Fool for Love

  Esme let herself wonder for a moment whether sitting rooms were particularly conducive to conception, then pushed the thought away. Her baby was Miles’s—or rather, her own.

  “That’s lovely,” she said, straining to sound rational.

  “I know,” Carola said with a merry grimace, “I’ve become terribly boring since Tuppy and I reunited. I can’t seem to think about anything but him.”

  “Well, I have a subject of interest for you,” Esme said. “Do you remember our plan to effect that reunion with Tuppy? I have a friend, Henrietta, who needs similar help.”

  Carola’s eyes sparkled with interest. “A bedtrick!” she cried. “I’m an expert on that subject!”

  “Not quite,” Esme said. “It’s more complicated than that, although it’s essentially the same thing. We need to convince a man that he has compromised Henrietta’s virtue. We need to make it absolutely impossible for him to refuse marriage.”

  Carola’s eyes grew round. “This man compromised your friend and is refusing to marry her? What a blackguard!”

  “Not exactly,” Esme said.

  “What do you mean, not exactly? Either he did or he didn’t.”

  “He didn’t.”

  “Well, then, he’d have to be an awful fool,” Carola said.

  “There’s another wrinkle,” Esme said. “The man in question is my nephew Darby.”

  “Darby? Simon Darby? You have to be joking!”

  “No, I’m not. We’re going to arrange it so that he has to marry Henrietta. He needs her, but he simply doesn’t understand that yet. For one thing, my child, if male, will disinherit him, and Henrietta has a fortune. And for another, she would be a wonderful mother to his two small sisters. Did you know that Darby is raising his sisters?”

  “Well, of course,” Carola said, “all of London knows that. But how on earth—”

  “We’ve made up some evidence,” Esme said serenely. “And if I say so myself, the evidence is fairly damning. All we have to do is present it, and everything will fall into place. Darby will have to marry her.”

  Carola was shaking her head, but at that moment Rees Holland walked up and bowed.

  “Lady Rawlings,” he said, putting an impatient kiss on her hand. “Very kind of you to put me up like this. Where is Darby?” He acknowledged Carola with a mere bend of his head.

  “Lord Godwin, may I introduce Lady Perwinkle,” Esme said, overlooking Rees’s extreme rudeness. After all, it wasn’t pointed at her. He acted this way toward the world in general.

  “Pleased to meet you,” the earl growled, throwing a brief bow in Carola’s direction. “Has Darby made an appearance yet?”

  “Not yet,” Esme said, controlling her irritability. No wonder Helene couldn’t stay married to the man. He looked as if he were invited to a badger hunt. Oh, his coat was well made enough, and his shirt was white, but his hair was even longer than Darby’s. Moreover, he had ink spots on his fingers.

  “In that case, I’ll go roust him from his chambers,” Rees said, rough amusement in his voice. “The peacock is probably still gazing at the mirror and trying to decide which coat to wear.” He walked off without further ado.

  “Helene’s husband is deplorably rude,” Carola said crossly. “Honest to God, I’ve met the man at least six times, and each time he acts as if he had never seen me before.”

  “You can’t take it personally,” Esme observed. “The only reason he recognizes me is because I’m Darby’s aunt.”

  “What on earth were you thinking, inviting him to the dinner?” Carola asked. “Helene is here, isn’t she?”

  “I didn’t invite him,” Esme protested. “He simply announced he was arriving. I assumed that Darby invited him to the house, but Darby swears he only wrote him a note and never invited him to join us.”

  Carola was looking around. “Is Helene downstairs yet? She’s going to be angry about Rees’s presence, you know. She is the calmest person in the world until she loses her temper.”

  Esme had painful memories of the one time Helene had lost her temper with her. “I know,” she said glumly. “It’s the way she looks at one.” The moment when Helene confronted her with the fact that Esme had slept with Gina’s fiancé was one of the worst memories of her life.

  “Well, I’ll try to protect you,” Carola said, patting her hand. That was an absurd statement. Carola was as delightfully small as Esme was large.

