A Scandalous Publication (11 page)

The following morning Charlotte awoke wishing that she hadn’t accepted the invitation to Kimber Park, especially as her mother was quite adamant about not going herself. After breakfast Richard suddenly announced that he had an appointment at the new house in Hanover Square with the admiral’s fashionable decorator friend, and to Charlotte’s astonishment he virtually insisted that she accompanied him to offer her advice.
Her
advice? To a gentleman as famous as Mr. Algernon Green? But Richard simply wouldn’t take no for an answer, in fact he was mysteriously determined that she went with him, and so at half-past ten they set off in the same hired landau of the evening before.

Hanover Square was very quiet and gracious, much more exclusive and elegant than Cavendish Square. Built on gently sloping land, it had a central garden containing trees and bushes, and an equestrian statue of George I. The house that had so entranced her mother occupied a site close to the northeastern corner, and was built of mellow red brick. It was a beautiful building, almost one hundred years old, its main entrance approached up a shallow flight of steps and sheltered by a magnificent columned stone porch.

Mr. Green’s carriage was already waiting as they arrived, and he was in the oval entrance hall with several builders and an architect. Sheaves of papers and plans lay on the black-and-white-tiled floor, and the men’s voices echoed around the blue walls, black marble double staircase, and the soaring columns lining the balcony of the floor above. After the little house in Henrietta Street it was palatial, the splendor of the entrance hall being worthy of Kimber Park itself.

The sought-after decorator was a round little man, evidently enjoying to the full the fruits of his popularity. He was rosy-faced and beaming, and his portly figure was tightly laced to give him a semblance of a waist, which effect he promptly ruined by wearing a quilted waistcoat of such sumptuousness and of such a bright crimson brocade that he appeared as spherical as a ball on legs. His dark-blue coat was quite obviously the work of one of London’s. finest tailors, but even the genius of a Weston could not make him elegant. He was full of ideas for the refurbishing of the house, and as Charlotte trailed around from room to room in his and Richard’s wake, she wondered why on earth Richard had been so insistent that she was there to offer her opinion. It was quite obvious that Mr. Green was not the sort of gentleman to heed the advice of amateurs, and it was equally obvious that Richard and her mother had already made the necessary basic decisions upon which the decorator would base his plans.

As she followed them through the property from cellars to attic, she had to admit that it was a very beautiful house, and she could quite understand why her mother had so swiftly become set upon having it. The reception rooms were very spacious and magnificently proportioned, offering the approving Mr. Green a great deal of scope for some very grandiose plans; and since Richard asserted that money was indeed no object, the little man was busily making notes all the time, measuring this corner, then that, and exclaiming that he had the very Chinese silk, the very shade of lavender, the most skilled plasterer to achieve this and that effect.

After a while Charlotte became quite overwhelmed by it all, paying less and less attention to what they were saying and thinking instead about her forthcoming visit to Kimber Park. She was alternately thrilled and uneasy, literally torn about how she felt. One-half of her wanted so very much to spend what amounted to a day alone with Max Talgarth; the other half was only too aware of what he might have been guilty.

“Charlotte?”

Richard’s voice at last aroused her from her thoughts. “Yes?”

He grinned. “We’ve reduced you to ennui, have we not?”

She colored a little. “No, of course not.”

Mr. Green was very gallant, drawing her hand to his lips. “Forgive us, dear lady, for we’ve been less than considerate, dragging you around without any thought. I trust only that my sins will be forgiven when you see the result of my work.”

She smiled. “Oh, I’m sure that you’re forgiven already, sir, for it’s most kind of you to assist us when I know that society is constantly at your door.”

He beamed. “My dear, it is a pleasure to be of assistance to friends of Henry Parkstone. He and I were at Cambridge together and I flatter myself that I am his oldest friend. I trust that from this moment on I will be regarded as your friend also.”

She smiled, liking him. “I’m honored, sir.”

He patted her hand, still beaming. “Nonsense. But now, to work.” He turned back to Richard. “I will attend to all that we have agreed, sir, and in the unlikely event of there being any queries or problems, I will contact you straightaway.”

“Very well, Mr. Green.”

The two men shook hands and a moment later Charlotte and Richard emerged into the sunny square once more, where the landau was waiting.

