Rules for Being a Mistress (18 page)

He did not need to glance at the libretto. Miss Vaughn was playing “Caro mio Ben.”

“I don’t speak Italian,” he said curtly.

In the course of playing the quiet melody, Cosima’s slim body rocked back and forth slightly, and her small breasts swelled creamily against the top of her white gown. Her face was sublime. She had sung this simple song to him the night they met. She was playing it now to bewitch him. He was bewitched. Without looking around, he knew that every other man in the room had fallen under her spell, too, but that was their tough luck.

The ladies were not so easily enchanted.

Serena was tone-deaf. For her, the greatest pleasure of a concert was the pleasure of being seen, admired, and envied by those less endowed than herself in taste, beauty, and breeding. “Pray,” she whispered to her companion, “is she disgracing herself?”

She was delighted when he quietly explained that the music was simple enough for any good student of music to play. At least she need not fear that Miss Vaughn was a virtuoso. A plan formed in her head. If she could lure Miss Vaughn into playing something beyond her skill, then the Irish girl would be exposed as a fraud. Her admirers would begin to laugh at her. They would ridicule her failure, and forget about her success. That was the way of the polite world.

Lord Ludham adored little Miss Vaughn now, but he was an impressionable young man, always eager to do what was pleasing and right in the eyes of the world. It had been quite easy, in fact, to convince him to divorce his wife, once her betrayal was made known to him.
If the world turns against Miss Vaughn, so will Felix,
Serena thought confidently.
Then Felix will return to
me,
as he always does when his ego suffers a blow. I will send Sir Benedict to the rightabout; and everyone will be happy.
By everyone, she meant herself, of course.

At the interval, when the party went into the tea room, Serena insisted on being introduced to the heroine, the very thing she had avoided for weeks. Benedict obliged her, and did not even cringe when Miss Vaughn explained, once again, that she was Italian in her heart.

Serena inclined her head like a queen receiving homage. “Why, Sir Benedict, she is charming!” She smiled, laying her hand on Benedict’s arm possessively. “You
must
bring her to my card party on Friday, Sir Benedict.”

“I would be happy to do so,” Benedict replied.

Cosima’s back stiffened. She did not care for Lady Serena’s patronizing tone. The other woman also seemed to be having a little trouble keeping her hands to herself. “Thank you! But I do not play cards,” she said coldly.

“Do come, Miss Vaughn!” Lord Ludham pleaded. “If you do not play cards, I will be happy to partner you and teach you the game.”

She turned her green eyes full on him, and he was struck dumb. It was as if he had suddenly come face to face with a tiger. “I do not approve of gambling,” said Miss Vaughn. “Gambling has been the ruin of my family.”

“Felix!” Serena chided him. “Not everyone can afford to play deep, you know.”

Lord Ludham regrouped and attacked Miss Vaughn from another angle. “There will be dinner, as well, at Serena’s party. You eat, don’t you?”

Serena frowned. She had not thought to put herself to the trouble and expense of feeding her guests a formal dinner. “Perhaps Miss Vaughn does not approve of eating,” she said, eyeing the other woman’s slim figure. “Perhaps that is why she is so thin in her person.”

Cosima was the only one at the table not eating. Benedict had supplied her with a plate of rich food and a glass of punch, but she hadn’t touched them.

“Is the food not to your liking?” Rose asked, concerned. “Is there something else you would like? The pâté is very good.”

“I’m not very hungry,” Cosima said.

“I know!” said Ludham. “Serena has a pianoforte, don’t you, Serena? You could play for us, Miss Vaughn.
Do
say you’ll come. It will be so flat without you. We’ll be bored to sobs.”

“Thank you, Felix,” Serena said dryly.

“Miss Vaughn has already declined the invitation,” said Benedict. “Twice.”

“Is there nothing I can say to persuade you to come and entertain us, Miss Vaughn?” Serena asked. “I think you will find a
private
exhibition more pleasant than a public one.”

Cosima suddenly blinded them with a smile. “I should be delighted to come and play for your guests, Lady Serena,” she said in a startling reversal. “I confess, now that I no longer have an instrument of my own, I’m always eager for the opportunity to practice.”

“So we have observed,” Serena said.

“I won’t even charge you a fee, I’m that rusty,” said Miss Vaughn.

“You don’t have a pianoforte, Miss Vaughn?” Ludham exclaimed. “I call that tragic.”

“Perhaps we should take up a collection,” Serena drawled.