  “I think I can manage,” Esme said. “I did send a note to Helene’s room and warn her that her husband had arrived.”

  “Oh, that’s all right then,” Carola said. “I’m quite sure that she will choose to eat in her room.”

  “She can’t,” Esme said. “I need her for the plan.”

  Tuppy appeared at Carola’s side. “I must change my gown,” she told Esme.

  “You will know exactly what I am talking about, Carola, when it happens,” Esme said to her, with a meaningful frown.

  Carola had clearly forgotten all about Esme’s plan, since her husband seemed to be kissing her ear in public.

  “Of course!” she said quickly. “You may count on me to support you.”

  “You mustn’t be late for dinner,” Esme said with a warning look.

  “We won’t!” Carola said, with such earnestness that it was clear she and her husband had retired early to their chamber a time or two.

  26

  A Man in Velvet and Lace

  Two hours later Lady Holkham and her stepdaughter arrived for dinner. Slope brought them to their hostess, who was seated on a couch.

  “Are you feeling quite all right?” Henrietta asked.

  “I am simply taking a holiday from standing,” Esme said, smiling at them. “How beautiful your daughter looks tonight, madam!”

  Millicent looked back at Henrietta. “I should hope so,” she said rather crossly. “Generally I can count on Imogen holding up a party, but tonight Henrietta changed her dress at least three times!”

  Esme grinned at Henrietta. “The work was beneficial. You look magnificent.” Henrietta was wearing a gown of pale green crape, embroidered around the neck.

  Henrietta sat down next to Esme as Millicent went to greet Mrs. Barret-Ducrorq.

  “I don’t think this was the right gown to wear. Darby is so…” Henrietta’s voice trailed off.

  “One can’t possibly compete with Darby,” Esme said matter-of-factly. “Just to warn you, he’s wearing brown velvet tonight. Ladies have fainted when he’s worn that particular costume.”

  “This is impossible.” Henrietta looked at Esme miserably. “I can’t think why I ever thought it possible. He’s a peacock, and I’m nothing more than a crow!”

  “A crow?” Esme said, smiling. “I don’t think so. Let’s see.” She looked Henrietta over from head to foot. “Wait, I have to remember all those turgid letters that have been sent to me. Your hair is the color of moonbeams—no, sunbeams, because it has honey-colored strands running around it. Your eyes are the color of pansies; your lips are the color of rubies; your cheeks are peaches and cream—need I go on? I’m running out of colors.”

  Henrietta rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. I’m lame, Esme, lame. I can’t have children. And I’m not accustomed to looking elegant, nor do I really wish to achieve such a thing. I saw Darby walking down High Street yesterday. The man is unlike anyone I have ever known.”

  “Darby is unlike anyone in London either,” Esme said, waving her fan gently before her face. “Don’t fool yourself, Henrietta. London is not full of men wearing lace and velvet. Look at Rees, for example.” She nodded toward the edge of the room, where a man, whose neck cloth appeared to have been thrown around his neck and knotted in approximately two seconds, was tossing back a glass of something.

  Henrietta looked a little blank, so Esme added, “Rees Holland, Earl Godwin, husband of my friend Helene. I think you met her, didn’t you?”

  “Oh, of course,” Henrietta said. “She was charming.”

  “Well,
he isn’t,” Esme said bluntly. “Of course, the messiness in his dress is nothing to the messiness in his private life.”

  “Still, you are suggesting that a man who wears a pink coat—”

  “Pink?” Esme said with a chuckle. “Darby was wearing pink on High Street? I am sorry to have missed that.”

  “Pink. My stepmother complimented him on the color, and he said it was maiden’s blush. How can I marry a man who knows that a certain pink is called maiden’s blush, when I never spend more than twenty minutes dressing myself?”

  Over Esme’s shoulder Henrietta saw Darby wander into the room. Sure enough, he was resplendent. He would probably call the color of his coat topaz rather than brown because it had a golden undertone. What seemed more important to Henrietta was that the jacket fitted him like a glove, and what a body it clung to! Broad shoulders slimming to his waist, powerful legs, that elegant, negligible ease. He walked over to Rees, and it was Beauty and the Beast, with a masculine twist.