Charlotte halted on the pavement, facing him. “Why did you want me to be there? I know that I hadn’t seen the house, but if that was your reason, why didn’t you simply say so? What are you up to?”

“A niece ain’t supposed to quiz her uncle!” he protested, grinning a little sheepishly. “All right, I admit to an ulterior motive.”

“What motive is that?”

“Clothes.”

She stared at him, “I beg your pardon?”

“Clothes. Or at least, your lack of them.” He took her hands, smiling into her puzzled eyes. “Charlotte Wyndham, I may have been away for five years, but I can still read you like a book. You’re fretting about your unfashionable wardrobe, aren’t you? Don’t deny it, I can see it in your eyes each time you’re with Sylvia. She looks bang up to the mark all the time, whereas you feel dowdy and unmodish. Am I right?”

She nodded. “Yes, I suppose you are.”

“Am I also right that that is the real reason why you hesitated about accepting Sir Maxim’s invitation?”

She looked quickly away. “Well, not exactly….”

“But it has a great deal to do with it, doesn’t it? Don’t deny it, Charlotte, for I know I’m correct. So, I’ve made it my business to find out what can be done about the situation in so short a time. In fact, I was out very early this morning, while you were still asleep. Actually it was something Sylvia said in passing that gave me the notion. I’ve heard all about the duel Sir Maxim had with Lord Westington, and it seems that his lordship is so displeased with his errant wife that he canceled a substantial order for a new wardrobe she had been expecting from Madame Forestier. I was so bold as to steal a gown from your room while you were asleep, and I took it to Madame’s premises in Oxford Street to see if by any good fortune you and Lady W. were the same size. You are; in fact, you are perfectly matched in that respect, and if you wish it, the whole wardrobe can be yours within the hour.”

Her breath caught. A whole wardrobe by Madame Forestier? Just as she had had at Kimber Park. Why, it was a dream come true! “Oh, Richard,” she breathed, her eyes shining, but then her delight faded and she bit her lip. “But it will cost a small fortune. No, I couldn’t possibly impose upon you to that degree.”

He still held her hands and now he squeezed her fingers. “Charlotte, when I wrote to you about returning from America, I said that I was in more than a position to return you and your mother to the status you had enjoyed in the past. I meant every word. I’m a very wealthy man, and the cost of a wardrobe from Madame Forestier is a drop in the ocean to me. I want you to be happy, and if a few fashionable rags will help achieve that, then I will be happy too. Now, then, do you want Lady Westington’s lost prizes or don’t you?”

She smiled. “Of course I want them.”

“Then it’s settled. We’ll go there straightaway.” He escorted her to the landau and instructed the coachman to drive to the couturiere’s premises almost opposite the Pantheon in Oxford Street.

It was a short drive, and Charlotte felt quite strange to be once again drawing up outside in a handsome carriage, and to be welcomed into the exclusive rooms by Adam, the dressmaker’s liveried black footman, who showed them both up the red-carpeted stairs to the rooms on the first floor where Madame Forestier herself waited to greet them.

The showroom was just as cluttered as Charlotte remembered, with a number of cheval glasses set at strategic points, and countless beautiful garments hanging from the picture rail. There were bolts of cloth, cards of lace, trimmings, and other fashionable bits and pieces scattered everywhere. Only one chair was left clear, and Richard was conducted to this.

The couturiere was French, as her name suggested, which was a little unusual, since it was quite the thing for English dressmakers to adopt French names. She was a petite person with an olive skin, and her dark hair was tugged back into a knot at the back of her head. Her eyes were the darkest of browns and her accent very heavy indeed. She wore gray taffeta that rustled almost as much as Mrs. White’s aprons crackled, and she used a rather heady scent that wafted over Charlotte in waves as she led her into an adjoining room to commence trying on the first garment.

