Pleasure For Pleasure (12 page)

“No,” Lucy said. “I stripped the ballroom of all those odd statues and things. Feddrington is quite displeased because
they cost so much, but I gave them all to the British Museum and now he's happy because they're going to name a room after him.”

“The Room of Feddrington Monstrosities,” Gemima said, laughing. “I thought it was a bit much when you had those death gods overlooking the ballroom.”

“They added atmosphere,” Lucy said, shrugging off her criticism. “And look how well it turned out. The director of the museum almost fainted when I showed him Humpty and Dumpty. That's what I called them,” she told Sylvie. “They were great monstrous things, around ten feet tall.”

“I'd love to go to Egypt,” Gemima said lazily. “I'm thinking of starting to travel, you know.”

“Alone?” Sylvie asked.

“Well, since I dislike the idea of taking a husband merely as an umbrella stand,” Gemima said, “I expect I shall travel alone. Although to be quite honest, that would be merely a figure of speech.”

Lucy laughed. “You don't know Gemima yet, Sylvie. She has the largest household of anyone I know. How many personal maids do you have at the moment, Gemima?”

“Three,” Gemima said, “but only because I'm so very difficult. If one poor woman had to deal with me, I'd have to give her a hardship allowance.”

They all laughed, and for a moment the pale English sunshine turned the whole racetrack into a delightful place, full of women with brains, temperament, and beauty. “I
am
enjoying England!” Sylvie said, delighted.

Mayne was dodging around crowds of chattering men to return to Sylvie when he caught a glimpse of her laughing in Lady Feddrington's box and sighed with relief. Thank God, that little French face of hers wasn't looking at him with an expression of gentle disappointment. She was laughing harder than he'd ever seen her laugh, so hard that her parasol had
actually slipped to the side. Then Lady Gemima turned her head so that Mayne caught her profile, and he saw the reason. Everyone he knew adored Gemina, except for a few carping Puritans. He could leave Sylvie with Lucy Feddrington for at least another half hour.

He turned around and headed back toward the long, low stables where Sharon was waiting for her race. There was something odd about Sharon this morning, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but that didn't feel right. His jockey had sworn up and down that Sharon was absolutely herself.

“Mayhap a little spooked by the crowds,” Billy, his stablemaster, had said.

But Mayne wondered. He started plowing back through the crowds, head down, when he heard someone call his name. He looked up and there was his sister, Griselda, and next to her, Josie. She looked none the worse for all that champagne; it must be her youth. He had a distinctly heavy head himself.

“Darling,” Griselda said lavishly. She seemed to be in extraordinarily high spirits. “We want to see your horses, of course. We were on the way to the box, but now you can take us to the stables.”

Josie was smiling at him without a trace of shyness. Shouldn't she be the least bit shy after last night? Well, why should she?

“I'm not sure you should come to the stables,” he told Griselda. “There's so many ruffles on that costume that you might frighten the horses.”

“Nonsense,” Griselda said, waving her parasol about in a manner guaranteed to strike fear into the heart of a skittish thoroughbred.

Mayne tucked Griselda under one arm and Josie under the other. Josie wasn't wearing the corset. In fact, she was
showing a rather delectable figure, although her costume was rather oddly designed, with seams leading here and there that hardly accentuated her better features.

She looked up at him and said something he couldn't hear, so he bent his head to her.

“We went to Griselda's
modiste
this morning,” she whispered in his ear.

“I trust that you bankrupted Rafe,” he said back, loving the way her eyes were shining with excitement.

“I expect so,” she said impishly. “We didn't inquire into such pedestrian details.”

He gave a mock groan. “It's a good thing he's on his wedding trip. You could—” But he bit it back. What on earth was he thinking, about to suggest that she charge her clothing to him?

She looked up at him, eyebrow raised, but now they were in front of Sharon's box. The filly looked very small for such a large box.

Griselda was perfectly happy to peep over the top, and made clucking noises at Sharon, rather as if the filly were a kitten who might be coaxed into purring. Sharon ignored her. But Josie opened the box and went straight in.

“
Don't
mess your slippers,” Griselda cried. “You know that animal likely—” She waved her parasol to illustrate her point.