“I’m sort of between pianos at the moment,” Cosima said. “I have my heart set on the most beautiful new Clementi. My old Erard just wasn’t cutting it anymore.”

“Cutting what, Miss Vaughn?” Ludham asked, confused.

She laughed. “I just mean it wasn’t fast enough for the new music. I saw a piece the other day marked ‘
prestissimo
’! I can barely manage ‘allegro’ as it is.”

“I find that very hard to believe,” Serena said coolly.

From her end of the table, Lady Matlock looked up from her platter of lobster patties and cream puffs. “You may come to me in the Crescent any time you like, Miss Vaughn, and play on my pianoforte. Have you brought your harp with you, Miss Vaughn?”

Cosima looked at her blankly. “My harp?”

“You’re Irish, aren’t you? You must have a harp.”

“I left my harp in Ireland, Lady Matlock.”

“You must send for it, my dear.”

Cosima only smiled.

“Do come and see us tomorrow, Miss Vaughn!” Rose urged her. “We’ll play duets and be so merry. Not that my talent is anything to yours,” she added prettily. “But I could do with the practice.”

The second half of the concert began in a flurry of Scarlatti love songs, and nearly ended in a most shocking scandal. Glancing at her audience at the top of “O cessate di piagarmi,” Miss Vaughn struck a false note, and winced. “I beg your pardon!” she cried, red in the face. She started again, but her nerves seemed unable to recover, and she stumbled on with clumsy fingers.

“The facade crumbles,” Serena murmured complacently to Benedict. “Her lack of skill is beginning to show.”

Benedict did not think so. Miss Vaughn seemed to be trying to catch Lady Rose Fitzwilliam’s eye. Glancing over, he saw the problem instantly. The child’s left breast, too large to be contained by a mere wisp of lace, had made an unscheduled appearance in the Upper Rooms. So far, no one but Miss Vaughn and himself seemed to have noticed.

Benedict did what any gentleman would have done in his place.

He summoned the waiter.

When he had obtained the necessary implement, Benedict rose from his chair and made his way across the front row. As he passed Lady Matlock, who mercifully had her eyes closed, his foot caught against Rose’s chair. He stumbled convincingly, waking Lady Matlock, and temporarily blocking Rose’s view of the performance.

“For heaven’s sake!” Rose snapped angrily, looking over his shoulder. “Why must you be so stupid?”

“Really, Sir Benedict!” said Lady Matlock.

Benedict begged their ladyships’ pardon profusely, and when he straightened up again, Rose’s breast, as if by magic, was again shielded from view by its scrap of lace. Cosima had no idea how he had managed it, but he
had
managed it, and, apparently, with no one but herself being the wiser.

“Down in front,” Lord Ludham said angrily as the baronet temporarily blocked his view. Like his cousin, he was also tone-deaf. Miss Vaughn could have hammered out anything she liked on the pianoforte, and he would have thought it splendid.

Benedict made his way slowly to the back of the room. By degrees, he returned to his chair, adopting a circuitous route that avoided both Rose and her mother.

Miss Vaughn recovered her confidence, and the rest of the concert passed without incident. At its conclusion, none but the most mean-spirited made any reference to the one song that had given the pianist so much difficulty. Everyone sang her praises—to her face, at any rate. She had a smile for everyone. Lord Ludham remained fixed at her side like a guard dog.

Rather than fight his way through her admirers, Benedict remained seated with Serena.

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” Serena sniffed. “She is as thin a broomstick, and wild as a mushroom. Felix is more infatuated with her than ever,” she added angrily. “You told me twenty minutes would do the trick. I think you are on
her
side,” she accused him.

“Miss Vaughn will never marry Lord Ludham,” he replied with simple confidence.

“And those pearls! The size of hazelnuts! They must be fake. Do you think she bleaches her hair? She must. Outside of a newborn babe or a ninety-year-old woman, I have never seen hair so white. And it doesn’t hold a curl very well,” she added maliciously.

Benedict thought idly that Miss Vaughn’s hair would spread very nicely on a pillow, but said nothing. How could he have been so foolish as to ask this mean and petty woman to be his wife? He longed to withdraw his offer of marriage. But that would not be the act of a gentleman. Serena might even drag him to court with a breach of promise suit. Under oath, he would not be able to deny that he had made the offer.

“Her gown, Sir Benedict!” Serena went on. “It looks like a slip tossed over a petticoat. And she is too tall to wear high-heeled shoes. Why, she quite towers over Felix.”

