“She is a darling. And Lord Selworth—” Pippa stopped in some confusion as that gentleman appeared at her elbow.
Eyebrows raised, he grinned. “Do go on, Miss Lisle. Dare I hope I am to receive the supreme accolade of being named a darling?”
“Certainly not,” Pippa said crossly.
“They do say eavesdroppers seldom hear good of themselves,” he acknowledged with a mournful sigh.
Goaded, Pippa told him, “I was going to say you have been almost as kind as your sister, but you are by far too great a tease for me to risk setting you up in your own conceit.”
“Alas! I was about to beg you to be kind to me. You see, Bina has just warned me that whoever I take in to supper is bound to arouse a good deal of speculation.” He glanced over his shoulder and continued in an exaggerated whisper, “And there is a young lady throwing out strong hints.”
“Millicent—”
“Millie, I’m delighted to report, is already bespoken. By a gentleman of the strong, silent, saturnine sort who appears to find her amusing. Dare I hope, Miss Lisle, that you are still free for the supper dance?” He scanned her dance card. “Will you not come to the rescue? Persuade her, ma’am,” he begged Mrs Lisle.
“Lord Selworth has done his duty, I fancy, Pippa. I have not seen him sit out a single dance. He is not to blame for any young ladies left partnerless.”
“There, you see, I deserve your kindness. Have pity on me.”
“If you wish, just to save you from speculation. Everyone will believe you are simply being kind to your sister’s guest, not realizing it is I who am doing you the favour.”
Writing his name on the card, he laughed and was about to retort when a large matron clad in plum-coloured satin and superb rubies swooped upon Mrs Lisle.
“Anna Burdick, as I live!”
“Eva Gore?” said Mrs Lisle, a note of doubt in her voice as she stood up.
The matron chuckled merrily and patted her plump cheeks. “Yes, inside this is Eva Gore, now Marchioness of Stanborough, believe it or not. And you?”
“Mrs Lisle. How delightful to see you again after so many years, Lady Stanborough. May I present my daughter, Philippa?”
Pippa made her curtsy, and Mrs Lisle introduced Lord Selworth to the marchioness. “And here comes my younger daughter, Catherine,” she added as the viscount bowed.
“Two out at once? I have a boy around here somewhere, my second son, Edward.” Lady Stanborough craned her double-chinned neck and made an imperious summoning gesture. “A young man, I should say. He would be furious to hear me calling him a boy.”
Kitty arrived on the arm of her partner, unknown to Pippa, and was presented to the friend of her mother’s youth. Then Lord Edward came up. He was a plain young man, already running to plumpness. His high shirtpoints, waistcoat embroidered with pink and blue butterflies, and multitude of fobs suggested a fondness for foppery. His air of self-consequence might charitably be ascribed to the golden-haired beauty of the young lady at his side.
Once the introductions were completed, Lord Edward turned back to Lady Stanborough and said, “I am glad to see you have both your earrings, Mother. I’ve heard a ruby earring was found on the floor somewhere.”
The marchioness felt the drops at her ears. “Yes, both there, thank heaven. The rubies are a family heirloom,” she explained. “Stanborough would have been most distressed if I had lost one.”
“They are very beautiful, ma’am,” said Kitty, “just like enormous red currants.”
Lady Stanborough looked decidedly taken aback by this rural metaphor. Her son, his partner, and Kitty’s partner all looked shocked. Pippa racked her brains for something to say in support of her sister, but Mr Chubb, arriving unnoticed in his silent way, beat her to it.
“Very true, Miss Kitty,” he said resolutely. “The rubies glow just like red currants in the sun. Nothing prettier. And what’s more, you can eat currants.”
The shock was transferred to him. As he blushed, Lord Selworth hastily presented him to Lady Stanborough.
“My good friend, Gilbert Chubb.”
“Lord Chubb’s heir?” asked Lady Stanborough with interest. “I knew your father once, but he never comes up to Town now.”
Mr Chubb, his flash in the pan extinguished, mumbled something about life in the country. He missed Kitty’s grateful look since by then—Pippa noted with sympathy—he was examining his toes.
“I have not been up to Town in years,” said Mrs Lisle. “We are staying with the Debenhams.”
“The Kent Debenhams?” Lady Stanborough enquired, clearly impressed.
“Philippa is a particular friend of Mrs George Debenham.”
