The Deception (22 page)

“You look lovely, Kate,” he said at last. “Very regal.”

“Regal?” I said doubtfully, looking down at myself. My dress was a relatively simple affair of white net worn over a Clarence blue satin slip. It had been very expensive because the net was sprinkled with pearls, but it did not have any of the lace or bows or elaborate embroidery that I knew I would see adorning most of the women’s dresses this evening. Louisa had said I was too small for such excessive trimming, and I agreed with her.

“Yes,” he said, “regal.”

I shook my head in disagreement. “I’m too short. You have to be tall, like Lady Mary Weston, to be regal.”

He didn’t disagree with me, he simply said he would go and order the carriage.

“Damn,” I muttered under my breath as I watched him leave the room. I had wanted him to tell me that I was far more regal than Lady Mary.

We got caught in a line of carriages outside the Bridgewater house in Berkeley Square and had to wait for a half an hour before we finally reached the front door. I used the time to tell Adrian about my desire to go to Newmarket for the Guineas.

We were sitting side by side in the carriage, facing forward. He had stretched out his legs as far as they would go, and I had spread my skirts carefully so that they wouldn’t wrinkle. The skirt made an effective barrier between us and I looked straight ahead as I talked, trotting out my prepared story about how Papa and I had always seen the Guineas together and how much I longed to return this year for old times’ sake. When I had finished he didn’t answer immediately, and I sat in silence and thought glumly about how silly I had sounded.

Not for the first time, I wondered if I should tell him the whole story. When recently I had suggested to Harry that we do this, he had objected violently. “Adrian’s got too much on his mind just now, Kate. Castlereagh is pushing him to come aboard at the Foreign Office, and of course that is exactly what Adrian always planned to do. But he don’t like this repressive course the government has taken in domestic affairs. This is not the time to worry him about Stade and a ringer stallion.”

I had felt an unpleasant flash of jealousy that Adrian would confide these problems to Harry and not to me, but I had to admit that what Harry said made sense. It would not be fair to burden Adrian with my problems at a time when he was dealing with problems of his own.

“If it would be too inconvenient for you to accompany me, then perhaps I could go with Harry,” I ventured.

“No.”

I bit my lip.

“It will not be inconvenient for me to take you to Newmarket, Kate,” he said. “In fact, it will be a relief to get out of London for a while.” I turned to look at him, and he gave me a rueful smile. “I’m beginning to think that I don’t have the temperament for politics after all.”

“It’s not you that doesn’t have the right temperament, my lord,” I said hotly. “The country would be much better off if you were prime minister instead of that frightened worm, Liverpool.”

“They’re all frightened,” Adrian said, “Liverpool and Sidmouth and the rest of the Tory leaders. I don’t understand them at all.” He sounded genuinely bewildered. “They have dusted off some old unrepealed Act which gives magistrates the power to send to prison any persons they think likely to commit an act prejudicial to public order.” A current of anger ran beneath his voice as he turned toward me. “Can you imagine what that means, Kate? It means that red-faced squires all over the country will be throwing into jail every poor soul who passes a rude comment in the local pub!”

“It is disgraceful,” I said.

“I cannot understand them,” he repeated forcefully. “Everywhere I look in London I see demobilized soldiers and sailors who can’t find employment. These are the men who defeated Napoleon, Kate! They deserve better than that their government should be afraid of them.”

He did not understand that Liverpool and Sidmouth and their ilk were narrow-minded little men who thought only of the welfare of their own class. Unlike Adrian, they did not feel it was their duty to protect those less fortunate and less powerful than they.

“I know your family have always been Tories,” I said slowly, “but perhaps the Whigs would be more to your taste?”

The coach crept forward a few more steps.

He sighed. “The Whigs are hopelessly divided into factions, Kate.”

I did not understand. “Factions?”

He held up one finger. “First, we have the Grenvillites, who are just like the Tories, only they think Lord Grenville should be prime minister and not Liverpool.” He held up a second finger. “Then we have the Foxites, who are supposedly in favor of reform but who have no use for economics. Economics, of course, is the whole point of reform,” his eyes glinted, “as any intelligent reader of
The Wealth of Nations
should know.”

