Miss Delacourt Has Her Day (22 page)

By the time he came face-to-face with the threesome seated in the carriage-they who had quite possibly dashed all of his hopes and dreams and, worse yet, Ginny’s-he was too vexed to wonder what miracle had been wrought that had allowed his uncle to rise from his deathbed.

“Have you done amusing yourself by meddling in my life, Uncle?”

“Why, Crenshaw, you look a bit worse for wear. I had thought it quite impossible I should find you looking a mite less than exquisite in what remains of my lifetime, but there it is,” the duke said with a sniff.

Remembering himself, Anthony sketched a bow to both Lady Derby and Mr. Simmons, allowing himself time to weigh his response with care. “I am in possession of a valet who would mourn as do you should he be here to see me. Instead of being in attendance today to watch the clothing he so tenderly cares for become grimed in dust, sweat, and the tears of one enfant in particular, not to mention the befouled waters of the Serpentine, he is off procuring a balloon.” He paused and favored his uncle with a knowing smile. “Shall I ride after him, hell for leather, and inform him that this particular service is no longer required?”

Lady Derby’s shriek of laughter at this utterance could doubtless be heard at the far end of Hyde Park, while Mr. Simmons’ goggle-eyed stare was a wonder to behold. The duke, however, merely frowned and narrowed his eyes.

“I do believe we had an agreement, Crenshaw. You were to perform three tasks, as specified and to my satisfaction. In return I would pronounce my blessing upon your marriage to a certain Miss Delacourt.”

“Very well, then,” Anthony conceded. “I shall safely assume the first two tasks have been performed to your satisfaction and will proceed with the balloon ascension tomorrow morning as planned.”

“The boxing match was craftily done, and I commend you, Crenshaw. I have little respect for the opinion of the outcome of today’s race, but it would seem I am outnumbered there. I shall concede two wins and look forward to the balloon ascension with every degree of anticipation. However, the terms of the agreement state that you need to fly the balloon, on your own, from one location to the other. Where do you intend to go up, and where do you intend to put down the balloon?” the duke queried.

Anthony knew that the place of departure was already known to all and sundry, particularly those who availed themselves of the information in the betting book at White’s. He could only hope Regent’s Park would be a deal less crowded than Hyde was today. However, the place of landing was one piece of information Anthony loathed to divulge for reasons he planned to keep to himself until the last possible moment. As it was, there were too many eager ears about.

“I’m persuaded you are well aware of the location of my departure, sir. As to the landing, I will do you one better!” Anthony said with an airy wave of his hand that sent dust skittering across the lap of Lady Derby’s cossack-green gros de naples gown, which was very fine but sadly at odds with the brick-red grogram ribbon that adorned her hat, an already hideous affair by virtue of its ridiculously high poke graced by a spray of what looked to be roadside weeds dangling over the brim. “I shall write the location on a piece of paper, in my own hand and sealed with my own signet, and leave it to the care of my grandmama. In days hence, there shall be none to claim they heard me say I had always meant to fly only as far as Harrow Road when you have evidence proclaiming it was my full intention to alight in Hampstead Heath all along.”

“And when shall I be in possession of this paper?” the duke asked with a dubious air.

“Oh, you shall have it soon enough, never fear!” Anthony replied, examining his woefully dirty cuffs. As he planned to ensure that Grandmama, along with the precious paper, would be well on her way to Dunsmere by then, he trusted the duke would not learn of its contents until it was very much too late for him to make himself disagreeable. “Shall we shake on it, then, Your Grace?” Anthony asked, stripping off a filthy, wet glove and thrusting his hand under his uncle’s nose.

“Hold a moment!” the duke said, recoiling from the dirt or the agreement, Anthony couldn’t say which. “You haven’t forgotten our arrangement with regards to Miss Delacourt’s fate should you fail to land on target?”

“I would hardly call us in accord along those lines, Uncle!” Anthony said, hoping his heart hadn’t visibly jumped from his chest. “If I were to fail in my endeavor, Miss Delacourt will yet remain in the capable guardianship of her Grandaunt Regina.”

“I need not remind you, Crenshaw, that I am the head of her grandaunt’s family, and if I see fit to pack your girl off to the country to marry Simmons’ father, here, a widower with several brats get off his second wife still littering the house, then pack her off I shall!”