For the next hour or more Charlotte was in the seventh heaven of delight as gown after gown was slipped over her. There were sheer muslins, sprigged, spotted, and spangled for evenings, soft lawns, delicate silks, rich taffetas, and brightly colored tartans, all as up-to-date as any lady of fashion could desire. The hems were short to reveal her ankles, and stiffened to make the skirts stand out in the A shape that had become all the rage this summer. The dressmaker also showed her pelisses, spencers, and mantles, and an array of millinery, bonnets, and hats to satisfy any need, and there were even shoes, little bottines, evening slippers, and ankle boots for every occasion imaginable. The wayward Lady Westington had evidently been most thorough about her new wardrobe, but it was to be Charlotte Wyndham who benefited.

She gazed at herself in the cheval glasses, watched by a smiling Richard as she came out, turning this way and then that to show each gown off to best advantage. Now the gown she had so painstakingly altered for the forthcoming ball could be set aside, for she had a breathtaking choice of dazzling ball gowns from which to choose. And the state opening of Waterloo Bridge could be enjoyed far more if one were clad in clothes perfect for the occasion, as were so many of the combinations of gowns and pelisses or spencers she had been shown today.

But it was the visit to Kimber Park the next morning that was of more immediate importance. She had already decided what she would wear: a particular cream muslin dress was the ideal choice. Made of very fine Indian cloth, sprigged with little flowers the identical shade of dark red as her hair, it had a dainty mock-Tudor ruff and full sleeves gathered at the wrists. Its hem was padded and deliciously stiff, and its waist very high and trimmed with dark-red satin ribbon. With it she would wear a wide-brimmed gypsy bonnet tied on with satin ribbons again of the same dark red; and if the weather was uncertain, there was a dark-red pelisse of a close-enough match to be more than satisfactory. If the weather was fine, then she would content herself with one particular cashmere shawl that had caught her eye, for it too was patterned in dark red. Yes, that was what she would wear, and in such togs she would feel so much more able to carry off the day.

She looked at herself in the mirror again. Carry off the day? Could she do that? Could she really push to the back of her mind all the things she had heard Max Talgarth accused of? She wanted to, she wanted to be able to ignore all that and simply enjoy herself.

Richard was glancing at his fob watch. “Charlotte, I realize that this is paradise to you, but we really should be on our way. Mrs. White’s luncheon will not wait an eternity.”

She smiled at him, twirling once more in the lilac-and-white silk evening dress she was wearing. “Forgive me, I hadn’t realized how long I was taking. I’ll go and change straightaway.” She hurried back into the little room where Madame Forestier’s assistant was waiting. The thought of putting on her old clothes again was not to be borne, and it was with great delight that she chose a frilled blue lawn dress and white spencer in which to drive back to Henrietta Street.

As the assistant helped her to change for the last time, she could hear Richard and Madame Forestier in the showroom, settling the financial side of things and arranging for the entire wardrobe to be delivered. Suddenly the assistant gave a startled gasp, stopping what she was doing. Puzzled, Charlotte turned to see what was wrong. Her heart sank and her skin felt suddenly cold, for the door into the little changing room from the outer passage was open: Judith stood there, her green eyes ice cold. The dyed yellow plumes springing from her golden velvet hat streamed angrily as she jerked her head at the assistant to leave them. The assistant hastened to comply, scuttling out and closing the door behind her, leaving Charlotte and her enemy alone.

Judith’s yellow clothes were dazzling in the poorly lit room, and her skirts hissed a little as she came closer, her eyes glittering with that frozen dislike Charlotte knew so well from all the occasions in the past when they’d come face to face.

Charlotte raised her chin a little challengingly. “Yes, my lady?”

“No doubt these fripperies are for tomorrow. Oh, you think you’re so clever, don’t you? Well, let me warn you, Miss Wyndham, Max Talgarth belongs to me, and I’m not about to relinquish him to the likes of you. Go to Kimber Park tomorrow and you’ll be sorry. Is that clear?”

“You don’t frighten me, and since I have been invited by Sir Maxim, who is the owner of Kimber Park, and since you are his mistress, not his wife, I don’t see why I should take any notice at all of what you say.”

“Because your uncle has returned and brought his wealth with him, you think you are returned to favor, don’t you? You’re wrong, Miss Wyndham. The Wyndhams are nothing, and you are the least of them. Stay away from Max, and stay away from Kimber Park. Defy me and I’ll make you pay.” She turned and walked out, leaving the door open so that Charlotte could hear the swish-swish of her skirts.