Romantic Rebel (11 page)

We returned by a different route than Paton had taken out of the city. We had descended well into the heart of town before I realized it. “I think we have passed my house,” I exclaimed when I noticed the error.

“Where do you live?” Lady DeGrue asked. Her niece, though a fully mature lady at least as old as myself, seldom spoke until spoken to.

“On Lampards Street.”

“Ah, way up on top of the hill. My poor nags will never make it. I take this circuitous path to avoid the steeper inclines. You should move closer to the heart of the city, Miss Nesbitt. It will be best if we let you off on Milsom Street, where you can easily hire a cab. Give Isabel your address before you leave, and we will drop you a note to let you know when you may call on us.”

A grim, yellow-toothed smile accompanied this piece of condescension. Not eager to display my inferior abode, I kept my tongue between my teeth and thanked Lady DeGrue before leaving her carriage. She sent Waxon to find me a cab, then I was let down.

During the steep haul up the downs, I reviewed my afternoon outing. It had begun well enough, but overall I was not happy with it. The destination, upon consideration, seemed extraordinarily inappropriate. It was bizarre that Paton offered me a cottage rent free. I had first taken it for a nobleman’s patronage to an aspiring writer. But for a bachelor to offer it to a spinster—that added a new flavor, one that I found bitter.

Was I imagining that it was his intention to replace Angelina with me? Surely to God he did not take me for such a depraved creature! Yet we had met under less than auspicious circumstances at a party where Annie and I were, in fact, the only real ladies in the room. And I had hardly looked the part in that idiotic turban that kept falling askew. With Mrs. Speers’s uncertainty over my name, he had taken me for a dashing divorcee. When I considered that he knew I should have been in mourning for a recently deceased father, my shame was complete.

Reviewed in this new light, I realized that during the visit the conversation had taken some highly questionable turns. All that talk of fallen women and the impossibility of their finding a husband. “Godwin did not believe in the sacraments— baptism, marriage ...” Of course I had loudly and instinctively expressed my outrage. And very shortly after, Paton had lost all interest in me.

The wretch had taken me to Angelina’s cottage to try his hand at seducing me. A cottage, with a housekeeper and a carriage thrown in, all the perquisites usually bestowed on a man’s mistress. Including a little lovenest discreetly removed from town. He took me for a lightskirt! No other conclusion was possible.

I was ready to burst with annoyance. Even at the inn at Corsham he still hoped to seduce me. It was a room he was after, a bedchamber, not a parlor. I thanked my old opponent, Fate, for having sent Lady DeGrue to forestall any more unpleasantness. Her friendship must have convinced Paton that I was thoroughly respectable, barring my abode and lack of mourning. He had no way of knowing how superficial was the acquaintance.

And now, if I judged Lady DeGrue accurately, she would be whispering to her crones that Miss Nesbitt had caught Lord Paton. It would not be long before the rumor found its way back to him. I felt helpless to prevent this comical disaster. There was nothing I could do. And really, it served Paton right. My humor was restored by the time the carriage reached Lampards Street.

“Did you have a nice outing?” Annie asked eagerly.

“It was different,” I assured her. Should I tell Annie? She read me enough lectures without handing her that extra fuel on a platter. I made much of having met Lady DeGrue, and very little of Angelina’s cottage.

“Will he be calling again?” she asked.

“Perhaps. He did not mention a specific day or time. And what have you been doing all afternoon, Annie?”

Arthur had been to call. A recital of his various utterances passed the time till dinner, and in the evening, he was to take us to a concert. I wondered if Lord Paton would be in attendance.

Chapter Nine

Had I been asked to name the three people I wished least to encounter that evening, it would have been Lord Paton, Geoffrey Nesbitt, and Lady DeGrue, in that order. Fate repaid me for her afternoon’s defeat by casting two of the three into my path at the concert.

To make up for the lack of Cousin Geoffrey, she threw in a substitute in the person of Lady Forrest, Paton’s septuagenarian aunt. The concert itself was bad enough, consisting as it did of an Italian tenor singing madrigals, accompanied by the violin. The only relief from this was a few of Mozart’s louder works pounded out on the pianoforte by a gentleman with two wooden hands and a tin ear. I was in the mood for a set of waltzes, or some light play music, perhaps from
The Beggar’s Opera.

