Kasey Michaels (32 page)

Callie allowed her posture to slump, just a hair, but if Imogene saw her there’d be hell to pay when they got back to Portland Place. She didn’t think she could stand another balancing session with that three-volume set of
Pride and Prejudice
. “I’ve made such a mess of everything, Armand. Right from the beginning.”

“Well, yes, I suppose you could see it that way, Callie. I, on the other hand, am enjoying myself most heartily. Now, if we’ve evaded the subject long enough, may we return to it now? Are you in love with my good friend, the Viscount Brockton?”

Callie blinked back sudden tears. “You shouldn’t ask me a question like that.”

“Again, true enough. We’re all just chock-full of truth tonight, aren’t we? But I have asked the question, haven’t I? Do you have an answer?”

Callie smiled wanly, remembering the events of earlier that afternoon, and Simon’s rejection of her. “Yes. I love him. I love him with all my heart and soul. For all the good that does me.”

There was a slight pause, with Armand not speaking quite so quickly as he had before, so that she turned to look at him, to reassure him if he was concerned for her. “I know he doesn’t love me, Armand. Really, it’s quite all right. I’m quite all right.”

“Of course you’re all right, Callie,” Armand said, patting her hand. “And Simon’s an ass.”

“He is not?” Callie exclaimed. “He’s the best of men. The very best.”

Armand’s eyes became hooded as he yawned into his hand. “I know, I know. Simon is the greatest of good fellows. Honest, upstanding, moral—all those things I am not. You were probably drawn to him by his exemplary behavior toward his mother, his dedication to the poor, his many charities, his very real concern for his fellow man.”

“Well, yes,” Callie admitted, confused. “I suppose those things are important.”

Armand stood and offered her his arm, smiling down at her, pretending not to see the tears standing in her eyes. “Strange. You don’t sound overly impressed with Simon’s more stellar attributes. Is there something else?”

She rose, slipping her arm through Armand’s, allowing him to lead her around the perimeter of the ballroom still littered with waltzing couples, toward a waiting, and wilting, Imogene. And Callie remembered something that wonderful, lovable lady had said the other night. “Yes, Armand, there is something else, something that stands head and shoulders above all his other wonderful qualities. He’s adorable,” she told her friend sadly, looking up into his openly surprised expression as a single tear ran down her cheek unheeded. “Simon is altogether
adorable
.”

She didn’t know it, but she had left Armand Gauthier speechless for the very first time in his life. She didn’t know it for two reasons, the first being that Armand recovered quickly enough, saying something about having to toddle off to White’s himself to lend Simon moral support as he continued his fleecing of Noel Kinsey. And because Imogene, when they got within earshot, began talking fast and furiously, her feathers waving, her fan flapping, her expression bordering between harassed and thoroughly disgusted.

“He’s
ancient
, Callie,” She said, grabbing the younger woman’s arm and pulling her down into the chair beside her own. “Dead old—and shorter than me, shriveled up, as it were, from his great age. Popping off a
granddaughter
, gel, for the love of heaven! No fight left in that grizzled dog, I tell you. I nearly feigned a swoon, just to be rid of the creaky old thing.”

“Who
are
you talking about, Imogene?” Callie asked, barely able to say good-bye to Armand before he politely excused himself and deserted the ballroom as Lady Jersey, who was losing eligible bachelors the way a leaky bucket loses water, stood by and wrung her hands.

“Why, Freddy, of course. He was here, Callie, just as I’d hoped. Ha! If I’d only known, I’d have hoped for him to bring a stepladder with him, so that he could reach m’nose! And he’s
fat
, Callie. Short, and... and—
stubby
! All in all I’d rather keep sleeping alone, thank you. Oh, I’ve never been so disappointed since I got my last good look at Prinny now that he’s run to fat and squiring ladies old enough to be his mother. Well we might as well leave, I suppose. You’ve danced twice with Gauthier, which will have the gossips bracketing you to him by tomorrow—I don’t like that above half, let me tell you—and now that I’ve crossed Freddy off my list, there’s no one here who interests either of us. And Simon has bolted, ungrateful son that he is. See if you can catch Lester’s eye, as he has been put in charge of escorting us back to Portland Place. I haven’t seen the boy above twice all night long. Do you suppose he’s in the supper rooms? Horrible food, Callie, as I remember, and not worth the trip down the stairs.”