Billy gave a snort that expressed precisely what he thought about a lady who didn't know that he cleaned the stall the moment one of his horses did something of that nature. Josie ignored her, going to Sharon's side. She was saying something to Sharon in that dark little voice she had, and of course Sharon started arching her nose into Josie's arm and making little snorting noises. Mayne leaned against the wall of the stall, raising his hand when Billy thought to take Sharon's head.

Josie had stripped off her glove and was running her hand
here and there on Sharon's side. Billy moved forward again but Mayne shook his head.

She raised her eyes and looked at him, and Mayne knew. “Feel here,” she said quietly. His fingers came after hers, nibbling down Sharon's shining side, just to the left of her backbone. She had been beautifully groomed; Billy must have worked on her for hours.

Josie's fingers stilled and then moved to the side so he could feel. There were hard little nubbins under the skin. They rolled under his fingers. “What the devil is that?” he asked.

“It's not serious,” Josie told him. “My father's groom used to call it—” She hesitated.

Billy was there now, his dirty blunt-tipped fingers in the same place, his face dark. “The devil's nuts, that is,” he said. “I missed it until this young lady found it. I should throw in my job, I should.”

Josie shook her head at him. “'Tis all I did, as a child. My father's stables were very large, and he put me in charge of minding the horses' health from the time I was twelve.”

“What do we do for these nuts?” Mayne asked. It didn't seem to bother Sharon terribly when he touched them. A tiny ripple crossed her skin, as if a breeze passed over the shining surface of a lake.

“She can't race with it—” Josie began, but Billy interrupted her.

“You knew it too, me lord. You axed me just an hour ago was Sharon all that she could be, and I said yes. And she's not, is she?”

“You'll want to check the other horses,” Josie said. “It can spread through a stable like wildfire.” She nodded toward the horse blanket hanging to the side. It was a splendid throw, embroidered with the earl's crescent and the words
COEUR VAILLANT
.

“It's spread through blankets?” Mayne asked.

“You might want to stop embroidering the blankets with your crest and put the horse's name on instead. It stops the spread. But it can jump from horse to horse on a curry brush as well.”

Mayne nodded, seeing in his mind's eye the way his gelding loped to the finish line this morning. “Damn it, I should have known about this.”

“There's only the five horses of ours in London,” Billy was saying to himself. “And this is only a week or two old, because I would have seen that, I would have.”

“I'm sure you would have,” Josie said soothingly. “It's only because I don't know Sharon at all that I could see she was in a bit of discomfort.”

“I am sorry, Garret,” his sister said from the aisle outside the box. “You must be very disappointed not to be able to race her.”

“Not as disappointed as the punters will be. Sharon's odds were three to one. I'd better escort you back to the boxes; Sylvie will be wondering what became of me. Billy, will you take care of scratching Sharon from the race, please?”

Billy nodded. “I'm that sorry I missed it, yer lordship.”

“We both missed it,” Mayne said.

Josie gave Sharon a last pat on the nose. “We were never able to come up with anything that takes the nuts away; it seems they simply have to run their course. But I do have a comfrey bath that seems to give some comfort. I'll send you the recipe, Mayne.”

Billy closed the gate behind them, thinking that he was a lucky sod to have a master like that, and no one would know from the way Mayne looked that his heart was set on Sharon winning the race. And she would have, if she'd been fit to run.

“I just wanted you to win so much I didn't see them devilish nuts,” he muttered to Sharon. “It's the devil's own luck.”

“There'll be another race for Sharon,” the young lady
said, leaning over the gate and giving Sharon a last scratch. “She's a beauty, and she wants to race, you can tell that. I expect that's why you didn't notice her condition. She's such a game one that she would have run her heart out, whether they vexed her or not.”

“Aye, and she would have done that,” Billy said, cheering up a little. He watched the young lady as she went. She was hanging onto the master's arm and talking up at him. By the time they turned the corner at the end of the aisle, she had him laughing.

It wasn't every young lady who knew what nuts were, and had a recipe for a horse bath. Of course, men being what they were, the master probably didn't recognize that.

Josie was scandalizing Griselda by telling her how much she missed spending time in the barn.

“A
barn
!” Griselda screetched, clutching Mayne's arm and generally acting as if she might be kicked by a bull at any moment. “I can't imagine why you'd wish to be in a barn.”

“They have a peaceful sort of smell,” Josie said, “as if nothing bad could happen in the world.”

Mayne found himself nodding. “It's harness dressing: grain and axle grease.”

