"Excellent," was his acid reply. "You let that be known, and you will be besieged by fortune-hunters and scoundrels." He cursed softly under his breath, aware that the net was firmly drawn over him. He threw up his hands. "All right. I'll escort the both of you to the Bellermains' this evening. I will introduce little Diana to all my hapless acquaintances. But, Lucia, if she sharpens her shrew's tongue on any of the gentlemen, you can forget ---"
"Shrew's tongue! You insufferable dandy!"
Lyonel grit his teeth. "Did you bring the hartshorn?" he asked.
"Certainly. Here, Aunt."
"You must have raised your skirts and dashed up the stairs."
"Thank you, my dear," Lucia said, and tucked it under her handkerchief. "Lyonel didn't really mean exactly a shrew, Diana. He was just drawing comparisons about ---"
"Ha!"
"You are not exactly soft-spoken and endowed with maidenly modesty," said Lyonel. "If you wish to go along at all here in London, I advise you to moderate your mouth and keep your more ill-bred opinions to yourself."
Lucia rolled her eyes. Though she wanted to kick the both of them, she did find them, at least at this moment, more amusing than the hero and heroine of her novel. All that fainting did tend to get on one's nerves.
"I am not ill-bred! I am Diana Savarol of Savarol Island and I can say and do exactly as I please! And everyone would say I do it with good breeding."
"I daresay that this Savarol Island has all the importance and civilization of a backwater barracks." Lyonel broke off. His many-times-removed cousin was regarding him with fury in her eyes, and a very flushed face. What had gotten into him anyway? He was baiting the girl, just as Lucia had said. He was not behaving as he should. He was not acting like the gentleman he was. Two months ago, more than likely, her prickly pride would have elicited nothing more from him than tolerant amusement. But now, he’d like to take her over his knee and thrash her. He cleared his throat and managed with a good deal of effort to moderate his voice. "Miss Savarol, I apologize. I am certain that you have many fine attributes. Aunt, if you have no more use for me, I will see the both of you this evening."
"I wouldn't go to the museum with you!"
"Which museum, my dear?"
Lyonel regarded her with his blandest expression. "I didn't ask you, Miss Savarol, though the Tower of London is an interesting thought. Until this evening. Ladies."
He bowed himself out, relieved that he wasn't the one to have to remain and endure Aunt Lucia's inevitable tirade. What an abominable twit the girl was. And conceited, and sallow.
"My lord," said the proper and sepulchral Didier as he handed Lyonel his cane and gloves.
Lyonel cocked an eyebrow. "Unfortunately, I shall return, Didier."
He thought he heard a screech from the drawing room as he swiftly passed out of the house. I do not look pale and unhealthy, he thought as he strolled down the street toward Piccadilly.
Nonetheless, he shortly found himself at Gentleman Jackson's Boxing Saloon. I am not unhealthy, he thought again as he looked down at bloody-nosed James Crockren at his feet.
2
Everyone must row with the oars he has.
—ENGLISH PROVERB
Diana stared at her overflowing bosom in the long mirror. She grinned, then began to chuckle, just to see if her bosom would stay where it was supposed to. Amazingly, to her, it did. At least for the moment, she amended to herself. No wild and impetuous gesticulations for her this night. She tried hunching her shoulders just a bit, but that looked altogether ridiculous. Ah, well, there was nothing to be done about it; it was what her body was, and that was that.
Grumber came into her bedchamber at that moment, her perpetual look of indifference cracking just a bit. "Very nice, miss."
"Thank you, Grmber. What have you there?"
"Rice powder, that's all. Lady Cranston wants you to be the same color."
Diana was on the point of refusing, with a show of righteous outrage, then noticed that her tanned face did look a bit odd with the expanse of white shoulders and bosom.
Sallow, was she!
"All right, Grumber. Cover my face with it."
Once she was powdered up, Diana thanked Grumber again and made her way downstairs. Lucia was waiting for her in the drawing room, gowned in royal purple.
"Lovely, Diana, just lovely. Good heavens!" Lucia moved closer. "What in the worldYou look dead!"
