Edith Layton (7 page)

“You’ve been very kind to Nell Baynes,” he said softly. “You’ve got a good heart, Cammie.”

She tried to look pleased. But it was hard to hear him complimenting her heart when there was so very much else she longed for him to notice and admire.

“I can’t help you down,” Eric said when they rolled up to Miles’s house. “There’s no one to hold the horse.”

“You don’t need to,” she said on a laugh. “Thank you, I had a wonderful time.” Then she jumped down to the pavement as lightly as she’d gone up to the high driver’s seat.

“I can’t leave until I see you safely home either,” he told her. “Go in. And thank you for the pleasure of your company.”

She was still smiling when the footman closed the door behind her. She took off her coat, went up the stair, and felt like she was floating. It had been such a glorious morning…. Her smile faded when she saw Nell waiting at the top of the stairs, her face sad.

“Did you have a good time?” Nell asked.

“Grand,” Camille said, feeling guilty. It must have been a boring morning for Nell, or worse. If she’d been Nell, she’d have been agonized, thinking of what she was missing. “But I don’t know if you’d have cared for it,” she added quickly. “We positively raced along.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t have enjoyed that,” Nell said. “Still, it must have been wonderful to pass the morning with Eric by yourself. You told me there was no way a proper young lady could see a gentleman by herself, but I see there is.” There was only a hint of reproach in her voice.

“I suppose that’s so,” Camille said awkwardly, feeling like a wicked stepsister from a fairy story. “And as time goes by, you’ll have more freedom too. Remember, Miles said it was best for you to lie low until we found your relatives.”

“I know,” Nell said, “I agree. Who knows what could happen? But could you tell me what you saw in the park?” she asked wistfully.

“Right,” Camille said, eager to make amends. “Come to my room, I want to get these slippers off. My feet are frozen.”

After Camille had her slippers off, she sent her maid away and sat back on her bed, wriggling her toes. Nell perched on the edge of the bed and watched her.

“Lovely to be warm,” Camille declared. “Now, then, what did I see? To tell the truth, Nell, I was more tickled at being seen than seeing. Eric’s new rig is so sweet! The last word. The suspension is brilliant and the speed it can approach is dizzying. Everyone was looking.”

“So then maybe you can tell me more about what we saw this morning?” Nell asked hopefully. “I mean to say, why did Lady Annabelle refuse to answer my question about the beautiful
woman in the white carriage that we saw? Remember? The blond woman in the carriage pulled by white horses, who had all the gentlemen on horseback as well as on foot milling around her? She looked right at us and smiled, but Lady Annabelle turned her head away and then refused to discuss her.”

“Oh, her.” Camille shrugged. “Of course we couldn’t acknowledge her. She’s a demirep.” She saw Nell’s puzzlement. “A Paphian. A Cyprian. Nell, whatever fancy names they give it, she’s just a whore. Lily Pearl, they call her. She used that name when she was on the stage, I think. They say she was an opera dancer until she found her true calling. Actually, I don’t know which of us she was smiling at,” she said thoughtfully, her expression growing dark. “She’s a bold piece and might just have done it to pull Belle’s tail, because she knows what real ladies think of her, and Belle’s even better-looking than she is, but—”

“Lily Pearl!”
Nell said excitedly. “Really? That was the famous Lily Pearl?”

“Infamous, more like,” Camille said, looking at her curiously. “Where did you hear about her?”

“Is it true she keeps company with the Prince himself? And some of the richest men in London? And that she has jewels big as eggs? And is her house really all done in white, with a bed made of silver and blankets of ermine?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know that!” Camille said, startled by Nell’s enthusiasm. “How would you?”

“She’s very famous,” Nell said in suddenly dampened tones.

“Cut line,” Camille said.

She always tried to be polite, even if Belle wasn’t there to caution her. She knew she needed to be more ladylike, because otherwise she could sound rough or curt. So she took extra care to mind her manners. But when she didn’t, she was impressive. Nell’s eyes widened.

“Out with it,” Camille said. “How do you know about that woman Pearl?”

“A woman at home told me,” Nell said evasively.

