A Grand Deception (13 page)

Both Freddie and their father had a good laugh.

Muriel did not find that humorous in the least and made
no effort to even pretend she was amused.

"Would you care for some Madeira?" The Duke offered
his son a glass, which Freddie accepted. "Speaking of
university ... what are your plans for university?"

Freddie took a deep drink and glanced at Muriel, masking another teasing smile. "I thought I might take a year off
and make a Grand Tour before making that decision."

Grand Tour! She willed herself not to react. Because any
volatile outburst to her brother's announcement would surely
give her away as the determined bluestocking she was.

The Continent. Europe. Italy. Muriel could not believe it.
Freddie was going to Rome.

"How nice for you," she commented, sounding most
pleased at his good fortune. "You lucky, lucky, boy." Muriel
squeezed his arm in a playful manner ... or perhaps not so
playful. Then she pinched his cheeks.

"Watch it, there!" he cried out. "That hurts."

"Sorry." But she wasn't, really. "It's just that you're so
very fortunate."

"Many in my position do the same." It was true that many
young men traveled to Europe for firsthand exposure to
foreign culture, architecture, and the arts.

"Yes, I know." Life was so unfair for girls.

"When do you plan to leave?" The Duke eased into the
chair behind his desk.

"I thought I might remain in Town for Moo's Season,"
her brother replied. "Somehow I managed to miss Gusta's
and Char-Char's altogether."

"They were completely uneventful," Muriel commented
in a cool manner. "Both of them."

"My sisters are grown, and time is slipping by quickly."
Freddie had missed much since he'd been away at school.

"I thought that was apparent only to me." Their father, who
wasn't all that old, sounded as if he were fast approaching
his dotage.

Muriel's failed Season would not be a disappointment to
her or to His Grace.

"I'd be delighted if you'd save me a waltz next time
you're at Almack's." Freddie's request sounded heartfelt.

"Of course." Muriel smiled and dipped into a shallow
curtsy. "I'd be delighted."

"I cannot believe how much you have changed. Now you
are a real lady. It's funny, really." Freddie chuckled. "I remember a time when you couldn't stand the thought of dancing."

The footman heralded, "The Earl of Brent," at the ballroom
doorway of Devonshire House that evening.

The announcement came as a shock to Muriel. She hadn't
thought her brother had received an invitation to the Devonshires' ball-but here he was.

Freddie stepped through the double-door portal and
glanced about the room. Once he spotted Muriel, there was
no stopping his progress to share her company.

"What are you doing here?" She regarded her brother's
slightly rumpled attire. He was wearing the very same clothes
he'd worn that afternoon! "I'm quite certain you bespoke a
dance at Almack's. I had no idea you were to attend tonight's
ball."

Muriel had been busy looking for Lord Caldwell, who
was to partner her for the next set. Across the room she spot ted Sherwin, making what she thought was a fairly inconspicuous attempt to capture her attention. Was it wrong of
her to wish to communicate with him rather than stand up
with Lord Caldwell or converse with her brother, who stood
waiting at her side? She could not say exactly what had
changed her opinion of him or when it had happened. But
to Muriel, Sherwin now seemed the best choice of companion by far.

He moved his mouth, forming words that she deciphered:
Do you think we should share a dance this evening?

"I hadn't meant to, but I've heard-" Freddie turned to
see what had captured Muriel's attention.

Muriel's answer to Sherwin was just as silent. After what
the Duchess put us through this morning, I think it would
be a good idea. I would hate to disappoint everyone. She
snickered, unable to believe she actually looked forward to
dancing. It was so unlike her.

Freddie acknowledged Sherwin with a slow nod. "Good
Gad, don't tell me Amhurst participates in that speechreading nonsense as well."

"It's far more private than sending a footman around
with a billet doux." Muriel felt quite certain her brother resented the ability because it was one he could not master.

"From what I hear, you'd know all about that." Freddie was
behaving very peculiarly. It was as if he was privy to some
secret.

She sincerely hoped it was not hers.

