The Virtuous Cyprian Page 18

  ‘How do you do, sir!’

  The grey eyes widened as Lord Henry took in the self-possessed nature of her greeting, and his smile grew. It was not the response to which he was accustomed.

  ‘So do I find you ladies bereft of suitable masculine company?’ he enquired, raising a lazy eyebrow at Polly. ‘Or should I perhaps say unsuitable company?’

  Despite the lightness of his tone, Lucille picked up a barely detectable hint of bitterness, an impression confirmed when the colour rushed back into Polly’s face and she answered with constraint, ‘We were reflecting on the sad lack of serious conversation at such a gathering as this, sir!’

  ‘Ah, conversation!’ Lord Henry smiled satirically. ‘But surely such is not the purpose of these events, for the more opportunity a lady and gentleman have to converse, the less likelihood that they will discover any ground of mutual interest! Surely, Lady Polly—’

  ‘Your servant, Marchnight.’ The shadow of the Earl of Seagrave had fallen across the three of them and his dark eyes moved thoughtfully from Lord Henry’s amused face to Polly’s flushed one, then lingered for a moment on Lucille, who was looking studiously blank. He turned to his sister.

  ‘I believe you promised me the boulanger, Polly!’

  Lord Henry watched them walk away, a slight, cynical smile on his lips. ‘Seagrave doesn’t approve of me making up to his little sister,’ he said ruefully.

  He sounded unconcerned, but once again Lucille picked up the nuance of bitterness and frustration and thought she briefly caught an expression of real unhappiness in those grey eyes.

  ‘Why is that, sir?’ Lucille was wondering whether Seagrave’s willingness to leave her in Lord Henry’s company sprang from indifference or the belief that she was too old or unattractive to warrant his attentions. ‘Are you, then, considered very dangerous?’

  Lord Henry almost choked at this. ‘I believe the relatives of youthful females consider me excessively so,’ he said drily. ‘I wonder that you dare be seen in my company, ma’am!’

  Lucille felt her lips twitch. ‘Ah, but then I am not precisely an impressionable girl, am I, Lord Henry? No doubt Lord Seagrave believes me to be quite safe!’

  Now it was Lord Henry’s turn to grin broadly. ‘Do not depend upon it,’ he said seriously, allowing his admiring glance to linger on her animated face. ‘However, if you are feeling really brave, you might consent to walk a little with me, ma’am? The Seagraves have a charming conservatory which would be most suitable for…furthering our acquaintance!’

  Lucille held his eyes for several seconds, but could read there nothing but a limpid innocence. She did not believe herself to be in any danger from him. She had already divined that his real interest lay with Polly and that anything else was merely distraction. And she was curious to find out what barriers were preventing Lord Henry’s courtship of Lady Polly Seagrave. Polly, for all her studious ways and proclaimed lack of interest in her suitors was not, Lucille thought, at all indifferent to his lordship.

  All the same, strolling with him in the conservatory might not be the wisest course of action. She was about to suggest a convenient alcove as a more suitable place for their conversation, when the dancers turned and she saw Seagrave glaring at them from across the set. That decided her. She gave Lord Henry a dazzling smile.

  ‘Thank you, sir. I should be delighted!’

  She saw the quick flash of surprise in Lord Henry’s eyes before he offered her his arm and escorted her around the edge of the dance floor. One set of double doors were open and led directly into the conservatory, which was humid and dimly lit with paper lanterns. It was an intimate atmosphere, but the number of couples strolling amidst the ferny darkness made it an unlikely place for dalliance.

  Which was just as well, Lucille thought, for that was the last thing she wanted. They admired the pond, with its series of waterfalls tumbling over rocks into the central pool and Lucille stopped to identify a number of exotic lilies. When they reached the stone seat at the end of the glasshouse, she sank down onto it with an encouraging smile at Lord Henry to join her. He took the seat, saying, ‘Now we may get to know each other a little better, ma’am!’

  Lucille sat up straight. ‘Yes, indeed. I am so glad, for I wished to talk to you of Lady Polly. She is a charming girl, is she not?’ She added thoughtfully, ‘In fact, I noticed that you find her more than charming, Lord Henry!’

  There was a long, chagrined silence.