“Lester isn’t very particular when it comes to food, Imogene. Hot, cold, tough, stringy—it really makes no never mind to him,” Callie said, then motioned to her friend to come to her as she spied him cowering behind a pillar across the room as if he was hiding from someone, for she, too, was more than ready to leave Almack’s behind her. “I’m so sorry your evening’s hunt wasn’t more successful.”

“As well you should be,” the viscountess answered with a sniff. “I worry myself into a frazzle, fretting over you, not sleeping more than a wink these past days—do you think Kathleen covered these bruises under my eyes well enough? Well, never mind. I’m old now, and worthless, so it doesn’t matter if I perish from lack of sleep. And now here I am, well after midnight, a bloody turban stuck on my head, propping up the wall at Almack’s just like some white-haired dowager, with no hope of ever getting a man back into my bed. You should be feeling sorry for me. I can’t face raising a herd of those homely pug dogs, Callie, truly I can’t.”

“Imogene, you’re becoming overset,” Callie warned, worried that the dear lady’s threat of a swoon might become fact. She winced as the viscountess grabbed hold of her forearm, the woman’s strong fingers digging through her long gloves and into her skin. “What? Is something wrong?”

“Wrong? No not wrong, precisely—just disgusting, that’s what! See, over there—it’s Lady Lloyd, the shameless creature. Look at that lusty-looking fellow just
dripping
off her arm. If she dares to come this way I’ll have no choice but to deal her a crushing setdown, Callie, I swear I will, I’m that jealous. And she can’t be more than twenty years my junior. Oh, all right, maybe a little more. Thirty, perhaps.”

“
Lady
Lloyd?” Callie repeated, her blood running cold. “Would that be
Sheila
Lloyd, Imogene?’

The feathered plumes waved drunkenly with the viscountess’s energetic nod. “One and the same. No dearth of men in
her
bed, even if her husband is past anything more than a few memories of what once had been.” She sighed audibly. “How I wish I could be like her, and not have to worry about this marriage business! Takes herself a new lover every few months, and still she’s welcome everywhere. I dislike her, but the woman has flair, don’t you think?”

Callie looked where Imogene was discreetly—thank heavens she was being discreet!—pointing, and saw a beautiful, black-haired woman of about thirty. She was tall, and sleek as a cat, with flawless skin, a dazzling smile—and a bosom that was, to say the least, impressive.

Callie glanced down at her own more modest bosom, then echoed the viscountess’s mournful sigh. “Imogene,” she said quietly, “isn’t Simon among Lady Lloyd’s admirers? I remember hearing her name, that first day I came to Portland Place.”

Imogene choked and coughed, as if she had tried to speak and swallow at the same time. “You remember that? No, surely you don’t remember anything of the kind. Because I didn’t say any such thing. Did I, gel? I wouldn’t have said anything—would I?”

“I think you did, Imogene,” Callie pressed on, for some reason needing to hear what she was sure she already knew. “In fact, I’m sure of it, spoken when you were telling Simon that he should make a match of it with me. I believe your words were something on the order of warning Simon that marriage meant he would then have to shed himself of ‘that cat, Sheila Lloyd.’ ”

Imogene kept her head averted, although Callie could see a dull red flush stealing up the older woman’s throat, a throat the viscountess then cleared with a mighty
harrumph
. “Well, that certainly does sound like me, doesn’t it? I spoke out of turn, Callie, I’m sure, and without really knowing what I was saying. Simon hasn’t the least interest in the woman, never has. How could he—with you in the house?”

“You have desires, Imogene,” Callie said dully. “You said as much, several times. It is not unreasonable to believe that men have the same desires.”

The viscountess laid a hand on Callie’s arm just as Lester collapsed into the chair beside his friend. “Women like that are a convenience, love, nothing more. My own dear husband availed himself of a
convenience
or two before we were wed, but none after, I assure you, as I kept him much too busy. Now, there are those women who believe that lovemaking is only for the lower orders, that there is no enjoyment in the act, and
their
husbands undoubtedly seek out more receptive partners.”

“Lovemaking? She’s at it again, Callie? I can’t listen to this. I’ll be with our cloaks, stuffing up my ears with them, most likely,” Lester squeaked, jumping up and all but tripping to the floor in his haste to run away from this new embarrassment.

