A Sisterly Regard Page 6

  The entrance of two of their dancing partners of the evening before put a stop to their bickering. Mr. Martin, Chloe's earnest admirer, immediately gravitated to her side and Mr. Werthing, an older gentleman with whom Phaedra had enjoyed serious conversation, came to sit beside her and tell her of his studies of Roman antiquities in Dorset. After those gentlemen departed, other callers arrived.

  They spent the rest of the afternoon conversing or sewing between calls. Neither disgraced herself again.

  * * * *

  That night the Hazelbourne ladies were the guests of the Duchess, who had rented a box at the opera for the Season. None of the young ladies had ever attended an opera before, though all were familiar with some of the more popular arias.

  Although she was not musically inclined as Chloe was, Phaedra was enthralled with the drama. She was sorry to see the end of the first act. When the house lights went up, she was surprised to find that one could see the occupants of most of the other boxes. She and Chloe and Lady Mary amused themselves by trying to find people whom they knew.

  Mr. Martin came in to visit during the intermission, again devoting his attentions strictly to Chloe. She blossomed under his adoring gaze, fluttering her eyelashes and waving her fan flirtatiously. Lady Gifford joined their conversation, asking about his mother who had recently been ill.

  Mr. Farwell appeared and invited Lady Mary to join him in a short walk in the corridor between acts. Cousin Louisa volunteered to accompany them in the interests of propriety. Phaedra felt a pang of envy. She was used to more activity than this day had offered. She continued looking around the theatre.

  A young man who seemed familiar sat with an older woman in a box directly across from theirs. "Your Grace," she said, startling the Duchess out of a doze, "are you acquainted with the gentleman in the box opposite?"

  "What? Who? Great heavens, gel, I can't see that far in this light. Describe him"

  Phaedra did so. "He may be the gentleman whom we aided on our way to Town. Lord Wilderlake."

  "Black haired and swarthy, you say? Could be Wilderlake. If you had to rescue him, he may be like his father, a ne'er-do-well."

  "We did not exactly rescue him." She gave the Duchess a more detailed account of their encounter with Wilderlake. "I do not believe his driving was at fault, Aunt Verbain, only that the team was poorly schooled."

  "Hmph. Well, he's got some manners, at least. Should have. His mother, Elizabeth Summers that was, was a charming woman. Should have had her head examined, marrying Wilderlake. But her family pushed her into it, I'll not doubt."

  "Could that be his mother with him, Your Grace?" Chloe asked.

  " Tell me what she looks like and I'll tell you. Could be his fancy piece, just as likely, though."

  Chloe described the faded but still attractive woman who shared the box with Lord Wilderlake. Her Grace allowed as how it might be Lady Wilderlake, but she would have to see her up close to be sure. "Tell you what, I'll send 'em an invitation to your ball. Then, if she comes with him, she's his mother. How does that please you?"

  "Oh, Your Grace, you need not do that. I was merely curious."

  Phaedra concealed her smile at the lack of sincerity in her sister's protest.

  "Well, and so am I. Knew the old viscount, his grandfather, pretty well when I was young. Bit of a rake he was, but a charming one. I always had a soft spot for him. Married some dowdy chit with a fortune, took her off to the wilds of somewhere in the north, and wasn't seen for a few years. When he came back to Town, he...no, never mind that. Would like to see what this young sprig is like. Haven't heard a word of him since his father died eight or ten years ago. He's either been out of the country or he's been up north tryin' to hold the estate together. In that case, you don't want to be bothered with him." She closed her eyes.

  Phaedra resumed her visual exploration of the theatre. Such an interesting hodgepodge of people.

  Mr. Farwell, who had remained in the box at Lady Mary's invitation, was found to be asleep when the next intermission occurred. The Duchess expressed no surprise. "He's more apt to be asleep than awake. Let him alone. He'll wake soon enough if anything interestin' happens."

  Phaedra kept her disapproval to herself, wondering why she cared enough to feel censorious.

  Lady Mary moved to the chair beside Phaedra. "We have hardly had a chance to visit. I hope the entire Season will not be this hectic."

  "I, too. Mama says that some days one can expect to be invited to attend three or more events. I cannot imagine maintaining such a frantic pace for more than a short while without having hysterics."

