Improper Advances (32 page)

Giving her a smile, Matthew Powell said, “I’ll wager Corlett’s presence won’t improve his lordship’s mood. An interesting week we’ve got ahead of us, Miss Mellon.”

“You, sir, should worry more about mastering your speeches in Act I, Scene 2.”

“Mangled them, didn’t I?” he responded, unperturbed.

“I hope you’re not cross with me—but of course not, you’re too good-natured.”

“I’ll drill you,” she offered helpfully, holding out her hand for the sheaf of pages he held. He failed to notice-Lady Liza was descending the stair, and his eyes were on her. “Better yet, why don’t you ask her ladyship to do it?”

“Yes, an admirable suggestion,” he murmured before leaving her side.

Her assumption that the engaged couple were genuinely in love had barely survived her first day as theater manageress. Lady Liza, who performed the role of the mock-heroine Tilburina, seemed more at ease in her playacting than she did in the company of her betrothed. And Mr. Powell, always so mirthful and jesting when he visited Soho Square, was strangely subdued at Rushton Hall.

“Trouble in paradise?” asked Oriana, when Harriot shared her observations. “I can’t imagine it’s serious. Matthew lost his heart to Lady Liza over a year ago. And she wouldn’t have tried so hard to overcome her father’s objections to the match if she didn’t love him.”

“What were the earl’s objections?”

“Matthew’s lack of money, and his mania for the theater. He’d make a wonderful actor, if he hadn’t been born a gentleman,.” To her maid, Oriana said, “Take my blue silk to the laundry to be pressed for this evening. Tomorrow I’ll need the white muslin.”

“New, aren’t they?” Harriot commented as Suke tossed the requested garments over her arm and left the bedchamber.

“I’ve been very extravagant this summer, and must practice many economies in the coming months.”

“Sir Darius doesn’t give you an allowance?”

“Heavens, no. I wouldn’t have accepted if he’d offered one.”

“Oh.” But there was no doubt that their relationship was an intimate one. Oriana had never looked more beautiful, as if she’d been feasting on love. After an embarrassed pause, Harriot said, “I saw him in Liverpool, after you left in such a hurry. If a man like that came after me—I don’t know if I could refuse him.”

Amused, Oriana gently pinched her friend’s scarlet cheek. “Don’t let your mother hear you say that.”

“If he asked you to wed him, wouldn’t you accept?”

She felt her smile slipping away. “He won’t ask.”

“You sound so certain.”

“I am.” Though Oriana wouldn’t admit it, she’d be surprised if Dare remained in England after the October Meeting at Newmarket. She hadn’t forgotten his suggestion that he take Combustible to Skyhill if she failed to win her race.

In a disappointed voice, the actress said, “I hoped Sir Darius would turn out to be different than all those other men.”

“Oh, but he is,” she declared fervently. “He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known. If Mick Kelly offers me employment at the opera house, I’ll have everything I could possibly wish for.”

“Except a husband.”

“I’m not so sure I want one.” From her small trunk, Oriana removed several music books. After her break with Thomas, singing had been her solace. If she lost Dare, she relied on Providence to return her to the King’s Theatre. When handing over the volumes, she told Harriot, “I brought all the pieces that seemed appropriately lively for background accompaniment. I must say, I’m eager to see how Matthew conducts himself as Mr. Puff.”

“Mr. Sheridan would applaud his performance. He’s more comfortable in his role, and more serious, than his fellow players. To them, acting is a game. Lady Liza, a Tilburina, is by far the best of the young ladies. Some of the gentlemen have taken double roles. If Sir Darius wishes to join our company, we’ve room for him.”

“Like me, he prefers to make himself useful in a less visible capacity.”

“I’m afraid we’ll want a good prompter,” said Harriot candidly. “The young men spend more time out with their guns than they do perfecting their speeches, and the ladies constantly chatter—mostly about the gentlemen. If they worked at Drury Lane, their salaries would hardly cover the sums they’d forfeit for tardiness and dereliction of duty.”

Mrs. Entwistle swept in majestically, greeted Oriana in a perfunctory fashion, and made the pithy observation that this room was superior to her daughter’s.

“These hangings are damask, not chintz—and the bed is as prettily curtained as Lady Liza’s. I shouldn’t wonder if this had been Lady Rushton’s chamber, when she lived.”