Diana touched her fingertips to her cheek very lightly. Her fingertips came away as white as snow, at least she assumed they were, for she'd never before seen snow.
Lucia dusted off her face with a handkerchief, telling her to close her eyes in the cloud of white powder.
"There, much better. I like your hair swept up with the thick curls over your shoulders. Very nice. Those close crops all the young ladies are affecting remind me of poodles who have been trimmed too closely." She was on the point of saying that the thick streaked blond hair reminded her of her own when she was young, but she didn't want Diana to become conceited. "Now, my dear, I have a little something for you." Lucia pulled out a beautiful strand of pearls from a black velvet case. She fastened them around Diana's neck, then handed her a pair of pearl earrings.
Diana looked helplessly at them. "They're lovely, Aunt, but my ears aren't pierced."
Lucia frowned a moment, then said briskly, "We'll see to it tomorrow. The necklace looks quite well on you. Now, where is Lyonel?"
"The necklace is beautiful, Aunt. Thank you. I don't know about the piercing, though."
"Nonsense. Just a bit of pain, then it's over. Don't be a coward. I won't let Grumber do it, she's a bit heavy with a needle when she's mending. No, I'll see to it myself."
Diana wasn't certain the experience would be much improved, but said nothing. She walked to the mirror over the fireplace and studied the necklace. She looked very smart, yes, indeed. Then her eyes fell to her bosom, and she shuddered in embarrassment.
For the past four years she'd most rigorously kept her breasts well-covered, for she didn't care for the way men looked at her. She unconsciously tried to pull up the blue silk.
"Don't fiddle, Diana! You will shortly see that you are well in fashion, and, I might add, even on the modest side."
"But I'll pop out, Aunt, I just know it. I cannot believe it is modest --- why, the gown couldn't be cut any lower."
"Nonsense. Ah, Lyonel, here at last."
Lyonel, who had heard this last interchange, took a good look at Diana's plentiful bosom. "You won't pop out, Miss Savarol. And if you do, I shall be certain to cover you immediately."
"Oh? With what?"
"With whatever I have available to me at the moment." He raised his hands, splaying his fingers.
"Lyonel!"
"Sorry, Lucia. Both you ladies are looking prime. My God --- what the devil do you have on your face?"
"Rice powder," Diana said. "To make me all the same color."
"I wiped a goodly amount off, Lyonel. Do you still think it is too much?"
"Who cares what he thinks?" Diana stopped short, lowering her eyes.
"Well done," said Lyon. "I know, of course, that it is an affected maidenly pose, but nonetheless, it should pass with strangers as the real article."
"It's not that," she said, glaring at him. "I can't --- well, I can't dance!"
Lyonel groaned. "I thought you said you weren't from a backwater barracks?"
"Those were your ill-natured words! I was simply never interested in such things, and besides," she added, striving for a bit of honesty, "there was no one about to teach me."
"Now, now," said Lucia. "What is the time, Lyonel?"
"Just past eight o'clock."
"We have time, then. Didier!"
"Yes, my lady," said Didier but an instant later.
"To the music room. Lord Saint Leven will instruct Miss Savarol on the finer points of the waltz."
"Why the waltz, Lucia? She must have permission to dance it from a patroness."
"Sally wi
ll give her permission, you will see," said Lucia. "Besides, the country dances and the cotillion are too complicated for her to learn in a half an hour. Thank goodness that the waltz has finally been accepted."
When they walked into the small music room, Didier was already seated at the pianoforte, playing scales, looking every bit as distinguished as the leonine Beethoven.
Lucia seated herself in a comfortable wing chair and waved her hand at the two of them.
"Well, Miss Savarol, shall we?" Lyonel said, giving her a slight bow.
"Shall we what? I don't know what to do."
"First of all, you have to come closer and pretend to like it when I hold you. Now, you hear that Didier has broken into song with a strong three beats. So you will count, one, two, three, one, two , three, emphasis on the first beat, and follow my lead."
