Bething's Folly (12 page)

And he did, too, know what an unsuitable companion the Count was for Elizabeth, yet the injustice of Carleton’s words stung him. “Well, I didn’t see you doing anything about it! For all anybody’d know, you couldn’t care at all whom she danced with.”

“But I didn’t bring her, you did.”

“Dammit, she’s your wife!”

“Precisely why I do not care to have
monsieur le Comte
near her.”

Something clicked in Ferddie’s mind. “God, he’s not Yvette’s Frenchman, is he?”

Carleton nodded, his lips in a grim line. “He can look for another pigeon to pluck if he wants, but not as high as my wife.”

“Yes, well, you know she’s only a girl; she ain’t been in Town long. Maybe you ought to look after her yourself...”

“She’ll do fine until the races, then home she goes.”

“Aren’t you being hard on her, Carleton? I don’t know—”

“No, you don’t, so leave it be.”

Ferddie was familiar with these tempers of Carleton’s from their school days. He would forget about his anger tomorrow; tonight there was no reasoning with him. Milbrooke moved toward the door back to the ballroom. “I’ll see what I can do about the Count. I’ll—”

“We’ve already seen what you can do. I’ll speak to Elizabeth myself.” Carleton walked off, not toward his wife and his friends but out to where punch was being served. Ferddie spotted Elizabeth dancing with Reggie Skeffington so he had time before she came back for a few words with Rutley and Northwell, who in turn looked over their shoulders and nodded. The ranks closed up a bit around Elizabeth at the next interlude. A young cousin of Northwell’s who was looking at Elizabeth adoringly was sent to fetch some punch. She agreed with Ferddie that perhaps she should sit out the next dance or two since she was supposed to have been quite ill. As a matter of fact, Elizabeth was exhausted and depressed. She was just about to ask Ferddie to take her home after the next dance when the orchestra again began a waltz. This time everyone was ready, five men immediately asking for the dance. Milbrooke claimed priority, making light of it by joking about his role as dance instructor. “I taught her to dance, you know. Tell them it’s true, Elizabeth.”

“Only the waltz! And you kept comparing me to a chair, Ferddie!” They were all laughing again on easy terms when a deep voice broke in: “I believe this dance is mine.” Elizabeth nodded, “My Lord,” excused herself to Ferddie and preceded Carleton to the floor. Ferddie went off to find a partner, relaxed now that his burden of responsibility would be lifted.

Elizabeth did not know where to begin. She was hurt, angry, jealous—and thrilled to be in Carleton’s arms again. “Alex—”

“My Lady, if you wish to go out, I shall be happy to oblige you,” he said stiffly. “There is no need to bother Ferddie.”

Anger won the toss. “How dare you! When I have been trying to reach you for days and you won’t see me? Ferddie said he was pleased to take me, so you—”

“Furthermore, my Lady, I do not approve of your choice of partners in Giles de Rochefont.”

“Well at least he does not dampen his dress to cling in a revolting manner like your choice of partner.”

“Hardly. But my partner has never abducted a young girl in hopes of forcing her parents’ consent to their wedding.”

If this was true, and she could not believe Carleton would lie to her, it was indeed reprehensible, yet she could not, of course, admit this to Carleton. His insufferable arrogance was making her do and say things she had never wanted. “Since I am already married, sham though it is, I do not see where your vile accusations concern me.”

A muscle in Carleton’s jaw was twitching, as from teeth held clenched too long. “As you say, madam, sham though it is, we are married, and I say I do not like him.”

“Then do not dance with him.” She stopped dancing. “I shall see whom I want. In the Count, at least, I shall know why he is interested.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he snapped.