Anthony quelled the shudder of revulsion he felt at the thought of Ginny clutched in the grip of an older version of Simmons. Though he would never allow Ginny to fall into such a horrid marriage, he wasn’t as sure of his valet’s ability to fly a balloon. Anthony could only pray that, wherever they landed, there would be nobody about to bear witness to his uncle. As long as he was praying, he might as well add a bit about spiriting Ginny away and out of the power of men such as his uncle and his hoary widowers standing in the wings.

“Dearest Uncle, it would seem you are the crafty one! In exchange, if I should triumph, you must promise that after we are wed, you shall brook no argument and allow us to live our lives according to our own desires and wishes without this constant interference.”

“Yes, I do believe I can go along with that, but only because your Miss Delacourt has a good deal of spirit. Indeed, she has bottom! Though I would rather see her wed to Mr. Simmons Senior, I shall enjoy watching her lead you a merry dance through life, if it comes to that”

“And you, sir? Have you put off your date with the devil long enough to witness such dancing?”

“I must say, I do feel a sight better than I have for years,” the duke said, thumping his narrow chest with one fist. “However, one can never say for sure which way the wind might blow!”

“True,” Anthony said, affecting not to notice how his uncle’s free hand came to rest on Lady Derby’s knee. “But should one read the signs aright, one might hazard a notion,” he added with an arch of one eyebrow.

The duke frowned but did not remove his hand from its proprietary position. “Let us hope that the wind blows in just the right direction for you tomorrow.” With that the duke took up the reins, whipped up the horses, and drove off into the dwindling crowd.

Anthony turned and walked back to where he had left Ginny and Grandmama. The row of carriages had mostly broken up and driven off, affording him a clear view of his beloved as she sat and patiently waited. He could not help but reflect on how her demure beauty outshone Lady Derby’s exotic attractions in every way. While the former’s costume had been loud, Ginny’s gown of white spotted muslin under an old rose poplin spencer hit just the right note, while the bonnet of chip straw lined with white lace, adorned by one or two silk rosebuds and tied fetchingly under her chin, allowed her glossy chestnut curls to come alive.

When she spotted his approach and smiled her delight, his heart turned over in his chest. It occurred to him how this would be an opportune time to reveal the entire truth about his three tasks, yet it seemed impossible to speak of it so soon after his uncle’s threats to marry her off to an ancient widower should Anthony fail in the execution of the duke’s last injunction. After tomorrow, there would be more than enough time to tell her all.

“What did that unruly son of mine have to say, Anthony?” Grandmama asked the moment he drew near enough to hear her words.

“He has seen the error of his ways,” he replied, wiping his hand clean on his handkerchief, as he had no wish to dirty Ginny’s soft white glove with his kiss. “Demme, I have soiled it after all!” he said upon inspecting the result.

Ginny surveyed his handiwork, as well, and, laughing, proclaimed it perfect. “I shall cherish this glove forever, as it bears the mark of your love in the exact replica of your lips!”

Suddenly, for Anthony, tomorrow could not arrive too soon. “It’s a sight too bad about that smudge made by the tip of my nose, but we all have our burdens to bear,” he said as lightly as the pounding of his heart would allow.

“Now, that is enough courting for one day,” Grandmama insisted.

“I cannot agree, but, sadly, I haven’t the time to further my cause,” he said, noting out of the corner of his eye that bits and pieces of what was left of Old Q’s carriage were being carried off by souvenir hunters.

“Would your need for haste have anything to do with the balloon ascension tomorrow?” Ginny asked with an arch smile.

“Ah, so you have been informed, have you?” he said, hoping he did not look as abashed as he felt.

“Indeed, rumors are flying! Do you have any other secrets you wish to share with me?” she asked, her eyes dancing.

“No!” Anthony said in all truthfulness, as least as much as he could manage at the moment. Reaching up to touch her face, he reveled in the silkiness of her skin. “However, I do have one or two surprises I warrant you will vastly enjoy,” he said in a voice that sounded husky to his own ears.

“Come, now, Anthony, be off with you, or we will be eaten by flies before the hour is out!” Grandmama complained. And with that she gave the signal to her driver, and they were off.