Lord Edward turned to Pippa, claiming acquaintance with George Debenham. To her surprise, he solicited the honour of a dance and inscribed his name on her card for one of the sets after supper. Pippa’s next partner came to fetch her just then, so she heard no more. However, as she danced, she saw her mother and the marchioness with their heads together, so she assumed Kitty’s faux pas had been smoothed over.
Poor Kitty! Of course red currants looked like rubies, and vice versa. Why should she be considered gauche for mentioning the resemblance? Not that she appeared to be repining. Pippa saw her in the next set, smiling up at a startlingly handsome gentleman as they turned arm in arm.
Lord Selworth, promenading in another set with a sadly bran-faced young lady, caught Pippa’s eye. He nodded towards Kitty, smiled and winked.
The next country dance was the one preceding supper. When Lord Selworth came to lead Pippa onto the floor, she said to him innocently, “What were those extraordinary grimaces you directed at me a few minutes ago, sir?”
“Why, did you not guess...? Ah, Miss Lisle, you are quizzing me, and you call me a tease! If you wish to be taken seriously, you must strive to suppress the gleam in your eyes.”
“Do they glow like red currants?”
“They may tomorrow, if you dance until dawn and then rise too early!” He gazed down into her eyes, and shook his head. “No, like opals, always changing.”
Lowering her gaze, Pippa hoped her cheeks were not glowing like red currants. “You are gallant, Lord Selworth. I do believe that is the prettiest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
Thoughtfully she cooled her hot cheeks with her fan, then looked up at him through her lashes. “Tonight, at least. “
He burst out laughing. “Minx! Is it permissible to address a lady of your mature years as ‘minx’?”
“No mature lady objects to being regarded as younger than she is. Though why anyone should wish to return to the agonizing awkwardness of extreme youth, I cannot conceive,” she added candidly. “Still, not all girls are as easily mortified as I was. Kitty scarcely turned a hair just now.”
“As I was attempting to draw to your attention with my ‘extraordinary grimaces,’ ma’am!”
“So I guessed,” said Pippa, laughing.
She thoroughly enjoyed their dance, and the supper that followed. Lord Selworth set himself to entertain her, succeeding with such charm she was sure every young lady he had danced with must be at least half in love with him.
Including herself?
She had been half in love with Wynn Selworth before the evening started. She must not allow herself to fall any deeper. He was kind, charming, amusing, attentive, and she knew him to be a man of principle. But that final quality nullified the one before: he was attentive because he had promised Prometheus to smooth the Lisles’ path in Society.
To Lord Selworth, Pippa was a means to an end—a noble end, to be sure, but that did not change the basic fact. She must not forget it.
* * * *
In the early hours of the morning, Wynn drove back to Albany through the dark streets. He could feel Chubby—no, Gil—at his side bursting to talk about the ball, but the presence of the groom on his perch behind them inhibited any but the most impersonal comment.
Clark, their shared gentleman’s gentleman was waiting up for them, determined to do his duty despite their instructions to the contrary. Unused to Town hours as they were, by the time he had stripped them of their evening finery they were both half asleep, fit only to pull on nightshirts and tumble into their respective beds. Confidences had to wait until the morning.
The habit of early rising was not easily abridged by a single night’s gallivanting. By half past eight, Wynn and Gil were seated at the breakfast table in the sunny window of their parlour, the table which also served Wynn as a desk—the friend who had sublet the rooms was never known to pick up a pen if he could help it, so needed no bureau.
Clark served them with fine rashers of gammon topped with sizzling eggs, and hot muffins with lashings of butter and honey. Pouring coffee, he left the pot to keep hot over a spirit lamp and went off to put a final polish on their boots.
Wynn swallowed a tender bite of gammon and said, “How did we manage without him? The fellow’s a treasure.”
“Deuced lucky to get him,” Gil Chubb agreed. “I must say I’d never have thought of looking for an ex-Navy man.”
“A captain’s servant has to do a bit of everything, from making salt beef and biscuit edible to keeping a dress uniform smart, and few half-pay captains can afford to keep servants. The way the Navy has been reduced since the war, I was sure there must be some in need of work. It’s disgraceful the way the soldiers and sailors who beat Boney are neglected now.”
Gil waved a fork at him. “No speeches! I say, Wynn, are you taking Miss Lisle for a drive in the Park today?”
