A Grand Deception (17 page)

"I cannot imagine what happened. One moment you
were standing next to me, and the next ... well, you were
dashing out of the room-and you know very well I cannot
keep up with you when you run." Susan now took the time
to check her own dress and smooth her hair with her hands.

"I am sorry, Sukey. I was not running away from you,"
Muriel replied, never giving any thought to those who were
around her. "It was nothing you did or said, believe me."

Two women approached, chattering loudly in alarm.

"My dear." Mrs. Wilbanks cooed and soothed Muriel
by rubbing her shoulders. "Oh, my dear, you are so overwrought." Turning to Aunt Penny, she said, "She is excessively fatigued. Did I not tell you, Mrs. Parker? Our dear Muriel has such a delicate constitution, and we have pushed
her far too hard. Only see what our insistence that she attend parties every evening has done to her."

"I cannot say what has unsettled you so, but I fear Mrs.
Wilbanks is right." Aunt Penny soon stood on Muriel's
other side. "I think it best we return home."

"Yes, Aunt Penny, I do not feel well at all." Muriel drew
in a ragged breath and feigned a bit of weakness. She did
not feel light-headed or tired; she just wanted to leave the
premises as soon as it was possible.

The two older women found a place where Muriel could
rest and eased her onto a small sofa.

"Retrieve my vinaigrette bottle at once!" Mrs. Wilbanks
sent her daughter on the errand with a wave.

No burned feathers, smelling salts, or vinaigrette were
going to drive away what ailed Muriel.

Susan returned in a matter of moments and handed a small
bottle to Aunt Penny, who lifted the lid and waved it under
Muriel's nose.

"You remain with Muriel, Mrs. Parker. We shall retrieve
our outer garments and call for the carriage." Mrs. Wilbanks drew Susan away with her to attend to the tasks.

"Oh, no-please, Aunt Penny, I beg of you." Muriel pushed
her aunt's hand away. Her eyes watered again, this time
from the unpleasant odor. "I shall not swoon."

Susan and Mrs. Wilbanks soon returned with the cloaks.
"I asked that the carriage be brought around to the side
door so as not to cause a scene."

"That was well done of you, Mrs. Wilbanks." Aunt Penny
stood, donned her cloak, then returned to her niece, wrapping the garment around her shoulders and fastening it under her chin. "Do you think you are able to stand?"

Muriel nodded. She stood with her aunt on one side and Susan on the other. Inquisitive glances and prolonged gazes
from some of the female guests followed her departure out
the side door.

She reassured herself that no one could know the real reason she felt ill this evening. Continuing forward under the
comforting wing of her aunt, Muriel did not look back. She
had quite decided that she would never attend another ball,
never return to London, and never, ever see Sherwin, the
Earl of Amhurst, again.

Muriel had gone before Sherwin had a chance to speak
to her, to explain that he had every intention of revisiting
their attachment, and their subsequent engagement, with
his mother. He ran out of the room on Muriel's trail, only to
be barred from entering the ladies' room.

He felt awkward lingering about the door, watching ladies entering and exiting. They giggled and blushed when
they saw him-or perhaps it was not him specifically but
any gentleman who dare to remain near the females-only
area. But he would not leave until he saw her. He waited
and waited until one of the ladies' maids informed him that
Muriel and her party had left the Burnette residence.

Angry with Lady Amhurst, and angrier still that he could
not make amends with Muriel, Sherwin sent for his carriage. He debated the prudence of following Muriel to Worth
House and decided he might better consult Freddie in the
morning. Sherwin then returned home. His mother would
answer for the trouble she had caused.

A sleepless night followed, which prevented him from further nightmares of the disturbing scene with his mother.
But that did not stop him from thinking of it and the actions
he must take to set matters between them to rights.

"Put it away, Lewis, all of it," Sherwin ordered the next
day upon waking. He would not allow the valet to dictate
what he should wear, no matter if the instructions had come
from Lady Amhurst.

He did not need to repeat himself. Within five minutes,
Sherwin stood in the striped ivory-colored silk waistcoat,
buff trousers, and Hessians he'd requested. Lewis gave the
brass buttons of the new blue Weston jacket a final polish
before holding it out for his lordship.

Sherwin stood by his bureau. He fastened his lover's eye
onto a fob and slid it into his left pocket, then placed his
gold pocket watch in the other. Ignoring the quizzing glass,
which would have been his mother's preference, he motioned for his jacket.

Lewis helped Sherwin don the final garment and stepped
back. "Will that be all, sir?"

Turning to the full-length mirror, Sherwin gauged his
appearance. "My spectacles, if you please."

"But-I, sir, her ladyship ... she did not-" Lewis' nervous fluster caused him to stagger backward.

Without a word, Sherwin moved his gaze from the mirror
to the valet, commanding the respect he had not previously
required from the servant.

Lewis scuttled out of the bedchamber into the dressing
room and returned in a matter of seconds. In his outstretched
hand he offered Sherwin the pair of wire-rimmed spectacles
and intoned, "Your lordship."

For the first time, Sherwin entered the breakfast parlor without a book tucked under his arm. He stepped through the open door and stopped. His mother sat at the far end, near
the window.

She said nothing, but the slight arch of her eyebrows indicated her disapproval of his spectacles, retrieved without
her permission, his clothes, none of which she had chosen
or purchased, and finally, him. He had the uncomfortable
feeling that there would be no pleasing her this day.

"Good day, madam." He greeted her with a nod.

"Will you not join me?" Lady Amhurst's unexpectedly
sweet tone was one he did not care for. "We shall have the
discussion you desire, but I wish that you please be seated"
She gestured toward his usual place at the table.