“My room is perfectly nice, Mother,” Harriot stated.

“Pinch your cheeks, child, and retie your hair ribbons. A fine gentleman has just arrived with his servant, and you’ll want to look your best.”

Exchanging glances with Oriana, the actress replied, “It will serve no purpose. I cannot compare favorably to the lady he most admires.”

“Well, she’s not here, and you must seize your chance to captivate him. Come along with me.”

Said Oriana, “Before you go, Harri, direct me to the orangery. I must see your theater.”

Harriot bobbed up from her seat and led Oriana to the window. “There,” she said, pointing to a white building in the distance. In a complicit whisper, she added, “When I see Sir Darius, I’ll tell him where to find you.”

On her way through the house, Oriana found much to admire. Handsome paintings of people and places lined the walls, and elegant carpets covered its floors with bursts of colors. The furnishings were exactly what she expected to see in the Kingsleys’ ancestral home. Here was grandeur without ostentation.

She followed a stony path across a tidy expanse of lawn to the glass-walled building Harriot had shown her. As she approached, she could see a male figure striding back and forth, flinging one hand about with abandon and carrying a book in the other. She stood outside the open double doors, shamelessly eavesdropping.

“Ever while you live, have two plots to your tragedy,” Matthew Powell declaimed, facing his invisible audience. “The grand point in managing them is only to let your under plot have as little connection with your main plot as possible. I flatter myself nothing can be more distinct than mine. For as in my chief plot the characters are all great people, I have laid my under plot in low life. And as the former is to end in deep distress, I make the other end as happy as a farce.”

Oriana clapped softly. “Very well expressed, sir.”

“Ana!”

“I was just telling Harri it’s a crime you were born a gentleman.”

“But an even greater one that you were not born a ladyship.”

He wasn’t jesting, which was most unusual. “I’d rather be a
prima donna
at an opera house, thank you.”

“I may yet be forced to seek my fortune on the boards,” he said glumly. “This betrothal of mine doesn’t prosper. The financial difficulties I told you about weeks ago threaten my future with Liza.”

“How so?”

“You said I oughtn’t to keep my debts secret, that I should be honest with her, and your eloquent arguments swayed me. I followed your advice, and it’s put me in the devil of a mess.” He flung his playbook aside, and it struck the stone floor. “It’s not your fault. After explaining that I was desperately short of funds, I suggested we have a hasty wedding, else the bailiffs would seize me and put me behind bars. As a joke, mind you.”

“Oh, Matthew.” She shook her head at him. What was the matter with men. Why couldn’t they
think
before speaking?

“I was serious about the quick wedding, but it’s nothing to do with money. As you know, it took me forever and a day to convince her that my proposal was inspired by true affection. And then, with a few ill-chosen words in an attempt to be clever, I gave the impression of being a fortune hunter. She no longer seeks my company-wouldn’t even help me study my part when I asked. I’m not absolutely sure that I
am
still engaged.”

Oriana ached for him, he looked so distraught. “Should I have a word with her?”

“Words are no use. I need money. I can raise a thousand, half what I owe. I’ve already sold my phaeton and the bays. I mean to give up both my hunters next.”

“You’re so fond of them.” For her, the sale of a favorite horse would be a calamity.

With a semblance of his cocksure smile, he said, “I’m fonder of Liza by far.”

“Rushton will pay off the rest of your creditors after the wedding.”

“No. I won’t be beholden to my father-in-law. When I marry, I want to stand beside my bride without a cloud of dependency hanging over me. Rushton doesn’t know the extent of my indebtedness—unless Liza told him. I hope she didn’t.”

Oriana picked up his discarded book and brushed off the paper cover. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Better than your last one?”

”
I
never suggested that you make foolish jokes about debtors’ prison,” she retorted.

“That’s true. Right, then. What do I do now?”

“Settle up with your creditors as quickly as possible. I can help. I’ll get my jewels from my attorney, and—”

“No, Ana. You’re not selling your trinkets to cover my debts.”

“Of course not. My man-at-law will dispose of them.”

“What would Corlett say?”

“He doesn’t know these gems exist. Don’t look so grave. They aren’t heirlooms, and have no sentimental value.”

“They must have considerable value, if you think they’ll fetch a thousand quid.”

