A Crime of Manners (8 page)

Lady Fuddlesby was enjoying a comfortable chat with Colonel Colchester. They shared the common circumstances of having both lost a spouse and been left with no children to comfort them.

The colonel was loath to leave her ladyship’s agreeable company, but when he saw the glowering faces of the two people leaving the dance floor, he said, “Lady Fuddlesby, forgive me, but I think it prudent to excuse myself. May I have the honor of calling on you?”

Lady Fuddlesby favored him with a radiant smile. “Please do, sir.” Watching him follow the duke into the card room, her ladyship fanned her warm cheeks and told herself she had far too many years in her dish to be thinking such indecent thoughts about a man she had just met.

A preoccupied Henrietta went through the motions with her dance partners the remainder of the evening. Several times she caught herself gazing toward the card room and brought herself severely to task at this folly.

Lord Baddick noticed her distraction during their second dance together, and his eyes narrowed while he contemplated the meaning of this behavior. He had not seen her pay any one gentleman particular attention, so he ruled out the possibility of a rival. Still, if necessary, he would accelerate his own plans for her future.

Later, when she lay sleeplessly in her bed, Henrietta recalled the words Lady Fuddlesby spoke in the carriage on the way to the Denbys’, and silently agreed the night of her first ball would truly be a night to remember.

* * * *

On the afternoon of the following day, Henrietta sat with Lady Fuddlesby in the drawing room.

“Oh, my dear, I daresay I am well pleased with your success at the Denbys’ last evening.” Lady Fuddlesby served as chaperon during the afternoon as several young men had come to call. Floral tributes stood in vases around the room, including a lavish arrangement from Beau Brummell, who had stopped by for a brief visit.

“Yes, my lady. After an inauspicious beginning, the night proved enjoyable.” Henrietta stabbed a needle into a piece of stitchery, reflecting that every one of her gallants paled in comparison to the Duke of Winterton. And Lord Baddick, she firmly reminded herself.

Henrietta had passed a troubled night. As dawn approached she had finally fallen asleep and directly into the Duke of Winterton’s arms. They were dancing the waltz in an empty ballroom. When she opened her mouth to speak to him, all that came out was a horse’s whinny. The duke threw his dark head back and laughed at her. She woke up abruptly, sitting up in bed breathing hard.

After another period of restless sleep, she dreamt of Lord Baddick. In the dream, when that gentleman lowered his head to kiss her, he suddenly changed into the Duke of Winterton. At the very moment the duke’s lips were to meet Henrietta’s, she awakened for the day, feeling unreasonably frustrated.

Neither of these gentlemen had put in an appearance yet. Henrietta concentrated on wishing for Lord Baddick’s company but started nonetheless when Chuffley intoned, “Colonel Owen Colchester, my lady.”

Henrietta fought down disappointment as the colonel entered the room alone.

The handsome military man eyed both ladies appreciatively, “Well, I own I must be the luckiest of men. To have London’s two prettiest ladies all to myself!”

Henrietta smiled and then glanced at her aunt, noticing the faintest of blushes rise in her round face.

In his arms Colonel Colchester carried two bouquets. He handed one of creamy yellow roses to Henrietta, saying, “With the Duke of Winterton’s compliments, Miss Lanford.”

Henrietta stood up, surprised and more uncertain than ever. “Please convey my thanks to his grace, sir.” She accepted the flowers and moved away to place them on a side table, biting her lip hard to prevent herself from asking why the duke had not accompanied his godfather on this call.

Colonel Colchester handed a beautiful bouquet of pink roses to Lady Fuddlesby. “I see these match your gown, my lady. May I hope the color pleases you?”

“Oh, yes indeed, colonel,” Lady Fuddlesby replied with a coy smile, and reached for the roses.

At that moment Knight walked into the room and saw the stranger. A running leap brought him into Lady Fuddlesby’s lap and sent the roses flying.

“Oh dear, oh dear, Knight! Mustn’t do!” She gently waived the cat away. “I am sorry, Colonel Colchester. This is my precious boy, Knight in Masked Armour. Perhaps he saw someone he did not know and felt he needed to come to my defense. You see, he is very intelligent and protective.”