  "Nor can I. I have told Grandmama that I will not let her wear herself out during this Season. Not that she will listen to me. I expect that I will have the headache quite often in the coming months."

  "And I have convinced my mama that I am sure to disgrace myself if I am forced to be on my best behavior more than once each day. She has agreed that I need not gad about with my sister all of the time." She shared a conspiratorial grin with Lady Mary.

  "Your sister is very spirited, is she not?"

  "She is, but she is also spoiled," Phaedra replied. "It comes from being able to twist our father around her littlest finger from the cradle. Mama has tried to discipline her, but Papa always says she is such a darling and it would not hurt her to attend just one assembly or to have her own horse before she could reach the stirrups or to picnic unchaperoned with the Squire's son or whatever it was that she wanted."

  She put a gloved hand to her lips. "Oh, dear. I do sound like a jealous cat. Do not mistake me. I love my sister, but I am not blind to her faults. She has a most sweet, generous nature when she is not attempting to get her own way. It is just that she has such high spirits and such a zest for life that her emotions sometimes outweigh her good sense."

  "Yes, I suspected something of the sort," said Lady Mary. "She is a most charming and animated girl. I did not mean to sound critical. I do like her, but I feel that you and I are much more of a kind."

  "Oh, but you are not so serious as I," Phaedra objected. "You are able to converse charmingly and to be at ease in company. I am so wretchedly unsure of myself with strangers and I have no conversation."

  "I think you underrate yourself. Reggie admires you, and he is a most discerning person."

  "That fop!"

  "Yes, Reggie does seem a fop. But there is more to him than meets the eye. He is quite my favorite honorary brother."

  "Then you are not interested in him in a romantic way? My sister was wondering."

  "Oh, my, no. Reggie and I are as comfortable together as if we were truly siblings. I could never love him as one should love a husband. But do not let his appearance blind you to his character. You see, he..."

  The rest of her words were lost as the Duchess commanded them to hush their chatter and let a poor old woman hear the opera. Phaedra relinquished her seat to Cousin Louisa as the curtain rose for the final act.

  Mr. Farwell still slept.

  * * * *

  Lord Wilderlake found the opera tedious, despite the glorious music. His mother professed to be enjoying it excessively. Somewhat bored, he let his gaze wander over the other boxes during the intermissions. Soon he noted the presence of Miss Hazelbourne in the front row of the Duchess of Verbain's box. She was extraordinarily pretty. The young woman to her left was equally lovely. During the second act, he attempted to devise ways he might manage an introduction to his good Samaritan and her companions.

  The Season was still young, he told himself sternly. There was plenty of time for him to find a wife.

  Chapter Four

  The next afternoon saw Lord Gifford's arrival. He entered the front door just as his wife and daughters gathered in the foyer, ready to depart.

  "Papa," squealed Chloe. "You're here! How wonderful. And just in time for Lady Everingham's Venetian breakfast."

  "Well, miss, you're looking fine as five pence. London must agree with you." He pulled her arms from around his
neck and turned to embrace his wife. "There my dear, have I caught you just as you were leaving? I missed you, love, and had hoped that you'd be free to spend the afternoon with me." He bussed her heartily.

  "Welcome to London, my darling. And I have missed you, quite dreadfully. But no, I cannot spend the afternoon with you, unless you'd care to accompany us to Lady Everingham's?"

  "Not my style, you know that, Isabella. Besides, I can't stand the old harridan." He turned to his younger daughter. "And how are you, Phaedra? Has London been as bad as you had feared?"

  "No, Papa," she responded. "But then I have been fortunate to have Cousin Louisa's company and so have avoided being overwhelmed with gaiety"

  "How do you do, my lord?" Cousin Louisa extended her hand to Lord Gifford. "It is good to see you again. Cousin Isabella, would you like me to accompany Chloe to Lady Everingham's Venetian breakfast? Phaedra and I can wait until another day to attend Mrs. Stewart's literary salon."

  "No, Cousin, Phaedra has earned this afternoon with you. I will go with and my husband can rest or take himself off to his club. We will not waste away to be apart for one more afternoon.

