Amanda Scott (17 page)

He laughed heartily. “Impossible! But do folks truly say that of me? Fancy your telling me that. Quite puffs me up in my own esteem to hear that, don’t you know? Here, Ernest, do you hear what Miss Hardy has said? I am the man to come to for compliments. Not a mistake anyone would make about you, eh?”

Despite his unmistakable uniform, Carolyn had not seen the Duke of Cumberland following in York’s wake, and she curtsied quickly when he stepped forward and said in his harsh way, “I do not know Miss Hardy.”

“Well, it won’t do you any good if I present you,” York said, laughing again and winking at Carolyn. “Already said I pay the handsomest compliments, didn’t she, and even if that weren’t the case, our Georgie has his eye upon her. You don’t want to distress him, I daresay.”

“That point has never weighed heavily with me,” Cumberland said, his gaze resting intently enough upon Carolyn to put her forcibly in mind of Viscount Lyndhurst and to send a delicious thrill of danger racing up her spine.

York said, “Did you ever see such a fellow, Miss Hardy? Only fancy his continuing to wear the Hanoverian uniform, as he does, when poor Hanover has been in Boney’s clutches these six years and more. And there’s no good to be got by looking daggers at me, Ernest, not if you wish to cajole me into presenting her.”

Carolyn looked directly at Cumberland and smiled, saying, “What must we do, sir, if he will not present me? I have heard of your great courage in battle and cannot believe that you would let so small a point defeat you.”

Interest quickened in Cumberland’s eyes, making her fear for a brief moment that she had gone too far and he would think her impertinent or worse. That would never do.

Lowering her gaze, she bit her lip, then said contritely, “I should not have spoken so. Forgive me. It was unmannerly. I allowed myself to be carried away by such elevated company.”

York shook his head, saying, “Now, now, my pretty, don’t distress yourself. If anyone’s manners are at fault, they are mine, for I ought to have presented you at once. Temptation was too great to put a rub in Ernest’s way, don’t you know. This is Miss Carolyn Hardy, Ernest. M’ brother Cumberland, ma’am.”

By the time Carolyn’s attention was reclaimed ten minutes later by her godmother, who expressed herself astonished to have seen her putting herself forward in such a way, she believed she had accomplished a great deal. She had certainly stirred Sydney up even before she had actually conversed with the royal dukes, for she could not remember any other time when he had spoken so crisply to her.

Of course, she had also discovered that it was not as easy as she had thought it would be to play the coquette with him, for no sooner had she attempted to flirt than he had pricked her temper so that she had spoken to him in her customary manner. And although she hoped she knew herself better than to think, despite his warnings, that she could be led astray by a man for no reason other than his high estate, she had also discovered that there were snares to be avoided where royal dukes were concerned. She did think she would avoid the snares if she took care, but it had not occurred to her until York had invited her to walk apart with him that to refuse a royal invitation was by no means so easy as to refuse one from someone like Mr. Manningford or Viscount Lyndhurst.

York, she thought, would be fairly easy. He seemed inclined to light flirtation and she doubted he would press her if she did not encourage him to do so. And the Regent was too exalted a fish to leap at any bait of her casting, but she knew also that he would be too polite to rebuff her outright if she chanced to cross his way. And, after all, she wished only for Sydney to think she was flirting with him.

Cumberland was another matter, for his reputation was quite as dangerous as any young lady addicted to romance could possibly wish, and Sydney was by no means the first or only person to have warned her against him. With that black patch over his eye, and his menacing demeanor, his appearance alone was sinister. Certainly, no one would ever mistake him for the First Gentleman of Europe, but he had stayed talking with her for a full ten minutes by the clock on the duchess’s mantelpiece, and she had got away unscathed. Best of all, Sydney had seen her, for she had observed him, standing with the Regent and Lord and Lady Yarmouth. If she played her cards right, she decided, before their visit was done, Sydney would have to acknowledge that she could manage all the gentlemen of her acquaintance without his interference or protection.

C
AROLYN HAD NO FURTHER
opportunity to practice her wiles on the royal brothers before dinner, or for the three-quarters of an hour afterward when she and the other ladies were left to their own devices while the gentlemen lingered over their port. But when the men returned to the drawing room, the Regent soon joined the group of which she was a part. This was not wholly due to chance, for having noted earlier his partiality for Lord and Lady Yarmouth, she had taken care to seat herself near her ladyship, a plump woman of forty, and to engage her in conversation.