“And new rope,” Josie said to him. “New rope has a wonderful smell. But mostly it's hay. Well, hay and tired horses.”

“You have always spent far too much time in the barn,” Griselda told Mayne. “I remember mama being quite worried that you would end up looking like a stable boy.” She smiled at Josie. “Our mother was terribly happy when Garret suddenly developed an interest in his clothing.”

Mayne thought about the great red barn on his estate, that same barn he'd spent so many hours in as a child. He hadn't spent an afternoon there in two years, likely. He was always in London, and even during the autumn and winter, he went
to Rafe's or another friend's estate. His stables, for him, were a matter of buying horses, sending them off to his estate for training, and then having them shipped to the racetrack in question. Not that he didn't visit, because he did so often. But he wasn't part of the life of the barn, the way he had been when he was a boy.

“Time was,” he said wryly, “when the black cat couldn't have another set of kittens without my knowing precisely the number.”

Josie grinned. “Kittens, pshaw! I knew the number of mice that our little tiger was catching. She always wished to show me their carcasses before she ate them.”

Griselda shuddered. “You might keep that detail to yourself,
if
you please.”

G
riselda plucked the note off the salver Brinkley offered her. A smile spread over her face. She discounted the feeble attempt at bribery immediately. She had read genuine shame in Darlington's eyes when he promised not to mock Josie again. But this invitation…

It deserved consideration.

She sat down and stared at the rose-colored walls of her bedchamber. If she did this—this horrendous, delicious, tempting thing—it would be for the last time. While she had two small little trysts in the ten years since her husband died,
she had allowed each man precisely one night. But they had been older than she, cheerful bachelors who understood the rules and abided by them. She had remained the best of friends with both gentlemen. But Darlington was
young
. Terrifyingly young.

And she had made up her mind to—

“Grissie!” Annabel popped her head into the bedchamber. “Would you like to come upstairs and keep me company while I see to Samuel? He's due to wake from his nap any moment, and you said you'd like to be there.”

“And when did I give you permission to call me by that revolting nickname?” Griselda said with a mock scowl.

“You didn't,” Annabel retorted. “But now that I'm a married lady, and you're no longer my chaperone, I'm taking the liberty.”

Griselda hopped up, hastily thrusting Darlington's note into her sleeve. “How did Samuel sleep last night?” she asked as they walked to the nursery.

“Like a dream. He really is a splendid child.”

Griselda agreed, with all her heart. At this advanced age, she had suddenly been struck by an acute longing for a baby. And she was willing to take a husband to attain one.

So…But she shook the thought away because Master Samuel crowed with delight to see them coming.

“Go ahead,” Annabel said, laughing. “You pick up the little rascal.” He was kicking his chubby knees and smiling with a madcap grin that was designed to make everyone in the vicinity love him…and it was manifestly successful.

Griselda scooped him up, never feeling the note slip from her sleeve. She was too busy cuddling Samuel, and tickling him, and generally making it clear to him that she was a very, very important person.

So it wasn't until Samuel began making squawking noises that indicated, in all likelihood, that while he liked her, she wasn't the person who produced milk, that she
turned around. And found Annabel seated in a comfortable rocking chair and grinning at her. This was an entirely different kind of grin from that on her son's face.

“Griseldaaaa!” she sang, waving a little slip of paper in her hand.

Griselda plumped Samuel into Annabel's lap and snatched at her note. “Give me that!”

“Grillon's Hotel,” Annabel said, laughing aloud. “The place where my reputation died a painful death. Why, if I remember you correctly, no lady ever enters Grillon's Hotel. ‘I've never entered such a place!'” she said, imitating Griselda's voice.

“And I never did enter such a place until your sister Imogen constrained me to do so,” Griselda said, ripping the note and tossing it into the fireplace.

Annabel pointed commandingly at the seat across from her. “Sit down this minute, you wild widow, and regale me with the tale of who on earth is asking you to Grillon's. Who is Darling—” But the words faltered on her tongue. “It's Darlington!”

Griselda fell into the chair with rather less than her usual grace. “It is indeed.”

“But no one meant that you should trade your virtue for cessation of his nasty talk,” Annabel said. “Oh, Griselda, you didn't think that was what Sylvie meant when she directed you to seduce him, did you? Because she only meant it in the sense that you should flirt with the man, and entice him into changing his mind.”