  ‘Miss Kellaway,’ Lord Henry said at length, in tones of rueful amusement, ‘you are possibly the only lady I have ever been in such a situation with, who did not wish to talk about herself! Or at least—’ he sounded very slightly piqued ‘—about herself in conjunction with me!’

  Lucille smiled at him apologetically. ‘I am sorry, sir! I have been told my ways are somewhat unconventional! I had formed the opinion that you might wish to talk about Lady Polly, but if I was mistaken—’

  ‘You were not, ma’am.’ Lord Henry sighed. ‘In the absence of being able to talk to Lady Polly, I suppose that talking about her is the best alternative! You must be most perceptive, ma’am, to have guessed my feelings for Lady Polly on so short an acquaintance. But the simple fact is that I shall never be considered suitable to pay my addresses to her!’

  There was such a wealth of bitterness in his voice that Lucille felt her heart go out to him. ‘But surely there can be no objection—’ she said, knowing that he was a younger son of the Duke of Marchnight. ‘Your family—’

  ‘Oh, my family credentials are impeccable, Miss Kellaway!’ Lord Henry could not stop himself once he had started. ‘There could be no objection to the Marchnight name, only to me personally!’ He sighed heavily. ‘I met Lady Polly five years ago when she was first Out. Amongst all those silly debutantes she was like a breath of fresh air. I was attracted to her at once.’ He paused. ‘She had a friend—a lady I shall not name for reasons which will become obvious. She was forever in Lady Polly’s company. I did not…’ he hesitated, looking endearingly self-conscious ‘…I was not aware that she cherished any hopes for the two of us, for Lady Polly was the only one who occupied my thoughts! But one day the young lady contrived that her coach broke down in the neighbourhood of my house in Hertfordshire.’ He sighed. ‘She knew that I was out of Town and claimed to be passing quite by chance. Whatever the case, she was obliged to stay at Ruthford overnight. We were not alone, of course, for Miss—the lady—had a cousin travelling with her as chaperon and my housekeeper was, of course, in residence. Nevertheless, the gossip, much of it on the part of the chaperon, was harmful and it was made very clear to me that the honourable course of action could entail nothing other than a proposal of marriage.’

  His unhappy grey eyes sought Lucille’s. ‘If only you could know, ma’am, the sleepless nights I spent trying to work out what I should do. I had been on the point of making Lady Polly Seagrave a declaration, you see, and I could not bear to consider deliberately cutting myself off from a future with her. It seemed hopeless. And in the end I made it clear that I would not be offering for Miss—for the lady who had stayed at Ruthford.’

  He shook his head, staring into the dark pools of shadow between the lanterns. ‘I then went to old Lord Seagrave, the current Earl’s father, and asked his permission to pay my addresses to Lady Polly. I was foolish—I should have waited for all the gossip to die down, but I could not! Anyway, he turned me down flat, calling me a man without honour who trifled with young women! Everyone was shunning me for my behaviour—I was in despair! I could not see why I should be called upon to pay such a heavy price for a situation that had not even been of my contriving.’ He shrugged uncomfortably. ‘Oh, I know that as a gentleman I was supposed to take the responsibility, and under other circumstances I might possibly—’ He broke off. ‘But I was furious at being manipulated and even more angry at being condemned in such a fashion. I managed to see Polly alone and tried to persuade her to elope with me. She refused to go against her father’s wishes.�
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  There was a silence but for the faint splash of the waterfall into the pool below. Lord Henry stirred. ‘Since then I am afraid that I have achieved a well-deserved reputation for wildness. My amorous exploits are always loudly decried by the ton and seen as confirmation of my bad character!’ He met Lucille’s intent gaze and broke off self-consciously. ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am, I cannot believe that I am broaching such a subject with you—’

  Lucille raised a hand in a slight gesture of appeasement. ‘Have no concern on my account, sir, for I have always been told I have no sensibility! You do not shock me!’

  ‘I shock myself,’ Lord Henry said feelingly. ‘It is unpardonable of me to burden you with this story—I cannot think why—’ He broke off again and finished, puzzled, ‘Upon my word, Miss Kellaway, there is something remarkably sympathetic about your character! I do not usually confide in complete strangers!’

  Lucille smiled slightly. ‘I can believe it, sir! But I count Lady Polly my friend and I know that she is not happy. Is there anything I can do?’

