Crossed Quills (18 page)

 “Oh, that must be why she guessed.”

 Lord Selworth looked stunned and alarmed. “Bina guessed?”

 “So I believe. She told me she knew a secret of yours and had kept it so well even you were unaware that she knew. It is safe with her. She refused to tell me. Does no one else know?”

 “The bookseller, of course, and Gil Chubb. Who knows about Prometheus?”

 “Mr Cobbett, Mama, and Kitty. And now you.”

 “Don’t faint again, I beg of you!”

 “I cannot think how I came to do anything so tottyheaded,” Pippa said candidly. “It must have been because you took me by surprise. I am perfectly well now. Shall we go back to work?” She started to rise.

 He put out a hand to stop her. “No, we have done enough for today.”

 “Do you know yet when you will be able to speak?”

 “No, but these last few days I have grown confident enough of having a speech worth giving to have a word with Lord Grey and Lord Holland. They promise to approach Lord Eldon in my behalf. The Chancellor is an intransigent Tory, however, who will be in no hurry to fit a Reformist speech into the agenda, far less one they suspect of being Radical. We have time enough.”

 “Nonetheless, I should like to—”

 “Not now,” he said commandingly, his gaze searching. “You must not overtire yourself with poring over my papers.”

 “I am not tired,” Pippa protested. “We are already agreed that my complexion is naturally pale.”

 Lord Selworth grinned. “Then let us put roses in your cheeks with a walk to Green Park, and on the way back I shall treat you to an ice at Gunter’s. Not a word of politics the entire time! Go and put on your bonnet—and wash that ink off your face!”

 “Yes, my lord. At once, my lord,” Pippa said tartly, and whisked off to obey.

 Changing into walking shoes, she donned her straw-coloured, plumed bonnet and the matching gros de Naples spencer which went with almost everything. Lord Selworth awaited her downstairs in the front hall. He turned from studying with disfavour a portrait of George Debenham’s great-grandparents.

 “Deuced odd clothes people used to wear.” He regarded Pippa with a slight frown. “Will you be warm enough? The sun is shining, for a wonder, but there is a nippy breeze.”

 “Do you have a dawdling stroll in mind? I had hoped for a brisk, warming walk.”

 “How unfashionable!” he bantered. “And what a relief. Like Miss Kitty, I find a saunter far more tiring than a stride.”

 They went out into Charles Street. Lord Selworth did not suggest taking a maid or footman—not that Pippa had any intention of doing so, but it went to show that he considered her past the age of needing a chaperon. Past the age of romance and marriage, she thought sadly, recalling the notably youthful heroines of his novels.

 “Tell me about writing your books,” she said. “It must be quite different from writing a speech.”

 “As I discovered, to my dismay!”

 “Where do you begin? Do you plan the story beforehand, or just plunge in?”

 Lord Selworth was delighted to be able to talk freely about his literary achievements, and scrupulous to avoid all mention of the naughty parts. He kept Pippa amused and fascinated all the way around Green Park and back to Berkley Square, where he turned towards Gunter’s.

 “Should we not come back later with Millicent and Kitty?” Pippa suggested. “They would consider it a great treat.”

 “As you do not?” he queried mournfully.

 “Of course I do!”

 “I shall bring them some other time. This is our morning. My heart is set upon a raspberry cream ice, and you shall order whatever elaborate and expensive concoction you please to compensate for the shock I gave you earlier.”

 “I had forgotten it.”

 “Then I beg your pardon for reminding you.”

 “Unnecessary, since you offer amends. Tell me,” she teased, “in other circumstances would you balk at standing the nonsense for whatever elaborate and expensive confection I might choose?”

 “To say
no
were ungallant, yet to say
yes
is to court bankruptcy, at Gunter’s prices! Besides which, I should have to do the same for your sister and mine.”

 Pippa laughed. “Then this would be no special treat. However, a raspberry cream ice sounds perfect to me.”

 The ices, served with crisp wafers, were delicious. Lord Selworth insisted on ordering a pot of tea as well. Pippa accepted graciously, though her thrifty soul cavilled at the extra expense when they were scarce two minutes walk from the Debenhams’ house.

 Returning to the house, they found the others wondering where Pippa had disappeared to.