“It means, my Lord, that if you only married me to share my bed, then good riddance!” There, she had said it, the horrible fear she’d had, the only explanation she could think of for his irrational behaviour over the door. She hated herself for saying it, repulsed by the whole idea. Unable to face him again, she stomped off, leaving Carleton standing in the middle of the dance floor, looking like a fool to all those fortunate enough to witness this latest incident in the already colourful courtship. The Carleton Affair, as it was generally referred to, was considered by the gossips to be the major item of the Season. Another chapter was about to be written. It might have gone differently, except for the crowds, because Carleton, momentarily stung by her words, had recovered and was pushing through the other couples to go after her. Elizabeth, meanwhile, could find neither Milbrooke nor her other friends where she had left them, only one familiar, dark-shadowed face:

“
Tout a vous, madame.
At your service.”

Elizabeth rode out early the next morning, again leaving Jeremy behind at the park’s gates. There was a thick mist, however, forcing her to hold Juno in check lest she chance an accident. No one was in sight, with only the steady dripping from the leaves to disturb her thoughts. She was considering returning to the country. After last night, everyone in London would know that her marriage was a failure; there was no use remaining to pretend otherwise. Yet the races would be held just outside London, in a few short weeks, and the Pride would be brought up soon, in slow stages, so he could be rested. She had to be here for that...

“
Bon jour
,
madame
.”
A dark figure on a mist-coloured horse materialised from the woods to her left. Elizabeth slowed Juno, looking over her shoulder, wishing Jeremy would hurry. This was wildly improper, she knew, even though unintentional, somehow worse than leaving the ball with him last night. He had behaved with perfect propriety, hardly a word being spoken on the ride to Grosvenor Square. The Count had not even got down from the carriage at her door. Still, she could not be easy with him after reflecting on Carleton’s tale. She could not simply ride past him, either, especially after his kindness to her, so she pulled up to wait for her groom, noting that the Count looked more melancholy by daylight, less mysterious.

“Good morning,
monsieur
, you are out early. I do not recall if I thanked you properly for your assistance last evening. I ... I was not thinking clearly.”

“Or else you would never have gone with me, eh,
madame
?”

His intuitiveness continued to surprise her. She decided to risk matching his bluntness with her own, if only for her peace of mind. “Is it true,
monsieur,
this story I hear of an abduction?”

“Alas, an ill-conceived act of desperation. Please believe me,
madame
, the lady was never harmed. In fact, she is now happily wed to her childhood sweetheart, so some good came of it. You do not fear me, do you? You are already married,
oui?
And you are not an heiress, regrettably. And, finally, your husband is too fine a marksman for me to tempt Fate,
madame.
Ah, here is your groom. I bid you good day, my Lady Carleton.”

The hall was filled with flowers when Elizabeth arrived home.

“My Lady must have had an enjoyable evening last night, if I might say so,” Henrys commented as he handed her a parcel of letters and cards.

“No, I am just a curiosity,” she replied, glancing at the tags on the flowers. There were bouquets from most of her partners, a few from complete strangers. “Did ... did my Lord—”

“Oh, yes, madam. Lord Carleton wished me to inform you that he will not be dining at home; he has a box for the theatre and asks that you be ready for nine o’clock, if that is agreeable. He also mentioned that you might speak with Mr. Sebastian about any invitations you would care to accept. And Lord Milbrooke is in the sitting room. He said he would wait.”

Ferddie greeted her with the warmth of an old friend, she was relieved to see, complimenting her on the decor of the rooms.

“Thank you, Ferddie, I have been thinking of having some form of entertainment, to show the house off. Ferddie, you are not angry with me about last night, are you?”

“It is one of the things I wanted to see you about. Damn, Elizabeth, you can’t go around acting screw-loose like that. It just ain’t done.”

“I know, Ferddie, I really do. It was deplorable to leave Carleton standing there like—”

“Carleton? No, he probably deserved being made the fool. I wanted to call him out myself last night. No, what I’m saying’s not right was your leaving with the Count fellow. I brought you and I should have been the one to take you home. Besides, he ain’t quite the thing.”

“Oh, Ferddie, you are such a dear. The Count assured me that I am safe in his company since I am married. He is quite kind, you know.” She did not mention her encounter of this morning, having no desire to hear another lecture, even from Ferddie. He cleared his throat, unwilling to go into details of the Frenchman’s character.

