Scandalous Brides: In Scandal in Venice\The Spanish Bride (31 page)

Esperanza plucked up the amethyst necklace and clasped it about Carmen’s throat. “I did hear that Lady Elizabeth has a very handsome bachelor brother,” she said, just as if she had read Carmen’s mind. “An earl. Perhaps she is intent on a bit of matchmaking.”

Carmen looked up sharply. “Where did you hear this?”

“When I took Isabella walking in the park, I met nursemaids and governesses, all of them full of silly gossip. They say every single lady in Society has set her cap for this earl. But he is called the Ice Earl, because he pays scant attention to any of them ...”

Carmen stood abruptly and reached for her gown, pulling the rustling purple folds over her head to disguise her bewilderment. “They say no one can hold his regard?” she said, muffled.

“So they say. Here, stop that, Carmencita! You are crushing your gown.” Esperanza straightened the skirt and began to fasten the tiny amethyst buttons up the back. “Though Lady Dobbin’s nursemaid said that she had heard that was soon to change, so perhaps Lady Elizabeth is not trying to matchmake after all.”

Carmen’s hand stilled on the sleeve she was adjusting. “Change in what way?”

“She said that this earl has been seen about with a certain Lady Deidra Clearbridge, daughter of the Earl of Chiswick. I believe we met him and his countess once in Vienna.”

“Yes,” Carmen murmured vaguely. “Perhaps. And Elizabeth’s brother is going to make an offer for his daughter?”

“So she said. But maybe you will meet him yourself tonight!”

Before Carmen could answer, the heavy knocker at the front door sounded.

“That will be Elizabeth and her husband, come to collect me,” she said. “You go down and make sure that the new housemaid answers the door, Esperanza. I can finish here.”

“If you are certain ...” Esperanza doubtfully eyed Carmen’s stockinged feet. Then she nodded and hurried off, Carmen’s evening cloak folded over her arm.

Carmen slid her feet into her satin slippers, and clasped her gold Etruscan bracelets over her arms, hardly knowing what she was doing.

Peter
betrothed.

It was very foolish of her to have not even considered that he might have moved on with his life, romantically speaking. It had been many years since their romance and marriage. And a handsome, wealthy earl was a catch indeed.

Yet, since she had never forgotten, she had assumed that he had not. She had had chances, many of them, to form new attachments, both respectable and decidedly not so. She had even liked some of those men very much. But none of them had been Peter. None of them, no matter how handsome or how nice, had ever made her feel that warmth, that excitement, that full-of-joy way that he had.

The way he still did, despite everything.

She held out her hand and stared down at the mesmerizing green fire of her emerald for a long moment. She had worn it every day since he had placed it there. Would she soon have to remove it forever?

“You are a fool, Carmen,” she told herself. “A silly, moonstruck fool, and you are too old for this behavior.”

She took up her fan and her opera glasses, and went out onto the staircase landing.

Elizabeth and her husband awaited her down in the tiny foyer, Elizabeth chattering about something as she adjusted her attire in the gold-framed mirror hanging there. She was the first to see Carmen, and waved up at her. “Hello! Are we terribly early?”

Sir Nicholas Hollingsworth looked up at her then, a charming smile of greeting on his face. The smile disappeared when he saw her, and his face, bronzed from the Italian sun, turned rather grayish.

“Hello, Nicholas,” Carmen said quietly, moving slowly down the stairs. “I am not a ghost, I do assure you.” She paused on the last step and looked at him. She could have wept, he seemed so very familiar and dear. Yet different, just as Peter did.

A long white scar sliced across one cheek, and he leaned heavily on a carved walking stick. The spoils of war. But there was no lurking sadness in his eyes, as there was in Peter’s. How could there be, married to Elizabeth? He still appeared the lighthearted young officer who had stood witness at her wedding.

“Oh, Nick,” she said. “It is so good to see you again.”

He reached out one shaking hand to touch her arm. “Carmen?”

“Yes, it is I.”

Suddenly he caught her in his arms and twirled her around, laughing. “By Jove,
Carmen
! I knew
you
could never be dead. You were always far too wily for those Frenchies.”

When he finally placed her back on her feet, Carmen reached out to lean on the newel post, giggling dizzily. “As, I see, were you!”

Elizabeth clapped her hands happily. “I knew you would be so happy, Nick! I could scarce keep it to myself.”