  "Come, Chloe," she continued. "We must be off if we are to be only fashionably late. Good-bye, my dear. I will see you at dinner this evening." She blew her husband a kiss as she hurried Chloe out the door.

  "Poor Papa, for us all to desert you," Phaedra said. "Would you like to come with us?"

  "To a Literary Tea? Not on your life." He chuckled as he patted her on the shoulder. "You go and enjoy yourselves. Though how you can enjoy a literary bash is beyond me. I'll just take myself off to my club after I've had a bite of luncheon. Renew old acquaintances and all that, y'know. Edgemont! Edgemont, you old reprobate, I'm like to faint with hunger. Is there anything in this house to eat, or have my wife and daughters spent all my funds on ball gowns and left us to starve?"

  Phaedra laughed as the butler listened to her father's words with a disapproving expression. As she and Cousin Louisa exited, she told the older woman, "Papa so loves to get the best of Edgemont, who has never given up trying to train our family in what he considers proper behavior. Papa is equally persistent in attempting to deflate his pretensions. They both enjoy the game excessively."

  Cousin Louisa replied with a smile, "Edgemont quite intimidated me when I first came to visit Gifford Court. Since then I have found him to be both kind and dependable under that so-very-proper exterior. Do we need a hackney, or shall we walk to Mrs. Stewart's? It isn't over a mile, and it is such a beautiful day."

  Phaedra, liking exercise as much as her companion, voted to walk.

  * * * *

  Chloe was much impressed with Lady Everingham's house in Richmond. It was exceedingly grand and elegant. The vestibule boasted a magnificent crystal chandelier, and the twin curving staircases to the first floor were like nothing she had ever seen. The chamber set aside for the ladies' wraps was decorated with velvet drapes and green-and-rose flowered wallpaper. A maid was present to assist guests with repairing the ravages of the short drive from London.

  So many beautiful things. Shelves and tables were laden with porcelains, paperweights, and assorted other knickknacks, as well as numerous vases holding fresh and dried flowers. This is how my house will look, someday. Filled with priceless treasures in the first stare of elegance. She moved slowly, letting her fingertips drift across polished table tops, hover above a finely detailed china shepherdess and her love. It seemed to her that the very air she breathed was rich and sweet.

  In the sunken garden two large open-sided tents sheltered small tables. A third tent held a long table upon which rested platters, bowls, and trays displaying a rich variety of foods. In the midst of beds of daffodils and tulips stood a wooden platform upon which a small string quartet played music she recognized as being from the pen of a famous Austrian composer whose works she did not care for. Liveried waiters were everywhere, carrying trays of full and empty champagne glasses. This is my world, the world I was destined to reside in.

  A large woman wearing a deep purple gown and a towering purple turban stood at the top of the wide marble stairway leading down into the garden. She inclined her head slightly as Chloe and her mother approached.

  "My dear Lady Everingham," Lady Gifford said, "how kind in you to invite us. I wish you to meet my elder daughter, Chloe."

  Chloe curtsied to Lady Everingham and murmured her pleasure at being invited. The latter looked the girl up and down and said, curtly, "Looks like her pa, more's the pity. Too bad she doesn't take after you, Isabella."

  Before Chloe could speak, her mother said, "Considering how attractive you used to think my husband, Mathilde, we will take that as a compliment."

  Lady Everingham snorted. "Your tongue's not grown any sweeter, has it? Never mind. I'm glad to see you." She looked down her nose at Chloe. "Here's my son, the earl. Make you acquainted with Miss Hazelbourne, Jeremy. Go on now and mingle, the two of you. Isabella and I have catching up to do."

  Chloe held out her hand to the slender, colorless young man, only to find it clutched tightly. He smiled at her as he raised it to his lips and kissed it. She noticed that his teeth were slightly crooked and his nose overly long. But Lord Everingham was an earl. His appearance was unimportant. Furthermore, the maintenance of a house and garden like this one bespoke a large fortune.

  "I am happy to meet you, my lord." She pretended to be thrilled at the kiss and suppressed the urge to wipe her hand upon her skirt.

  "And I you, Miss Hazelbourne. May I say that your beauty can only enhance the delights of my mother's garden."