Since they met, Camille had felt inferior to Nell in so many ways. But now she saw the girl was as bad a liar as she was. That was heartening. So she just stared at her, because she knew liars always felt impelled to defend their worst lies.

“Well,” Nell finally said, fidgeting with the sash around her waist, “the woman knew because…She’d been a friend of Lily Pearl’s, she said.”

Now Camille’s eyes widened. Nell’s grew bright again when she saw Camille’s reaction. “Yes,” she said eagerly. “See, I did errands for her and we became friends. She was lonely, I suppose. No one else wanted anything to do with her. She moved to our village when I was twelve. A friend left her the grandest house in town, but no one spoke to her unless they had to. I did, because she’d give me an extra penny whenever she came into my papa’s store. Soon she was asking me to run errands for
her, and then we had tea together sometimes, and later I spent time with her whenever I could. She had
such
a sense of humor, and she was generous too. She gave me money and trinkets and told me stories about London and the fun she had there. The other women in town snubbed her, but I liked her from the first. She wore such beautiful clothing and smelled better than any woman I knew!” Nell laughed.

“How did she know a woman like Lily Pearl?” Camille breathed with startled amazement.

Taking her obvious shock for stunned admiration, Nell smiled smugly. “She’d been a woman like Lily Pearl, that’s how. One of the best and most sought-after courtesans in all London, she said, and I tell you, she certainly had the jewels to prove it. I saw them with my own eyes: diamonds and sapphires and rubies, necklaces, bracelets, and rings. That’s how she got her name. She was ever partial to rubies, she said.”

“Didn’t your parents object to your friendship?” Camille asked in bewilderment.

“What people don’t know doesn’t hurt them—or you,” Nell said with another laugh. “That’s what Ruby said, and she was right. At any rate, my mama was sick and my papa too busy to notice what I was doing. I spent a lot of time with Ruby and here I am, none the worse for it. That’s why I can’t understand why ‘good’ women turn away from them. They have an awful lot to teach, you know.” She giggled.
“Ruby always said she wouldn’t have been as rich if the ‘good’ women didn’t have so much to learn.”

“But she—she was like the women in that vile house that you were taken to and escaped from!”

Nell shook her head and smiled a superior little smile. “No. Different as chalk from cheese. Those were poor sluts. Lily, Harriette Wilson and her sisters, that la Starr woman, and that kind, they’re not sluts. They’re worldly women of business and property.”

“They all sell their bodies to men,” Camille said, not believing she was having this discussion.

Nell nodded. “Yes. But the difference between by the hour and by the month is what makes all the difference in the world, Ruby always said. Of course,” she added, showing a dimple, “sometimes one night can be worth three months, if the demand is high enough.”

“Oh, Nell,” Camille wailed, so appalled that she was bereft of words. She just sat down and stared at her guest.

Nell’s smug expression slipped. She cocked her head to the side. A moment later she was smiling again. “Oh, Camille, forgive me. I was only funning.”

“But you think it’s a good occupation for a female?” Camille persisted.

“No,” Nell said quickly. “Oh, I don’t know why I said all those things. I suppose I felt bad about the way everyone ignored the beautiful woman in the carriage.”

“But you were friends with a courtesan?”

“She wasn’t that when I knew her,” Nell said. “She was just a jolly old woman. Why, who knows if she was even telling me the truth?” she said with a forced laugh. “I quite liked her. She was kind to me when I needed a friend, whatever she’d been. Anyway, she was past that when I met her. She couldn’t get a dustman to wink at her by then. As I said, she was just a friend when I needed one. Can we forget it, please? I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Camille took a deep breath. She wasn’t a fool and refused to be played for one. “Nell,” she said bluntly, “give over. Is that why you came to London? To set yourself up in that trade?”

Nell’s head came up; her eyes were filling with tears. “I was only joking. I came to London to find my family!”

Camille didn’t have the gift of tears, but her mother could weep buckets whenever they would serve her well. Because of that, Camille still couldn’t bear to see a woman cry. “I suppose it doesn’t matter what I think,” she said gruffly, “so turn off the waterworks, if you please, and let’s talk about something else, shall we? Do you really want to learn how to ride? Now, that’s something I can help you with.”

