by Snippe’s appearance at the doorway to announce, in injured accents, that dinner was served. Belami’s chore, as host, was to lend the duchess his arm. On his way to her side he said softly to Pronto, “I’m going to make an announcement after dinner. When I do, I want you to regard Deirdre and Bidwell. Note their expressions closely.”

“Eh? What announcement?”

“You’ll soon know. Just do as I ask. I’ve seated you beside Deirdre and across from Bidwell.”

Lady Belami usually followed her son’s advice for the simple reason that it saved her thinking for herself. He had ordered her to throw a lavish dinner and dress up grandly, and she had done it. Her cook had been instructed to prepare an elaborate dinner of two courses and two removes, with champagne served throughout the meal. The turbot in lobster sauce was perhaps not so tasty as her Philippe usually made it, but the champagne did much to cover Philippe’s lapse.
Le jambon à la broche
was a fine success. The troublesome duchess didn’t even try it, but ate a deal of the ragout, which was kinder to her loose teeth. The fowl, too, she managed to masticate without unhinging any of her perilously anchored molars.
Le charlotte a l’americain
was a hit with all the ladies.

When the meal was finally finished, Belami caught Pronto’s eye, nodded, and rose to his feet. He instructed the footmen to refill the glasses and said simply, “I have an announcement to make. It is brief and will, I am sure, make everyone at the table happy.” He looked at Deirdre, whose eyes were wide with interest. He was going to announce the betrothal after all, she thought. Her first spontaneous reaction was of surprised, confused delight, but she soon realized she had to be incensed at this cavalier flouting of her wishes. She glared at her aunt, who had obviously conspired with Belami in the matter, but the only expression that showed on her aunt’s face was rampant curiosity. Deirdre was too excited to notice Pronto sitting with his arms folded, his protruding eyes narrowed to slits, darting from herself to Bidwell like the pendulum of a metronome, while a frown of the most severe concentration creased his brow.

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