I nodded intelligently to show him that I did indeed know.

A third finger went up. ‘“Then there are the radical reformers, people like Whitbread and young Grey and Brougham. But they all disagree with each other as well as with the Grenvillites and the Foxites.”

“Good God,” I said, “The Whigs sound as if they’re as disorganized as the Irish.”

He gave an unwilling laugh. “The Irish at least can always agree to oppose the English. The problem with the Whigs is that they can discover nothing with which they can agree to unite in opposition.”

The carriage inched forward again.

“It sounds dismal,” I said.

“It is. I will be happy to escort you to Newmarket.”

The carriage stopped and a footman holding a torch opened the door. Another footman stepped forward to assist me to alight. We had arrived at the Bridgewater ball.

* * * *

The ball was notable for two things. The first was that Adrian danced with Lady Mary Weston.

This fact did not appear to be at all earth-shattering to anyone else in attendance. I was already on the floor with another partner—a young cavalry officer who held a position at the Horseguards—so it could not be said that Adrian had neglected me for a previous love interest. Nor was there anything about their demeanor that was at all remarkable. They conversed gravely and decorously while waiting for the music to start, and they performed the waltz: with perfect correctness.

But it was a waltz. He had his arms around her. She was looking up into his eyes. He was looking into hers. I wanted to pull her away from him and scratch her face off. Jealousy is a very ugly emotion.

Then, when I went into the supper room with my escort, whose name I can’t remember, I saw Adrian sitting with three other people, one of whom was Lady Mary.

“Are you feeling quite the thing, Lady Greystone?” my escort asked me. “You have gone quite pale.”

My face might be pale, but I was seeing red.

“I’m fine.” I forced a smile. “I see my husband over there. Why don’t we join him?”

The man agreed with alacrity. Everyone always wanted to have a chance to get close to Adrian.

When I approached Adrian’s table, the men rose and someone went to bring two more chairs. There was a general shuffling about as they made room for us, and Adrian introduced me to Mrs. Hampton, a handsome young woman whose husband had been on Wellington’s staff in the Peninsula. Apparently she was the one whom he had taken into supper, not Lady Mary. I felt marginally less furious.

Lady Mary asked me if I was enjoying the dance. Her supper companion was a haughty-looking young man whose shoulders must have been padded, they looked so extravagantly wide in contrast to the rest of him. I tried not to stare at them as I told her I was indeed enjoying the dance.

“You seem to have captivated poor old Charles Prendergast,” Adrian said.

Sir Charles Prendergast was a burly gentleman of at least sixty. He had danced with me twice and talked my ear off about a hunter that my father had once sold him that had been “the best damn horse I’ve ever ridden.”

“Papa once sold him a horse that he liked,” I said.

Padded Shoulders said, “I am quite certain that Sir Charles found more to admire in you than your father’s horse, Lady Greystone.” He lisped.

I stared at him in amazement. Adrian coughed and turned his face away. “No,” I said, “he really liked the horse.”

“Lady Greystone’s father was well-known for his excellent horses,” Lady Mary said to her escort. Her cheeks were a little flushed.

“I say—was he some kind of a dealer, then?” Padded Shoulders gave a giggle to show that he was joking.

I answered him but kept my eyes fixed on Lady Mary. “Yes, in fact, he was.” If I had not already guessed how she felt about Adrian, her comment would have told me. Mary Weston was not usually the sort of girl who made remarks like that.

Padded Shoulders, realizing he had committed a gaffe, huffed and puffed and tried to change the subject. Mrs. Hampton came to his rescue with a comment about the lobster patties. Then a footman came up behind Adrian’s shoulder.

“Lord Castlereagh would like a word with you, my lord,” he said. “He is in the library.”

“Very well,” Adrian said. “If you will excuse me, Mrs. Hampton, Lady Mary,” his eyes met mine, “Kate.”

We all chorused that of course we would excuse him. The supper table broke up shortly after he left, and for a moment Lady Mary and I were left alone together.

