Wife Errant (15 page)

“Fun?
I
did not realize love was a game.”

“That is where you made your first mistake,”
her mama said triumphantly.

A goodly crowd had gathered at the Pump Room by the time the Marchant ladies entered. They made one promenade of the room before choosing their corner table, to discover whether Mr. Marchant was there. He had not arrived yet, but they felt sure he would come and were prepared to wait.

It was as Mrs. Marchant was pouring their second cup of tea that Dulcie spotted him. “He is here, Mama!”
she exclaimed quietly.

Mrs. Marchant hastily drew out one of her new lace-edged handkerchiefs, ready for her performance. “What is he doing? Does he see us?”

“Not yet. He is coming this way. There! He has spotted me now. Should I wave?”

“Just a sad smile, dear.”
Mrs. Marchant looked to see that Tess was not glowering. Far from it, the girl looked witless. She sat with her mouth open, staring stupidly. “Don’t overdo your grief, Tess,”
she said.

Tess’s lips moved, but no words came out. “What is it?”
Mrs. Marchant demanded.

“Oh, dear!”
Dulcie said weakly. “He is with Esmée Gardener, Mama. And they are coming this way.”

“He wouldn’t
dare
present that creature to me!”

“No, he is taking a seat across the way,”
Dulcie reported. “He cannot have seen us.”

“He saw us,”
Tess said. “He looked right at me—and did not even nod. He chose that seat near us on purpose. He is just pretending he doesn’t know we are here.”

“How can we get out?”
Mrs. Marchant asked, peering over the top of her handkerchief.

Tess examined the corner for a doorway in vain. “We can’t. We have either to pass their table or stay until they leave.”

Mrs. Marchant’s face disappeared in a billow of linen and lace. A low moan came from the handkerchief. “Traitor! The treachery of it. I shall
never
forgive him for this.
Never!”

Tears swelled in Dulcie’s eyes, but Tess felt strangely detached. She had heard her mama’s fatal declaration before, and seen her simulated grief. She felt that her mama did care for her papa, but not to the depths she pretended. That pretty handkerchief was hiding more annoyance than grief.

As this was a play, it required a second act. “It is a pity Lord James is not here, so we could march out on his arm,”
Tess said.

Her mother immediately looked up from her handkerchief. There were tears in her eyes, but there was also sharp interest at this notion. “The very thing! How can we get word to him?”

“It was just an idea, Mama.”
She was sorry she had given tongue to it. “Really a very poor one. There is no saying what the outcome would be. Papa might challenge him to a duel.”

“My .... reputation is in tatters, my dear. A duel would hardly make any difference. To see him with that creature in such a public place as the Pump Room! The whole town is here. And his wife and family not ten yards away! He was always discreet before. This is as good as an announcement that our marriage is over.”

“Surely his removing to the Pelican confirmed that.”
Tess pointed out.

“That was merely temporary, Tess. He has
really
done it now. He has hurt not only my tender feelings, but my pride. Call the waiter. I shall send a note to Lord James.”

“No, really, Mama. That is a horrible idea,”
Tess said. “We shall just sit here and pretend we don’t see them until they leave.”

Dulcie kept staring at the table. Her eyes grew larger, and she suddenly announced, “He is giving Mrs. Gardener something. What is it? It is in a blue case. Jewelry!”

“She doesn’t take jewelry from men,”
Tess said.

“She is looking at it,”
Dulcie said. “She’s taking it out.”

Mrs. Marchant’s curiosity soared to such dizzying heights that she overcame her pride and stared along with Dulcie. It was Mrs. Marchant who announced, “It is
my
diamond bracelet! He told me he could not afford it. Well, upon my word! I shall march down to Mr. Pargeter’s office this instant and demand a divorce. He bought that bracelet with the income from Northbay.”

“Perhaps he bought it with his own income from the Briars,”
Dulcie suggested doubtfully.

“No such a thing,”
her mother reported. “He paid Henry’s tuition with that, and his tailor.”

“This is the outside of enough,”
Tess said, every bit as angry as her mother. “To be buying his mistress diamonds with your money! I have a good mind to walk over there and demand that she hand them over.”

“She’s trying it on,”
Dulcie said, adding fuel to the flames.