  ‘You are all goodness, ma’am, but I am persuaded that it is too late for Lady Polly and myself to settle our differences. And I am sure the current Lord Seagrave sees me in no kinder light than his late father did!’

  ‘Well,’ Lucille said, and this time the note of bitterness was in her own voice, ‘I cannot offer to help you there, that is true! It would do your cause no good for me to approach Lord Seagrave!’ She stopped before she betrayed herself completely, but Lord Henry had clearly sensed her distress and put a hand comfortingly on one of hers.

  ‘Then it seems you are in no better case than I—’ he had begun, when Seagrave himself interrupted them. Neither of them had noticed his approach.

  ‘Miss Kellaway! I am come to escort you to supper!’ Lucille looked up to see him at his most inscrutable, but there was a wealth of meaning in his voice if not his face, and it made her bristle instinctively. She had no idea whether he had been close enough to hear her last comment, but she certainly resented the way his gaze lingered suggestively on Lord Henry, and in particular on their clasped hands. She began to withdraw her own, and Lord Henry let her go with what appeared to be deliberate and regretful slowness. She knew that he was only doing it to annoy Seagrave.

  ‘Are you constituted as my Nemesis for this evening, Seagrave?’ Lord Henry was saying, with lazy disdain. ‘To be torn away from the company of not one charming lady but two seems more than mere coincidence!’

  ‘If you wish to consider it deliberate, Marchnight,’ Seagrave said pleasantly, ‘then please do so!’ There was an ugly expression in his eyes. He turned back to Lucille. ‘If you please, Miss Kellaway—’

  ‘I believe that Mr Farrant is my escort for supper,’ Lucille said, feeling a secret pleasure at being able to thwart Seagrave’s high-handed tactics, but rather ashamed of herself at the same time. ‘Oh, look, here he is come to claim me! If you two gentlemen will excuse me…’ She bestowed a particularly warm smile on Lord Henry, and got to her feet.

  ‘Good God, I am falling over your admirers tonight!’ Seagrave said, with a rare show of ill temper. He turned on his heel and strode out of the conservatory.

  Chapter Nine

  Lucille enjoyed her supper with Charles Farrant, Polly Seagrave and Polly’s partner, George Templeton, who was evidently considered to be far more suitable than the luckless Henry Marchnight. As she watched Polly picking at her food and attempting to appear animated, Lucille reflected on the story which Lord Henry had told her. Polly could only have been eighteen at the time of the proposed elopement, and it was quite understandable that she would not have dared to flout her father’s wishes. What seemed so sad now, however, was that Polly had clearly had a regard for Henry Marchnight—feelings which had not faded or been replaced with the passage of time. To be obliged to see him socially, to be drawn to him and yet to be forever separated from him must, Lucille thought, be a torment to her.

  Across the room, Henry Marchnight was ostentatiously feeding grapes to a fast-looking lady in vivid red. There was much banter and flirtatious laughter, and Lucille saw the shadow that touched Polly’s face. Nearer at hand, Hetty was laughing with shy coquetry at some comment of Peter Seagrave as he sat beside her. Peter’s attentions were becoming so marked that it could not be long before he made Hetty a declaration. Lucille had no doubts that he was in earnest. His feelings were clear from the way his gaze lingered on Hetty’s piquant little face, the proud possessiveness with which he watched her.

  Lucille felt as though a hand had squeezed her heart, both sad and happy in one complicated rush of feeling. Hetty was very lucky, she thought fiercely, and perhaps did not know how fortunate she really was. She prayed hard that Hetty would never know the pain of being disillusioned in love.

  As if in an echo of her thoughts, the Earl of Seagrave crossed her line of vision, leading Thalia Ditton into the first set after dinner. A romance in that quarter would certainly strain the friendship between Miss Ditton and Miss Elliott, Lucille thought, digging her spoon viciously into her ice. Miss Elliott was looking very sulky.

  Lucille danced the next with Charles Farrant and was expecting to sit out the following dance, which was a waltz. She was rather diverted to find Henry Marchnight approaching her. He swept her onto the floor with aplomb.

  ‘The next time you wish to make Seagrave jealous, you may rely on me, Miss Kellaway,’ Lord Henry said, with one of his dizzying smiles. ‘I have not had so much entertainment in an age!’