Camille found her sister-in-law in her sitting room an hour later, stretched out on a French-style backless couch with a book and a box of candied cherries. She looked very much more like the fa
mous untouchable beauty Lady Annabelle than her friend Belle. That was daunting, because she needed to ask Belle for advice.

Camille came into the room slowly, looking for a light way to start the conversation. “I don’t know how you do it,” she finally commented, when Belle looked up. “You could drape yourself around a fishing pole and look comfortable. You have more ways to relax than a cat.”

Belle put her finger in the book to mark her place. “You can’t get rid of her now without you being the one who looks like a cat,” she said, and put another cherry in her mouth.

“How did you…?” Camille gasped. “Oh, lord love a duck! Am I that obvious?”

“Only to me,” Belle said. “And please leave colorful phrases about ducks to the servants. An ‘Oh, La!’ or ‘Oh, lud!’ will do to show your surprise.”

“His inviting her for a ride through the park this morning. And the way she looks at him. She worships him. Belle?” Camille asked in such a hurt little voice that her sister-in-law put down her book altogether. “Do you think he’s interested in her too? I mean, besides being interested in what happened to her?”

“Eric? Nonsense! He was just being courteous.”

“But she’s very lovely.”

“So are many other women. Don’t regard it.”

When Camille spoke again, she avoided Belle’s eyes. “Does everyone know how I feel about him?” she asked quietly.

“How could they?” Belle asked in return, in order to avoid a direct lie, because it was plain as the nose on Camille’s face. Miles said that of course Eric knew Camille admired him. But he also said Eric believed it to be calf love, a fleeting fascination that would be over as soon as she met men nearer to her own age here in London.

Camille nodded. “But that’s not why I came to see you. I confess it’s getting difficult and not just because of Eric. You see, Nell and I…”

She paused, suddenly hesitant to bring up Nell’s comments about courtesans. She didn’t want to sound like a cat or a prude. And if she told Belle, there was the distinct possibility that Nell would be told to leave. Apart from maybe being unfair to Nell, Camille knew enough of gentlemen to know that would be disastrous. Eric would certainly feel sorry for the girl. He’d rescued her once before, hadn’t he?

Camille decided to let the matter rest for now. “Nell and I have little in common,” she finished lamely.

“No, you don’t,” Belle said bitterly. “You have much in common.”

Camille looked up.

“Eric,” Belle said bluntly.

“Oh!” Camille swallowed hard. “What shall we do?”

“We have to go on as we began,” Belle said forcefully, picking up her book. “And hope that Miles and his friends have as many acquaintances
in low places as they think they do. I begin to believe that’s where we’ll find our Mistress Nell’s proper—or, rather, improper—place.”

Camille drew in a startled breath. How could Belle know what Nell had just confessed to her? She wasn’t superstitious, but she was ready to believe her sister-in-law was a witch until she spoke again.

“I don’t know why I don’t trust her,” Belle mused. “But I know a conniver when I see one.” She sighed. “Oh, lud. I suppose once I was one myself. I wasn’t happy unless I won every masculine heart I came across. I didn’t like myself much then, but I certainly didn’t care for anyone else either, not even the men I was after.” She turned a sober blue stare on her sister-in-law. “Let’s get our heroine united with her family, Camille. I’m willing to bet anything that Eric won’t think twice about her after we do.”

T
he summons came at dinner.

Miles took the note from the silver salver his butler brought him. He read it and smiled. “It seems we’re invited to Eric’s house this evening,” he announced.

“Is he sick again?” Camille blurted, starting up from her chair, her face growing pale.

“He’d scarcely send us an invitation to view that,” Belle said, giving Camille a pained look. Camille sat down, though she didn’t give up the white-knuckled grip she had on her napkin. “But it is late, Miles,” Belle said, turning her attention to her husband. “Why does he want us to fly over there now, at the drop of a hat?”