 “Not that I was upon the fret, my love,” said Mrs Lisle, drawing Pippa aside, “but I wish you will leave a note or inform one of the staff if you go out unexpectedly.”

 “I am sorry, Mama. I did not think.”

 “And you ought to take Nan or one of the footmen.”

 “I know I must not go out alone in London. I was with Lord Selworth.”

 Mrs Lisle glanced at the other end of the drawing room, where the viscount was teasing the girls with a panegyrical description of Gunter’s ices. “The more reason for taking a servant.”

 “Lord Selworth behaved with perfect propriety.”

 “I should expect nothing less of him, but propriety is in the eye of the beholder. I know you believe yourself too old to need a chaperon, dearest, but that is utter nonsense. Anyone seeing you escorted only by a personable young man would have good reason to be shocked.”

 “I shall not do it again, Mama,” Pippa promised. He was most unlikely ever to invite her again. “I fear I had had something of a shock myself and was not thinking straight.” Looking to make sure Millicent was still beyond earshot, she continued softly, “He has guessed.”

 “That you are Prometheus? Oh, my love, what a horrid shock indeed! Perhaps I was wrong to propose this masquerade...yet you are still on friendly terms with Lord Selworth. Never say he is willing to accept assistance from a female?”

 “So he claims, though he may yet change his mind. Maybe he said so only to comfort me, and he will find some excuse to cry off. He has scarcely had time enough to consider the possible consequences.”

 “There need be none if he can hold his tongue,” Mrs Lisle pointed out, “and if you are more careful. You left his papers out on the desk.”

 “Oh no, did I? My mind was more disordered than I had supposed.”

 “And his, too. I put the speech in the drawer, but you have the key. You had best lock it before luncheon.”

 “I shall go up at once. Did Millicent see it?”

 “Saw, but did not read. She made some comment about how you are forever scribbling. Do take care, my love.”

 “I shall, Mama.”

 Pippa kissed her mother’s cheek and ran upstairs to lock the drawer and put off her bonnet.

 Sitting at the dressing table to tidy her hair, she stared at herself in the looking-glass. He had said he liked her hair, unrelentingly straight as it was. He said she looked distinguished, elegant, intelligent. That was before he guessed she was Prometheus. When had he called her “my dear girl,” before or after? Her head had been in such a whirl, she could not remember.

 It must have been before. Though the phrase had no great significance, a gentleman surely would not use it to one he had accepted as his mentor. She would always be Athena to him now, never Aphrodite.

 Not that she had ever dreamt of aspiring to the beauty of the Goddess of Love, she thought with a sigh, regarding her cheeks, still pale despite the brisk walk. It was definitely after she fainted that he had compared her to a wilted lily, an unstarched neckcloth, a rice pudding! Admittedly Lord Selworth was given to exotic metaphor, yet surely even he would not so disparage a lady in whom he had the least romantic interest.

 Still, he had described her usual paleness as pearly, Pippa recalled, a little cheered.

 More important, he respected her intelligence and had not promptly refused her continued help, as she had feared. And she still had his friendship. Their walk and the visit to Gunter’s testified to that.

 She had much to be thankful for. Doing her best to persuade herself she was satisfied, Pippa went down to luncheon.

* * * *

 “You will be quite the prettiest girl at Almack’s, I vow,” said Pippa, fastening the last hooks in her sister’s gown. “Turn around now and let me look.”

 Kitty twirled and curtsied, the primrose satin slip and silver Urling’s net overdress swirling about her ankles. “I am in a dreadful quake,” she said with no visible diminution in her usual placidity. “Suppose I say something shockingly bucolic and give the Patronesses a disgust of me?”

 “Anything you say, Mr Chubb will turn off as wit or wisdom. Keep him at your side whenever you are not dancing. It should not prove difficult.”

 “He is a dear, is he not? I cannot think why he is so speechless in general, for he always has plenty to say to me. Not nonsensical compliments, either, but sensible talk about things which matter.”

 “Do you favour him, Kitty? He would be an excellent
parti
.”

 “Oh, I don’t mean to favour anyone for ages yet. I am enjoying myself far too much. To tell the truth,” she admitted, laughing, “I find the nonsensical compliments most agreeable!”

 “I am not at all surprised. What girl would not delight in collecting such a court of admiring beaux as you have?”

 Kitty flung her arms about her sister. “It is all thanks to you, darling Pippa.”

