The Marquess and Miss Davies (21 page)

She almost found herself humming along, which was not done. And her attention was at best divided, as she never forgot the gentleman sitting at her right. A second performer took the stage—a tenor, whose name Miss Davies did not catch—and acquitted himself passably, although on some of the highest notes the man seemed to be making a painful effort.

“I worry that he will do himself an injury,” whispered Isolde.

“Shh.”

But Carys saw Lord Leighton smile.

When the first interval arrived, Lady Reggie beckoned for the sisters to walk with her for a moment. Lord Leighton bowed, and said he hoped to see them shortly, at the table of refreshments.

“Lord Harcourt,” said Lady Regina, “has insisted that your brother accompany him outside to see the duke’s latest acquisition.”

The duke in this case being Lord Harcourt’s father.

“Acquisition?” said Isa,

“Yes. Apparently ‘tis the horse to end all horses.”

“Really!” said Carys. “I should very much like—”

“Lud.” Isolde rolled her eyes. “No, you wouldn’t. What you
would
very much like to do is go find Lord Leighton.”

“And quickly,” added Reggie. “Before Talfryn returns.”

They turned Carys in the direction of the refreshments, and she left.

* * * *

This time she saw him first. The marquess stood in Lady Nickleston’s parlour, which was stuffed to nearly bursting with tables, drink, and food, not to mention the crush of people all around. He was talking quietly with a gentleman that Carys did not at first recognize, only later realizing that ‘twas the Duke of Marlborough.

Lord Leighton noticed her nearly as she entered, and bowing a farewell to his grace, he came at once to Carys’s side.

“Have you enjoyed Signorina Benedetti’s performance?” asked the marquess.

“I have. She is most ...
effusive
in her interpretation.”

He laughed. “Yes, that is a good word for it.”

“Still, her voice is lovely. It nearly chimes.”

Miss Davies and Lord Leighton had moved toward the one door in the room that led outside, without either making mention of any direction or goal. What exactly one might find out of doors was unknown, whether a balcony or merely steps to a garden, as the light was too faint to determine it. Carys could see nothing beyond dark shapes, although she knew others had exited and were taking advantage of the cool evening air. Surely even her brother could not disapprove if they were one couple among many.

“My brother,” said Carys, “is off to examine ‘the horse of all horses’. At least according to Lord Harcourt.”

“Ah, yes. Bucéphale.”

“Bucephalus?”

“My mother thought the French sounded more ... artistic.”

They happened to step just outside the door, onto a broad landing of a staircase. Others were proceeding up or down, as there was a garden below, lit with torches.

“You know this animal?”

 “Indeed. He was, until recently, one of the treasures of the Claresholm stables.”

Carys was nearly openmouthed. “The duke’s animal is
yours
?”

“Well, he was.”

Miss Davies decided that she would eventually need to meet this ‘horse of all horses’. But her current attention was directed more to Lord Leighton, who was equally fascinating. By now they had descended Lady Nickleston’s staircase and were walking along one of the garden pathways.

The torches burned with a lovely glow, the gentle smells of the evening were warm and pleasant, the grass around their feet could just be seen as a lovely green in the faintness of the light—

If there had been little birds about, thought Carys, smiling at herself, they would be singing.

And the marquess turned suddenly and took her in his arms, and they embraced in a way that Miss Davies wished never to end. Lord Leighton murmured words into her hair and his hands made rather free of her shoulders and her back and she could feel the fingertips against her shoulder blades, pressing her into his chest.

She did not pull away. Only a few nights ago she and Isa had discussed kissing at some length; how best to go about the activity, what actions were acceptable and a few that one really should not permit—but all this was forgotten in the tumult and heat. Carys did not know what she did as the marquess’s mouth moved against hers in a manner that—

“Carys!” A soft whisper.

The marquess, to Miss Davies surprise, did not stop immediately, but released Carys with a soft press of his lips against her forehead. Perhaps he had recognized the voice, as she had. Isolde.

“Carys!”

Now she and Lord Leighton stepped apart. “What?” she whispered back, in the general direction of the sound.