“He apologizes for that,” Miles said. “But it’s a
very nice hat, one I don’t think you’d want to miss seeing. He’s also invited Rafe and Brenna. And our old friend Drum. The earl of Drummond,” he explained to Nell, who was watching, wide-eyed. “Seems he just arrived in London for the Season. He and Rafe were thick as thieves in the old days. Come to think of it, the rumor is they were thieves and worse—or better, in their case—in the service of His Majesty in the wars. They have many a tale to tell and as time goes by they tell more of them. So shall we go there even at such short notice?”

“Of course,” Belle said eagerly. “I’ll just change my gown.”

“You look very well,” he said.

“But you know I always want to look very, very well,” she laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll be quick about it. I’m as curious as you are.” She narrowed her eyes. “Or are you? You know something I don’t know. Confess!”

“And take the fun out of it? Never. Coming, ladies?” he asked Camille and Nell.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Camille said excitedly. “Can I wear this, Belle? Or should I put on the pink? Or my new ice-blue or—”

“The new blue,” Belle said.

“Am I invited too?” Nell asked timidly.

“Oh, I don’t think we could get in without you,” Miles said. “You see, the other guest will be your cousin Dana.”

Nell went stone-still; her face became impassive.
“Dana?” she finally said. “I didn’t know I had such a cousin.”

“You do,” Miles said, offering the note to her. “We’re very sure of that, and so is he. He’d be in a position to know. Your cousin, Dana Bartlett, is a barrister. A lawyer, Nell.”

“How very…how very wonderful,” Nell said, although the look on her face was not glee.

Camille was beyond gleeful. She was ecstatic. Nell’s family had been found! She’d be leaving, they might not see her again, and there was every chance that once she was gone, Eric wouldn’t be seeing her again either. Camille’s racing pulses slowed. Well, maybe he would. And if he did? There was nothing she could do about it. She had to deal with what was. And what was—was that she was free again. She didn’t have to look after Nell or feel guilty for not doing so, and best of all, there’d be less opportunity for Eric to look at her at all.

She whirled in front of her mirror, dancing in place with her new blue gown held up in front of her. The family had planned a quiet evening, so she’d given her maid the night off. But she wasn’t such a grand lady that she’d call her maid back for something as trivial as putting on a gown. Although, she thought as she stopped prancing, now she wished she had her maid help’s in dressing. She wanted to look so fine tonight.

She lowered the gown and stared at her reflec
tion. It was daunting. She wanted to see a vision. She saw only her naked self with a really nice gown in her hand.

“Are you ready, Camille?” Nell asked from outside her door.

“Just a minute!’ she answered. She raised her arms and dropped the gown over her head like a curtain and wriggled until it seemed settled in all the right places. She did up her buttons, hopping in place as she sought her slippers and slipped her feet into them. Then she drew her sash tight and tied it. She glanced in the looking glass. It would do.

Camille pulled up her hair, hastily tied it with a ribbon, then shook her head like a dog shedding water, trying to get her curls to bounce the way her maid did when she made up her hair. She blew out a breath and sent a strand up off her face so she could see how she’d done.

Her hair looked tousled, as though she’d just gotten out of bed. But men were said to like that. She could only hope the style looked casual instead of sloppy. She took a deep breath, noted how that made her breasts rise and fall, and nodded to herself. There was no more she could do. The rest was up to fate. And Eric.

“Right,” she called. “Come in.”

The door opened and she saw Nell. Nell’s gown was blue too. It was another of Belle’s cast-offs, but it suited Nell perfectly, making her eyes seem to gleam bright as sapphires. Her hair was drawn back in a smooth ebony sweep, making her look
cool and pure, like a medieval portrait of the Madonna. But her figure made her look more like Mary Magdalene.

Camille forced a smile. “I’m done,” she said, repressing the “for” that almost slipped from her lips. “Let’s go.”

Eric himself greeted his guests at the door.

“Mission accomplished,” he told Miles. “Little girl found. Nell,” he said gravely, taking her hand in his, “we’ve located your cousin Dana, your nearest kin. He’s here, and he’s anxious to see you.”

Nell, Camille thought, merely looked anxious. Understandable, of course. She was about to meet the man who would have absolute control over her life for the next three years and possibly forever. This was the fellow who was her male next of kin. As such, if he consented to take her in, he would have the power to dower her, marry her off, or force her to remain a spinster. That was enough to make anyone anxious. What if he was an opportunist? Or a monster?

