Candice Hern (10 page)

“I will do my best. I am going to the theater this evening.” She flashed a mischievous grin. “I shall take notes.”

“Pru, we could pull the biographical sketch of Mrs. Montague and replace it with Flora’s report. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a splendid idea.”

“All right, then. Let’s get to work.”

Two weeks later,
The Ladies’ Fashionable Cabinet
lived up to its name for the first time in years. Flora’s fashion report, under the pseudonym Vestis Elegantis, was slightly gossipy without being scandalous, included an amazing amount of detail on the various fashions seen about town, and was a huge success. Booksellers had reported all nonsubscription issues sold out within days, and every one of them had increased their orders for the following month. A stack of letters had arrived from readers asking for more fashion information, and a significant number of new subscriptions had been received. Edwina had moved one step closer to reaching her goal.

She turned to Flora, who was leaning over the desk to read the subscription list. “All right, I’m convinced,” Edwina said. “Now, what else can we do to win this damned wager?”

“Y
ou are, of course, coming to Newmarket with us, Morehouse,” Lord Skiffington said. “I have the sharpest little gelding in one of the races, and have engaged Tibbets to ride him. It’s a sure thing, I tell you.”

“It sounds most intriguing, Skiffy,” Tony said, “but I believe I will pass.”

He had no intention of making the trip to Newmarket. Those one-day jaunts almost always stretched into three or four days of serious carousing, and he had no intention of being away from London that long. Away from Edwina and the Cabinet. If anyone were to ask, it was because he wanted to keep an eye on his new investment. In fact, he simply did not wish to be away from Ed
wina just now, when he was making such progress in his campaign to break down her defenses.

Skiffy leaned back and peered at Tony through his quizzing glass. “You’re not coming?”

“Afraid not, old man.”

His lordship looked around the table at the others who’d gathered at the coffeehouse after a long evening at a local gaming hell. “Quick, someone call a physician. The boy is not well.”

“I have noticed of late,” Lord D’Aubney said, “that Morehouse is often conspicuously absent from events and locales where one would normally expect to see him. Indeed I have been asking myself what could be the cause of such uncharacteristic behavior. Only one answer, of course, comes to mind.”

“A woman,” Ian Fordyce offered. He caught Tony’s eye and winked.

“Oh, I say,” Sir Crispin Hollis said, “it must be that dashing creature he’s been driving in the park.”

“A dashing creature?” Skiffy moved his chair closer to Tony. “You sly dog. Who is she? Another new highflyer to warm your bed?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Tony said.

“It’s that bluestocking editor, isn’t it?” Ian said. “You’ve set her up as your mistress.”

“I most certainly have not.”
Not yet, anyway
.

“But she’s the one,” Ian persisted, “you’ve been driving in the park, is she not?”

“I’ve driven her once or twice.” He had actually managed to get Edwina to agree to another drive with him without requiring a wager to do so. After that business with the stocking, he simply had to see her again, alone, away from the trappings of the magazine. They had actually spent a very pleasant afternoon together, with only a minimum of teasing and wrangling and sniping. They had spoken mostly of their days in Suffolk as children, and he also had allowed her to ramble on about her favorite issues of reform and education. He was trying to contrive an occasion where he could take her out in the evening, but the right situation had yet to present itself.

“You’ve been driving with the bluestocking?” Skiffy asked.

“Wasn’t a bluestocking I saw,” Sir Crispin said. “Nothing of the sort. The woman was an out-and-out beauty. A real picture. Not a young chit, either. And with the voice of a siren, as provocative as a rumpled bed. Thought she was More house’s mistress until I saw him introduce her to his sister.”

“Miss Parrish is a respectable lady,” Tony said, “so take care what you say about her.”

“Oh, Lord, Tony.” Ian took a long swallow from a tankard of ale and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’ve gone and done it, haven’t you? You’ve lost your head. You’re smitten with the woman.”

“So what if he is?” D’Aubney asked. “If the woman’s a beauty—”

“She is that,” Sir Crispin said.

“—then what’s the problem? He isn’t going to marry the bird, after all.” D’Aubney turned to Tony. “Are you?”

“God’s teeth,” Tony said. “Can’t a fellow engage in a bit of flirtation without answering to the lot of you?”

“I told you that magazine would be nothing but trouble,” Ian said. “The woman’s put you under some sort of spell. She’s probably got you doing more work on the damned ragsheet, hasn’t she? I tell you, she’s playing you for the fool, my friend. You really ought to stay away from her until…well, until everything regarding the magazine is resolved.”