“Lady Lloyd is Simon’s mistress, Imogene,” Callie said flatly, ignoring Lester’s hasty escape to the vestibule. “It’s as simple as that.”

“I shouldn’t have bothered trying to cover myself with a fib, not with you being such a bright gel—and demmed pushy, now that I think on it,” the viscountess said, shaking her head. “Well then, there’s no sense wrapping up the rest of this in fine linen, is there? All right, Callie—Sheila Lloyd
was
my son’s mistress. But that unfortunate liaison is over. Done. Dead and gone.”

“And how would you know that?” Callie asked, deciding that, if she had already been called “demmed forward,” she might as well ask whatever she wanted. Because it certainly was interesting that Simon had stopped seeing Lady Lloyd. When could that have been? Before, or
after
she, Caledonia Johnston, had barged willy-nilly into his life?

“That’s simple enough. Roberts has assured me that Silsby has assured him that the Lady Lloyd is now firmly in my son’s past, and has been from the moment you arrived in Portland Place. He sent off her
congé
—that’s her dismissal, my dear—wrapped in a diamond necklace. Probably the one she’s got strung around her neck tonight. That’s one more reason I took off my stays—which would have remained off if Simon weren’t such a slowtop in figuring out what I already know. I intend to shame him into recognizing his feelings for you if he can’t see them for himself.”

She patted Callie’s arm a second time, thankfully not noticing that Callie’s eyes had become suspiciously moist once more. “Now, let’s find that ninnyhammer Lester and go on home. Not that I’ll sleep again tonight, more’s the pity.”

Callie followed along meekly, taking only a moment to peek at Lady Lloyd and her necklace one last time as they walked to the vestibule. Not that it mattered that Simon had given the woman the necklace, or that he had once bedded her, once desired her. He was free to do as he wanted.

If only he wanted her...

Once they had made their way into the vestibule, and with Lester staying at a safe distance—deliberately standing out of earshot—they allowed servants to retrieve their wraps.

“You really haven’t been sleeping, Imogene?” Callie asked as they left the building. “Shouldn’t you have Kathleen give you a small glass of laudanum? It can’t be healthy for you to be so tired.”

“Laudanum? I think not! Laudanum’s for dieaway misses and old ladies. Once you and Simon have this Filton fellow routed and settle things between yourselves—well, I’ll sleep well enough then, I suppose. Although I have to say that Freddy was a sad disappointment.” She allowed Lester to take her arm as they walked down the stairs to the flagway and the waiting coach. “Ah, well, there’s still your ball, Callie. Perhaps the pickings there will be better.”

Callie smiled encouragingly. “I’m sure there will be many gentlemen at the ball who will be more than happy to court you, Imogene,” she said as the groom hopped down to open the coach doors and lower the steps.

“One can only hope, I suppose,” Imogene said, winking at Callie in the light of the torches on either side of the doorway behind them. “I only know I want a warm body in my bed before winter, Callie. So maybe I’ll just have to be a little brazen myself.”

Lester, hearing this, gave out a small yelp and backed off down the flagway, appearing ready to hire a hack to take him back to Portland Place.

“Oh, don’t be such a namby-pamby, Lester,” the viscountess scolded, motioning for him to come back. “I very much used to
like
being brazen. Why, I remember the time—”

“Callie! Caledonia Johnston!”

Callie, who had been laughing at the flummoxed Lester, turned around at the sound of her name being called out and let out a scream of her own before launching herself at the young man who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“
Justyn
!” she cried, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as he lifted her clear off the ground, swinging her around in circles as she rained kisses on his cheeks and hair. “Justyn, I don’t believe it! You’re home, you’re home! How did you know? How did you find me?”

“If you stop choking me, I’ll tell you,” her brother said, disentangling himself from her tight embrace and leading her back to where the viscountess and a grinning Lester were waiting.

Callie, laughing, and crying, and not caring a whit that she was probably making a cake of herself, grabbed on to Justyn again, holding him tightly, afraid he was a figment of her imagination and might disappear again if she so much as blinked.

She rushed through the introductions, never taking her eyes off her brother, who looked older, taller, and even more handsome than she remembered—his clothes fitting him like a second skin, his hair longer than it had been when he’d left, his entire air one that exuded confidence, a belief in himself she had never seen before as he bowed so elegantly over Imogene’s hand.