"I've just come from-" He began very anxiously but
came to an abrupt halt.

What was that smell? Muriel sniffed, trying to discern
the scent. Cigar smoke? Spirits?

"Never mind where I've been." Freddie seemed to choose
his words carefully to avoid any accusations. "The point is that I heard from-" He stopped again. "It doesn't matter
who told me-"

"Oh, do get on with it," she urged him, growing more
impatient as time went on. "Lord Caldwell will arrive to
claim his dance soon."

"He may not wish to keep your company once he learns
that you are meeting a man without the benefit of a chaperone." Freddie sounded cross and yet, at the same time, unexpectedly protective. "I take it he is no gentleman if you
must steal off to see him."

It shocked Muriel that he knew. How did he ... How?

"Suffice it to say, I do know of your sordid activity, and if
it were to come to Father's attention ... I cannot even imagine what he should do to either of you."

"I have no idea what you have heard or from whom. I
will say that you, and your source, could not be more incorrect." She would deny the accusation to her father as well.
Muriel had done nothing of which she should be ashamed.
It was all a lie. "There is no `sordid' anything."

"Mind your tongue, Moo."

"I suggest you take stock of your own behavior before you
go pointing fingers at others, Freddie." She glared at him
from toe to head, leaning closer to him to whisper, "Appearing at Devonshire House, disheveled, smelling of cheroot
smoke and drink, and, to top it off, uninvited, would cause
more of a scandal than I ever could produce." Then, spotting
Lord Caldwell off to the right, she walked away to greet him.

Sherwin quite considered he had done his duty by standing
up with Miss Holbrook and Miss Torrington. He sought out
Muriel for their waltz.

"Good evening, Lady Muriel." He bowed and reached for her proffered gloved hand. "I cannot tell you how much
I have looked forward to this moment."

"Doing it too brown, are we not, Lord Amhurst?" Muriel
reprimanded him. "We should keep our behavior cordial if
we wish to appear believable."

"What makes you think I am not sincere?" He felt an unexpected shiver at the touch of her hand. Suddenly, for the
first time in any female's company, he felt as awkward and
nervous as he had at thirteen.

The expression of disbelief she bestowed upon him was
one he had not seen in a very long time. At that moment he
recognized a bit of the Muriel he'd remembered: a perceptive, keen, and clever girl.

"Where's your brother?" Sherwin would have known
Freddie even at this distance. He'd be the only gentleman in
attendance who sported top boots and a frock coat at a ball.
"I did not know he was to attend tonight."

They had spent the majority of the afternoon together visiting boot makers, haberdashers, and several tailors. Freddie
had lent counsel on Sherwin's purchases for his wardrobe.
Sherwin had found the whole experience eye-opening.

Who knew there was a skill to dressing like an earl?

"He dropped by with the express purpose of aggravating
me," Muriel replied. "I believe a brother's sole goal in life is
to vex his sisters. This one's is, in any case."

"That cannot be true. I shan't believe it. Freddie is the
very best of fellows." Sherwin led Muriel to the dance floor
and stood in almost the exact place they had that morning.
"Do you think it odd that we are dancing the waltz?" This
was, after all, their first public, and the most intimate, dance.
Somehow, to him, it seemed as if it should be considered
scandalous behavior.

"We spent nearly an hour practicing this morning." Muriel
placed her left hand on his shoulder and extended her right
hand, waiting for him to take hold. "It would be disappointing if we did not participate, much less lead the dance"

"I suppose." Sherwin placed his left hand over her right,
taking her fingers into his. As he waited, he became aware
of the position of his right hand upon her shoulder, dangerously close to the nape of her neck. He would have felt the
soft, curling tendrils of her auburn hair brushing the back
of his hand if he wasn't wearing gloves.

"Sherwin!" Muriel whispered with some urgency. She
wiggled the fingers of both hands, attempting to gain his attention. "The music begins!"

"I beg your pardon." He moved forward in the steps of
the marche.

