Perhaps hewasright. Perhaps she did not trust him.
Or perhaps she just wanted his happiness more than she wanted her own.
Fourteen
By the time Lord Ede arrived at the house on Curzon Street, he was wearing dry clothes—he had got soaked to the skin during his lone ride through Hyde Park, the rain having come on before he expected it and more heavily than he had anticipated. His valet had rubbed his silver hair with a towel until it was almost dry. By now it was entirely so.
He made his way upstairs and entered Lady Hodges’s boudoir unannounced. He was the only male who was allowed to do so, though each time the lady herself complained about his presumption while her small army of maids and wigmakers and mantua makers and manicurists and cosmetics artists scurried about or bent to their task of making her presentable for the evening, which was to bring a group of chosen guests to the house to provide music and poetry and conversation and flattery.
“Ede,” she said after delivering the expected scold in her sweet little-girl voice, “what have you discovered? Nothing is to come of that ridiculous threat of a duel this morning, it is to be hoped? And what of Lady Dunmore and her daughter? They have not spurned him? Though it is hardly likely when he is such a brilliant match for the daughter and she was allowed to waltz with him after that most ridiculous of ridiculous scenes. How could anyone, even a dolt like Sir Geoffrey Codaire, believe that my son was flirting with that aging widow?”
“He was in close embrace with the aging widow in the park not an hour ago,” he told her.
“What?”She snatched her hand away from the young woman who was buffing her nails and turned her head sharply so that her wig slipped slightly askew and the wigmaker paused before gently repositioning it and continuing with her task of creating a perfect ringlet to curl over my lady’s neck.
“You wish me to provide details?” he asked her.
“He is a fool,” she said after staring at him for a few moments. “He must believe he owes her marriage after drawing attention to her on the ballroom floor last evening. Or aftershedrew attention tohim. You may be sure that that is the way it was, and who can blame her for trying when she thought her only option was to ally herself with a dull and plodding farmer? But how dare she, Ede?How dare she?”
“Calm yourself, my love,” his lordship said, flicking open his snuffbox with one thumb and examining the contents before helping himself to a pinch. “I daresay he will not be unwise enough to marry the woman.”
“Marryher?” she half shrieked. “It will not be allowed to happen. Not when I am so close to having him back after all this weary time and a bride with him who is both beautiful and biddable. I will certainly not have him marrying an old and ugly widow merely because he feels obliged to play the gallant. What do we know of her, Ede?”
“Only what the whole world knows,” he told her. “She was married to a drunk and left him after he had beaten her one too many times. He died in a tavern brawl a year or so later. She has lived a dull and blameless life since. Of course, Codaire did mention at White’s this morning that her first husband called her a slut. And something or someone drove him to drink. And she did break her marriage vows in most scandalous fashion by running home to her mother and refusing to go back to him. But everyone knows these things.”
“And everyone has probably forgotten most or all of them,” she said. “That must all have happened years ago.”
“It is always possible to refresh memories,” he said. “And thetonis very ready to hear some titillating stories about the widow who danced and laughed indiscreetly at her own betrothal ball with a much younger man and even attempted to draw him into a public embrace when the dance was over.”
“And actuallydidembrace him this afternoon in a public place,” she said. “How dare she, Ede? Oh, howdareshe? You will see to it?”
He returned his snuffbox to his pocket and strolled to the dressing table upon which her jewelry for the evening had been laid out. He fingered a diamond necklace he had given her for some forgotten birthday.
“Consider it done,” he said.
“And what can I do to rescue my dearest Colin?” she asked. But she did not wait for his suggestion. “My heart is set upon Miss Dunmore for him. Where is Blanche?” She looked at one of her maids. “Fetch Lady Elwood.” The maid scurried from the room. “I shall have her send an invitation to tea tomorrow. No. I shall have her send an invitation to the two ladies to ride with me in my barouche in the park tomorrow—provided the weather is better than it is today, that is. And Blanche will invite Colin to accompany us. No. Lady Dunmore will invite him. Will the sun shine, do you think?”
“For you?” he said, looking her over with lazy eyes. “For you even the sun can be persuaded to shine.”
“Well, so it ought,” she said. “I will wear my new Chantilly lace veil. It is quite exquisite. Of course everyone will say it is not more exquisite than its wearer, but I am accustomed to listening to flatterers. I do not believe half of what they say.”
•••
Colin spent the following morning at the House of Lords, trying to immerse himself in the nation’s business rather than dwell upon his own. It was not easy.
He had seen the terse notice of the ending of the betrothal of Elizabeth, Lady Overfield, to Sir Geoffrey Codaire in the morning paper and found that he was feeling more sorry for himself than he was for her. Why had she accepted Codaire but refused him?I care for you too much to marry you,she had told him, and it seemed as much nonsense to him now as it had then. It was true, perhaps, that he had offered for her because he had not been able to shake the conviction that he must have compromised her and therefore owed her marriage. But the point was that he hadwantedto do so too. The thought of actually being married to Elizabeth was a bit dizzying. Not to mention dazzling.
It had hurt him that she had said no.
He returned to his rooms in the early afternoon to find the usual pile of invitations and other mail and a note from Lady Dunmore that had been hand delivered. He frowned at it before breaking the seal. Yes, there was stillthat, his search for a bride, which he was now free to resume. If he could find the heart to do it, that was. But life must go on. He broke the seal.
It was an invitation to take tea with the family and a few friends. Today. He looked at the clock on the mantel. In an hour and a half’s time.The family. A few friends.It sounded a bit ominous, as though he were being admitted to some exclusive inner circle. Did he wish to be? Miss Dunmore was a sweet young lady and very beautiful too, though that fact was not of paramount importance to his choice. There was no one he liked better. Except…No. There was no one he liked better.
Ah, Elizabeth. He wondered if she had returned to Riddings Park today. It was depressing to know that she might prefer to incarcerate herself there than marry him.
He arrived at the Dunmore home prompt at the appointed time to discover that the family and friends referred to in the invitation appeared to consist of Lady Dunmore and her daughter. They were alone in the drawing room when he was announced. Lady Dunmore rose graciously to her feet and Miss Dunmore stood a moment later to make him a curtsy.
“Lord Hodges,” Lady Dunmore said, “it is such a beautiful day after yesterday’s wind and rain that it seemed a positive sin to waste the afternoon sitting indoors drinking tea. When Lydia and I received an invitation to drive in the park in an open barouche, we made the decision to accept and sent notes to our friends to wait until tomorrow.”