“Shall we slip out while the slipping is good?” Pepper suggested at the intermission.

Having paid the penalty, I was strongly inclined to grasp the reward and mix with the throng for tea. That is where the mischief occurred. We were no sooner at a table than Lady DeGrue and Miss Bonham landed in on us. She has more than one trick to get her tea without expense. I later learned her most common one is to wait till she sees an acquaintance with the tea already laid, then she sits down uninvited and takes her refreshment gratis.

“Miss Nesbitt!” she hollered across the room. “And Miss Potter. No need to thank me for delivering your charge home safe and sound.” She smiled at Annie. “I was delighted to do it for you.”

It was news to me that I resided on Milsom Street, but I had to pretend to be grateful. Annie asked, “Who the devil is that?” but as soon as I reminded her, she said all that was proper. By that time Lady DeGrue and Miss Bonham had slid onto the extra chairs. The latter looked apologetic, the former examined Pepper through her lorgnette and apparently did not count on his having the manners to invite her to take tea.

She collared a servant and demanded more cups herself. “And a fresh pot, mind. We don’t want to drink hot water.” She turned back to Annie. “There is no counting on them to have the wits to bring a fresh pot. Miss Nesbitt will tell you what a paltry tea Paton served us this afternoon.” She turned her lorgnette in my direction. “And where is Paton this evening? Slipped the leash, has he, sly dog?”

“I have no i—”

She had been scanning the room and found him. “Ah, there he is with Agatha. He has dragged his poor aunt out for a night’s frolic. With her gouty knees, she ought to be allowed to stay home. I see how it is.” She smiled archly at me. “He could not stay away from you, Miss Nesbitt.”

My first reaction was dismay to hear Paton was present. It seemed extremely unlikely that he had dragged his aunt out to such an antique frolic as this. It must have been she who had done the dragging, but in either case, it had nothing to do with me. No matter, before anyone could stop her, Lady DeGrue raised her hand and bellowed to them.

“Agatha. Yoo-hoo, Agatha.” Then aside to me: “She is deaf as a bat, poor soul. Right here, Paton,” she called louder. “There is an empty table beside Miss Nesbitt.”

I looked at Lady Forrest, because I did not wish to look at her nephew. She was of a different stamp altogether from Lady DeGrue, a fat, jolly-looking lady, wearing a mauve gown, rouge, and a great many jewels. I saw her make some derogatory comment to Paton, but in the end, tables were in short enough supply that they legged it to the empty one beside us. They stopped for a few words, and it was no longer possible to avoid looking at Paton. It would take a deal of imagination to see any vestige of admiration on his impassive face. He bowed, and showed exactly the same degree of pleasure to see me as to see Annie and Pepper, or the table, which is to say a very minimal amount, if any.

“I am happy to see you have not come down with a chill, Miss Nesbitt,” he said.

“Thanks to Lady DeGrue, I am fine.” I had not meant to sound so ingracious to Lord Paton in front of company. In the unlikely event that I was ever again alone with this man, it would be a different story, but in society I meant to remain ignorant of his former intentions.

“Regrettable weather we ran into,” he murmured.

His aunt examined me with a pair of sharp blue eyes, undimmed by her age. There was no malice in her regard, which told me she knew nothing of her nephew’s doings. She seemed curious, no more. I expect the fact that Lady DeGrue was with us colored me pure and dull. She and Paton sat at their table and fell into some private conversation.

Lady DeGrue never believed in being private, or allowing anyone else that luxury. The larger audience she could muster, the better. “I say, Agatha,” she called, “Miss Nesbitt tells me you are building some apartments.”

I squirmed under Lady Forrest’s astonished stare. Paton glared. I shrank visibly. Pepper regarded us all and smiled his puckish smile.

“It is on that parcel of land adjacent to Brandon Hill, is it, or Tyndalls Park?” Lady DeGrue shouted. Lady Forrest made some inaudible reply. “A nasty cold wind your tenants will get, but you need not bother your head about that,” Lady DeGrue said.

She put three quarters of the cakes on her own plate and carried the plate and her cup over to Lady Forrest’s table without even saying good-bye or thank you. Miss Bonham smiled her customary apologetic smile. I felt sorry for the girl, and passed her what remained of the cakes. She refused, to make up for her aunt’s piggishness.