“I have no doubt of it. They’re Brazilian diamonds.”

He regarded her with amazement. “The ones Teversal gave you? I never guessed you’d kept them.”

“It’s a female’s prerogative to keep all gifts she receives from an admirer. When Thomas presented me with the diamond set, he said it came to him from his great-aunt and was intended for his bride. I believed him—just as I believed in his promise of marriage—and gave them to my attorney for safekeeping. He asked a jeweler to give a valuation. Mr. Rundell recognized the stones, because he’d sold them to Thomas the previous month, and one of his goldsmiths made the settings. My attorney advised me to keep them, as it was easier than mounting a breach of promise suit. I was angry enough to toss them down a well, or into the sea. For three years they’ve been shut away in a vault. I’ve long wished to be rid of them, but until today I couldn’t decide how.”

“I can’t possibly accept your offer.”

“You must, Matthew. Believe me, the diamonds mean nothing to me. I won’t ever wear them, or exchange them for money. They are relics of a shameful and distressing episode, and you’d be doing me a favor by taking them off my hands. I would be comforted by the knowledge that anything connected to the man who caused me so much unhappiness could ensure the happiness of others.”

He came over to her, his eyes bright. “For both our sakes, I’ll take them. But what if their worth exceeds a thousand pounds?”

“You’ll be able to keep at least one of your hunters.”

“And what do I tell Liza?”

“Nothing. Rushton, either—he’d be livid if he found out.”

Gently he taunted, “Your pretty policy of honesty just flew right out the door.”

That didn’t trouble her much. “If you feel you should inform them, wait till
after
the knot is tied.”

“I could kiss you, Ana, but I don’t dare in front of all these windows. Someone might see, and there’d be no end of a fuss. But one day I’ll repay you.”

She shook her head. “Don’t even try. In effect, I’d be taking money from Thomas. I can’t. For some reason, I need to preserve the illusion that he presented those diamonds to his future wife, not his whore.”

Dare had attended few country-house parties, and this one reminded him how tedious they could be.

Their function was as much dynastic as social, an attempt to pair off the sons and daughters of the gentry and aristocracy, although he doubted any matches would arise from this gathering. Rehearsals for
The
Critic
were punctuated by petty squabbles. The participants were too well acquainted for romance to sprout, and the play was too satirical to put its performers in a tender mood.

An outsider, and the most mature of the bachelors present, he was regarded by the young ladies with flirtatious interest, to which he was immune. Their conversations centered on dances they had attended or would attend, and novels they had read. Nice girls, all of them, extremely decorative in their light-colored summer gowns, but they could not compete with Oriana’s elegance and sparkle and sophisticated conversation.

“I’ve visited Matlock,” the handsome Miss Haygarth informed him during dinner one evening. “You have a property near that town, I understand.”

“I do,” he confirmed.

“I
long
to see the Peak,” said the lady seated on his other side. “To me, mountains are delightful beyond anything. You must command some magnificent views from your estate, Sir Darius.”

“Damerham lies some forty miles from the Peak, Miss Mainwaring.” He refrained from stating his preference for the Manx mountains, dreading a fresh set of questions about his island home.

Lady Liza Kingsley’s physical resemblance to her enigmatic father was striking, and she exhibited a similar reticence. Her influence would calm the erratic Matthew, Dare suspected, just as his liveliness complemented her quietude. He had detected an estrangement between them, but Oriana predicted it would be brief. She seemed quite certain.

His encounters with her inevitably occurred in full view of the Kingsleys and their guests, at meals or rehearsals. The rest of the time, he was tramping across an endless expanse of moorland with Lord Rushton and Matthew Powell and the other gentlemen, in search of red-legged grouse. His gun, procured in London, was a lighter model than he’d previously used, but it was perfectly balanced. His satisfaction was assured by his companions’ envious glances. Unfortunately, he had to rely on the diminishing skills of his host’s most decrepit setter bitch, who hadn’t yet lost her enthusiasm for her job but was growing too old for it. He bagged as many birds as others in the shooting party but fewer than Lord Rushton, and tried not to let it bother him.

The men stayed out in the field from eight in the morning till two in the afternoon. On their return to the house, they refreshed themselves with brandy and claret in the earl’s library, then changed into evening attire. After dinner, those participating in the play gathered in the orangery to rehearse.