“If I had a woman like that,” Sir Crispin said, “you couldn’t keep me away from her.”

“A real stunner, eh?” Skiffy asked.

“Yes, indeed,” Sir Crispin said. “Where the devil has she been hiding?”

“She has not gone out much in Society,” Tony said.

“Why not?” Skiffy asked. “Most women, especially pretty women, thrive on being seen in Society. Is there a scandal in her past, or some such thing?”

“Not that I know of. The London social scene simply does not interest her, I think.”

“You did say she was a bluestocking,” D’Aubney said.

“To the tips of her toes.” Tony would not mention she actually wore very pink stockings, like the one neatly tied up with a silk garter and tucked away in a drawer in his bureau.

“She quotes Wollestonecraft,” he said, and a collective groan rang out around the table. “And preaches reform.”

“Well, there you are, then,” Skiffy said. “She may be a beauty, but no man could stand a woman like that for long.” He gave a dramatic shudder. “Never could stand a talker. A little moan now and then, perhaps even a tiny scream at the right moment. But chatter takes the wind right out of my sails, I tell you.”

Bawdy laughter filled the air, and the conversation took a more ribald direction. No one mentioned Edwina again, but Ian shot one or two knowing glances at Tony.

His friend was right. Tony was smitten. He just hadn’t quite decided yet what sort of smitten it was. He liked Edwina enormously, and he respected her. He did not always agree with her view of the world, and often enjoyed baiting her with opposing opinions just to hear her reasoned arguments. There was an honesty about her he admired. Her idealism, her passion for reform, her concern for factory workers and education for the poor were all quite
genuine. Listening to her had caused him to question his own views more closely.

Edwina had made him realize that he had gone through life as most other men of his class, following the path set by his father and his grandfathers, never really thinking beyond what was accepted and normal for a man of his social standing. For the first time in years, Tony found himself seriously scrutinizing his opinions and considering alternatives.

It was an unfamiliar experience, to actually like a woman, a beautiful woman, for herself and not for whatever pleasure he might have from her.

Truth be told, though, he hadn’t changed all that much, because he wanted that pleasure as well. Sometimes he would close his eyes and conjure up an image of those long, elegant legs, the sight of which had very nearly taken his breath away, and dream of them wrapped tightly around him. Oh yes, he wanted pleasure from her, and he suspected she might be interested in a bit of pleasure herself. After all, she had shown herself to be no prude. She had stripped off her stocking in broad daylight and handed it to him.

That gave him hope, and he had a few more ideas about testing those waters again. He could not afford to waste time on a trip to Newmarket. And yet…

“Tell me about this sharp little gelding of yours, Skiffy. A sure thing, you say?”

The next afternoon found him back in Golden Square once again. When he walked into the study, he found Edwina, Prudence, and Flora bent over the desk, chattering all at once and completely oblivious to his entrance.

Tony began to wonder if he would ever have a moment alone with Edwina again. It was his own fault. He had only suggested bringing Flora into the operation as a means of aggravating Edwina, which he took a wicked pleasure in doing. But his scheme seemed to have turned against him. The women got along together like a house afire.

He leaned against the doorway and watched in silence for a few minutes as the three ladies discussed something about fashion plates. Edwina smiled and laughed and touched Flora’s arm once or twice. They had obviously become close friends. How close, he wondered? Had Flora told her about their past relationship? And what difference would it make if she had? Edwina would know he had not lived thirty-one years as a monk.

He was not ashamed of his liaison with Flora. It had been something of a coup for a young man of twenty-five to set up so infamous a mistress, even though he suspected she had never been entirely faithful to him. But he had loved her, and he knew she had an affection for him as well. She had taught him much about life and love and intimacy. Even after their affair had ended, they had remained
friends and saw each other often. He hoped he had done right by her by bringing her into this business.

Finally, Edwina looked up and saw him.

“Do come in, Mr. Morehouse.”

“Anthony, my dear.” Flora offered her cheek for his kiss. “How lovely to see you. We have exciting news.”

“Do you?”

“You will not credit it, Mr. Morehouse,” Prudence said, “but Lionel Raisbeck has agreed to be the artist for our new fashion plates.”

“Raisbeck?” He looked from one woman to the other, and found each with a gleam of triumph in her eye. The man was a fashionable portrait painter and a member of the Royal Academy. No wonder they were so pleased.