“Yes,” said Wynn contentedly, “but not till this afternoon, at the fashionable hour. No hurry.”
“I know that. Do you think Miss Kitty might drive with me?”
“Ask her. You should have invited her last night. They are bound to have dozens of callers this morning and she had swarms of beaux flocking around at the ball.”
“I know.” Gil heaved a dispirited sigh. “It’s no more than I expected, but it’s enough to drive a fellow to drink. D’you think she minded what I said about red currants and rubies?”
“Minded? Gad no! I’m sure she was devilish grateful for your gallant defence against those top-lofty prigs. I didn’t know you had it in you, old chap.”
“You’ll understand if you ever fall in love,” said Gil with dignity.
Wynn’s heart did an odd sort of flip-flop. He set down his knife and fork and said in a peculiar voice, “I think I am. I do believe I must be.”
“Good lord, you too? With one of the girls you met last night?”
“Those featherheads? Not an ounce of brain between the lot of them!”
“Not Miss Lisle?”
“Philippa,” said Wynn dreamily. “Pippa. Do you feel you really wouldn’t object to spending the rest of your life with Kitty? Even seeing her at breakfast every morning? No, that’s not right. It’s more that you can’t imagine waking up every morning and her not being there. It wouldn’t be worth waking up.”
Gil nodded. “That’s it all right, only the chances are I’ll have to,” he moped. “All very well for you, but I haven’t much hope of winning Kitty. Are you going to pop the question this afternoon?”
“N-no. It’s too soon,” Wynn declared in a sudden access of panic. Suppose he was mistaken? Suppose this was the calf-love he suspected in his friend’s case? He had never imagined himself seriously in love before, nothing beyond an infatuation with an apple-cheeked dairymaid three years his senior and unreal fantasies about the squire’s coquettish daughter. “No,” he repeated. “What if she refused me? She wouldn’t wish to go on working with me and I’d lose Prometheus’s help.”
“Of course she won’t refuse you. You’re a viscount, full of juice, not bad-looking, clever, and conversable. No girl in her right mind would refuse you.”
“Miss Lisle might. She wouldn’t marry for title or money. It’d be against her father’s principles. And what’s more, though she pays lip service to her father’s opinions, it’s my belief she’s got ideas of her own. I can’t count on her behaving like any other husband-hungry damsel, even if she doesn’t love Prometheus. No,” Wynn repeated, “I can’t risk an offer until I’ve finished with Prometheus. A political career will be the only thing to make life worth living if she turns me down.”
Chapter 11
“Almack’s!” squealed Millie, bursting into the ladies’ sitting room. “Pippa, we have vouchers for Almack’s! All of us.”
Hastily slipping Lord Selworth’s papers into the desk drawer, Pippa swung round as Kitty followed Millicent. Bina and Mrs Lisle came in after them.
“It is quite true,” Bina confirmed. “Maria Sefton, Emily Cowper, and Silence managed to overcome the scruples of the high-in-the-instep set.”
“Silence?” Pippa asked vaguely, striving to disentangle her mind from the starving children of out-of-work weavers in the Midlands.
“Sally Jersey,” Bina explained, “whose tongue runs on almost as much as Millicent’s.”
“Fortunately Lord Jersey is a Whig,” said Mrs Lisle, “and, though hardly a Radical, he was quite well acquainted with your father.”
“Pippa, did you know Lord and Lady Jersey were married at Gretna Green?” Millicent asked. “Is it not romantic? And only think, her mama eloped to Scotland, too! She was a banker’s daughter, and she ran off with the Earl of Westmorland, though he wasn’t the earl yet, which is—”
“Millie!” protested her sister. “Pippa is not at all interested in such vulgar gossip, and I trust you do not mean to rattle on about Lady Jersey in company. She is one of the most important hostesses, besides being a patroness of Almack’s. Her history is no secret, but if she were to learn you had been raking up the past, I daresay we should find our Almack’s vouchers withdrawn.”
“I shan’t say another word,” cried Millicent, horrified. “Miss Pendrell told me, so I did not—”
“Come and take off your bonnet, Millie,” said Kitty, pulling on her friend’s hand. “At the musicale last night, at least five gentlemen begged permission to call today.”
“You sang charmingly,” said Bina, “and the sort of songs gentlemen appreciate, not Italian arias like the rest. “
“It is fortunate that they like country airs,” Kitty said frankly, “for I do not know any Italian arias.”