  He is an earl, Chloe reminded herself. A rich earl. "Thank you my lord. Such a nice party, is it not?"

  "I suppose, although my mother's parties are not usually enjoyable to me. Today, I believe I shall enjoy myself."

  "Please, Lord Everingham, release my hand. People are beginning to stare."

  "Your hand? Of course." Instead of releasing it, he tucked it into the crook of his arm. "Let me show you the remainder of the garden. But first, some champagne." He stopped a passing waiter and took two glasses from his tray.

  Chloe had been firmly instructed by her mother to drink nothing stronger than lemonade, but she decided a single glass of champagne would not harm her. She had never tasted it, and was so very curious. She sipped--and sneezed.

  "Are you quite all right, Miss Hazelbourne? Is it too chilly here?"

  "No, I am all right." She sipped again from the glass. "I always sneeze at the first taste of champagne," she said, with all the sophistication she could muster. "It is so delicious that it is quite worth the discomfort of the sneeze."

  Lord Everingham guided her into a shrub-lined path paved with mossy flagstones. They were soon hidden from the party by the masses of greenery.

  "Miss Hazelbourne, no...no! I cannot keep calling you Miss Hazelbourne--it is too...too ordinary for such a beauty as you," Lord Everingham said, as the sounds of the orchestra grew ever fainter.

  "My name is Chloe, but only when we are alone, my lord. Mama does not approve of too much familiarity on short acquaintance."

  "A beautiful name, classical and poetic. And my name is Jeremy. 'My lord' is so formal. It keeps one at a distance, don't you think?"

  "Oh, indeed, it does...Jeremy."

  The two of them walked among the shrubbery for some time, Lord Everingham pouring forth extravagant compliments to Chloe and she positively glowing under the attention. Compared to the fulsome compliments bestowed upon her by the boys at home, Lord Everingham's remarks reeked of sophistication. He is not all that unattractive, she decided, peeping at him from under her lashes. And he is an earl.

  The shadows were noticeably longer when she suddenly realized that they had been out of sight of the rest of the company for some time. "I must return, my lo--Jeremy. My mother will be worried."

  "Oh, if only I could keep you here forever, my lovely Chloe." He pressed one hand over his heart. "Alas, I cannot. Come, this path will ta
ke us directly back." He led her along another path, nearly a tunnel among leathery-leaved shrubs and ivy-twined tree trunks.

  When they emerged, Chloe saw her mother seated at a table under the nearest tent. Mama sent a speaking glance in her direction but did not summon her, so she followed Lord Everingham into a corner where he held a chair for her at a small table. At his gesture, a waiter came to them.

  "Bring some of those little sweet puffs for the young lady, Egbert. I'll have cheese and bread. Champagne for both of us, and strawberries. Bring a big bowl of strawberries." He leaned forward. "I am particularly fond of strawberries, Chloe. Aren't you?"

  Chloe opened her mouth and closed it again. He was an earl and he wanted to feed her strawberries. Why not? Surely two or three would do no harm. Besides, she would likely be at home before the hives emerged.

  From where she sat, her mother was fully visible, and her frown unmistakable. Chloe mentally crossed her fingers that a mild scold would be her only punishment for disappearing. She really had not been aware of time's passage, but she knew that her unchaperoned absence from a party in the company of a young man was unacceptable.

  The footman reappeared with a laden tray full of food. Between them, Chloe and Lord Everingham made a good meal. Several times he failed to place the food into his mouth and it fell back to the plate. Chloe giggled when a strawberry dropped to the table and rolled across, leaving a trail of pink spots on the cloth.

  "But I am so overwhelmed with your beauty that I cannot take my eyes from your face, Chloe. Forgive my poor manners."

  "So there you are, Jeremy!" someone behind Chloe said. "About time you returned."

  Lord Everingham's shoulders drooped and his lower lip protruded. "We were only walking in the shrubbery, Mother."

  "Faugh! You were trying to hide, as you always do. You are the host here. It is beyond rude for you to disappear as you do. Miss Hazelbourne, I hold you equally responsible. My silly son has no better sense than to go walking alone in the shrubbery but I cannot imagine your mother not cautioning you against it."