Thea's Marquis (8 page)

He was about to call a halt to the enterprise when they turned a corner and came to the blind, rubbish-filled end of the alley.

“Rosie?”

Half hidden by a broken crate, a bundle of rags stirred. Thea darted forward and took the filthy, shivering child in her arms. Too late to warn of the danger of typhus fever, Rod could only think how wrong he had been to compare her to his mother.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“So Peter will be Hazlewood’s new tiger, and Rosie is to live with a family at his country seat in Buckinghamshire. He spends at least half the year there, so they will see each other often. I told him he must not separate them more than he can help.” Reaching the end of her story, Thea realized that her mother was more worried than approving. Her excitement ebbed and she sank wearily onto one of the new Chippendale chairs.

“Oh dear, it was scarcely proper in you to instruct the marquis, my love.”

“He did not take it amiss, Mama. We are friends.”

“Friendship seldom leads to warmer feelings,” Meg informed her knowledgeably. “To make him fall in love, you must dress in your best and flirt with him, not wear your old cloak and rush around rescuing ragamuffins.”

“I have not the knack of flirting, and even if I had, Lord Hazlewood is not in the least likely to fall in love with me.”

“No, I suppose not. Jason says he is very rich and grand—the
crème de la crème
—and much sought after, but he has never paid his addresses even to the most beautiful and eligible young ladies. Not that he is either a rake or a recluse. He goes to all the best balls and parties, and Almack’s, and is generally regarded as a paragon of propriety.”

“Then I cannot think what he was about, Thea,” the dowager fretted, “to involve you in such an unpleasant business. Does he suppose you so lost to all sense of decorum that anything is acceptable? I fear you started on the wrong foot with him, at that inn, and then to go out this morning without your maid!”

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Thea murmured impenitently. She would not have missed this morning for the world, and Farden’s daunting presence would have spoiled it.

“I ought not to have allowed you to go to Covent Garden at all. You must behave with particular care in future and hope that time will erase the unfortunate impression.”

“Yes, Mama.” In theory she agreed. She suspected, though, that if she showed herself to be a conventional, demure young lady, she would forfeit the warm regard he had expressed after their adventure. She’d fade into insignificance among a crowd of sophisticated beauties; for, as they parted, he had promised once again to smooth the Kilmores’ path into Society.

In Society, alas, she knew she would be as tongue-tied as ever. She reserved the right to enjoy without qualms the indulgent friendship Lord Hazlewood offered.

Lady Hazlewood opened her eyes as her son entered her sitting-room. Reclining on a chaise longue, heavy-eyed, she presented a picture of fragility, her natural pallor accentuated by the plum-coloured watered silk she favoured. With a languid gesture, she raised one thin hand for Rod to kiss.

“Roderick, dearest,” she said and sighed. “I fear my nerves are so debilitated at present I find myself unable to concentrate on even Bishop Porteus’s estimable sermons.”

Retrieving the book that lay on the floor by her couch, open and face down, one page crumpled. Rod glanced at the title.
Château du Mysore, ou Adolphe et
Eug
é
nie.
“Porteus was an admirable preacher,” he said gravely, restoring it to her. If his mother wished to pretend that the latest French novel was a book of sermons, who was he to contradict her?

He looked around for a seat and as usual decided to stand. His mother’s fashionably spindly furniture always made him very much aware of his bulk. He crossed to the exquisite Adam fireplace and warmed his hands.

“I daresay the hurly-burly of London is responsible for your irritated nerves,” he went on. “Perhaps your health would profit from a return to the country.”

She sat bolt upright. “The country? At this season? Nothing could be worse, I assure you. As for hurly-burly, on the contrary, London is somewhat thin of company at present. Though it is shocking how many mushrooms have the impertinence to suppose that one might honour their assemblies with one’s presence. Naturally one does not respond to such effrontery. Had you something particular to say to me, Roderick?”

“Yes, Mother. Since London is thin of company, you will be glad to hear that I wish to bring a family of ladies to call when you are next at home.”

“Ladies with whom I am unacquainted?” she asked sceptically.

“You may, perhaps, have some past acquaintance with the Dowager Lady Kilmore, though she has not frequented Society these many years.”

