A Virtuous Lady (33 page)

He entered the great hall where long tables had been set up, buffet-style, laden with every sort of delicacy to tempt the appetite of the most fastidious gourmet, many of whom were availing themselves quite liberally of his hospitality. He scanned the throng of faces in the gallery above and caught a glimpse of Avery and Harriet, who gave him a friendly wave but made no move to detach
themselves
from the group which held their interest. Of the hostess, there was no sign.

On applying politely for her ladyship's direction to the unfamiliar majordomo who was ably directing the proceedings, he was informed that she had taken a small party of the guests to admire the gardens. Ravensworth did a double- take. He had heard that soft, slow drawl before. He looked sharply at the broad-shouldered giant who towered over him and inquired rather frigidly, "What part of the colonies do you hail from, my good man?"

Ravensworth was rather taken aback by the bold scrutiny which he was given in his turn.

"Canada, sir," said the retainer stolidly, then, quite brazenly, winked at his lordship before turning away to attend to the queries of the latest party to arrive.

She wouldn't, couldn't do this to him a second time! The Marquess turned on his heel and made for the door. No need to tell him where to find her ladyship. The
herbary
was the only garden, in her estimation, worthy of that name.

She was in her old smock and straw bonnet serenely
laying
forth to an interested audience of ladies on the culinary, medicinal, and cosmetic properties of all her prize weeds. Ravensworth watched in fascination as each lady in turn, high sticklers every one of them, was induced to sample the plethora of leaves and twigs which Briony held in her arms.

"Good God," he thought, momentarily stricken, "she's as dotty as m' father! What kind of inheritance am I passing along to my heirs?" Surprisingly, the thought of his folly, far from exacerbating his unpredictable temper, put him in a
more mellow
mood. Then he remembered the bold scrutiny of a tall, broad-shouldered retainer with a colonial drawl and he came to his senses.

Their eyes met and held, and again his lordship was stymied, for Briony's glance was as clear and unabashed as he had ever seen it, and she gave him back stare for stare. It took her a few minutes to disengage herself from her companions, and when she came toward him, it was without the least show of embarrassment for being discovered in an ensemble that even the lowest scullery maid would be ashamed to sport.

"Ravensworth, are you here?" she asked him pleasantly as she took his proffered arm. Then in the next breath, she said, "If you are going to complain about your bedchamber, I am sorry for it, but you must see that there is nothing to be done about it under the circumstances."

"What about my bedchamber?" he demanded, his suspicions roused.

"Oh! You don't know?
Well.
. .
I hope you won't take it amiss, but I've quartered Freddie Fielding and—oh, I forget their names—in your room, hearing, you see," she went on calmly, "that you were
fully
occupied in town." His close scrutiny drove down her thick eyelashes like fans against the curve of her cheeks. Ravensworth wisely forbore to press her on the source of her information.

'Then I shall move in with you," he said in a tone that forbade argument.

"That's just it, you see," argued Briony. "Thinking that I had become a grass widow"—she gave him an accusing look—"I made room in my chamber for some of the unattached ladies. I am afraid I rashly invited over a hundred guests to this ball for Harriet and Avery and we are shockingly pressed for space. But everyone has taken it in good part and I daresay we shall scrape by for the day or two that remains."

At the mention of "ball," Ravensworth was recalled to a sense of his grievous injuries. "I would have thought, madam
wife, that
it was fitting in you to apply to me before undertaking the expense of such an extravagant party. For all you know, I might have whistled my fortune down the wind at the gaming tables in the fortnight I have been in London."

"Gaming too?" Her unexpected rejoinder brought a guilty stain to Ravensworth's neck but she met his tormented eyes with a limpid expression and Ravensworth sucked in his breath. If he did not know his wife better, he would stake his life that the minx was toying with him. Briony's lashes fluttered down and Ravensworth's worst suspicions were confirmed.

"Briony," he said in a warning tone.

She ignored his crushing grasp on her fingers. "It would appear, my lord," she began coolly, "that you have gone from one den of iniquity to another. Are you purse-pinched? You need only say the word and I should be happy to stand buff for you. As for the expenses I have incurred for this ball for Harriet and Avery, think nothing of it I never intended for you to bear the burden of my whims. I am, as you well know, a woman of independent means."

There was much that Ravensworth would have liked to say to these provocative remarks, but since he was unsure of how he stood with his wife and how much she knew of what
had transpired in town, he thought it prudent to ignore an area in which he knew himself to be highly culpable. They had turned the corner of the house and were in full view of the main entrance and the eyes of any number of inquisitive spectators. He pulled her into the cover of a clump of flowering rhododendron bushes.

"Of course I am not purse-pinched, but never mind that now! I have something of a more important nature to discuss with you. Tell me about this latest acquisition of yours—the giant who is directing traffic in the great hall."

"Oh! You've met him?" she asked with a guarded expression, and she reached out to pull a violet bloom from the bush by her shoulder. "What a pretty color," she said inconsequentially, and held it to her nose.

This was too much for Ravensworth. He grasped her by the shoulders and turned her to face him squarely.
"The truth, madam wife!
Who is he and where did you find him?"

"What you don't know cannot hurt you, my lord," she replied with infuriating calm.
"
The story is that he is Mrs.
Rowntree's
nephew home from Canada—she is our housekeeper by the way."

"The story
is . .
.
the
story is!" expostulated his lordship fiercely. "I am your husband. I want the
truth,
dammit
, not some tale you've concocted to fob off the county Constable. Now is he or is he not the American seaman who escaped detention some weeks ago?"