“The other reason for my call—I would have come in any case, of course—was to ask if I could take you up in my phaeton this afternoon. Devering’s challenged Northwell’s new chargers and I thought you might like to watch.”

“Thank you, Ferddie, I would, truly. But I don’t want to—that is, Carleton said I mustn’t bother you.”

“Bother? Carleton’s got some deuced queer notions these days. I want your advice on my pair’s chances against Northwell’s. Will you come?”

“What a good friend you are, Ferddie. Of course I’ll come.”

Northwell’s pair won, of course. They really were a fine team. Elizabeth and Ferddie reluctantly agreed that his chestnuts were outmatched. They would make a run for it, but she advised Milbrooke not to put any money on the outcome. Carleton’s bays could do it, however...

There was another couple in the carriage with the Marquis at nine o’clock, Baron and Lady Westron, so conversation was general and polite. Elizabeth was quick to take advantage of this:

“By the by, Alexander, would you mind if Jeremy took me out with the bays and the phaeton someday? I’ve noticed more ladies drive than ride. Don’t you agree, Lady Westron?”

Carleton looked at her quizzically but acquiesced, going so far as to say he would ask Mr. Sebastian to keep an eye out for a suitable pair for her own. Nothing more was said on the matter, in fact nothing more was said to one another by the Carletons for the duration of the play. At the interludes Elizabeth’s admirers filled the box; Carleton took himself off. After the theatre the group moved to a party at Regency Square. Elizabeth was again surrounded, but her husband was obviously not among her admirers. She laughed and danced and flirted, working hard to prove what a good time she was having. She had the first waltz with Ferddie, so there was no embarrassment. Carleton appeared for the second, later in the evening.

“This is merely for appearance sake, madam, so you can save the chit-chat for your retinue,” he informed her at the start, never looking at her. She would have broken away, but his hand on her waist tightened. “No, not again,” he said through clenched teeth. The dance was performed in stony silence, except for Carleton’s parting words that he would see her home, at her convenience—another reproof of her last night’s behaviour.

As soon as he had left her with his friends—her friends now—she issued a challenge to Northwell, his team against Carleton’s bays.

“I thought he wasn’t interested,” Northwell began.

“No, but I am. Or are you ashamed to accept a challenge from a woman?”

“Does Carleton know?”

“I have his permission,” she said, bending the truth of course, for he had said Jeremy might take her out, knowing nothing about a race. The event was scheduled for the following day to leave less time, she felt, for Carleton to stop it if he found out. She glanced his way somewhat guiltily to see him laughing happily with Lady Gilmore, which instantly decided Elizabeth she needed a good night’s rest. An embarrassed Rutley was sent to inform the Marquis of his wife’s wishes. The carriage might have been a hearse for all the conversation, nor did Carleton move when Henrys helped his wife alight. The coach went off.

Jeremy was called to Elizabeth’s study early the next morning, but he was having none of it.

“ ’Is Lordship left word how I was to take you out, ma’am, not about any race and not about any woman drivin’, beggin’ your pardon, ma’am.”

“But he didn’t say I couldn’t either, did he?” Elizabeth knew it was Jeremy’s vanity talking; how would he look to his mates with her at the reins? She appealed to his pride, though, since the bays’ reputation was at stake. At last he agreed, reluctantly, and only because he knew the Marquis was already out.

“This one time only, ma’am, and we better win.”

Mr. Sebastian was sent for next to advance Elizabeth a fairly large sum from her allowance—the stakes money, although he was not to know it. He took the opportunity of informing Elizabeth of Carleton’s plans for the evening, a dinner party for eight o’clock. It would take some doing, with the race set for dusk when the park would be least crowded, but Elizabeth would wear her gown to the meet, if need be. Bessie could not be told where her mistress was off to after tea; she would have been horrified—nice young ladies surely did not race chariots in the park—although she would not have been surprised. Instead, she was merely informed that Lord Milbrooke was taking her to look at some horses again so there would be a rush before dinner, unless everything was laid out. Bessie clucked her tongue. There was an awful lot wrong going on here, with Elizabeth more lively than she’d been in days.