She and the colonel bent to retrieve the fallen flowers. Colonel Colchester caught a look he could only interpret as a warning from the cat, which then jumped to the fireplace mantel where he observed the caller through slitted eyes.

Chuffley appeared in the doorway again and announced, “Viscount Baddick.”

Lord Baddick entered the room carrying an enormous arrangement of wildflowers. He bowed. “Good afternoon, Lady Fuddlesby. Miss Lanford, I see you have received many floral tributes today, which does not at all surprise me. A lady of your beauty must be admired by many.” He handed her the flowers, saying, “I hope my humble offering may find favor with you.”

Henrietta accepted this latest bouquet graciously. “Thank you, sir. Have you met Colonel Colchester?” she asked.

The two men shook hands, and Lady Fuddlesby begged Lord Baddick to take a seat.

The colonel remembered the duke’s dubious opinion of Lord Baddick and decided to study him closely. He would not have sweet Lady Fuddlesby upset by an unsavory suitor for her charge.

Unaware of the scrutiny he was under, Lord Baddick remained standing and said, “In truth, my lady, I have come in hopes I may persuade Miss Lanford to come driving with me. The day is unusually fine and I have an open carriage, so we may observe the proprieties.”

Lady Fuddlesby saw Henrietta’s eager look and gave her permission.

Henrietta hurried upstairs to change her dress.

Lord Baddick sat on a matching chair opposite the brocade sofa, and charmed the company with amusing
on dits
until Henrietta reappeared clad in a Clarence-blue velvet carriage dress. A matching velvet bonnet trimmed with white fur complemented her doll-like features.

They took their leave, and after he saw her seated comfortably in his carriage, Lord Baddick drove them toward Hyde Park. He did not waste any time before he began tightening his web of seduction.

“Miss Lanford, as beautiful as the blue sky is this afternoon, its color pales in comparison to your eyes.”

Henrietta felt exhilarated, riding next to this fashionable gentleman who thought her attractive.

“Thank you, my lord. It is a glorious day, is it not? I am so happy you came to take me out!

Encouraged by this artless assertion, Lord Baddick assumed a serious mien and confided, “I find your happiness to be of prime concern to me, Miss Lanford. I pray you do not find me overbold, but in the short time of our acquaintance I have felt drawn to you as I have to no other lady.”

“You are too kind, my lord,” she said, feeling a thrill of purely feminine triumph.

They pulled into the gates of the park, and Lord Baddick was forced to concentrate on his driving. The street was quite crowded. It seemed everyone was taking advantage of the weather.

Henrietta and Lord Baddick were chatting amiably when the traffic became so thick, they were obliged to stop their progress altogether.

During this pause another open carriage, going in the opposite direction, came abreast. Henrietta was caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the man who had dominated her dreams the night before.

The Duke of Winterton found himself staring into the wide, innocent eyes of Miss Henrietta Lanford. When he saw she was escorted by that cur Baddick, he felt himself grow irritated.

He gave the couple a brief nod and continued to hold Miss Lanford’s gaze lazily, through half-closed lids. “Lady Clorinda, allow me to present Miss Henrietta Lanford and Viscount Baddick,” he drawled.

Henrietta murmured a greeting, thinking the duke more masculine than ever in a dark gray coat, leather breeches, and top boots.

Her eyes shifted to his serene companion, the blonde she’d seen him with at the Denbys’ ball. Today the lady was dressed in the thinnest of muslins.

Her bosom was accentuated by a short leaf-green spencer that just reached the high waist of her gown. A plumed bonnet sat atop her golden curls.

Henrietta did not notice Lord Baddick’s reaction to the beauty. His eyes drank in the sensuality of Lady Clorinda’s body while he managed to sweep a bow and hold the reins. He’d noticed her the evening before at the Denbys’, and hasty inquiries had netted him the disappointing information that Lady Clorinda was well guarded by both her parents.

“Lady Clorinda, your servant,” Lord Baddick said, thinking of the many ways he could enjoy serving her indeed.

Clorinda remembered how Miss Lanford had stolen her waltz with the duke. Always ready to enslave another suitor, she smiled at Lord Baddick blindingly.

“How do you do, Lord Baddick?” Turning a contemptuous gaze to Henrietta, Lady Clorinda addressed the viscount. “What sturdy-looking horses you have, my lord.”

