Gail Eastwood (8 page)

“The Assembly Rooms are elegant,” he continued, “but the best way to see them is at night, when the chandeliers are lit and the dance floor is crowded with Bath’s best efforts at high fashion.”

Gillian was looking at a broadside posted in the window. “There is a special assembly tonight,” she remarked wistfully. “Do you suppose there is any way we could attend?”

***

Sometime later, Brinton stood at the window of Mrs. Alford’s upstairs study with his back to the room. The slanting rays of the late afternoon sun flowed across the Aubusson carpet and up the side of the lady’s elegant French desk, interrupted only by the earl’s long shadow.

“It is absolutely out of the question,” he stated in his most authoritative tone. The steel in his voice matched the rigid set of his shoulders as he watched the twins exploring in the garden below.

“What nonsense, Rafferty,” Alice Alford chided, not even slightly intimidated by his imposing manner. Dressed in a becoming gown of apricot muslin, she was relaxing on an Adam-style sofa upholstered in pale blue damask that matched the paneled walls. Her dark locks were swept up into a chignon, with small curls framing her finely sculpted face. “Why should they not go? You have already paraded them about the city all day.”

Brinton still faced the window. “It served to keep them occupied,” he pointed out. “We avoided the fashionable times to appear at the most popular places, and no one recognized us.”

“Or at least no one indicated so.”

“Walking through town is quite a different proposition from openly displaying Cranford and his sister at the Assembly Rooms, where everyone is bound to take notice.”

Mrs. Alford narrowed her eyes. “It is not like you to spurn a challenge, Rafferty. Last night you told me yourself that no one would suspect a pair of runaways to be touring around Bath, and certainly the same holds true in this! No one will suspect they are anything but what we say—cousins of yours from Devon. And as they are only on a short visit, it will cause no comment when they disappear again!”

Brinton turned from the window. “They are coming in,” he warned. His expression was grim.

“I see you are bent on playing the stuffy earl this time,” Mrs. Alford said. “You are denying Miss Kentwell the chance to be part of a little elegance and excitement—a chance that I suspect comes rarely to her.”

“I rather thought I was protecting her,” Rafferty responded, half to himself. He began to pace up and down the length of the carpet. “You don’t know her. She has no interest in such things.”

“And you know her so well?” Mrs. Alford’s tone was light, teasing. “Is that why you asked me to see what I could find out about her for you? Tell me, if she has no interest, why did she ask about attending, and why are you so stirred up?”

“That was my mistake—I made the place sound more exciting than it is. She is just curious.”

Alice Alford laughed. She sat up, carefully arranging the folds of her skirt and straightening the ribbon bow just under her breasts. “You know far less about females than you think you do, my dear friend, despite having five sisters.”

She rose and, taking Rafferty’s arm, began to walk with him as he absently continued to pace. “I think you know as little about yourself,” she added gently. “I have never seen you in such a muddled state!”

Brinton abhorred the fawning attentions that would be focused upon him by all the unattached females in attendance at the assembly. Despite his denials to the twins, there was also a real risk that someone who knew him might be there. But he was not about to confide the biggest reason he wished to avoid going there. He did not want to see Miss Kentwell on display to such advantage. She was far too attractive, and he was already too much under her spell. In truth he, the courageous Earl of Brinton, was afraid—afraid of a mere slip of a girl.

They had just reached the window end of the room again when the door opened. The twins came in, their cheeks pink from the cooling afternoon air.

Their hostess detached herself from Brinton and came smiling toward them with hands outstretched. “Here you are, my dears! Did you enjoy my garden? It is a bit early in the season.”

She led the twins to a pair of gilded chairs that faced her desk. “I have just offered to chaperone you at the assembly tonight, but Lord Brinton is being a terrible stick-in-the-mud.”

“It does not seem very sensible to advertise your presence here.”

“Does it matter if we are seen tonight, when we’ve been seen all over town today?” Gillian asked.

“It was, sir, your suggestion that we come to Bath,” Gilbey reminded him. “You seemed to think that we would be quite safe.”