I had been in London long enough to have learned what code governed the marriages of most aristocrats, and faithfulness was not included in the rules of the game. Men were always free to play where they desired, while a woman’s duty was to ensure that her firstborn son was her husband’s child. After that she could have as many lovers as she liked, as long as she was discreet.

I knew that I had no claim to Adrian’s fidelity. I had sworn to myself that I would not burden him with my feelings. I looked into Lady Mary’s serene and lovely face, narrowed my eyes, and said, “Find someone else to love, Lady Mary. Greystone is taken.”

She stared at me in stupefaction. Finally she managed a faint “I beg your pardon?”

“It’s quite simple. I am telling you to leave my husband alone.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Lady Greystone,” she said.

She knew perfectly well what I was talking about, but I was not averse to spelling it out. “I am talking about the fact that you are in love with Greystone. I don’t blame you for that. I realize that you knew him before I did. But fate was not on your side, Lady Mary.” I moved a step nearer to her so that our faces were quite close. “Greystone is now married to me, and I take my marriage very seriously.” I narrowed my eyes even more.
“Very
seriously, Lady Mary, if you take my meaning.”

The color returned to her face in a rush of blood. “Are you trying to frighten me, Lady Greystone?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes,” I said.

“This is incredible,” she said.

“I know how to use a gun,” I said.

Her mouth dropped open. “Are you threatening to shoot me?”

At that moment Sir Charles Prendergast came puffing up with a slightly-less-elderly companion in tow. He hailed me triumphantly. “Lady Greystone!”

I turned away from Lady Mary, satisfied that she had received my message. “Sir Charles,” I said graciously, “is this the gentleman who is in search of a new hunter?”

When I had been speaking to Sir Charles previously, I had taken the opportunity to try to stir up some business for Paddy.

Sir Charles beamed at me. “Indeed it is,” he said. As he made the introductions, Lady Mary walked slowly away.

* * * *

If Lady Mary dancing with Adrian was the first notable thing that happened at the Bridgewater ball, the second was the appearance of my uncle.

He arrived quite late, while I was at supper, and I did not know he was there until I returned to the ballroom and saw him taking the dance floor with Lady Charlotte, the Bridgewaters’ youngest daughter.

I looked around immediately for Adrian, but he still must have been closeted with Lord Castlereagh, because he was nowhere in sight. The gentleman to whom I had promised this dance was escorting me to the floor, and he must have felt me falter. He stopped, looked down at me with concern, and asked, “Are you all right, Lady Greystone?”

“I’m fine,” I replied. “I was just surprised to see my uncle—Lord Charlwood—at this particular ball. I did not know he was politically inclined.”

My escort smiled cynically. “He’s not here because he’s politically inclined, Lady Greystone. He’s here because he’s wealthy and unmarried. The Bridgewaters are trying to marry off Charlotte this year, and Lady Bridgewater has set her sights on Charlwood. The betting in the clubs is that he’s finally met his match.”

I regarded the unremarkable-looking girl who was standing next to my uncle. “In Lady Charlotte?” I asked.

“In Lady Bridgewater,” came the dry reply.

We reached the floor just as the orchestra began to play. It was a quadrille, and we went to join a set that was on the opposite side of the room from my uncle.

I had become quite adept at the quadrille these last weeks, so I did not have to concentrate on my steps quite so intently as I once had. Consequently, I was aware of the moment when my uncle first noticed me.

He saw me, and instantly his eyes began to search the room. I thought he must be seeking Adrian, and my own eyes made a quick circle to ascertain if he had surfaced yet. He had not.

The music played on, and I turned and curtsied and was handed from partner to partner, and all the while I worried about what was going to happen when my uncle and my husband finally met.

At last the dance ended. I accompanied my partner off the floor, agreeing distractedly to whatever it was that he was chatting about. “The next dance is a waltz, Lady Greystone,” he said as we came to a halt in front of some gilt chairs. “Dare I hope that you are free?”

A smooth voice from behind me said, “I’m afraid, sir, that my niece has promised this dance to me.”

“Uncle Martin!”

I whirled to face him and he bestowed upon me that familiar, fraudulent smile, the one that did not touch his eyes. “You are looking even lovelier than I remembered, Kate,” he said. “Marriage must agree with you.”