Lyonel kept a respectable full foot between them. She was taller than he'd first thought, and it occurred to him that he didn't at all care for tall, bosomy women. Charlotte had been petite, coming only to his shoulder, her figure slight, her eyes a deep chocolate brown, not a gray green. Funny color, as if nature couldn't make up its mind. He pulled himself up short. In all honesty, he didn't like any sort of woman at the present. He counted aloud as he gently led her about. She was a natural dancer, he thought some moments later, grudgingly.
"That's it, don't falter, and don't step on my foot. Ouch!"
"Sorry," Diana said, her eyes on her own feet.
He whirled her about at that instant, and she fell against him. He felt a tingling of sheer lust and quickly eased her away from him. As for Diana, she was too embarrassed at her clumsiness to notice anything at all.
"Pay attention," he said, his voice sharp. That damned bosom of hers would drive the gentlemen mad.
Her eyes turned more gray and he realized he'd hurt her feelings. "You're doing fine. Just keep counting, but under your breath. Once you have permission to waltz, I'll claim the first two, then you're on your own."
"So gracious, my lord!"
"Yes, I agree."
Didier played three more waltzes, and toward the end of the third one, Diana had managed to look up at Lyonel at least part of the time.
"Once you get used to it, you will be able to converse with your partner. It is expected, you know."
"It feels odd to be close to a man," she said, more to herself than to him.
Close? You're a good foot away from me."
"Considering you're a lion, a foot doesn't seem to be all that much."
He grinned over her head. "Shall I take that as a compliment?"
"It was just an observation. I do think this entire exercise is a bit improper. Why, even my father has never held me like this!"
"Men are just men, Miss Savarol. You will get used to it quickly. Just let your partner lead you --- stop shoving at me! --- and accept the fact that men are stronger, larger, and in all likelihood much more intelligent."
Diana came down hard on his foot. He yelped, and she gave him a nasty grin. "I suppose you could say now, with all honesty, that men are also slower, less coordinated, and the biggest babies with just the slightest amount of hurt."
"At least men keep their endowments well under wraps, as it were, and not hanging out and forced upward with the intent to draw attention to themselves. And don't step on my foot again or I will seek immediate retribution."
"I did not think that gentlemen were supposed to speak so outrageously."
"Excellent. You have spoken at some length now and haven't missed a beat. I am a marvelous teacher, am I not?"
"You, my lord, are an unprincipled rat."
"Is there any other kind? No? That certainly shuts me up, doesn't it? Ah, Didier is finished with his music. You will do, Miss Savarol." He released her, gave her a mocking bow, and turned to Lucia. "Well?"
"Well, indeed," said Lucia. "You make a marvelous couple, my dears."
Both members of the couple shot her a killing look, to which she showed no response. Lucia rose and shook out her bright purple silk skirts. "Shall we go?"
"By all means. Doesn't the chit have something to cover her up?"
"Certainly, a shawl matching the gown. Where is it, Diana?"
"I don't know."
Lucia sighed. "Didier, please have Grumber fetch the shawl."
"Very well, my lady."
"You are an excellent musician, Didier," Lyonel said.
"Thank you, my lord. One strives, to be sure." He left the room.
"Your perfume," said Lyonel, "is too strong. You come very close to smelling like an opera girl."
"Oh, and what does an opera girl smell like? What is an opera girl?"
"Lyonel, my boy, would you please keep your tongue behind your teeth?"
Lyon made a great attempt at an indifferent shrug. "Fine with me, Lucia, but have you sniffed her? She is rather overwhelming."
"Come here, Diana."
"She smells as if she's bathed in it."
Diana dutifully allowed herself to be sniffed at. "It is a bit too much," Lucia said at last. "But the evening air, and the time it will take us to reach the Bellermains', will reduce the scent."
"Is there anything else you would care to criticize, my lord?"
His eyes went again to her bosom, and he grinned. "I only remarked upon the obvious problems with your face and your perfume, Miss Savarol. The rest of you that is on display is most pleasing to the eye. The masculine eye, that is."
"Lyonel!"
"Forgive me, Lucia. Ah, your wrap, Miss Savarol. Shall we go, ladies?"