Nicholas threw his arm around his wife’s shoulders, still grinning at Carmen. “You knew about this, Lizzie? That the condesa was Carmen?”

“Oh, yes. I knew when I met her at the Dacey ball. But I also knew that you would never believe me, that you would have to see for yourself.”

“Well, well,” Nicholas mused. “What an interesting tale you must have, Carmen, of the past six years.”

“Indeed I do. As, I am sure, do you.” The clock in the foyer chimed the hour. Carmen reached for the cloak Esperanza had left draped over a chair, and allowed Nicholas to help her don it. “But you must tell it to me in the carriage, or we shall surely be late, and Much Ado About Nothing is my very favorite play.”

“Oh, yes!” Elizabeth cried. “You must tell her the tale of how we met, dearest. She of all people should appreciate Peter’s role in it.”

The theater was quite full when Carmen, Elizabeth, and Nicholas made their way into their box. The houselights had not yet been lowered, but the boxes surrounding their own were filled with the glitter of jewels and satins and inquisitive opera glasses.

Elizabeth immediately seated herself in the center of the box, and turned her glass to examining the gowns of others.

Nicholas sat next to Carmen. “Tell me what you have been doing since the war,” he said. “How you came to be alive! We all thought you dead.”

Carmen smiled wryly. “Yes, so I have heard! But I thought all of you dead, as well. Tell me, are any of the regiment besides you and Peter alive?”

“There is Robert Means. Do you remember him?”

“Oh, yes! Lieutenant Means,” she mused. “Such a dreadful cardplayer, he owes me a veritable fortune! Or would if we had played for stakes. And he is alive, you say?”

“Should be in Town any day now. His cousin is making her bow this Season, or so I heard. Usually he stays immured at his estate in farthest Cornwall.” Nicholas grinned at her. “He always did have an appreciative eye for you, Carmen! I’m certain he will be more than happy to renew the acquaintance.”

Carmen smiled and blushed. “He was a sweet man, as I recall, and quite handsome. But ...” She turned away from Nicholas’s forthright gaze.

“But you never saw anyone but Peter,” he said quietly. “Nor he any but you.”

She raised her gaze back to his, to find his dark eyes steady and serious. “No. I never saw any but him.”

“Have you—met him yet?”

“Twice. Once at the Dacey ball, where I also met your wife.” Carmen glanced at Elizabeth, who was still studying the audience. More to give them a chance to speak quietly than from any genuine interest, Carmen suspected. “I also saw him this very morning, when he came to my house to return an ivory comb I had lost.”

“How, if I may be so bold as to ask, did these meetings proceed?”

Carmen twirled her opera glass through her fingers, watching the light dance on the mother-of-pearl. “As well as could be expected, I suppose. He has had so many years to be angry with me. I doubt we can ever be as we were in Spain.”

“He believed you were in league with Chauvin.”

“Yes,” Carmen sighed.

“But you were not.” It was a statement rather than a question.

“Of course I was not! I was riding to fetch reinforcements when I was shot down by Chauvin. It was a miracle that I and—that I survived.” And the babe inside her, as well. “I am so very happy that
you
believe me, Nick.”

“How could I do otherwise? No one could have been more loyal than you, to your country
and
to your husband. I still cannot fathom that Peter would condemn you on such flimsy evidence as the fact that you were seen with Chauvin at the battle. I was wounded, and even I could see you were in a stupor.”

“Then, why could Peter not see?” Carmen cried. “He is—was my husband.”

“Peter is very stubborn, as you are no doubt well aware. He will not always listen to reason, as I do.”

Elizabeth snorted inelegantly at that.

“As I do,” Nicholas repeated loudly. “He had a very difficult time indeed when he returned from Spain. He was not at all himself for a very long time. But I am certain that, between the three of us, we can make him see sense.”

“Do you think so?” Carmen whispered. “Do you really think so, Nick?”

Elizabeth gave a small gasp. “Well! Speak of the devil and he shall appear, as my old nanny always used to say.”

Carmen looked over at Elizabeth, who had her glass trained on a box across the way. “What is it, Lizzie?”

She turned her own glass to the box.

And saw Peter, immaculately elegant in a deep burgundy velvet evening coat, matching brocade waistcoat, and perfectly tied snow-white cravat. His golden hair gleamed in the light.