 “Not to mention Mama! Careful, do not crush your gown, dearest. You must have noticed how I profit by your court. As soon as your admirers notice that we are on excellent terms, they spare no effort to stay in my good books. I do not expect to sit out a single dance tonight.”

 “Of course not, but it is nothing to do with their admiring me, goosecap. Come, let me help you put on your dress.”

 Pippa’s gown for the all-important assembly was of emerald crape, scalloped to expose a sarcenet slip the pale green of new leaves, the same colour as the brief bodice. The hems of over- and under-skirts were ornamented with silk vine leaves in the contrasting shade. Bina had wanted to lend her emeralds to go with it, but Pippa regretfully refused—clothes were one thing, jewelry another. She wore her gold locket with a twist of Papa’s hair, the twin of Kitty’s.

 Going downstairs, Pippa wished Lord Selworth was to dine with them. He had been bidden to dinner at Holland House, an invitation he could not refuse, for Lady Holland was one of the two great Whig hostesses of the day and her husband a leader of the party.

 Lord Selworth had promised to meet the Debenhams and Lisles at Almack’s. However, Holland House was a few miles out of town, in Kensington. If he were to become involved in political discussions, he could very well arrive too late in King Street.

The Lady Patronesses were as adamant about closing the doors at eleven o’clock as they were about gentleman having to wear knee breeches.

 Though Pippa had gained vastly in confidence since the first ball of the Season, Lord Selworth’s presence was a prop on which she had come to depend. She did not want to face the most select circles of the Ton without him nearby.

Chapter 13

 “Five to eleven,” Bina muttered in Pippa’s ear as the figures of a country dance brought them together. “I shall give him a fine trimming if he misses Millie’s first appearance at Almack’s.”

 “She is doing very well without him,” Pippa defended the viscount, glancing over at Millicent, who was chattering away to her partner while they danced up the next set.

 “It is a matter of principle. It is his duty to support his sister,” Bina insisted, pronouncing the last word over her shoulder as she tripped away to meet her partner.

 Then it was Pippa’s turn to take George Debenham’s hand and follow. She liked dancing with her friend’s husband. His saturnine manner belied a very real kindness, generosity, and patience, and she appreciated his decidedly dry wit.

 “Bina fears Lord Selworth is not going to turn up in time,” she told him. “She is preparing to read him a dreadful scold.”

 He laughed. “One of Albinia’s scolds would not cow a scullery maid, far less her brother, but he will not have to suffer it. I saw him come in a few minutes ago. He is with Mrs Lisle.”

 “How fortunate!” Pippa suppressed an urgent desire to turn her head and peer back in the most ill-bred fashion at the spot where her mother sat, on the far side of the room.

 Mr Debenham apparently read her mind. “You would have to grow several inches to see them,” he said with a smile. “I assure you it is really he. And he looks none the worse for having dined at Holland House.”

 “Why should he?” Pippa enquired, intrigued.

 “One hears stories—but I have never been invited to that hot-bed of Whiggery. You must ask Selworth.”

 “I shall.”

 At last the dance ended, with a fine flourish from Gow’s Band in the balcony. By the time Pippa and Mr Debenham made their way to Mrs Lisle, Millicent and Kitty had already rejoined her. Lord Selworth stood talking to them, a slim, elegant figure in black coat, white cravat and waistcoat, and black knee-breeches and stockings. Pippa thought he looked pleased and excited, his blue eyes alight with jubilation, not at all as if dinner with the Hollands had caused him any distress.

 He had promised to stand up first with his younger sister, then with Kitty. “And may I hope for the honour of the dance after that with you, Miss Lisle?” he requested, adding in a lower voice, “I must talk to you.”

 Pippa pretended to consult her card, though she had taken care not to engage herself much in advance so as to be free in case Lord Selworth asked her. “I believe I might squeeze you in, sir,” she said, writing down his name.

 “Don’t mention squeezing, I beg of you!” With that mystifying plea, he allowed Millie to drag him away.

 When the time came for their dance, Lord Selworth asked Pippa if she would object to sitting it out. “A country dance makes sustained conversation impossible, at least, for anyone but Millicent,” he said, watching his prattling sister go off on Mr Chubb’s arm, “and I have a great deal to tell you while it is fresh in my mind.”