Miss Vaughn happened to glance their way at just that moment. She was still engaged in conversation with one of her conquests, but she smiled at Benedict with her eyes.

For one heart-stopping moment, they were the only two people in the room, in the world. He loved her, and she loved him. Then something Ludham said distracted her, and made her laugh. “Are you listening to me?” Serena demanded.

“Harpy,” he said.

Serena gasped. “I beg your pardon?”

Benedict cleared his throat. “I was just wondering about the lady’s harp.”

Serena frowned. “Why?” Then her violet eyes lit up as a possibility occurred to her. “Oh, I see! You suspect she is lying about her harp. Left her harp in Ireland, indeed! Along with her carriage, her
castle,
and her golden crown, I suppose!”

A few moments later, Cosima extricated herself from the crowd and made her way to him, trailing her most persistent admirer, Lord Ludham.

Benedict climbed to his feet. “I promised your mother I would have you home by eleven o’clock. Perhaps you would like a chair, after all?” he added, glancing down at her feet.

“I’ll walk, thank you,” she replied coolly.

“Walk!” cried Ludham. “Let me summon you a chair!”

“No, indeed,” she told him, laughing. “If I get tired, I can always climb on Cousin Ben’s back and let him carry me home. He’s an excellent walker. Legs like carved marble.”

Lord Ludham made a mental note to begin a regimen of daily exercise.

Benedict took his leave of Serena, bending over her hand. Cosima frowned. She could not quite puzzle out Benedict’s relationship to this cold, superior female. Serena was beautiful, but rather like a sculpture. They made a handsome couple. The sight of them together disturbed her. She retaliated, giving Lord Ludham her hand to kiss.

“Good night, Miss Vaughn,” Serena said coldly, tucking her hand into the crook of Lord Ludham’s arm.

Cosima took Benedict firmly by the arm. “Good night!”

They walked out of the concert hall into Beaufort Square. She decided to say nothing about Lady Serena. She did not want him to think she was jealous.

“Do you think I should tell Lady Rose what you did for her tonight?” she asked instead. “She’s putting it about that you were stumbling drunk!”

He shrugged.

“You don’t mind?”

“I did what had to be done,” he said piously. “I do not expect to be thanked.”

“But the damage to your spotless reputation!” she protested, laughing.

He glanced at her. “Perhaps I do not deserve my reputation.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “Well, they say a good deed is its own reward. And you
did
get to feel a young girl’s breast, after all. How was it?”

“You wrong me. I never touched her. I used a spoon.”

“A spoon!”

“Yes. Given the enormity of the—”

“Breast?” she suggested.

“Task,” he coldly corrected, “I felt a soup spoon would be best. For the lady’s comfort, naturally, I warmed the metal with my breath. I shudder to think what would have happened if I had used a cold spoon.”

“Aye!” she said, laughing. “If I am ever so unfortunate as to come out of my clothes, I can only hope that you’ll be there to help.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Vaughn,” he assured her. “I will be. There is something about a woman’s breast that awakens all my protective instincts.”

“That’s quite as it should be. I realize you were busy and all,” she began anew, after a brief silence, “but did you happen to notice the concert at all? Other people seemed to enjoy it.”

“Yes, they did. The signora sang well, I think. There was even a song about me.”

“Was there?”

“
Caro mio ben, credimi almen
…Something like that.”

“Oh, that. Shall I translate? There once was an old man named Ben. He wasn’t the smartest of men. He forgot where he was; took off all of his clothes; and couldn’t get them back on again. The second verse is a bit insulting, so I’ll stop there.”

“Very amusing,” said the gentleman. “I especially like the way you forced a rhyme between ‘was’ and ‘clothes.’”

As Lansdown Road became increasingly steep, she could no longer keep up the pace in her high-heeled shoes. “Stop a minute. My feet are killing me,” she said. Leaning down, she pulled off her shoes. “Much better,” she breathed, picking them up with two fingers.

“I did warn you,” he said, slowing down. “And now we’ve come too far to get a chair. Do you think you can manage?”

“I can manage very well, thank you,” she said primly. “It’s not Dublin, after all, where the streets are paved in broken glass. Sure, Bath is as neat as a pin. You’d think it was licked clean by the angels every night.”

“I have been to Dublin, Miss Vaughn,” he said severely. “The streets are
not
paved in broken glass, as I’m sure you know. It is a very pretty little town.”