This interesting show held the ladies spellbound for two minutes. They watched as Esmée Gardener wrapped the twinkling band of diamonds around her white wrist, then removed it. She examined it as it dangled from her fingers, turning it this way and that to catch the light. Sparkling prisms told the ladies it was genuine diamonds. Esmée then placed the bracelet back in the blue box, with some smiling words to Marchant. She did not put the box in her reticule, nor did Mr. Marchant take charge of it. It sat on the table between them, to be pushed aside when their tea and cakes arrived.

“He has ordered her the most expensive tea!”
Dulcie exclaimed. “Look at all those cakes.”
For Dulcie, the most expensive tea was the last straw. Papa never ordered the most expensive tea for her. “Let us beckon the waiter and send for Lord James, Mama.”

Tess, who still felt this was a wretched idea, crossed her fingers and said, “He won’t be home. He mentioned he was riding this morning.”

“Then we shall write to Lord Revel,”
Dulcie suggested.

“No!”
Tess exclaimed. Her response was instinctive, but once it was out, she tried to find a reason for it. “He will not make Papa jealous, Dulcie,”
she said. “There is no point involving him in this business.”

“He told me last night he would do anything in his power to help me ... I mean us,”
she said, with a bashful little smile.

“There is nothing he can do, except escort us out. We need not bother him only for that. Let us just leave quietly. We need not pretend we have even seen them.”

Dulcie’s idea found some favor with Mrs. Marchant. “The very thing! But no, it will only inflame Revel’s passion for Esmée to see her with your papa. You girls must each give me an arm. I could never make it out on my own steam. Let your father see to what depths he has reduced the mother of his children, with his carrying on. Has she taken the blue box yet, Dulcie?”

“It is still on the table, Mama.”

“You see how little it means to her? I begged Lyle to buy that bracelet for me. Is it on the edge of the table? Might you pick it up as we pass?”

“No, it is behind the teapot,”
Dulcie said.

“Bother. I would not want you to scald yourself. We shall just have this last piece of cake and leave. I could not possibly choke down a bite. You have it, Dulcie.”

Dulcie passed it to Tess; Tess shoved it aside. “Let us leave now,”
she said. A terrible premonition of disaster was growing within her. This situation was fraught with too much chance for mischief. Her mama had no notion of propriety; her papa was purposely provoking a scene by bringing Esmée here and giving her the diamonds. How Esmée might react was unknown, but no good could be expected from such a wanton creature. To cap it off, Lord James might very well chance along at any moment, for he had said nothing about riding.

Tess began to gather up her mother’s gloves and reticule, hoping that a quick exit might divert the disaster—or at least delay it until they were in their own saloon. She suspected that Papa was as eager as her mother to play out the climax and would invent some ruse to call at Bartlett Street. Tess was just handing Mrs. Marchant her gloves, and congratulating herself on her success, when Dulcie announced, “Here is Lord Revel, come to rescue us!”

Tess looked up and spotted Revel’s crow black head and dancing blue eyes advancing toward them. Her heart sank down to her slippers, but it soon bounced back and began to flutter nervously. Here was her chance to try a little playacting with him and make a stab to win him. It was a wretched, underhanded way to win a husband, but if someone was going to win him by deceit, why not her?

Revel did not glance to his right as he walked hastily toward the Marchant ladies’
table. “Good morning, ladies. I called at Bartlett Street and was told you had come here,”
he said, making a gallant bow. He could not help but notice he was greeted by what looked very like a clutch of mourners. “What has happened?”
he asked, directing his words to Tess.

“Won’t you join us, Revel?”
she asked, still wearing that odd expression.

A death in the family was what jumped into his mind, only to be routed by their being in the Pump Room. He took up the empty seat beside Dulcie. She turned her lustrous blue eyes on him and reached for his hand. “The worst thing, Lord Revel. Papa is here with Mrs. Gardener. You must help us!”

Tess noticed Revel’s fingers close comfortingly over Dulcie’s. His eyes had stopped dancing and had grown tender with concern. “Shocking! I had hoped I would find you all
en famille,
things went so well last night.”

“Lord James followed us home, and was there when Papa called,”
Dulcie said. “There was a terrible row. How I wished you were there to help us.”

“If I had had the least idea, I would have been.”