At first the group’s conversation was general, but since the Regent always had an eye for a pretty face, it required no great effort on Carolyn’s part to engage his attention, and soon the others drew away, leaving them to themselves. She knew that he had honored her as much for her sympathetic ear as for any other reason, but that made no difference, especially when she saw Sydney, his eyes narrowed, watching them from a short distance away where he was engaged in a conversation of his own.

The Regent complained just then that he had rather have been playing whist. “M’ brother York’s games are always amusing,” he said. “Stakes are a bit high for those of us not so plump in the pockets as others, but I enjoy the company and the sport, damme if I don’t. ’Tis a shame I must wait about, kicking m’ heels, as I must. But ’tis always the way, waiting and waiting for things to happen, and for things that never do,” he added morosely.

“That is tiresome, sir, certainly, but why must you?”

“Well, there’s always m’ father, don’t you know. Being Regent ain’t the same as being King, not by a long chalk. But that’s by the way. Tonight I’m waiting for m’ daughter, and the chit’s late as usual, damme if she ain’t. No consideration, this modern generation, none at all.”

“I did know that the Princess Charlotte was expected to arrive this evening,” Carolyn said cautiously, aware that she must say nothing that might be construed as criticism of the Regent, his daughter, or indeed, any of the royal family, even if it should be by way of agreement with him.

There was no need for her to say more, however, for the prince retorted testily, “Of course, she’s arriving tonight. Damned ball tomorrow’s in her honor, ain’t it? Frederica’s arranged the whole thing for Charlotte’s amusement, hasn’t she, all because she thinks we ought to be putting a good face on things, not letting the quizzes put about the sort of stories they delight in—daresay you know the muck I mean.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Damme, but it’s a nuisance, fretting about what people say or even what they might think, doing the fancy, showing everyone we can be as cozy as the next family. Daresay, next they’ll say I must show m’self cozy again with Ernest,” he added, glancing at Cumberland, who was engaged in conversation nearby with Lord Alvanley, who looked for once not only as if his wit had deserted him but as if he were a trifle bored.

Carolyn made an encouraging noise, and the Regent sighed, saying, “I don’t like Ernest being here, I can tell you that. Bad enough when he moved into Carlton House with me, saying he needed a place to recuperate after his damned valet tried to murder him, and then followed me down to Brighton. And, damme, but his servants are as much of a nuisance as he is. There is that sneaksby Neall now, speaking to him. Dashed well ought to have sent a footman, for with a Friday face like his, he’ll frighten all the ladies, damme if he won’t.”

Carolyn turned to look at Cumberland and Alvanley again and saw that another man had joined them, a man wearing a plain black suit of clothes and a deferential manner. “I daresay he couldn’t find a footman, sir. That man is his highness’s new valet?”

“Not new,” replied the Regent, grimacing. “Wish he would get a new one, damme if I don’t. Cornelius Neall’s been with him for donkey’s years. Can’t think why he stays.”

“But I thought you said his valet had tried to mur—”

“Well, upon my soul, Miss Hardy, a man has more than one valet, don’t he? Sellis was Ernest’s French valet; Neall is English. Not that there is much else to choose between them. But Ernest will have it that Neall saved his life. If you want my opinion on that matter, I don’t believe Sellis killed himself afterward at all. No, no, I believe Neall helped him out a bit, if you follow my meaning, though I beg you will say nothing.”

“No, sir, I won’t.” She looked more narrowly at Cornelius Neall and decided that he looked quite as sinister as his master.

“That pair would put a damper on anyone’s party,” the Regent said, following her gaze. “Oh, there now, Ernest has sent Neall away again, but only look at that poor fellow, Alvanley. Daresay I ought to rescue him. Here, Alvanley, I want you!”

For a moment, Carolyn thought Cumberland would accompany the younger man, for he glanced at her and took a step toward them, but then he apparently changed his mind, satisfying himself instead with a scornful sneer at his brother as he turned away.

Alvanley, only two years her senior, was of a naturally kind and affectionate disposition, but although he was good natured, obliging, inclined to be generous, and she liked him very much, he had made it clear that he was not hanging out for a wife, and he did not flirt. Even if he had been of a flirtatious nature, she would not have encouraged him, for his habits were not all as generally delightful as his personality.