  “You know why you should marry him?” Esme said, laughing. “Because your eyes just turned the smokiest dark blue I ever saw. And that, my dear, tells me that my nephew just entered the room.” She looked over her shoulder. “There he is. As elegant in full dress as he undoubtedly is without clothing.”

  “Esse-me!” Henrietta said, shocked.

  She just laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m not trying to picture him. I don’t want him; I never take up with intelligent men. And Darby is far too intelligent for me.”

  Henrietta rolled her eyes. “I gather you forgot to tell me that Marquess Bonnington is a lackwit.”

  “That’s different,” Esme said. “Put it down to the fact that my own wits have gone wandering. At any rate, it’s time, my dear.”

  Henrietta looked at her imploringly. “This isn’t going to work, Esme.”

  Esme ignored her. “Go sit over there in the corner, Henrietta,” she said. “Just signal him to join you, all right?”

  “I can’t do that,” Henrietta said desperately.

  But Esme lurched to her feet. She wanted to have one last word with Slope about the formation of the table. She had very carefully chosen the four people to each side of her. The vicar, Mr. Fetcham, to her right and Mr. Barret-Ducrorq to her left. Barret-Ducrorq looked just starchy enough to play a brilliant role in their little performance and do it without prompting. Carola next to Mr. Barret-Ducrorq, with her husband on the other side. Tuppy never said much, so she counted him as a benign presence, likely to back up his wife.

  Then Henrietta was seated next to the vicar, with Darby on her other side. Helene was next to Tuppy, which put Rees opposite her, and Lady Holkham between Darby and Rees. Rees was a bit of a wild card—after all, a man who deserted his wife years before and lived with an opera singer could hardly be called a champion of propriety, nor was he likely to promote the state of marriage. But in the course of a misspent life she had discovered that sometimes the least stuffy people actually responded rigidly and vice versa. Look who was acting as her gardener, after all.

  The only person missing was Sebastian. Oh how well he could have played it—at least the new Sebastian, with wit to laugh at himself. With his unbending propriety and strict observance of social conventions…well, it was a huge shame that he was out in the gardener’s hut. Of course, he was likely far more comfortable than she, stretched out on his bench, drinking whiskey and reading his Homer.

  She was longing to go to the water closet—only the fourteenth time she had had to go this evening—and feeling much more nervous about the plan than she let Henrietta know. Managing a plan of this magnitude was difficult. It was much easier to just send Carola into a bedtrick. Carola had to do the dirty work.

  But this was truly a work of art.

  She rose to her feet. “May I invite everyone to join me in the dining room?”

  The play was about to begin.

  27

  Sartorial Splendor Cannot Solve All Problems

  Darby was bored. Bored and irritable, as if his skin didn’t fit. Which was ridiculous because by rights wearing a suit this magnificent should make his physical situation a happy one.

  For one thing, he had to deal with Rees, who had hied his way to Limpley Stoke in response to Darby’s note. Not that Darby had expressed the slightest wish for company, but as Rees laconically explained it, when a man announces the intention to marry, it behooves his friends to dissuade him. Well, he arrived too late to do any dissuading, marriage not being an option anymore.

  For another thing, Darby was intolerably aware of Henrietta’s presence in the room. She was adequately dressed this evening, although pale green did nothing for her hair. He brooded about that for a while and decided that ruby would probably look best.

  The green gown fell straight to the floor, as if Henrietta didn’t have a curve to her body, although he knew well that she did. The very thought made him drink a glass of wine far too hastily, drowning out images of honey hair sliding down a delicate, naked back. Slipping over a breast.

  “I’ll accompany you back to London tomorrow,” he said abruptly to Rees. “I have to meet my man of business.”

  “Will you be traveling with the children?” Rees said, looking distinctly inclined to refuse.