Sherwin entered and moved to where she had indicated.
He flipped the tails of his jacket from behind him and settled
into the chair.

"Molly," Lady Amhurst called to the kitchen maid. "A
plate of buttered eggs and coffee for his lordship."

"Lady Muriel is my choice," he informed his maternal
parent.

"I do regret my reaction last night." Lady Amhurst
straightened in her seat. "I must admit, you caught me by
surprise. I only wish to know if you are quite sure of your
decision."

The discussion paused when Molly entered and set a cup
of coffee and a plate of eggs before Sherwin. Once the maid
left, his mother turned to him again.

"Lady Muriel is a near stranger, whereas I have introduced
you to several young ladies I thought you might find of interest. Is there none of them who-"

"Those females whom I've been calling upon for the last
month?" Sherwin shared absolutely nothing with them-no
interests, no decent conversation. They had no mind, no
opinions, no thought other than . . . "Dresses and hats female fripperies. They are all thoroughly accommodating,
I am sure, and, quite simply, I find them vapid." He sipped
from his coffee cup but found his appetite had vanished.

"Where do you expect a lady should direct her attention?
Especially a future countess?" Lady Amhurst remained
calm, he thought, unnaturally so. She spoke much slower than
she normally did, and Sherwin had the distinct feeling she
was biding her time. "I do not wish you to make a decision
in haste. I have yet to speak to the gel or to her family. Is
there not time for a proper courtship?"

"I beg your pardon, your ladyship." Perhaps he had misjudged his mother. Could she truly be reconsidering her position? She was correct about the slight acquaintance between
their families. His years of correspondence with Muriel
would need to stay confidential for the time being. Despite
Muriel's wish to be done with all her secrets, some needed
to remain so, perhaps indefinitely. "We shall, of course,
wait an appropriate amount of time before announcing our
engagement."

Lady Amhurst paused, seemingly in thought, and sipped
from her cup before asking, "So there is no ... understanding between the two of you?"

"Not an understanding as much as an expectation. We
hadn't anticipated your refusal." Sherwin raised his cup as if
he might hide from embarrassment behind it, knowing that
what he said was a lie to placate his mother. He and Muriel
were resolutely attached. Warmth flushed his face, heating
his cheeks.

"I do apologize. It was an overreaction on my part." Lady
Amhurst sighed and seemed more relaxed. "Only allow me
to think on this, to grow accustomed to the idea."

"I beg your pardon, ma'am." Sherwin blinked his heavy
lids. He had not considered that his mother might take the news of his decision badly, and it explained her violent outburst. He tugged at his cravat; the confounded thing was
strangling him.

"Your announcement was quite unexpected and caught me
unaware. I cannot say, however, I am entirely displeased." She
stood with her cup and saucer in hand.

"Of course we want both families to accept our m-match,
but we would not wish to-to wait m-much..." Sherwin
couldn't find the words to complete his statement. He was
finding it increasingly difficult to hold his head upright; it
wobbled from left, right, forward, and back, and it suddenly
seemed impossible to keep his eyes open. With a thud, Sherwin felt the hard surface of the table press against the side of
his face.

"Do not concern yourself, Sherwin." Lady Amhurst's voice
sounded very far away, followed by the crisp clink of her
cup settling on the saucer. "I am quite certain all will work
itself out in the endjust as I planned."

That was the last he heard before the blackness enveloped him.

Muriel hadn't slept all night. Rising from her bed at daybreak, as was usual, she could no more concentrate on her
morning studies than slumber.

Lady Amhurst's declaration that she would not welcome
Muriel into her family had hurt Muriel more than she could
ever have imagined. The guests had heard the Countess rant
but knew not what or who had caused her rage. Muriel supposed her disgrace might have been complete if it were known
to everyone she was the unacceptable party.

It was a horrible thought.

Muriel rang for Lydia just after ten to dress and headed
below stairs, where she sat before an empty plate in the breakfast room with a cup of chocolate she kept hold of,
just off the saucer.

Perhaps Muriel wouldn't have felt as hurt if Sherwin had
instantly stood up for her and for himself, defying his mother.
He had every right to, Muriel told herself. After all, he was
the new earl, not merely a son. Why could he not marry the
woman of his own choosing?

But she strongly feared he would not act against his mother.
He and she had both lost so much, after all: husband, sons,
brothers. Still, Sherwin had seemed so certain of his mother's
support; the question remained, why had the woman reacted
so strongly against Muriel?

She heard the footfalls approaching and looked up to see
her brother standing in the doorway, wearing his gloves with
his hat in hand.

"Where have you been at this hour? Or are you about to
leave?" Muriel was in no mood to involve herself in verbal
sparring this early in the morning, no matter how Freddie
wished to goad her.

"Moo, I'm relieved to find you up." He rushed to her side,
drew out a chair, and settled next to her, perching on the
edge of the seat. "I am sorry to be the bearer of such alarming news, but I feel you must know."

Muriel somehow dreaded to hear what he had to say. It
had to be something terrible for him to appear so distressed.
Her anxiety grew, sprouting, perhaps, from the deep sorrow
she already felt.

"I've just come from Lloyd Place..." Sherwin's London
residence. "He's gone."

"Gone?" The china cup she'd been holding dropped onto
its saucer, and the chocolate sloshed over the edge onto her
fingertips.

"You must be the strong sister I know you to be." Freddie steadied her forearm with a gloved hand. "They've closed
up the house and left Town with no indication of their destination."

Muriel pressed the napkin around her wet fingers and
closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly. Sherwin could not
leave her-would not, she felt certain. She could not think
of what might have happened.

"I know how deeply he cares for you, and of his intention
to marry you."

At her brother's admission, she straightened, wide-eyed,
and faced him. "How could you know?"