The Regent greeted him cheerfully. “Ho, Alvanley, fleeing your creditors again, I hear. Ain’t poverty a damned nuisance?”

Alvanley chuckled and lisped, “Curthed duns made thuch a noithe every morning latht week, I couldn’t get a moment’th retht till I ordered the knocker taken off the door to make ’em think me out of town. Couldn’t expect to fool ’em longer than a day or two, though, tho I deemed it thmarter to leave than to thtay.”

The Regent laughed and poked Carolyn in the arm with his elbow. “There, didn’t I tell you? Damned amusing fellow!” Then, to Alvanley, he added, “Told Miss Hardy here you deserved we should rescue you from Ernest, so damme if we didn’t.”

“And I thank you,” Alvanley said promptly. “Withkerandoeth wath more of a bore than he usually ith. I could have put up with that, I thuppose—dash it, a fellow can’t tell a printh he ith a tirethome fellow—but one doeth draw the line at being polite to hith valet.”

The Regent chuckled and said to Carolyn, “M’ daughter named Ernest Prince Wiskerandos. Deuced good name for him, what?”

Noting that Sydney was no longer in sight, Carolyn responded a trifle absentmindedly and soon begged leave to excuse herself, pleading a long day’s travel and a wish to retire. The Regent chose to be benevolent, and although it was not easy to escape so easily from the company at large, she finally reached the solitude of her own bedchamber, where she found Maggie waiting to undress her. Less than an hour later, she was fast asleep.

She awoke later than usual the following morning to learn from a disapproving Maggie that most of the household was not only still asleep but was expected to remain abed for several hours longer.

“Good gracious,” Carolyn exclaimed, “everyone?”

“Most of them stayed up till dawn, miss,” Maggie said. Upon entering the room, she had set down the heavy tray to open the curtains, and she turned now from the window to fetch it and carry it to Carolyn, saying as she did so, “The gentlemen play cards, and since the duchess don’t sleep much at all, the ladies feel they must do like her. Lady Skipton’s woman told me even her ladyship didn’t retire till after two, and you know how she likes her sleep, miss. But knowing the duchess like she does, I suppose she thought it was expected of her.”

Carolyn had long since decided that no one knew the duchess as well as the dowager claimed to know her. Her highness seemed to be a very private person, and although she had presided over the dinner table the previous evening, she had not so much as shown herself in the great drawing room afterward. It was said that on such occasions she preferred to retire to the grotto in the garden, where she might read her books and play with her dogs. Carolyn, shifting the laden tray to a more comfortable position, decided she wanted to see this famous grotto.

“I’ll wear my lavender habit, Maggie,” she said, “for I want to ride later, but I think I’ll explore the gardens first, so you needn’t send word to the stables immediately.”

“Won’t do a bit of good sending word, Miss Carolyn,” Maggie told her as she paused near the wardrobe, making no attempt to find the habit. The duke and duchess don’t provide horses for their guests, and since you didn’t bring your own …”

“No horses? I never heard of such a thing!”

“Well, and that ain’t all,” Maggie told her. “If there’s breakfast laid out anywheres hereabouts, I’ve yet to learn where it be. One of the maids I spoke to—one as lives here, that is—told me I’d best go to the kitchens myself to say what’s wanted, but she weren’t altogether sure that speaking to the cook would do any good at all. And from what I’ve seen of the serving folk in this place, royal house or not, it would surprise me to discover that the cook is not still abed and sound asleep!”

Carolyn gestured to the tray on her lap. “But what about all this? There are boiled eggs and ham, coffee, jam, toast, even muffins—much more than you generally bring me when I wake. I shan’t eat the half of it.”

Maggie said, “It was Ching Ho saw to all that, miss. He’s a wonder, that Chinaman is.”

Thoughtfully, Carolyn turned her attention to her breakfast, and when she had finished, Maggie helped her into a soft blue velvet frock and half boots, with a red wool, hooded cape to keep out the chill, and she sallied forth to explore the grounds. Leaving by way of the main entrance, she turned toward the river and soon came to a path leading between wide, surprisingly colorful flower beds, toward dense woodland that provided a lush green background for the formal garden. Knowing there must be a path through the woods to the river, she kept walking, glad of the solitude, with only her thoughts for company.