  “Esme offered to keep them here. I believe I’ll hire a decent nurse in London and bring her back with me. Meanwhile they can stay under the care of Esme’s nanny, who seems a good soul. Josie has developed a bloodthirsty streak with her tin soldiers, but she isn’t throwing as many tantrums, thank God.”

  Rees got to his feet. “You can’t get me out of here too early in the morning,” he remarked. “Why didn’t it occur to me that Helene might be here? Jesus.”

  Both of them looked to the other corner of the salon, where his wife was seated at the piano. Helene wasn’t playing, just looking through the music. From this distance, she looked too slim for health, her cheekbones standing out in her face and an intricate set of braids surrounding her head.

  “Perhaps she’ll play for us later,” Rees grumbled. “That’d be about the only thing that would better this affair.” He looked contemptuously around the room.

  “I haven’t heard Helene play since she left your house,” Darby said. “How do you know she still enjoys music?”

  “Heard her last year, at Mrs. Kittlebliss’s. I had just dropped in. At any rate, she plays even better than she did when we were married. Actually had to tear myself away, or I would have spoken to her.” Rees looked faintly astonished.

  “Nothing surprising about that. From my recollection, about the only time you two weren’t quarreling was when you were making music together.”

  “There you’re wrong,” Rees said promptly. “We used to fight like cats and dogs over music as well. Those battles were rather fun, though. She always had some sort of criticism of my work.” He looked truly astonished at that admission.

  “You?” Darby said with derision. “She criticized the work of London’s foremost writer of comic opera?”

  “Shut your trap,” Rees growled.

  “So did she really criticize your work?”

  Rees nodded. “Made it better, I’ll say that for her. Helene has a perfect ear. She could tell instinctively when something was just a little off.”

  Henrietta had moved to a couch quite close to them, and Darby found himself watching the way she laughed.

  “The devil about marriage is that you don’t quite get over the woman,” Rees said abruptly. “That’s what I came up here to tell you. Marriages fall apart right and left, but what no one says is that your spouse is like a burr in your side. You just can’t get rid of her.”

  “You’ve done a pretty good job,” Darby said, pulling his attention away from Henrietta. “How long did you and Helene live together, a year or so?”

  “Not quite,” he grunted. “Doesn’t matter. They get under your skins, wives. I still find myself wondering what she would think of this or that stave of music.” He looked outraged.
r />   “Hmmm,” Darby said. “Why don’t you go play her a stave or two then?” He walked off as if he was giving Rees permission to go, when what he wanted to do was walk over to Henrietta, which of course he wasn’t going to do.

  She was seated in a couch placed at an odd angle, almost stuck in the corner of the room. Earlier, it seemed to him that her limp was a bit more pronounced than normally. He thought about that and decided to amble over and ask in a neighborly kind of way about her status.

  He wasn’t quite sure that he would actually do it until she looked up. Without warning, she smiled at him.

  Henrietta Maclellan might not have had much experience calling men to her side, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t a god-given genius at it. Darby had been the subject of many a come-hither smile, and he enjoyed brilliance when he saw it.

  Her eyes widened just a little bit, and then she smiled. She didn’t even smile with her mouth. It was all with her eyes. Naturally, he walked over to her like a sailor to a siren.

  Carola Perwinkle was seated next to Henrietta. He had always liked her, impudent little thing that she was, and he liked her even more when she got up as he approached, gave him a saucy smile, and pranced off to walk with her husband into the dining room.

  He sat down, naturally. A bit closer to Henrietta than he needed to be. “How are you feeling, Lady Henrietta?” he asked, finally.

  Henrietta had that look of utter calm, as if nothing that happened could shake her friendliness. “I am quite well, thank you,” she said.

  Looking closely, he could see that she was nervous. Still, she didn’t edge away from him. He stretched out his leg so that it just touched hers. He didn’t bother to think about why he was flirting with an ineligible woman. He just wanted to flirt with her, that’s all. Actually, what he really wanted to do was run his tongue around her little shell of an ear. She was wearing her hair up with curls drifting into ringlets over her ears. He would brush those aside and find her ear like someone looking for blackberries in a thicket.