Griselda had to smile; Annabel looked so horrified. “I know that,” she said. “It's just that Darlington…”

“He's blackmailing you. The scoundrel!” Annabel's eyes narrowed. “He's not blackmailing just
you,
Griselda, he's blackmailing all of us. That's what he means by his ‘morality slipping,' doesn't it? He actually thinks to blackmail you into entering Grillon's Hotel and carrying on an
affaire
with
him. Rafe may be away on his wedding trip, but my husband will beat Darlington into smithereens, and Tess's husband will ruin him financially.” She looked as if she were about to leap out of the chair, nursing baby or not, and send Darlington to his doom.

“So I gather you think that I shouldn't go to Grillon's?”

Annabel gasped. “You can't possibly be considering it! Absolutely not, Griselda. That's a sacrifice that not one of us would ever wish you to make, including Josie. In fact, it would probably make Josie ill just to hear of this. That horrid, impudent little mushroom of a man.”

“But I don't think he's
little,
” Griselda said. “He's at least as tall as Rafe.”

“I didn't mean—” Annabel snapped. And stopped. “Griselda Willoughby,” she said slowly, “you tell me what is happening here.”

“Well, you are a married woman,” Griselda observed.

“Manifestly so,” Annabel said, dropping a kiss on the fuzzy head of her son. “And as such, Griselda?” She paused, eyebrow raised.

Griselda looked down at her ankles rather than meet Annabel's gaze. Her stockings were really quite beautiful. “Don't you think these are exquisite?” she asked, pulling up her skirts a tad and swinging her ankle in the air. The silk was so thin that they gave her legs a golden sheen, like canary wine.

“Griselda,”
Annabel threatened.

“I'm thinking of having a tryst with the man,” Griselda said, watching Annabel carefully under her eyelashes to see if she looked horrified at the thought.

But she didn't. In fact, she just looked fascinated. “It's nothing to do with Josie, then?”

Griselda shook her head. “Darlington promised to say nothing of Josie in the future, and I believe him. He had
the air of a man who has finally realized he made himself loathsome.”

“Well, why on earth would you wish to have an
affaire
with someone who is loathsome?”

Griselda laughed. “It seems that marriage has left you unaccountably naive, dearest.”

“I have never been naive,” Annabel said, deftly switching Samuel to her other breast. “I gather that Darlington has some attributes that are…enticing?”

Griselda smiled.

“In that case,” Annabel said, “I shall entertain Josie while you frolic in Grillon's Hotel.”

“I am rather old for him.”

“Robbing the cradle?” Annabel said cheerfully. “And why not?”

“He can't be more than twenty-four.”

“That's nothing. Look at how many marriages have a twenty-year gap in favor of the man.”

“It would be my last such indiscretion,” Griselda said.

“I know, darling,” Annabel said. “Because you should marry now, and have yourself a little Samuel.” Samuel let out a great burp, so she stood up and plopped him into Griselda's arms.

“I suppose…” Griselda said.

“You're a born mother. Of course you suppose. Is Darlington a possibility?”

“Certainly not! I just told you that he's less than thirty. One doesn't marry men of that age. One might dance with them—”

“Or meet them in a hotel,” Annabel put in. She curled back in the chair, watching as Griselda snuggled a sleepy Samuel.

“I can't go to a hotel,” Griselda half whispered, looking appalled.

“Where did you meet your other indiscretions?”

“I was living in my own town house, of course.”

“Has chaperoning us put a damper on your personal life?”

“Oh, no! It's been wonderful. Before you girls appeared, and Rafe asked me to chaperone you, my life was…quite silly, I'm afraid. It has been eye-opening, to say the least, to see three of you fall in love. And I'm quite sure Josie will find the right person as well.”

“Do you have anyone in mind to marry?”

Griselda shook her head. “I fully intend to take the matter seriously in hand, after…” Her voice trailed off.

“After one last unmarried indiscretion!” Annabel said, giggling madly.

“Hush! You make me feel like the veriest light-skirt,” Griselda said.

“Wait! I think I know who Darlington is! Does he have blond hair and hollowed cheekbones—a rather madly dissolute look?
Griselda
!” Griselda was looking distinctly guilty, so Annabel laughed so hard she almost choked. “You're right. The man is utterly delicious—and completely off-bounds. Just the person to meet in Grillon's Hotel.”