“He is a friend,” Flora said, “and could not resist my passionate appeal.”

Tony caught her eye and wondered just how passionate an appeal it had been. Flora’s face gave nothing away, however, and he would not ask.

“This is certainly wonderful news,” he said. “I think. How much is it going to cost me?”

“Now, that is one of the most remarkable things of all,” Edwina said. “He has agreed to work for the normal rate of half a crown per design. So we will get beautiful engravings and no doubt increase our subscriptions without spending an additional shilling. You see, Mr. Morehouse, I am going to win our little wager after all.”

“Don’t be so sure of that. Have the numbers increased since the last issue with Flora’s report?”

“Indeed they have,” Prudence said. “We have received over thirty new subscriptions this week.”

Edwina frowned and looked away. She would not be pleased that Prudence had revealed her hand. Despite her show of confidence, she was nowhere close to winning.

“As many as thirty?” Tony said. “What a thrilling success for you. Why, that leaves only one thousand nine hundred and seventy more to go.”

“Horrid man,” Flora said, but gave him one of her more radiant smiles. “You must excuse us, my dear. Prudence and I have business to attend to.”

She removed a straw bonnet and India muslin shawl from a hook on the wall and handed them to Prudence, then picked up her own more dashing bonnet from a table. “We must be off,” she said.

“What sort of business?” he asked.

“Oh, Mr. Morehouse,” Prudence said as she tied the bonnet ribbons beneath her chin, “it is very exciting. Flora has arranged—”

“Come along, Prudence.” She took the young woman by the arm and steered her through the door. “We must hurry. Edwina can regale Tony with the details of our next triumph.”

With a jaunty wave Flora was gone, tugging the sputtering Prudence along at her side. Tony struggled to conceal a smile. If he was not mistaken, Flora had just deliberately manipulated a moment
of privacy for him and Edwina. He had not admitted the depth of his interest to her, though she could hardly fail to notice his attraction for Edwina. He wondered if Edwina had said something to Flora. Had she perhaps admitted to her own attraction for him? Had Flora maneuvered that awkward exit on Edwina’s behalf?

The stunning possibility shot an unexpected surge of euphoria through his body.

The feeling ebbed slightly when Edwina moved to her usual position behind the bastion of her desk. He suspected it gave her a sense of invulnerability, of command, to have the great protective bulk between them.

What was she afraid of?

Tony moved a stack of papers and perched himself on the edge of the desk. She pulled a face, glowering at the intrusion of his hip and thigh into her private territory. She said nothing, however, but quickly lowered her eyes and pretended to be busy with some documents.

“Prudence certainly has become the gregarious little creature,” he said. “She always seemed such a shy little mouse. What a change. Perhaps she is merely getting accustomed to my presence.”

“It is Flora’s influence. She has taken Pru under her wing.”

Tony chuckled. “I cannot imagine a more unlikely association. But Flora can sometimes be quite irresistible.”

Edwina looked up at him, her elegant brows lifted in mild inquiry. “Indeed?”

He ignored the implied question and flicked a piece of lint off his coat sleeve. “So. Tell me of this additional triumph. First Lionel Raisbeck. What else?”

Her expression softened, and her eyes lit up with a sort of banked enthusiasm, as though she were not quite sure of this next triumph. Or not quite sure if she should share it with him.

“Flora has been talking to some of the better modistes,” she said. “She has suggested the fashion plates be drawn from their own models, with each modiste getting credit for her designs.”

“That sounds like a fine idea, but where is the particular triumph? Don’t other magazines do the same?”

“Hardly ever. The modistes are almost never mentioned. But the triumph is that in exchange for that bit of free publicity, the modistes have agreed to allow Flora an advance look at any new dresses being made up for some of the most fashionable ladies of the
ton
for specific elegant occasions. That way she can describe them in much more detail than she could from simply viewing them at a distance. She believes those details will set the
Cabinet
apart from other publications.”

“Leave it to Flora to come up with such a tidy little quid pro quo arrangement.”

“And by starting now, the process will be in full
motion by the time the Season begins and the really important gowns are worn. I must confess it is truly a marvelous idea.”

Her sheepish smile showed how much that confession cost. She had not wanted so much space to be given over to fashion.

He returned her smile. “Didn’t I tell you she’d be good for the magazine?”

“You did and she is. I was furious with you, of course, but I do like her. She is a most unusual and fascinating woman.”