He was not alone. He was assisting a lady into her seat. A very beautiful, very young lady, with red-gold curls framing a heart-shaped face. Her gown was the gown of a young girl, even, white tulle over a slip of pink silk, trimmed with tiny pink satin rosebuds.

Carmen never could abide pink.

“That looby!” Elizabeth said with a hiss. “He never said he would be here tonight, let alone that he would be escorting Lady Deidra Clearbridge and her mama.”

Carmen watched the two bright heads bend together as the lady said something that made Peter smile gently.

Carmen’s lips pressed together tightly. This must be the woman that Esperanza said the nursemaids giggled about. “Who is this Lady Deidra?”

Elizabeth’s glass never wavered from her brother’s box. “She is the youngest daughter of the Earl of Chiswick. This is her second Season, but not, from what I hear, for lack of offers. She has merely been waiting for—bigger fish.” Lady Deidra laid her fan on Peter’s arm, and peeked up at him from beneath her lashes. “And it appears that she thinks she has landed the largest trout of all. We shall soon see about that.”

“Elizabeth,” Carmen began, but she was interrupted as the curtain rose. “I don’t want to cause a scene,” she whispered. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Quite right. Gather the troops, and all that. But in the end, Carmen,
you
are his wife, and your Isabella is his daughter. Lady Milquetoast hasn’t a chance.”

Nicholas, who had not heard all his wife’s words but had certainly heard her tone, warned, “Lizzie ...”

“I know, darling. I am being mean. But that Lady Deidra is completely wrong for my brother. I don’t know what he could be thinking.”

“That she is suitable and pretty? That it is time for him to set up his nursery, just as you have urged him?” Nicholas laughed, obviously intent on playing devil’s advocate.

“If only he knew.”

Nicholas threw a puzzled glance at his wife. “Knew what, dear?”

“We will tell you later,” the women chorused.

As the overture finished and the actors appeared onstage, Elizabeth leaned over and whispered in Carmen’s ear. “I am having a house party next month at Evanstone Park, our new house in Derbyshire. You must come.”

Carmen considered this. A quiet weekend in the country, far away from the clamor and glitter of the Season, where she could think and regroup, sounded just the thing. “I think I would enjoy that very much.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I thought you might say that.”

As the curtain closed for the interval, Elizabeth tapped her fan on her husband’s arm. “Nick, I am quite parched. Do you think there might be some lemonade to be had? Or, better yet, champagne?”

“I shall go and see what I can find, my love,” Nicholas answered.

Carmen glanced across the way where Peter and Lady Deidra Clearbridge were talking. “I know that ladies should really not go wandering about the theater, but may I come with you, Nicholas?” she said. “I find myself in need of some air.”

“I shall come as well,” Elizabeth said. “We shall promenade about and show off our gowns, rather than waiting for people to come to us!”

So the ladies left their box and, one on each of Nicholas’s arms, made their way into the throng of the foyer in search of refreshment. Their mission successful, they ensconced themselves in a small nook to sip at their lemonade and watch the passersby.

“This must all seem very tame to you, Carmen, after the splendors of Paris and Vienna,” Elizabeth commented as she waved to a diamond-draped dowager.

“Does it seem so to you, after living in Italy?” Carmen answered.

“Yes, at times. Certainly nothing can rival Venice during Carneval for gaiety.” Elizabeth smiled at her husband, soft and secret. “Can it, my dear?”

“Assuredly not.”

“And, of course, there are a great many artists living there now. It is quite congenial,” Elizabeth continued. “I miss my dear friend, Mrs. Georgina Beaumont, who you will perhaps have heard of. Her house is directly across the canal from ours, and she gives the loveliest parties! But then, you will meet her at our country house weekend. She is arriving in England any day.”

“London will never be the same, after the havoc my wife and Georgina are sure to wreak on it!” Nicholas said with a laugh.

“I cannot wait,” said Carmen.

“Shall we go back?” Nicholas asked. “I do believe the next act will be beginning directly.”

No sooner had they disposed of their empty glasses and turned back toward their box when they came face-to-face with Peter.

And Lady Deidra Clearbridge, on his arm.

“Peter!” Elizabeth cried in surprise, quite as if she had not been watching them through her glass all evening. “I did not know
you
had planned a theater excursion, or we could have shared a carriage.” She went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, and beamed from him to Carmen as if she had pulled some great coup.