Ginny turned to wave a time or two, but then they were gone almost as thoroughly as the carriage borrowed for the race. Making the rescue of what survived of Old Q’s carriage his next task, Anthony set about mentally preparing a list of what remained. Conti was off to procure the balloon. One could only hope he knew how to operate it as well as he could tie a cravat. Better! Visions of crashing to the ground or being speared by a church spire during the journey through the sky filled him with dread. The thought of Ginny in the arms of some old goat was infinitely worse, however. There wasn’t a chance Anthony would allow that to happen, powerful as his uncle was. However, Ginny might be made to believe it could happen if Anthony didn’t meet his uncle’s demands. One moment of believing her life would be lived as wife to a gummy old stranger was one moment too long.

Next were the carefully censored instructions for Grandmama. She must have the note for the duke, of course, but she must also be persuaded to return to Dunsmere at first light without knowing his reasons for the request. He would send a messenger ahead to Dunsmere this afternoon carrying instructions for her enlightenment upon her arrival. Meanwhile, he daren’t risk news of his plans to reach the ears of Society.

Last on the list was proper wedding attire. Ginny must have her wedding gown-on that he was positively determined. He would be just as happy to marry her in the gray linsey gown with the stretched-out hem as anything else, but he suspected that Ginny had dreamed of her wedding day since she was a young girl, and gray linsey-woolsey gowns had no part in it. Once Conti had returned from his current task, he would send him off to Hertfordshire to run Madame Badeau to ground and procure the dress.

This left only his own clothing to acquire. The bespeaking of a new suit of cerulean-blue silk, very fine, a new shirt, and several neck cloths all bearing a bit more lace than Mr. Brummel would have approved, had been his first task upon arriving in London less than a week prior. It would be the work of a moment to stop at his tailor’s to fetch them and purchase a new hat, as well.

There was a time when the thought of entering a haberdashery or any public place in all his dirt would have brought him to his knees. No longer. In truth, his pride in his wardrobe that once he valued above all things had fallen a notch or two in his esteem.

By the time he had returned the carriage, caught a hackney to his tailor’s, headed for home, then turned around in order to procure a special license, then to finally arrive at his rooms on Jermyn Street, Conti had returned with news of the balloon.

“All ees well! I have arranged for the balloon to be brought to Regent’s Park and inflated early een the morning. It shall be tethered and waiting when we arrive”

“Very good. Now, I’m afraid I have bad news for you, my man. I shall need you to rescue a princess from a tower,” Anthony said wryly.

“Theese is the work of a moment!” Conti proclaimed with a snap of his fingers.

“Not when the princess is interred in Hertfordshire, I’m afraid. In fact, I don’t expect to see you again until the wee hours of the morning.”

Conti pursed his lips and eyed his master narrowly. “Will you be going out again tonight?”

“Why, yes, I find that I must,” Anthony replied with some surprise.

“Then I shall draw you a bath before I depart, though I am afraid I cannot linger to tie you a proper cravat,” Conti said with a sigh.

“I expect that pile of neck cloths you’ve already ironed and I will deal famously together.”

Conti merely sniffed and quit the room in search of hot water.

While waiting for his bath, Anthony scratched one word on a piece of paper and readied it for evening, when he would bring it around to Grandmama himself. He did not relish attempting to explain to her why it was so important that she arise at the crack of dawn and hasten to Dunsmere for no reason that he could explain. In the end, he found he was quite right.

“But, Anthony, we are here in London to arrange your wedding! Why would I wish to leave now?” Grandmama queried.

“I wish I could say, but I’m afraid I cannot. However, I can say that if you follow my instructions to the letter, you shall be satisfied with the outcome”

“‘Instructions’? `Outcome’?” Grandmama cried, her face turning an alarming shade of puce. “I am persuaded you have forgotten to whom you are speaking, my boy!”

“Not at all!” Anthony insisted. “You are not one who is easily forgotten. What’s more, you shall be given your full due before the week is out. Now, do be a dear, and be sure to hang on to this letter until you get to Dunsmere. Do not let it out of your sight.”

“But it is addressed to your uncle,” she spluttered. “Why should I take it with me when you might deliver it into his hands this very night?”