Rafferty could see that he was outnumbered, but he was not yet defeated. “Pray tell us, Miss Kentwell, what would you wear?” He felt confident that this major obstacle would end the discussion.

“Oh.” Her face fell, her disappointment clear as she seemed to search about for some reply. “I never gave any thought to that,” she added, and at that moment she appeared very young indeed to the earl.

Mrs. Alford came to her rescue. “Have you nothing with you by way of a ball gown? Never mind. My women are skilled with their needles. We can fix up something of mine.”

“But the time!” Gillian protested, despite the light of hope dawning in her face. “And what could Gilbey wear?”

“Lord Brinton will loan him something,” Mrs. Alford said smoothly.

“Your faith in my wardrobe is flattering, Alice. I am not certain I even have suitable attire for myself,” Brinton said stubbornly. “I came on the road expecting only to attend a horse race. The beasts seldom require formal dress.”

“Oh, we will find something, then,” the indomitable lady said. “I have my sources. I assure you, the evening will be a smashing success.” With a toss of her dark head, Mrs. Alford rose and swept out of the room, ushering Gillian ahead of her,

Brinton and Gilbey were left staring at each other.

“Did you truly wish to go to the assembly tonight?” asked the earl doubtfully. He moved away from the window now and took the chair opposite Cranford.

“You must take into account that my sister and I are country rustics,” Gilbey said, looking down at his hands. “We have been in mourning this past year as well, so we have not been much in company—especially such a glittering affair as an assembly at Bath.”

“I’m afraid you will be disappointed. Bath in these days cannot begin to compare with London.”

Gilbey smiled. “Are you warning me that there will be no one there but ape leaders and their mamas?”

“Not so bad as that.” Rafferty laughed. “But the good company is likely to be thin, and I have no doubt that both you and your sister will be noticed and sought after.”

“Well, come morning we’ll be on our way again, with no one the wiser.”

There was an uncomfortable pause. Rafferty realized he had not given much thought to the day to come. He had come to no conclusions about the twins or what he would do. If they had just a little more time . . .

Gilbey cleared his throat. “I find myself in an intolerably awkward position, Brinton, regarding tomorrow. You have my word that I will gladly reimburse all the expenses you are incurring because of us. To the point, would it be possible for us to borrow enough funds from you to see us to Scotland? While my sister’s determination is no doubt so strong it would eventually get her there, I would much prefer to pay our way.” Gilbey’s pale skin had turned crimson to the ear tips. He jumped up and moved away from his chair, long strides taking him to the spot by the window so recently vacated by Brinton.

The earl was grateful he did not have to face the lad. Cranford had cut right to the heart of the matter, and Rafferty did not know how to answer. Did he believe the twins’ story? It was time to place his bet, but he still did not know the odds. He did not care about the money—he could afford to cover his losses. But was he being played for a fool? If their story was a Banbury tale concocted to victimize him, he was loathe to go along with it.

“Well, Cranford,” he said slowly, “let me see what I can do.” He was not ready to make a commitment. How could he put the lad off? “I could speak to the bank in the morning after they open, but I think you will want an early start. I will be heading up to the fair in Worcester to see about buying some horses—perhaps you would care to go in that direction? There is a solicitor there through whom I might make some arrangement.”

The answer was intentionally vague, and the earl watched Gilbey carefully to judge his reaction. The lad betrayed no sign of annoyance, however, but only turned toward Brinton with a look of gratitude and relief.

“I will appreciate whatever you can do, sir, as indeed I appreciate what you have already done. I must confess I have never felt so helpless in my entire life.”

Chapter Eight

Gillian stood in her stocking feet between a matched pair of mirrors that hung in her hostess’s Chinese dressing room. The gown she wore had been dramatically altered in the last hour.

“Now let us see—turn around a half turn and try a curtsy,” Mrs. Alford said, studying her women’s handiwork. The dress was exquisite: a dark green satin slip covered by an overdress of pale green English net, embroidered in silver and white.