Isa stepped onto the path from ... somewhere.

“The programme will begin soon, Talfryn is back, and he is
looking
for you.”

“Ah.”

“I’m fairly certain he’s also looking for his lordship.”

The marquess was grinning. “I suppose it is time we returned. Miss Isolde?”

And with a twin on each arm, the Marquess of Clare escorted them back to the salon.

When the second interval arrived, the two Misses Davies were again accompanied by the marquess, who offered to bring them a glass of whatever Lady Nickleston was now offering as punch. He left on that errand, and Isa turned to Carys.

“I cannot endure much more of this.”

“You! What are
you
enduring?” But Carys knew exactly what her sister meant.

“Spending every waking moment watching out for our dear brother. And keeping you out of trouble.”

“Well,” said Carys—blushing suddenly—”I believe Lord Leighton appreciates your efforts.”

“I just bet he does. Now marry the gentleman, and let’s be done with this.”

“He has not yet asked. Although—” Carys sighed. She did not want to give voice to her hopes. “He looks very well in that coat, don’t you think?” she said, instead. Lord Leighton was an imposing gentleman in any circumstances; tonight he seemed head and shoulders above the others in the fine cut of the wool and the elegant knot of his cravat.

“I like his trousers as well.”

“Isa!”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t taken a glance or two.”

“Did you know that the duke’s horse is
his
? I mean, from his stables—”

“Gods, enough about the horse.”

At this point Samantha and Lord Rowley approached. The four began a discussion of Mozart’s operas, but after a few minutes Carys suddenly saw Isolde frown slightly and bite her lip. She turned to see her brother in conversation with Lord Leighton, who was holding the promised glasses of punch. A third man stood there as well, someone wholly unfamiliar to Carys, and who was not at all dressed in the current English style.

Something was wrong. Although no-one else in the room—excepting Lady Reggie—would notice, the twins knew their brother well. His shoulders were tense and one fist began to clench and unclench. He was saying something to Lord Leighton.

Lord Leighton smiled slightly and shook his head.

Carys wanted to rush over at once, but her sister grabbed her hand. Isolde said something particularly outrageous about the tenor; Miss Godfrey feigned shock and everyone laughed. Carys tried to pay attention—she saw Lord Harcourt—

What was Benjamin doing?

Lady Regina then joined her husband and drew him aside for a moment. They spoke quietly and then Carys, to her relief, saw Talfryn relax and nod. Reggie smiled at him.

The marquess returned with the glasses of punch for Carys and Isolde. He seemed entirely unperturbed, and they all conversed easily, Lord Rowley giving his decided opinion that Signorina Benedetti’s voice was unmatched in London, and Samantha arguing just as strongly that Miss Paton-Wood was more than her equal. Lord Leighton agreed with Miss Godfrey’s description of another London soprano, who was well-known for her tendency to screech. Talfryn and Lady Reggie were both talking to Lord Harcourt—Carys could see them from the corner of her eye.

Even Isolde did not dare ask the marquess what had happened.

* * * *

A London musicale did not reward those without patience and the ability to sit for long periods; a final interval was eventually announced and all filed out for refreshments and a welcome breath of cool air, if such could be obtained. On this occasion Carys had no chance to speak privately with Lord Leighton, and she had to be satisfied with seeing that his gaze fell on her quite often, and when they returned for the final act, as it were, she somehow knew that his attention was no more on the music than hers.

* * * *

The explanation for their brother’s upset was quickly divulged once safely home and out of the earshot of the dowager viscountess. Lady Regina came to the twin’s bedroom and, kicking off her shoes, sat down on Isolde’s bed with a sigh.

“Tally is asleep,” she said. “Why is it that babies only sleep when you most want to see them, and long to hear their soft little cries?”

“Soft?” said Carys, laughing. “I’ve heard those cries from Green Park, I believe.”

“The footmen wear him out, I’m sure of it.”

“So,” said Isa, impatient. “Tell us.”