“The late Baron Kilmore’s relict? No, I never met her, and I have no desire to rectify the omission. Kilmore was a ne’er-do-well, and his son is a thorough-going scoundrel. Did he not run off with Trevelyan’s wife?”

“Yes,” Rod admitted, “if the tattlemongers are to be believed. Though of course she was not yet his wife at the time.”

“It is all very well for you to disapprove of gossip, but there is no smoke without a flame. You cannot expect me to countenance such immorality by receiving Kilmore’s family. Dowager, you said? I suppose he has ensnared some vulgar heiress in his toils.”

“The new Lady Kilmore is a lawyer’s daughter, but she is perfectly presentable.”

“And she has cozened you into insinuating her into the ton.”

“I have seen very little of Lady Kilmore,” said Rod coolly. “It is Kilmore’s sisters who hope to make their bow to Society. Their birth is impeccable and they are not to blame for their father’s and brother’s indiscretions.”

“I might have guessed this was no more than your latest quixotic start,” Lady Hazlewood said with contempt. “You will have to apply to someone else to rescue the Kilmores from the effects of their disgraced name.”

“You mistake me, madam.” He let a hint of steel enter his voice. “I said I wish to bring the ladies to call upon you, but in fact that is my unalterable intention. Unless you prefer to retire to the dower house at the castle, they will attend your at home next Friday.”

“Yorkshire! I told you my nerves will not stand a sojourn in the country at this season.” She sank back against her cushions, her eyes closed, her hands clasped to her heart. “Oh, I can feel a spasm coming on. Call Wilkins at once! My vinaigrette!”

Rod rang for her abigail, but he was unimpressed by her theatrical collapse. He had discovered many years ago that Lady Hazlewood’s vinaigrette contained sugar crystals, as sal volatile made her sneeze. Her nervous spasms only attacked when she was thwarted, and were soonest cured by calm and firmness.

“I shall convey your invitation to the Kilmores,” he said as Wilkins rushed in.

“On no account!” She would have sat up again, had not the abigail been waving the small cut-glass bottle under her nose. “I hope I know my duty,” she went on faintly. “I shall send an invitation.”

He thanked her as courteously as if it had been her own notion to entertain his friends. As he took his leave, he cast a silent blessing upon the ancestor who had built a mansion in Bucks and converted the old Yorkshire manor house near the medieval castle ruins into a comfortable—and distant—dower house.

Nonetheless, as always, a confrontation with his mother left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. He decided to drive out to the neat little villa in Hampstead where Sue’s undemanding company would soon restore his peace of mind. For years now her quiet common sense had been as important to him as the services she rendered as his mistress. She, if anyone, would understand that he could not leave an unworldly innocent like Thea Kilmore to struggle unaided for her family’s welfare.

On his way out to his curricle, Rod met Will in the vestibule. As his heir presumptive, his cousin had apartments in the Hazlewood town house, though he was well able to afford lodgings, or even a modest house, of his own. He came and went as he pleased, his carefree light-heartedness relieving the formal atmosphere of the place. Yet his manners were punctilious enough to satisfy his exacting aunt.

“I hear you have a new tiger,” Will said in greeting. “You’ve been rushing to the rescue again, eh? Miss Kilmore cannot say enough of your good deeds.”

“You have been back to Russell Square? Take care or you will lose your reputation as a high stickler.”

“On the contrary, coz, I daresay, if I chose, I could make even Bloomsbury fashionable. Care to wager?”

“Lord, no. You might succeed, but it would take a lifetime. It will be quicker to bring the Kilmores to the ton than the ton to Bloomsbury. They are to come here on Friday.”

“To her ladyship’s at home? Playing St. George again, are you?”

“Who is to take the dragon’s rôle, Society or my mother?”

“Oh, Aunt Hazlewood, beyond a doubt, in her own inimitable way. I know you can deal with her, but I’ll be damned if I dare cross her. They’ll need all the support they can get. I’ll be there, and you can return the favour by coming with us to Kew. It’s all arranged for tomorrow, weather permitting. I’ve invited Uncle Reggie along to do the pretty to the dowager.”

“Good gad, that old court-card?”

“You are speaking of my relative, I’d remind you.” Will drew himself up, attempting to look offended, then relaxed and grinned. “Yes, that old court-card. I couldn’t think of anyone else who would not object to Russell Square. For all he’s Prinny’s bosom beau, he’s been in Queer Street often enough to find anything short of the Fleet a respectable address.”