Camille bit her tongue. She tried to force herself to stifle all the plans that flew to her mind, plans to rush to the rescue if the man seemed unfit. Eric, Miles, and Rafe would be very capable of doing that. Nell was in good hands, no matter whose hands they placed her in. Given the girl’s recent outrageous comments about women and their choices, Camille couldn’t help thinking that was a very good thing.

Eric showed them into his salon. Nell stood staring, seemingly dazzled by the company. Camille knew almost all of them. Two she hadn’t seen in a while, her brother’s friends: the dark, lean, elegant, long-nosed earl of Drummond and his lovely wife, Alexandria.

But another dark gentleman was far more interesting to Camille, because he was a stranger.

He turned to look at them as they walked into the room. He was as well dressed as the other men, if a little more soberly, all in black, except for his high white neckcloth. Though not as tall as any of them either, he looked extremely fit. His black hair was brushed till it shone. Though his aquiline nose was a trifle large for his face, his other features were regular and his mouth well shaped. In all, he was handsome enough, but the intelligence in his expressive dark eyes made him strikingly so. Those remarkable eyes fixed on Nell, and he smiled, showing small even white teeth.

He immediately came forward and bowed over her hand. “Cousin,” he said. “I would know you anywhere.”

Nell bit her lip. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know you,” she said. “Have we met?”

“No. I regret not, but you look very like my mother did. I’m sorry to tell you that she has passed away.”

Nell looked startled and began to murmur condolences.

Her cousin cut them short. “Thank you. It was
two years ago, so I’ve grown accustomed, if not reconciled, to her loss. But I wish I’d known you were coming to London. It would have prevented the misfortune that befell you. Still, I’m grateful that though you almost met disaster, you also met these good people. Ours is a small family, but at least now I am here to see to your welfare. How awkward,” he said with a smile. “Allow me to present myself. I’m Dana Bartlett, your aunt Clara’s only son.”

“I’m so sorry about your mother,” Nell said again.

“As am I,” he said. “But seeing you returns her to me in a way. She was also considered a great beauty in her day.”

Nell dropped her gaze and blushed.

Camille felt joyous relief tainted with a twinge of jealousy, and it wasn’t because she herself looked nothing like her mother.

“And you must be her newfound friends,” Dana went on, bowing to Miles and Belle. “Lord Pelham, Lady Annabelle. Thank you for taking my cousin in. It was kind and generous of you. And this,” he said, turning his attention to Camille, “must be Miss Croft. I’ve been hearing stories about your generous championing of my cousin, and believe me I am infinitely grateful to you too.”

He took Camille’s hand and smiled at her.

Camille found herself a little flustered by the enormous warmth and approval in that smile as well as the strength in the blunt-fingered, warm hand he offered.

He blinked as though against a blinding light, shuttering his brilliant eyes with long dark eyelashes and, after a long moment, slowly released Camille’s hand.

Eric looked at him oddly and stepped closer. But Nell’s cousin immediately assumed his urbane expression again.

“Well, cousin,” Dana Bartlett said briskly, turning to Nell again. “I think we’ve taken up enough of these good people’s time, don’t you? I’m solely responsible for you now. I know, I’ve consulted all the family documents, and as I’m a man-at-law, I looked extensively, believe me. You’re connected to Viscount Baynes of Rye on your father’s side, but distantly, very distantly. I’ll write to him and see if he’s willing to assume any familial responsibility for you, nevertheless. Don’t worry,” he added quickly. “It’s not that I’m reluctant to become your guardian, but I want to be sure to do everything legally, and being a guardian is a new role for me. I’ve been responsible only for myself for a while now. I confess that bearing responsibility for any young woman other than my eventual wife is something I never expected.”

He looked at her steadily. “I’ll try to see to your welfare in the future as well as your saviors here have already done, I promise. Bear with me; I’m sure that I’ll get it right in time. The only thing left to discuss is where to take you now.” He heaved a sigh. “I’m a bachelor and live in rooms by myself. That isn’t a fitting accommodation for you. And
even if I had the room, I don’t know where I can find a chaperone for you as yet. I’ll look for one as well as for new lodgings. In the meanwhile, I was thinking of maybe a suitable hotel or respectable boarding house for you.”