“I’m sure it is, from your hotel window!” she retorted. “When were
you
ever in Dublin?”

“I have business at Dublin Castle from time to time.”

“Oh, they’re very refined at Dublin Castle. They
always
take the trouble to tidy up after their drunken routs at Dublin Castle. How is it I never saw you there?”

“At Dublin Castle?” he asked blankly.

She nodded. “Aye, at Dublin Castle! Or don’t those feet of yours know how to dance?”

Belatedly, he comprehended that she was talking about balls given by the lady-lieutenant, while he had been speaking of official business with the lord-lieutenant. “I do not go to Ireland to attend balls, Miss Vaughn,” he explained.

“Why not?” she demanded. “Don’t you like Irish girls?”

“Some of them are quite nice,” he admitted. “But others are heartless and cruel.”

“Ah, so you do like us!”

He smiled. “There is a lecture tomorrow night on Merovingian Art,” he said presently. “Perhaps you would care to give it?”

She shook her head. “I only lecture on the evils of drink and gambling.”

“Thursday, of course, is the dreaded Cotillion. Now,
that
actually is a participatory event. No one will be amazed if you join in.”

“Not I! I’ve no intention of turning into a social butterfly.” She laughed. “I said I’d go to your lady friend’s party, but that’s it. Allie would have a fit if I started going out every night.”

“She is back in school,” he said. “How does she like it?”

She came to a stop. “You can ask her yourself,” she said.

Benedict looked around in amazement. It seemed to him that they had just left the Upper Rooms, but already they were in Camden Place, standing outside her door. Allegra Vaughn was sitting on the steps huddled in a shawl.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Cosima demanded angrily. “You have school tomorrow!”

“For your information,” Allie replied importantly, “it’s dire!”

“What’s dire?” Cosima demanded. “What’s happened?”

She ran up the steps, but stopped in front of her sister, as if afraid to go any farther. “I
told
you I couldn’t go out,” she said angrily, turning on Benedict. “Now look what’s happened!”

He walked up the steps quietly. “What
has
happened, Miss Allegra?”

“Well,” said Allie, enjoying her moment, “he’s been here for hours, waiting to see you, Cosy, and he says he won’t go away until he gets his money.”

“Is that all?” Cosima cried in relief. “I thought it was Mother’s health! Dire indeed!”

“Who is here, Miss Allegra?” Benedict asked.

Wincing, Cosima hazarded a guess. “The landlord?”

“No! Not the landlord,” Allie replied scornfully. “The collier! He was
not
pleased when Mama told him you’d gone out to the concert. Well, actually,
I
told him. He said young ladies ought to pay their bills before they go out to fancy concerts and such.”

“Did he?” Benedict said coldly.

Allie’s eyes lit up. She wasn’t used to generating so much interest from gentlemen. They usually only paid attention to her elder sister. “He did! He said we owe so much money that Cosy will have to marry him to get out from under it, even if she is the granddaughter of an earl. I thought Mama would faint! However, she did not. She said she’d never survive debtor’s prison, and that
of course
Cosy would marry him.”

“I will bollocks,” said Miss Vaughn, with feeling. “Where’s Jackson?”

“You didn’t pay the collier’s bill?” Benedict said incredulously. “I gave you a thousand pounds! What did you do with it?”

“I am not wasting my hard-earned money on coal!” Cosy said, starting into the house.

“Are you sure you want your future husband to see you in your underwear?” Allie asked.

Cosima skidded to a stop. “Oh, God, you’re right! I’ll have to put some clothes on.”

“
What?
” said Benedict. “Miss Vaughn! Is that a slip, thrown over a petticoat?”

“No,” she answered.

“Go and put some clothes on,” he said grimly. “I will deal with the collier.”

Cosima opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again. He looked different, somehow. Sort of scary. “Come, Allie,” she said. Taking her sister by the hand, she entered the house with her head held high.

“There you are, you little slut,” said a burly man at the top of the stairs. Nora ran after him and caught his arm, but he shook her off easily.

“That’s him!” Allie said, quite unnecessarily.

The man waved a bill at them. “You owe me twenty pounds, Miss Vaughn,” he said, charging down the stairs like an angry bull, “and you’ll pay me now, my beauty, or I’ll take it out of your hide.”

“You can try,” said Miss Vaughn with magnificent calm. “Who do you think you are coming here and bothering my mother? I’ll have the law on you.”