“It is going to serve splendidly! It is just the right color for you, my dear; it suits you much better than it ever did me! We need just one more thing.” Mrs. Alford turned to rummage in the drawers of one of the large lacquered wardrobes.

Gillian bit her lip and steeled herself to endure whatever further manipulations Mrs. Alford would require. The woman was obviously an expert, and what did Gillian know of female arts? She had already suffered the indignity of being encased in stays, although the corset was not terribly tight.

“Your proportions are excellent, Miss. Kentwell, but I think we could do with bust improvers—you know, to improve the line of the dress? The neckline is rather deep and open.”

Gillian shivered and hugged herself, not quite believing the elegant image she saw in the two mirrors. She dared not move, for she was surrounded by little piles of flouncing that had been sacrificed to shorten the dress. What would Brinton think when he saw her in Mrs. Alford’s ball gown? Would the evening ahead be worth the agonizing humiliation she was subjecting herself to now?

Mrs. Alford was back in a moment. She reached down inside the low neck of the gown and Gillian’s chemise to lift her breasts and put little rounded pads beneath them. Gillian blushed crimson at being handled so.

“There! You will be beyond perfect, my dear!” Mrs. Alford was beaming.

Gillian was mortified by the prominence her breasts had achieved with the help of the “bosom friends”. It seemed every possible inch of creamy skin would be not only exposed, but quite literally held up for inspection. “Do you not think it is a bit, well, too much?” she protested, feeling very unsure of herself.

“Nonsense, my girl. You look magnificent, simply magnificent. Brinton may have flocks of admirers hovering around him tonight, but so shall you—I guarantee it!”

It hadn’t occurred to Gillian that Brinton would, of course, be enthusiastically sought after by any female on two legs who wasn’t blind. The image of him surrounded by eager, beautiful ladies made her suddenly even more unsure than she had already felt. What had made her think, even for a moment, that he would pay any attention to her?

“Of course, he is so handsome,” she said distractedly.

Mrs. Alford smiled. “You must not mind about him—it is to be expected. He stands to inherit a great fortune to add to his own. It is generally accepted that when that happens, he will be elevated to a marquis, the first in his family. I’m afraid he finds it all a great annoyance—a ‘faradiddle,’ he calls it.”

She smoothed back a tendril of Gillian’s hair, inspecting her charge with a critical eye. “You will cast all the other ladies into the shade, trust me. I cannot wait to see Rafferty’s face when he sees you!”

Gillian was feeling the first flutterings of panic, however. A marquis! He had given them no clue he had such expectations. Was Mrs. Alford warning her away from him? And even worse, she and Gilbey were pretending to be his cousins!
I don’t know how to act
, she berated herself.
Why did I think I wanted to do this? I am going to make a fool of myself again
.

Two hours after dinner the twins emerged from their respective rooms and joined Mrs. Alford in the entry hall. Gillian found the transformation of her brother and herself nothing short of miraculous.

Gilbey looked resplendent in evening dress that appeared to fit him perfectly. A white embroidered satin waistcoat with a snowy white shirt and cravat contrasted against the deep sapphire blue of his coat. Tight black pantaloons flattered the shape of his legs. He even had evening slippers that appeared to be the right size. He seemed to have been struck speechless by her own appearance, however, and Gillian smiled.

She felt as though she was again in disguise. Her chestnut hair had been coaxed into becoming ringlets near her face, and bands of pearls and silver leaves twined through her tresses. Pearls at her throat and ears, courtesy of Mrs. Alford, set off the tone of her skin and matched the small pearls on the bands of green ribbon that trimmed her dress. The silver threads in the embroidery caught the light and sparkled almost as much as Gillian’s eyes.

She did not mind that she wore the same white kid slippers she had walked in all day around Bath. There was no chance of borrowing shoes small enough to fit her, and she was determined to dance all night. She had resolved to enjoy herself despite the distraction of Brinton’s presence, and despite any faux pas she might commit.