He included Mrs. Marchant and Tess
in his apologetic glance. “How bad was it?”

“Papa asked him to step outside. It certainly would have been a duel, but Lord James left, and that is when things got worse. Mama ordered Papa to leave. And this morning Papa brought his mistress here.”

“And gave her a diamond bracelet, right under our noses,”
Tess added. Revel glanced down the row of tables.

“Don’t look!”
Mrs. Marchant exclaimed. Revel hastily averted his eyes.

“I cannot believe Mrs. Gardener accepted diamonds from him,”
he said doubtfully. “Is it possible she went with him to select a gift for you, Mrs. Marchant, to make up for last night?”

“He had best not try that excuse! Lyle knew what diamonds I wanted. And he did not give them to me; he gave them to her. I saw her put them on with my own eyes.”

“What is it you want me to do?”
he asked uncertainly. A troublesome image of himself approaching Marchant’s table and demanding an explanation darted into his head.

“Just lend us the dignity of your arm to get us out of here,”
the dame said in doleful accents. “There is nothing so humiliating as being caught without an escort at a time like this. A woman feels so vulnerable,”
she added, flapping her eyelashes from habit, for she had no personal interest in winning Revel.

Revel thought getting the ladies away from such a mischievous venue was an excellent idea and immediately rose to offer the wronged lady his arm. Before Tess knew what was happening, Dulcie had latched on to Revel’s other arm, and she was left to tag along behind them. None of the three so much as glanced to Marchant’s table as they hobbled out. Hidden by Revel’s shoulder, Tess risked a glance and saw that her papa was squeezing Esmée’s fingers. Thank goodness Mama had not seen that.

They had the honor of Revel’s protection from prying eyes while they awaited their carriages. As his rig arrived first, they all piled into it—and also had the dignity of its crested door to mitigate their shame as they were driven home. This did much to lessen the odium in which Revel had been stewing the night before.

Mrs. Marchant seemed to have forgotten that he had used her elder daughter so ill. Tess was much inclined to forgive him herself, at least until she had figured out the most romantic manner in which to fling it in his face.

Mrs. Marchant was
helped from the carriage at her front door, propped up on either arm until she was inside. “Help me upstairs, Tess,”
she said in a weak voice. “Dulcie, give Lord Revel a glass of wine. So kind of you, milord. I don’t know what we should have done without you.”

When Tess had delivered her mama into Henshaw’s keeping, Mrs. Marchant said, “No hurry to return below, Tess. Dulcie will put this meeting to good account if she has her wits about her.”

“Are you forgetting how Revel used me, Mama? You said last night he only went out with me to make Esmée jealous.”

“What has that to say to anything? His ruse failed. Esmée is going to marry your father, and Dulcie cannot be presented at Court. This is her chance to make a good match.”

“Why Dulcie?”
Tess demanded. “Why should
I
not make a match with Revel?”

“Poor Tess,”
her mama said sadly. “A lady has to strike swiftly with a fellow like Revel. You have got off on the wrong foot somehow. I doubted that even
I
could do anything in that direction when you came in all tousled the first night you were out with him. That was where you went astray, Tess. Had I known he was calling, I would have advised you. You must not hold yourself so cheap the next time you meet an eligible
parti.
I daresay Lord James—”

“I do not like Lord James. Nor Revel, either,”
she added in a fit of ill-humor.

“Pray do not go turning your sister against Revel, Tess, or she will end up a spinster like you.”

“Perhaps I should put on my cap and chaperone them!”
Tess said sarcastically.

“Did I not tell you to leave them alone, goose! How could he possibly make up to her with your Friday face glowering at them? Mind you, we do not want him acting too warm. Wait five minutes, then go downstairs, Dulcie cannot come to any grief in five minutes.”

Tess whisked angrily out of the room.

“A glass of brandy, Henshaw,”
Mrs. Marchant said to her dresser. “I shall not be downstairs for lunch today. If Lord James calls—
But he is riding this morning. Perhaps I shall be able to walk by this afternoon. Lay out my mauve suit with the lace fichu.”

Henshaw went straight to Tess’s room, to find Tess pacing to-and-fro. “She didn’t mean to hurt you,”
Henshaw said. “It is only her temper talking. What happened to set her off? She was so merry when she dressed this morning.”