Briony was silent and Ravensworth administered a rough shake to loosen her tongue. "Tell me, damn you!"

"No, no!" she replied with a shake of her head, looking at him regretfully. "I am not at liberty to tell you more, and I
won't
he to you. Give me credit for that much at least. I am sorry to disoblige you in this instance but the story was told me in confidence."

His hands clamped tightly on her shoulders and after a moment Briony was constrained to say, "Ravensworth, you are hurting me."

He let her go immediately and she took a leisurely step away from him. One quick glance from under her lowered lashes confirmed his hurt expression and she sighed inaudibly.

"Ravensworth, my dear, won't you simply trust me in this matter if I promise
not
to undertake anything foolhardy without advising you of my intentions? You must see that my one wish is to protect you from any unpleasantness."

Her contrite tone visibly softened the grim lines around his lordship's mouth. "You idiotic girl!" he retorted vehemently. "It is
you
who needs protecting! Why don't you trust
me?
Do you think that I am utterly without scruples, that I would betray your confidence under any circumstance, whatever my sentiments? What kind of man do you take me for? But that there should be secrets between you and me is something I will
never
tolerate in a thousand years."

"Never?
I'll hold you to that, Hugh Montgomery," said Briony, laughing boldly into his eyes and savoring the depth of loyalty his words had conveyed. Ravensworth eyed her warily, and she put out her hand to him. "Come, sir, a truce for the present. I give you my hand on it. We shall return to this subject later, if you wish it, but our guests await our pleasure. We have duties which we are obliged to perform. I must return to the house. Pray excuse me."

He made as if to say something then thought better of it. His expression softened, and he sighed in resignation.
"Briony!
Briony!" he chided softly.
"You incorrigible girl!
What am I to do with you? Don't think to escape the authority of your husband. I shall require a full accounting from you later, you may depend on it. But you are right. This is neither the time nor place. Take my arm and permit me to escort you to the house." He extended one elegant arm clothed in finest superfine.

Briony took in the perfection of his Weston tailoring and the pristine folds of his spotlessly white starched
neckcloth
and her eyes twinkled in perverse amusement.

"With pleasure," she responded, striving, though not very successfully, to suppress the laughter she felt bubbling to the surface. "But would you mind taking me to the
kitchen
entrance?"

Ravensworth raised one aloof, inquiring eyebrow as she laid her hand lightly on the back of his arm. "A mannequin and a scarecrow!" she confided between hoops of laughter.
"The Sublime and the Ridiculous."

Ravensworth grinned appreciatively. "You should deal famously with m' father."

"So I've been told," she replied amiably. "But satisfy my curiosity, if you please. Your
neckcloth
—I don't think I recognize the knot. It looks new and terribly complicated. It must have taken you an age to achieve."

Ravensworth turned to look at her with sparkling eyes. "It is and it did," he responded with exaggerated gravity, fingering the object in questions. "I call it 'a la Briony.'"

There was a moment's silence as she assimilated his meaning. "Do you know, Ravensworth," she asked at last in wide-eyed innocence, "when you are good, you are very good indeed, but when you are bad, you are horrid?" But the smile which flickered at the corners of her mouth disarmed the remark of any ill humor, and when she saw his answering grin, her head went back and she laughed in unfeigned delight.

Later that evening, when Briony emerged from the chamber which she shared with two of the younger unattached ladies of the house party, she had every expectation that the unaffected elegance of her new, French-styled gown would throw her obdurate husband for a loop. One quick glance at Ravensworth's expressive face under the brilliant blaze of flickering candlelight confirmed her wildest hopes. His lordship was completely
bouleverse
.

She moved in a slow, graceful glide toward the head of the main staircase, where Ravensworth, magnificent in full evening dress, was in conversation with their guests of honor. Harriet observed Ravensworth's frozen smile and turned to view the object of his intense regard. When she caught sight of her cousin, she beamed with undisguised approval, and at her whispered aside, Lord Avery nodded and glanced ruefully at his immobile host, who appeared to be oblivious to everything save the fair vision
who
advanced steadily upon him.

Briony, in a shimmering satin gown of Quaker gray which no Quaker damsel would ever have been caught alive in, became aware of the intense regard of three pairs of eyes, and demurely lowered her lashes, but at the sight of the pale, unadorned expanse of bosom swelling above the low square neckline of her frock, she quickly averted her gaze. Perhaps she had gone too far, she thought belatedly, as she read the martial glint in her husband's eyes.

She had trustingly put herself into the hands of her new dresser,
Fifi
, a French émigré, and a counterpart for Denby. Briony's instructions had been concise and to the point. "Dress me as befits the consort of the Marquess of Ravensworth, but above all, bear in mind that I am a virtuous lady who esteems simplicity in all things." The results had been more than gratifying. Her ensemble was simplicity itself.
Fifi
had advised against any ornamentation with the exception of pearl drop earrings with matching combs placed strategically in the smooth coil of hair at the nape of Briony's neck. To counteract the severity of this uncompromising knot which Briony insisted upon since it was her husband's unequivocal preference,
Fifi
had teased long tendrils of hair to lie provocatively against Briony's neck and cheeks. White kid gloves reaching well above the elbow and matching slippers and reticule completed the ensemble.

Briony allowed her eyes to rove over the assembled guests in the great hall below, and the kaleidoscope of glowing colors reassured her. In comparison to the peacock finery of the other ladies present, she was as demure as a dove. She put up one hand to touch the smooth blond swathe at her neck, and lifted her chin a trifle—a gesture which was not lost on her husband.