Reggie didn’t pretend ignorance. “Your dear brother,” she said, “happened to be standing close by when a certain individual—one of Signorina Benedetti’s associates, I believe, who makes the arrangements here, you know she hardly speaks a word of English—at any rate, Talfryn was there when this person approached the marquess.”

She had their full attention.

“The man was quite effusive in his praise of the bouquet of lilies sent by Lord Leighton to Miss Benedetti—”

“What!”

“—and told him that the signorina would be most pleased to give him a private audience after the performance.”

Both twins were staring at Lady Regina, Isolde with a frown. Carys was feeling as if the floor had dropped from under her feet.

“That’s not possible,” said Isa, flatly.

“Indeed, ‘tis not. Lord Harcourt approached
me
at that point—and rather quickly explained that the flowers were his, that in such matters he was accustomed to have use of the marquess’s accounts at various shops.”

“Lud,” said Isolde, “we must find Benjamin a rich wife.”

“I rather agree. Apparently, the shopkeepers are usually more careful to make the necessary distinction when sending these items to their destination.” Reggie started laughing. “Benjamin was rather put out, actually. He said that he would never gain the lady’s attention now that the mistake had been made.”

“Gods.”

“I went over and explained this to your brother before anything further was said to the marquess.” Lady Regina turned to Carys with a serious look. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

Isolde was nodding. Carys had no idea.

“Talfryn was upset on your behalf. Your brother is not prudish. He would not have cared a whit if he did not take the marquess as a serious suitor for your hand.”

* * * *

Lady Reggie’s frank assessment made the situation suddenly real to Carys. She was forming an association with Lord Leighton. She was
involved
with a marquess. She would be—could be—might be—married to him.

Someday.

The next morning an enormous bouquet of flowers arrived at Cardingham House—lilies, roses and apple blossoms massed in an arrangement so elegant that Carys felt the breath catch in her throat at the first glance. ‘Twas from Lord Leighton, and a note was included as well. Miss Davies took the note back upstairs to read in the privacy of her bedroom.

My dear Carys,

I hope these flowers will bear the fragrance of

the out-of-doors, and perhaps remind you of

our happy picnic at Richmond Park.

Until we meet again,

A.

Isa found her twin sometime later, sitting at her writing desk and staring at Lord Leighton’s note underhand. Next to it—to Isolde’s very great amusement—was Carys’s marriage list. All the original items had been crossed out, and the name ‘Anthony’ appended to the end.

Josephine was bored. She had forgotten that London was appallingly free of society before the early afternoon and that she had never been much fond of shopping. A long walk in one of the parks was fine, but Anthony fussed if she did not take her maid, and really, who wanted to walk with someone following at your heels? She remembered laughing at the sight some years before; a group of young ladies, each with a maid several steps behind.

“‘Tis as if,” she once told the marquess, “we are all suspects in a robbery, and are being pursued at a very slow pace by a troop of female
gendarmes
.”

 The entire point of the out-of-doors was to be by oneself. As was so easy to do, in Hertfordshire.

In desperation that morning, she asked for one of the smaller family carriages to be brought around, and directed the coachman to Lock’s, on St James’s Street. Perhaps a new hat would be just the thing.

* * * *

I am entirely unlucky, thought Jo. Not only does Lock not offer a single blessed hat that doesn’t look like a peacock is sitting on one’s head, but now here is Penelope Briskin.

“Jo! Josephine!” called Miss Briskin, who was waving frantically from the other side of the shop. The clerk frowned at her; one did not raise one’s voice in a Bond Street hatter.

How is it possible that she is the only other female of the
ton
awake at this hour? thought Lady Bainborough.

Miss Briskin approached and embraced the countess as if they were the best of long-lost friends.

“La, what a lark! I heard you were in town. I told Maude Greenley—she’s Sally’s sister you know, she has only just married Lord Greenley—I told Maude that Lady Bainborough is in town and I know we will see each other very often, even though I’m ever so sure you are busy—”

Miss Briskin never seemed to draw breath when she spoke. ‘Twas necessary to rather ignore this when engaged in a conversation, and to simply break in and begin talking.