Lucia's grand old brougham was, if nothing else, blessed with a commodious interior. Still, Diana found that Lord Saint Leven must stretch his legs out, and she was forced to move to the side. She was quiet, listening to him speak with Aunt Lucia, calmly, amusingly, and with not a single drawing remark. Why did he dislike her so much? Indeed, he had taken her into obvious aversion the moment he had walked into the drawing room that afternoon. He was rude. Perhaps English noblemen were all of a kind. He was well-looking this evening, she was forced to admit. He wore black evening clothes and his shirt was so white it reminded her of the rice powder. He laughed at something Lucia said and she saw the flash of his even white teeth. He used his hands a lot when he talked. She saw the flash of his emerald signet ring.
"Diana."
"What? I'm sorry, Aunt. I was thinking."
"Something profound, Miss Savarol?"
"No, actually, my thoughts and observations were quite boring."
"I said, my dear, that Lyonel has agreed to call you Diana. And you, my love, will call him Lyonel."
"It's a rather silly name."
"I shouldn't say that, Diana. Your namesake was, after all, the goddess of hunting, and, I might add, the goddess of virginity."
"That is not what I meant!"
"Can you claim prowess or, er, ownership, to either quality?"
"Lyonel!"
"Sorry, Lucia."
"I certainly shouldn't call you the king of the jungle."
"That would depend on the jungle, would it not? Now, for example, if you were to examine the social jungle, you might discover that I make my way well enough ---"
"It seems that Charlotte brought you down."
"Diana!" Lucia exclaimed.
There was no flash of white teeth this time. She heard him suck in his breath. "May I thank you, Lucia, for this?"
"No, well, perhaps, my boy. Diana, your memory for names is most unfortunate. You will contrive to forget that one in particular."
"But who is she? Was she the debacle of two months ago? Did she turn you down?"
"That, you nosy chit, is none of your damned business. Thank God, we've arrived."
Because they were somewhat late, the line of carriages was not an excessive problem, and they were climbing the steps to the receiving line within ten minutes.
Lucia felt Diana's hand clutch at her sleeve. "It will be all right, my dear. Just be yourself. You are lovely and ---"
>
"Be yourself, but keep your mouth shut."
Lady Bellermain, as awesome as the flagship in Macklin's fleet, greeted both Lucia and Lyonel with pleasure. "Such a joy to see you again, my lord. And who is this?"
"My grand-niece, Miss Diana Savarol, Belinda. Make your curtsy, my dear."
"Lovely. She is staying with you for the Season, Lucia?"
"Yes, indeed."
Lyonel said as they strolled away, "I suppose that Lord Bellermain is already in the card room?"
"Probably, the old fool," said Lucia with a snort. "It's fortunate that he's lucky, else he would have lost his fortune by the age of twenty."
They entered the ballroom and Diana felt a moment of sheer terror. She had never seen so many superb-looking people in all her life. All of them strangers. So much laughter and gaiety, and a fountain of champagne, she saw. A real fountain! And the jewels. And the very low-cut gowns on the ladies.
"Some of them even dampen their petticoats," said Lyonel in her ear. "Again, an example of ladies flaunting the endowments for the masculine eyes. See that lady? That is Lady Caroline Lamb. She looks positively naked, does she not?"
"Lyonel!"
"Forgive me, Lucia. Would you ladies care for some champagne?"
"Yes, take yourself off. I must find Sally."
Lady Jersey was located and professed herself delighted to meet Miss Savarol. Of course the young lady should dance the waltz. Vouchers to Almack's? Why, certainly. She would again be most delighted to assist her dear friend.
Lucia breathed a sigh of relief when they left the semi-royal presence. "Talk about perfume!"
"She reeked," said Diana.
"Ladies, your champagne."
Diana had drank champagne once before. She accepted the glass, her fingers brushing Lyonel's. She gave a start and looked up at him. Her look of surprised awareness was not lost to Lyonel, and he frowned. He wanted nothing to do with any lady, much less this silly chit from the West Indies. He said, "Sip it, Miss --- Diana."
"I know how to drink!"
"Not to excess, I trust. Ah, a waltz. Come, Diana. The sooner we begin, the sooner we can end. Then the king of this jungle will turn the wolves loose on your virtue."