Mrs. Alford looked stunning in a gown of brilliant poppy red
crepe lisse
, ornamented with loops of gold braid and beading. Her dark hair was confined in a stylish toque with a cluster of matching plumes. She smiled warmly at the twins and sailed toward them.

“I shall be proud to present you tonight,” she declared, adding with a little giggle, “even if we have created our own fairy tale!” She turned to Gillian and, taking the girl’s gloved hand, pressed a small ivory fan into her palm. “You will be needing this, my dear. It can grow very warm in the rooms, even on such a cool spring night.”

Gillian looked down at the fan, its carved leaves laced with satin ribbons. What should she say? Her mother had begun to teach her the rudiments of fan etiquette, but she had been only eight years old. She remembered nothing of what she had learned. What if she should send some sort of signal she never intended?

“You are so kind,” she began. “You think of everything! I must confess, however, that my schooling in some of the finer arts has been sorely lacking.”

“Ah! Even so. Do not worry, my dear; there are just a few points to remember, and all will be well.” She quickly reviewed them and gave Gillian a brilliant smile. “Come how, our carriage is waiting. Shall we not conquer Bath tonight?”

***

The drive to the Upper Assembly Rooms was brief. The little party waited in a line of carriages for their turn to be dropped at the door. Then they were in, and Gillian had to admit that Brinton was right.

The rooms were elegant and somehow magical, with the chandeliers ablaze and all the people in their finery. Most of the men wore black, following Brummel’s custom, but there were discreetly colored coats and some bright military uniforms scattered among them. The ladies’ gowns spanned all the colors of the rainbow, although white was still predominant among the young.

Introductions began while they were still in the cloakroom. Mrs. Alford was obviously enjoying showing off her charges, and several young gentlemen asked to sign Gillian’s dance card.

There was no sign of Brinton, however, until they reached the ballroom. A quadrille was in progress, and he was easy to see on the dance floor, partnering an equally tall and attractive woman in a rose-colored gown. He looked more handsome than ever, Gillian thought, in his black coat and pantaloons. They fit his muscular body like a second skin, and his shoulders had never looked broader. He moved with notable grace.

Gillian was so taken up with watching him, she hardly noticed when Mrs. Alford began to introduce her to Mr. Huntley, a short man with a thick neck and a stubby nose. He smiled politely as he reached for her dance card.

“They are lining up for the next dance; can it be you are not already promised, Miss Hopeworth?”

Hopeworth was the name she and Gilbey had agreed to use for the night. She was not promised, so she had no choice but to accompany the fellow onto the floor.

She soon wished she had not. She had the distinct impression that her partner was trying to peer down her bodice every time the dance brought them together. His rather protuberant eyes never seemed to stray from her bosom. His polite smile had become something a good deal more predatory, and he was perspiring heavily. As they progressed down the line, Gillian prayed for the music to end.

Inevitably, they arrived next to Lord Brinton and his partner, a young blonde dressed in daffodil yellow.

“Well met, cousin,” Brinton said in a clipped, formal voice as the dance brought him and Gillian together.

His glance swept over her, taking in everything at once, Gillian thought, including her embarrassing décolletage and her undesirable partner. She could not detect a flicker of reaction.

“You must forgive me for not greeting you sooner,” he added stiffly. “I had not realized your party had arrived.”

Introductions were made, and then the couples moved on. That was all. Gillian felt oddly deflated, although she didn’t know what she had expected. How could anyone impress the top-lofty earl? That she looked elegant in Mrs. Alford’s dress was hardly significant.

Gillian had misjudged the earl, however. She and Mr. Huntley were not halfway back to the chaperones’ seats at the end of the dance when Brinton reappeared at her side. She wondered how he had managed to dispose of his own partner so speedily.

“Allow me to escort my cousin, if you please, Mr. Huntley,” he said. Although phrased correctly, it was clearly not a request. “I will be remiss if I do not greet the rest of her party.”

Mr. Huntley looked annoyed. “I hope I may have the honor of another dance with you later,” he beseeched her. With a wary glance at Brinton, he quickly pressed a hot, wet kiss on her gloved hand and fled.