“Consorting with the Prince Regent has left many a man with pockets to let. So he goes with us to entertain the dowager, and what of Lady Kilmore?”

“I couldn’t very well cut her out of the invitation, but with luck she will be indisposed.”

Rod frowned. “Apart from that unfortunate elopement, her conduct seems unexceptionable. Certainly the other ladies regard her as one of them, and whatever her antecedents, she is now a baroness. I believe it will not do to exclude her.”

“All the same, one can hope that her delicate condition will prevail,” Will pointed out. “Your horses are waiting, coz. Where are you off to?”

“Hampstead.”

“My compliments to Mistress Susan. Don’t forget, Kew tomorrow.”

Only the weather cooperated with Will’s hopes for the expedition. First, Penelope Kilmore was well enough to go. Then, the Honourable Reginald Glubb-ffoulkes, instead of doing his duty by the dowager, took a fancy to Miss Megan.

Will’s Uncle Reggie was a stout, florid gentleman whose high, starched shirt points and cravat made it impossible for him to nod or turn his head. Instead, he would incline the upper part of his body, resulting in a curious creaking.

“My Cumberland corset,” he explained, quite without embarrassment. “An excellent device made popular, among gentlemen of substantial girth, by my friend the Regent.”

Meg giggled. Wheezing, he chucked her under the chin, called her a naughty puss, and refused to be detached from her side. Will was forced to attend the dowager as they strolled about the Royal Botanic Garden.

Though Mr. DeVine politely concealed his disappointment, Thea saw the occasional frustrated glances he cast her giggling sister’s way. She sympathized with his frustration. She had hoped to talk to Lord Hazlewood, but Penny needed the support of his strong arm, and he seemed bent on furthering his acquaintance with her. Not that he ignored Thea; he included her in the conversation, and when she expressed an interest, he found a gardener to explain to her the cultivation of oranges, lemons and pineapples. She chided herself for coveting the marquis’s undivided attention.

When they returned to Russell Square, Penny civilly invited the gentlemen to step in for refreshments. Mr. Glubb-ffoulkes, whose animation had begun to flag, brightened, and he accepted with alacrity.

Lord Hazlewood and Mr. DeVine also accepted. Penny led the way into the drawing-room, now furnished in the sturdy, comfortable, yet elegant style of Thomas Chippendale. The new butler, Dunmow, treading with measured dignity, brought tea, wine and cakes. His last position had been as upper-footman and he was very anxious to prove himself. He poured wine for the gentlemen and passed the cakes, of which Mr. Glubb-ffoulkes partook liberally with every evidence of delight. Seated as close to the tea table as his pent-in paunch allowed, he congratulated his hostess on her cook.

“I recall what you told me of your previous cook’s way with an egg,” Lord Hazlewood said to Thea with a smile. “If the present cook is so great an improvement, Lady Kilmore must be accounted a competent judge of servants. Is she also responsible for the decoration of this room? It is charming.”

“Is it not?” Thea looked round the room, admiring again the soothing sage green and ivory enlivened by touches of russet, enjoying the quiet luxury after the faded shabbiness of Newkirk. “Penny has excellent taste.”

“So I am discovering. You will pardon my frankness—since I have given you leave to be frank with me—if I say I marvel to find such refinement of taste in one of her background.”

“Mama cannot quite believe it,” she confided. “Of course. Penny did attend a ladies’ seminary.”

“So she mentioned. What is more, her father was not a merchant, but a lawyer who had many great families as his clients.”

“She acted as his hostess after she left school.”

“That explains her self-possession. She is a lady in every way but birth and will be less of a detriment to your sister’s chances than I had feared.”

“I am so glad.” Relieved and gratified, Thea smiled across the room at Penny. Her answering smile was weary. Beside her, Will’s uncle reached for the last slice of plum cake. “No wonder Mr. Glubb-ffoukes needs a corset! I believe it is time I rescued Penny from him. She is looking tired and ought to retire.”

Penny gratefully ceded her place at the tea tray. “I’ll order more cake and biscuits,” she said, and slipped out of the room.

“A fine figure of a woman,” Mr. Glubb-ffoulkes observed, “not but what she ain’t as lively as your little sister, ma’am.”