A Virtuous Lady (8 page)

"The sapphire would be more noticeable, my lord." Ravensworth's hand reached out to retrieve a sapphire pin from a box which his valet had extended. "But so predictable! May I suggest the diamond?"

Ravensworth smiled in approval of his valet's sagacity and adroitly positioned a large, square diamond to the folds of his immaculate
neckcloth
. Denby was highly gratified that his lordship, in matters of taste, invariably deferred to his superior knowledge. The
Marquess
moved to his dresser and from a flask poured some cologne, which he dashed generously on his tanned visage.

"Is this a special occasion, my lord?" asked the valet politely, wondering at his master's unwonted preoccupation with his looks.

Ravensworth smiled one of his endearing, slow smiles. "You could say that, Denby. Yes, I think that this may prove to be an
exceptional
evening." It was only later that Ravensworth remembered these heedless words and the irony of them was not lost on him.

Harriet Grenfell was playing lady's maid to her cousin Briony as she helped her dress for a small party which was to be their first dress-up engagement of the Season. She stood irresolutely with thick ropes of
Briony's
hair entwined in her fingers and tried unsuccessfully to pin them to the crown of
Briony's
head. The coils slipped out of her hands and cascaded over
Briony's
shoulders and back.

"Botheration," exclaimed Harriet in exasperation. "Briony, this will never do! Why don't we ask Aunt
Sophy's
abigail
to shear
this.
. .
stuff from your head. It's so unfashionable, dear. Now wouldn't you prefer to have short curls like mine?" Harriet put one hand up to pat her
coiffured
hair shaped closely to her head.

"Let me," said Briony, taking the offending strands into her own capable hands, and without as much as glancing into the mirror, she twisted them into a smooth chignon to lie neatly on the nape of her swan-like neck. Briony moved to a chest of drawers and retrieved a tucker of white Brussels lace, which she quickly fastened around her shoulders to cover the bare expanse of bosom which was revealed by the low neckline of her gown. Harriet groaned.

"Briony, my love, you cannot be seriously intending to grace an evening party where there is like to be dancing
dressed like that?"

"What is wrong with my gown?" Briony asked in consternation, examining the white slip of muslin closely.

"Nothing is wrong with your
gown,"
replied Harriet with some passion. "It is all the little extras which are ruining what might otherwise be a charming effect. Look at me. Do you find fault with my ensemble?" she entreated. "Do you think that I am dressed like a wanton?"

Briony appraised Harriet's gown, which was remarkably similar to her own except for the color. It was of pale blue muslin and suited Harriet's cornflower blue eyes and burnished gold curls to perfection. "Of course not," she answered. "You are everything you should be."

"Then why do you insist on making a
dowd
of yourself?" wailed Harriet. "Why don't you dress like me?"

"Because," replied Briony in patient accents, "I must be true to myself." Her cheeks dimpled as she smiled at Harriet, but that young lady was not to be so easily won over. She tried again.

"Briony dear, I am thinking only of your happiness." She hesitated to go on but anxiety on her friend's behalf compelled her. "I don't wish to see you
mopie
. Please believe me! You will never find partners dressed in that fashion. I know what I am speaking of. Young gentlemen
are . .
.
repelled
by ladies who appear to be prudes."

Briony was amused. "Do you take me for a prude, Harriet?"

"Of course not!
Who better than I should know that you are no such thing? But it is the message that your whole demeanor tells."

"But when they come to know me better—"

"They will never come to know you at all," Harriet interrupted on a rising note. "Please forgive me for saying so," she went on bluntly, "but your appearance is positively eccentric. It is worse than eccentric; you look to be the
veriest
blue-stocking. No young gentleman would wish to solicit your acquaintance."

Briony was nonplussed. "But Harriet, this is the style I have customarily adopted, and the young gentlemen did not shun my company in Richmond."

"I daresay they didn't," responded Harriet. "But in Richmond—what did we attend?
Nothing but family parties in neighbors' homes, or drives in the park—small fry.
This evening is to be an assembly of the first stare—not
so
grand as a ball, I grant you, but grand enough for all that. Please
Briony
," Harriet begged her cousin earnestly, "let
yourself
be guided by me in this."

No persuasion of Harriet's, however, could budge Briony once she had made up her mind. Nor would she believe that all the gentlemen were of such a frivolous disposition. It was with a heavy heart that Harriet accompanied Briony and Great Aunt
Sophy
to the Countess of Blaine's party at her house in Cavendish Square. It looked to be, thought Harriet, an evening of unmitigated disaster.

Briony
wanted only one thing—a dark, cavernous hole to creep into where she could be alone and cry out her misery in peace. At first, the evening gave every indication of being one that she should enjoy. That was until the dancing commenced in the adjacent apartment. One minute she was in the center of a group of bright, chattering girls, and the next moment they had deserted her, each of them captured by some graceful swain and carried off to the dance. Only Harriet stuck grimly to Briony like a limpet as if she feared to let her out of her sight. To ruin Harriet's enjoyment in the evening was the crowning mortification. But nothing that Briony said could persuade her cousin to accept one of the beaux who solicited her hand, not even Avery.