He turned to the company. “You’ve all been so kind. I hate to impose on you further, but can you recommend any such hotels or boarding houses?”

“There’s Stephens,” Rafe said. “And my brother stays at the Pulteney. They set a good table.”

“Yes, Rafe, Stephens is excellent.” Eric laughed. “For us army men.”

Miles smiled. “And the Pulteney will put Mr. Bartlett in the poorhouse if he keeps her there above a month.”

“There’s Limners,” Rafe persisted. “I’d an aunt swore by the place every time she came to London.”

“But not for a young woman alone, Rafe!” his wife protested. “All the other guests are elderly and bring rafts of servants.”

“Ah, yes,” Dana said, “I suppose I’ll have to hire a maid as well.”

“One wouldn’t be enough for that place,” Brenna said.

The room was still for a moment, with everyone deep in thought. It was so still that they could all hear the muted sob. Nell bent her head and scrabbled in her pocket for a handkerchief. Her cousin handed her one, and she dabbed at her eyes.

Even with all her reservations about Nell and the boredom she found in her company, still Camille
felt like a beast. Worse, she realized she must look like one for not speaking up. She exchanged an agonized look with Belle, all her inner turmoil in her eyes.

Belle saw it and sighed. “She can stay on with us until you find more suitable accommodation, Mr. Bartlett,” she said evenly. “If that’s all right.”

“All right?” Dana said, one hand to his heart. “My lady, you must know it’s far more than that. But we couldn’t continue to impose.”

“I don’t see how you cannot,” Belle said, giving her husband a secret poke in the ribs when he turned to stare at her. “And it isn’t an imposition. I’d want the same for our Camille should she ever be in a similar position, which I pray to God she never is.”

“It’s the only solution really,” Miles said, giving his wife’s hand a squeeze to show he understood. “So take your time, find a chaperone and the right kind of lodgings. Until then, if she wants to, Nell can stay on with us. In fact,” he went on with a grin, “I assure you that if we didn’t offer, there’d be no living with my sister. Right, Camille?”

Camille nodded, too embarrassed to lie straight out.

“Very wise of you,” Eric said, laughing. “I wouldn’t want to risk Camille’s wrath myself. Are you agreeable, Nell?” he asked more gently.

She hung her head. Belle and Miles made polite protests until Nell finally gave them a watery smile. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Yes, thank you,” Dana said, “but,” he added with troubled frown, “this is awkward…. Please don’t think I’m not grateful. I really wouldn’t feel right about this unless I spoke to my cousin about it first. May we have a brief talk in private?”

“You may be a man-at-law, but you’d make a fine judge,” Eric said. “Of course. There’s no one in my study. Please feel free to have your conference there. If,” he added with a wry smile, “Nell herself agrees.”

“Thank you,” Dana said. “Cousin?”

Nell hesitated and then gave him a shy smile. “Of course, cousin,” she said. And bowing her sleek sable head, she took her cousin’s arm and went into Eric’s study with him.

It was a small room framed in dark wood, with books lining the walls from the floor to the ceiling moldings. A fire snapped and sang in the hearth, and heavy draperies were closed over the frosty windows. Dana Bartlett took it all in with one sweeping glance as they entered the room. He shut the door behind them.

“We’ll have privacy here,” he said. “Nothing we say can be heard. It wouldn’t be proper if we were acquaintances, but it’s all right because we’re family, after all. Aren’t we, Cousin…Nell, is it now?

Nell eyed him warily

He circled Eric’s desk, picked a pen out of an ornate inkstand, and stood, legs apart, pretending to inspect it. “And you are eighteen, they tell me. In
teresting. By my reckoning, you’re twenty-one. But people are so much kinder to young women aren’t they, Nell? Nell instead of Helen,” he said thoughtfully, gazing at the pen in his hands. “After your idol, Nell Gwyn, King Charles’s favorite mistress?”