Henrietta blushed at the obvious reference to her humiliation the night before.

Sitting beside Clorinda, the duke could not see the mocking look in that lady’s eyes and thus missed the implication.

Lord Baddick managed to suppress an appreciative chuckle before he disgraced himself in his prey’s estimation. He merely said, “Thank you, my lady.”

A break appeared in the traffic and the carriages parted.

All the glory of the day died for Henrietta. She could no longer deny she felt hopelessly drawn to the duke. And he would never return her regard. A bitter jealousy stirred inside her at the thought of Clorinda’s sophisticated charms. She sighed, clasped her slender hands together in her lap, and stared at them.

Lord Baddick thought for the first time the silly chit sitting next to him might have formed a tendre for the Duke of Winterton, the proudest, most arrogant man in London! All to the good, he reasoned. When Winterton spurned Miss Lanford, she would be even riper for the plucking.

* * * *

The duke escorted Clorinda to her home, maintaining a cordial conversation. He found the lady met all his qualifications for duchess, but determined to proceed slowly in order to be certain.

Returning to his town house in Park Lane, he retired to his dressing room, where Tyler prepared him for the evening ahead.

Really, thought Giles, it was his duty to try to dredge up the details of the story about Baddick that had circulated after Christmas. It would not do to have gullible Miss Lanford hoodwinked by that coxcomb. Tonight, at the Whitfords’ rout, he would see what he could discover.

As if knowing his master’s thoughts were of a mere squire’s daughter, from the bedchamber adjacent to the dressing room Sir Polly Grey chastised in the seventh Duke of Winterton’s voice, “A suitable gel, Giles!”

The duke looked with some annoyance into the other room where the bird hopped about his cage in an agitated fashion.

“Tyler, close the door,” he commanded, in order to cut the parrot off from sight and hearing.

Of course, he told himself, he could have no interest other than an altruistic one in the girl. She was not of his station.

Chapter Five

“There will be no cards or dancing. We simply arrive, present ourselves to our hostess, and take our leave,” Lady Fuddlesby said, explaining the night’s entertainment.

Entering the Whitfords’ rout and seeing the number of people fashionably crushed into the town house, Henrietta doubted it would prove simple.

“Pray, my lady, what is the point? It appears the Whitfords have placed a wager as to the number of people that will fit into their house!” Henrietta said, bewildered.

“My dear, the most fashionable routs are the ones deemed a dreadful squeeze. The purpose is to be seen in the company of the cream of Society,” her aunt assured her.

They spent an hour making their way up a narrow staircase to an overheated drawing room. Lady Fuddlesby introduced Henrietta to the Whitfords, and then her ladyship disappeared into the mass of grandeur.

Henrietta felt likely to suffocate. She searched in vain for her aunt through the noisy aristocratic crowd. Her efforts were hampered by her petite stature.

All at once a sense of awareness washed over her.

Her back distinctly tingled. When the crowd pressed in on her, she struggled to turn and found herself crushed up against a stiff white cravat.

“Good evening, Miss Lanford,” the Duke of Winterton drawled, his saturnine face inches from hers.

Henrietta looked up into his silvery eyes and blushed rosily. Every time she saw him she was startled anew at his elegance. Even in this crowd his presence was compelling.

“Your grace,” she murmured, trying to regain her composure. She attempted a curtsy, but at their close proximity this had the effect of sliding her upper body down the front of Winterton’s coat. Shocked, she cut the movement off abruptly, trying to back away from him, her flush deepening to crimson.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Amusement flickered in the eyes that met hers. Then he raised his dark head and surveyed the room. “Where is Lady Fuddlesby?” he asked with an air of authority.

“She is here, your grace.”

“Where? You should not be left alone to cope with such a situation.”

Henrietta felt herself become impatient at his insinuation. “I do not know precisely where her ladyship is. We were separated in this terrible crowd of people.”

To underline her description, a rowdy young buck hurriedly making his way through the crush jostled her, and she fell forward. Winterton lifted his arms to keep her from falling, his hands grasping her shoulders.

Henrietta stood motionless, observing his features from this up-close vantage. He was devastatingly handsome. His black hair gleamed in the candlelight from good health rather than the use of pomatum. His mouth was firm with a cynical twist to it. His nose was long and aquiline.