  Lucille tried to looked severe and could not repress a smile. ‘I do not know what you mean, sir!’

  ‘Oh, come! Since we are already such good friends, Miss Kellaway, I should tell you that I have never seen Seagrave behave so! He is notorious for having no feelings, and yet he betrayed plenty tonight!’ Lord Henry’s smile deepened. ‘Do not mistake me,’ he added hastily. ‘I actually like Seagrave, and in common with many of his acquaintances I was distressed to see the change wrought in him by his time in the Peninsula. He used to be far more…approachable. But I truly believe that if anyone can reach him, it must be you, Miss Kellaway.’

  Lucille looked up into his face to see if he was teasing her, but Lord Henry looked completely sincere. For one glorious moment she allowed herself to believe him, to think that perhaps she might be able to make Seagrave return her regard. But only for a moment. Lord Henry did not know about the masquerade, after all. Had he done so, he could never for one minute have thought that Seagrave would hold her in anything other than contempt. At that moment the movement of the dance brought them round in a circle, and Lucille saw that Seagrave was waltzing with Louise Elliott. Miss Elliott was pressing herself against him with far more abandon than the dance required, and was smiling archly up into Seagrave’s face as she did so.

  The light went out of Lucille’s eyes. Lord Henry, following her gaze, gave an exaggerated sigh.

  ‘What a tiresome little piece Miss Elliott is! Do not regard it, Miss Kellaway. Unless I miss my guess, Seagrave is only doing his duty dances!’ He cast a sly look down at Lucille. ‘And if it has the added benefit of making you jealous, Seagrave will consider it well worthwhile!’

  Lucille shook her head. ‘I wish you would not persist in this mistaken belief that Lord Seagrave could in any way care about my reaction,’ she said tiredly. ‘You could not be further from the truth, sir!’

  Lord Henry seemed unconvinced. ‘There is a simple way to put it to the test, ma’am,’ he drawled. ‘You have only to show a modicum of interest in flirting with me to bring Lord Seagrave to heel! I would stake on it!’

  For a moment, Lucille was tempted. But she knew that, whatever the effect on Seagrave, it would twist a knife in Polly’s heart. She shook her head reluctantly, giving him a slight smile to temper her rejection.

  ‘I am vastly flattered by your offer, sir, but it would not serve.’

  Lord Henry was not despondent. As the music stopped he let her go, raising her hand to his lips. ‘Sho
uld you change your mind, ma’am, just let me know! It would be no hardship!’ He gave her one last, wicked smile and took himself off into the cardroom.

  It was unfortunate that the movements of the dance had left Lucille standing just to the left of an alcove, and one which contained the Misses Ditton and Elliott. They had found a way to be united, Lucille discovered, and that was by denouncing her as the common enemy.

  ‘…thirty years old, if she’s a day,’ Miss Ditton was saying, ‘no style, no air, no address…she would have done better to stay in the schoolroom! Flirting in that ill-bred way with Harry Marchnight, whom everyone knows will take up with any woman if she throws herself at his head!’

  ‘It will take more than a fortune in gold to improve her chances of marriage,’ Miss Elliott agreed, with a spiteful laugh. ‘The Cyprian’s sister! What man would wish for that connection in the family!’

  Lucille turned aside a little blindly, and went out into the hall, taking the first door that she found. Her gaze was blurred with tears and she was suddenly afraid that she might disgrace herself by fainting. She found that she was in the library, a room which was fortunately deserted and lit only dimly with a lamp at either end. She sank gratefully into an armchair.

  How strange that Miss Ditton’s cruel jibes could hardly touch her, when Miss Elliott, who was only stating the truth after all, had made her feel so exposed, so vulnerable. It is true, Lucille thought hopelessly. No one, not even Lady Seagrave, had been blunt enough to point it out to her before, but how many men would want to marry a woman whose sister was a notorious courtesan? Certainly not the sons of noble families, with a proud name and title to uphold. Not even the country gentlemen such as Charles Farrant, whose upright moral ideas would be outraged at the thought. Lucille had never wanted to marry before and so her sister’s situation had never affected her in that way—now she suddenly saw it as the biggest stumbling block of all.