And so they had sat among the dowagers, or promenaded with Avery and appeared to be engrossed in their interesting conversations, but Briony was acutely conscious of the pity she saw in the eyes of more than one dowager glancing in her I direction and her courage failed. She had never had any expectation that she would be really popular. All that she had hoped for was a small circle of congenial friends. But even that small wish was to be denied. Life in Society, Briony discovered, could be cruel.

It was well on in the evening when Ravensworth put in
an,
appearance and Briony, when she saw him, felt her spirits sink even lower. In her eyes, he was quite the most handsome and elegantly attired gentleman in the room, but she was by this time so convinced of the truth of Harriet's statement that she was a
dowd
and repellant to gentlemen that she shrank from seeing the pity which she was sure would be reflected in his eyes also.

She observed the confident ease with which he moved from group to group, but when he flashed
her a
roguish grin from across the room, she remembered Aunt Esther's admonition that it was rude to stare and she averted her gaze. She knew instinctively that he would seek her out. Nevertheless, when he appeared suddenly at her elbow and solicited her hand for the waltz, she was so taken by surprise that she gave it to him before she remembered her intention never to dance anything so vulgar.

The
Marquess
had been covertly observing Briony since he had first caught sight of her. He was, to say the least of it, taken aback by her prudish costume. For a full minute he had been angry that she should be so lacking in perception as to make herself a
dowd
. But after a moment's reflection his anger had abated. He could see that her society was shunned by all the young bucks but he did not pity Briony. It was, after all,
her own
doing.
No,
his lordship was reflecting on how such a circumstance could be turned to his advantage. It would make her, he mused, more receptive to what he was about to propose for her future. Once she was under his protection, he had every intention of choosing her clothes and jewelry and uncovering the loveliness she took such pains to hide. He saw her gazing at him and he flashed her one of his winsome smiles.

For the blades
who
ignored
Briony's
society, Ravensworth felt only amused contempt. While they pursued what they considered to be the diamonds of the first water, those beauties with unexceptionable morals and manners but little else to recommend them, he, Hugh Montgomery, was about
to snatch the prize of victory from under their noses. He chuckled involuntarily to think of it. But it sobered him to remember that it was only an accident of fate that had thrown her in his path. In normal circumstances, he would never have given her a second glance, his Briony. He repeated the name under his breath. Even her name had the power to bewitch him.

He was sure that he had prepared her for what he had in mind. His conscience pricked him slightly when he thought of the half truth he had told her. It was true that his father would
like
him to marry a girl of his own station but he certainly did not
expect
it. Hugh Montgomery never allowed the wishes of others to influence him. He always followed his own inclinations, and his father, the Duke, knew it. In some perverse way, His Grace even approved of this wayward trait in his only son.

One day, Ravensworth conceded, he would probably marry and secure the succession. His wife would be, by birth and breeding, everything that was required to fill her exalted role as his consort. But he never expected to love such a woman. That would be vulgar and quite unnecessary. His pleasures he would take elsewhere.

His liaison with Briony he intended to be a life-long commitment. She was, after all, no
lightskirt
, but a gently bred female and deserving of the highest consideration. Such an arrangement was not unusual for men of his rank. He would try to be faithful, but should he fail, there would be no question of discarding Briony. That would be a dastardly act and quite beneath the touch of a man of honor.
Briony's
place in his life would be unassailable.

The opening bars of the waltz broke into his consciousness and he sauntered confidently toward the row of dowagers to claim Briony for the dance and for himself.
When he
caughtnher
eye, he smiled one of his slow smiles.

*
 
 
 
 
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*

Briony
could not for the life of her understand why his lordship was for the umpteenth time reminding her of the fact that he was expected to make a suitable match. She listened to him in mounting irritation as he led her with easy grace through the movements of the waltz.

"You see," said Ravensworth with a note of apology in his voice, "we
Montgomerys
are a very old family. We go back to the Norman Conquest."

"Really?" said Briony, mimicking the drawl she had observed in those members of the ton who wished to depress the pretentions of their inferiors. "The
Langlands
go farther back than that."

Ravensworth looked startled. "Do they indeed?"

"Oh yes," replied Briony, giving her voice just the right inflection of bland indifference. "We are one of the old, old families."

"Langland?" Ravensworth queried. "Is it Saxon?"

Briony shook her head in faint derision.
"No, no, not Saxon.
Farther back than that."

Ravensworth eyed her suspiciously. "Who was your antecedent then?"

A gleam kindled in
Briony's
eye. "I believe his name was Adam."

"Adam Langland?"

"No!
Just Adam."
Her cheeks dimpled. "You can find him in the Bible."

Ravensworth gave her a slight shake.
"You irrepressible girl.
You know perfectly well that it's a book I am not familiar with."

"That doesn't surprise me," she retorted dryly.

He caught her close and spun her around with such violence that he almost swung her off her feet. Briony gasped and Ravensworth smiled down at her. "I warned you not to try to get the better of me. If you don't mind your tongue, minx, I shall certainly make you regret it, one way or another."

"You're making me dizzy," gasped Briony.

He spun her round again and she clung to him to keep from falling. "I want to make you dizzy." His voice deepened. "As dizzy as you have made me."

The music came to an end and Briony swayed in his arms, trying to recover her bearings. He steadied her then, after a moment, tucked her hand into his arm and, "without consulting her wishes, intimated that they should go in search of a bite to eat. Briony docilely followed his lead.