“Oh, dear,” sighed Gillian, giving her hand a little shake. Then she gave her savior a brilliant smile. “So you
did
see that I needed rescuing!” She laughed and playfully hit his arm with her fan. “You are always surprising me!”

“As you do me,” Brinton murmured almost inaudibly.

A number of appreciative male eyes followed the pair’s progress toward the side of the room. Gillian had no idea of the picture she presented, her face alight with pleasure and turned engagingly up to the earl’s. When she and Brinton reached the chaperones’ benches they found Mrs. Alford standing off to one side, engaged in conversation with some other ladies. Brinton coughed so discreetly, Gillian was not sure if it was intentional or not.

Mrs. Alford turned to them immediately. “Goodness, Lord Brinton, you naughty thing! Here you are finally! We have been here above half an hour, and you are just now coming to greet me!” She was addressing him much more formally than she had done at her home, Gillian noticed.

Brinton executed a graceful leg. As he straightened up, he gave Mrs. Alford a mischievous grin. “I don’t know how I could have missed noting your arrival. I must have been terribly occupied. Can you possibly forgive me?”

“Perhaps you can atone in some way,” Mrs. Alford answered with a slow smile. Gillian was relieved that her hostess did not attempt to introduce her or Brinton to the other women.

The earl exchanged a few more pleasantries, then prepared to take his leave of them. “You will allow me to take you in to tea at the break,” he informed Gillian. “It is safer if you do not have to converse at any length with strangers who might ask personal questions.” Then drawing Mrs. Alford aside, he whispered, “Her dress is outrageous, Alice. What were you thinking? You knew we did not want to attract attention!”

If Gillian thought his severe tone might have subdued Mrs. Alford, she was mistaken. “She does look a picture in it, does she not?” the good lady purred. “She outshines everyone here. She cannot help being beautiful, Rafferty. It is good of you to notice!”

Brinton turned on his heel abruptly and stalked away, followed by Alice Alford’s laughter. Gillian tried to muster her own spirits, but she apparently failed to mask her dismay. She felt the telltale blush burning her cheeks again.

“Never mind him,” Mrs. Alford said reassuringly. She took Gillian by the arm and led her toward the benches, where there were now some vacant spots. “He can be an oaf and a dolt sometimes, like all men! You are a woman, an exceedingly lovely one, and do not forget that. You have every right to show off.”

Gillian’s next partner spent most of his time nodding his head to the rhythm of the music, apparently counting the beats to himself. Each time she attempted to make conversation, she had the impression she was interrupting and causing him to forget the next figure. When the dance ended, she suspected they were both relieved.

Mrs. Alford was again busily chatting, so Gillian simply stationed herself nearby and waited.

“They have played quite a few country dances, have they not?” she commented to a gentleman standing near her. “When, pray tell, do they break off for tea?”

The gentleman in question turned his attention to her with a smile. “They should be stopping soon. You’ll see it is almost the end of the second set if you check your card.”

Gillian nodded, embarrassed.
Of course
. Her dance card listed the dances in each set and indicated the breaks as well.

“You must be thirsty,” the gentleman said, pursuing the conversation. “Have you already an escort for tea, Miss . . .?”

Gillian realized then that she actually had four gentlemen hovering around her, and she had been introduced to none of them. Fortunately, at that moment Mrs. Alford came to her rescue.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” She was smiling politely, but her eyes were cold. “Do I know any of you?” She put an arm protectively around Gillian’s shoulders.

At her arrival the small group began to melt away. Mrs. Alford turned a disapproving eye on her charge. “Miss K—that is, Miss Hopeworth,
must
you? It simply is not permitted to converse with those who have not been introduced.” In a softening tone she continued, “I suppose it seems very rigid, but one has no other way of judging a stranger’s character. You know, anyone at all can dress up as a peacock. It does not mean the person is not a poor jackdaw underneath!”

Gillian smiled sheepishly. “I am sorry, Mrs. Alford. I was entirely at fault; I was not thinking.”