What was wrong with him? The very idea that he would
have had such a thought about her shocked him. He never
had a notion regarding femininity about any young lady. So
why, he wondered, had this happened with Lady Muriel?

The Earl of Brent's arrival the next morning at Lloyd Place
came as something of a surprise to Sherwin. He had told
Sherwin they needed to return to the tailor for a final fitting,
especially if any of the waistcoats were to be completed by
the morrow. Sherwin wasn't quite sure how Freddie had accomplished the deed, but he had convinced Mr. Weston to
complete no less than three for the next day.

After being introduced, Freddie strode to the coffee urn
on the sideboard in the breakfast room.

"Morning, Amhurst. Mind if I help myself?" He filled a
cup and pulled up the chair next to Sherwin. "You look more
like yourself when you're wearing those."

Sherwin adjusted his spectacles and closed the book he'd
been reading.

"We're off to Weston's after you've finished, right?"
Freddie snagged a piece of toast from the rack sitting in the
center of the table and bit the corner.

"Ah ... I haven't informed my m-" The struggle, Sherwin anticipated, would be in convincing Lady Amhurst to
allow him to accompany Freddie and not her for morning
calls.

"Look here, of man," Freddie lectured around the bite of
toast. "You are the Earl. She's, at best, the Dowager Countess.
I don't know what's going to happen once you marry, but if
you don't want your new Countess to rule the roost, you'd best
start crowing yourself now."

Sherwin lowered the forkful of breakfast from his mouth.
The poultry metaphors caused him to feel a bit guilty about
consuming his buttered eggs. "I'm not sure I entirely understand your meaning, Brent."

Lady Amhurst appeared at the doorway. Freddie scrambled to his feet with military precision. Sherwin followed
seconds later. He'd never risen when his own mother entered
the room before.

"Good morning, your lordship." She sank into a shallow
curtsy. "Welcome to Lloyd Place."

"Lady Amhurst, I am delighted," Freddie replied. "Will
you join us?"

"No, thank you. I am curious, though. Might I inquire as
to the reason for your call?"

"Amhurst and I are running a few errands this morning.
Not a problem, I trust." Freddie stared at her in a calm fashion with raised eyebrows. Had he been expecting some objection? An argument? A resounding refusal?

"We had planned to pay some calls, but I expect we can
dispense with that formality today." Lady Amhurst's voice
became a steely monotone.

Sherwin could tell his mother wasn't happy about the alteration in the day's plans. Especially since she wasn't the
one making the changes. What would she do if he took such
a position with her? On occasion she would lose her temper.
If he opposed her, would she lash out at him with more than
angry words? Dare she strike him? Worse?

"Thank you for your kind indulgence. I bid you good day,
then" Freddie-no, the Earl of Brent-had excused Lady
Amhurst!

Sherwin had never seen his mother submit to anyone other
than his father, who had been ... the previous earl. Yet he
saw anger and resentment underneath her quiet facade. How
her displeasure would exhibit itself, he could not imagine.

Freddie waited until she left to return to his seat. "You've
got to understand, Sherwin, that you hold the rank of an earl.
There is an entitlement and respect due to both parties, you
for her, and she for your new position. Lady Amhurst might
find it difficult to adapt, but she must realize that you are no
longer merely her son."

It was something he must have known, but Sherwin had
never really thought on it much.

"If you don't stand up to your mother now, you can't very
well expect your new wife to do so, can you? Unless you
married someone like Muriel. She'd see fit to put your house
in order, all right." He chuckled and sipped his coffee.

Sherwin finally managed to eat his buttered eggs from his
fork.

Freddie then fell silent and said thoughtfully, "The two
of you have always rubbed along well. Why don't you marry
her?"

"Marry Moo?" Sherwin nearly choked. His eyes watered
and went wide. "Are you mad?"

"It was just a suggestion." Freddie shrugged. "I expect
you could do a lot worse."

Sherwin stared back, when it occurred to him that Freddie was not mad in the least.

He was brilliant. A blooming genius!