“My aunt told me to ask you to a drum on Saturday evening, Miss Nesbitt,” she said shyly. “And Lord Paton, of course. She will be sending cards, but perhaps you will tell me now whether you are free.”

Only in Bath would a route still be called a drum! “I am free, and would be delighted to attend. I cannot be sponsor for Lord Paton’s attendance, however.”

“But you and your chaperone will come?” She seemed eager for my acquaintance. The girl was exquisitely dull, but rather pitiful. Her aunt must run her a wretched life.

“We will be very happy to.”

“I am so glad. Perhaps we could drive out some afternoon you are not seeing Lord Paton.”

“My afternoons are quite free,” I assured her.

“Auntie does not like me to go out alone, and she is not much for driving about without a reason. Waxon accompanies me at times, but she is really my aunt’s companion. Shall we say—tomorrow afternoon, if you are not busy, that is.”

“That would be lovely, Miss Bonham.”

“I shall call for you at Lampards Street.” As this was said in a low voice, I understood Miss Bonham meant to deceive her aunt, the wicked girl. There was hope for her yet. “The team are really very sturdy,” she explained, again apologetically.

“I expect you have many friends in Bath, as you make your home here?” This was a cunning and unworthy trick on my part. I had a pretty good idea she was friendless, and she soon confirmed it.

“My aunt is very strict about whom she allows me to see. Any friend of Paton, of course, must be unexceptionable.”

I smiled demurely. “Perhaps we could go to the Pump Room. My chaperone will be happy to come with us,” I added swiftly when her eyebrows drew together in doubt at such rakishness.

Her beaming smile showed her appreciation. “Or for a stroll in the Crescent Gardens, as we will be suitably chaperoned.”

We had a nice girlish chat after that. The “girlish” refers to Miss Bonham more than to myself. Although beyond girlhood in years, it was clear she was lacking in polish. The extent of her wickedness was driving and walking. She suggested the circulating library as another pastime, and I mentioned visiting the shops.

Thus passed the tea break. By keeping up a constant guard, I refrained from looking at the adjacent table. Any glimpses accomplished from the corner of my eye convinced me that Paton was not paying me any heed. When tea was over, the two groups rose and stood together a moment. Lady DeGrue studied the program. “More Mozart. How I look forward to that,” she said. Miss Bonham smiled submissively, and they returned to the concert.

Lady Forrest turned a sapient eye on me. I had no idea what Lady DeGrue had been saying, but it was soon clear that she had given the idea that Paton and I were on close terms. “We must get together for a chat soon, Miss Nesbitt,” she said with an assessing smile. “As you appear to be quite familiar with me, I am curious to know you better. You must call on me.”

I felt extremely foolish. “Lord Paton mentioned your building the apartments. I hope it is not a secret.”

“Nothing is kept secret long in this town,” she replied with an arch look from Paton to myself. I wished the floor would open up and swallow me. “I have had enough caterwauling for one evening, sonnie. How about you?”

Paton gave a conscious look at being addressed in this youthful fashion, but agreed he had enjoyed enough music.

“We are about to leave as well,” Annie said, and we all gathered up our bits and pieces to leave.

The older group went ahead, with Paton and myself trailing uncomfortably behind. I felt an instinct to apologize for having told Lady DeGrue about his aunt’s building plans. A second thought deterred me. He had more to apologize for, and if he said nothing, I would not mention the solecism.

“Did you enjoy the concert, Lord Paton?” I asked, purposely using the formal address.

He avoided calling me anything, and said, “It is not my own favorite sort of music. My aunt occasionally likes an evening out.”

“I dare say she spends most other time at home, at her age, although she seems spry enough.”

“She prefers to have company visit her.”

“Yes.”

Not a syllable about Lady Forrest’s invitation for me to call. I noticed his step was lagging, and wondered at it. “About this afternoon, Miss Nesbitt...” he said. A slight flush crept up his neck.

“Yes?” I gave a bright, inconsequential smile, determined not to reveal anything. Let him think I was ignorant of his intentions. It was the least embarrassing course to take, and one that might allow us to meet without either of us having to blush. And since I was eager to enlarge my circle of respectable friends, no invitation would be declined. I would visit Lady Forrest if she set a date. She was a local; she probably knew everyone. Lord Paton would not be long with her, but I planned to live here permanently.