Sheri Cobb South (9 page)

“Oh, very well, forget the dowry,” Sir Aubrey conceded with a sigh. “It will be more of a challenge that way, at any rate. And I must say, the idea of turning a penniless little nobody into the toast of Brighton has its appeal. I haven’t had this much amusement since Lord David and I took you under our collective wing.”

‘“aven’t you, now?” asked Mr. Brundy, his voice heavy with irony.

“Lord, no! There you were, all gauche and unwashed—”

Mr. Brundy took immediate exception to this less than flattering portrayal. “Gauche I may ‘ave been, but I was never unwashed!”

“That, my friend, is neither here nor there. The fact is, despite your humble origins, you made a marriage so brilliant that, two months later, the tabbies are still talking about it. Why should not Miss Crump do likewise?”

“All right, Aubrey, marry ‘er off, if you will,” said Mr. Brundy, resigned to his fate. “And if you can manage to bring the thing off without sending me back to the work’ouse, I’d be much obliged!”

Chapter 7

But oh, she dances such a way!

SIR JOHN SUCKLING,
A Ballad upon a Wedding

By the following afternoon, the clouds had given way to rain, turning the choppy waters of the Channel to gray, and leading Lady Tabor to offer it as her opinion that, unless it were to let up very soon, they would not be able to attend the assembly that Friday without their evening slippers being soaked through. As the weather made venturing out of doors undesirable, it was determined that Miss Crump’s terpsichoreal instruction should begin that very afternoon. Accordingly, Lady Helen took her place at the pianoforte while her husband and Sir Aubrey pushed the furniture back against the wall to make room for the dancers.

“Really, Mr. Brundy,” remarked Lady Tabor, observing this procedure with distaste, “would this task not be better left to a servant?”

In truth, Lady Tabor was less disturbed by the sight of two gentlemen doing physical labor (or, more accurately, one gentleman and one wealthy tradesman thus engaged) than she was put out of temper by the unaccountable disappearance of
The Lost Heir.
She had been quite certain she had left the volume on her bedside table, but when she had gone upstairs to retrieve it, the book was nowhere to be found. She was resolved to have a word with Lady Helen about the moral values of her servants, but in the meantime, she would be forced to look to her host for companionship for the duration of the dancing lesson. While she was resigned to endure the weaver’s company with a good grace, it was her sincere hope that Miss Crump would prove to be an adept pupil.

“Aubrey tells me you don’t gamble, Mr. Brundy, so I daresay you’re no card player,” her ladyship observed disapprovingly.

“Not as a general rule, although I’ve on occasion ‘eld me own at piquet,” Mr. Brundy admitted modestly.

“You shall give me a partie, then,” declared Lady Tabor.

Mr. Brundy conceding to the wishes of his guest, a card table was soon set up before the window, from which point the card players might enjoy the music without interfering with the lesson in progress. Lady Helen selected a suitable piece and began to play, accenting the first beat of each measure to help Miss Crump grasp the rhythm.

“Your wife is an accomplished young woman, Mr. Brundy,” said Lady Tabor. “I cannot imagine the dire straits in which the duke must have found himself, to consent to such a match. I only hope you realize how far she lowered herself in marrying you.”

“So long as there are people like you ‘oo are kind enough to point it out to me, ma’am, I could ‘ardly do otherwise,” responded the weaver politely.

“I had four daughters of my own before Aubrey was born, Mr. Brundy, and I must confess it would have grieved me sorely to have given any one of them to a man so far beneath their station,” Lady Tabor continued. “Our rank may not be so high or so ancient as your father-in-law’s, but Aubrey is related to the Marquess of Inglewood on my side, and the baronetcy he holds was one of the first such rank.”

“Was it, now?”

“Yes, indeed. Aubrey’s ancestor, Sir Reginald Tabor, was created a baronet by King James I in return for services to the Crown.”

As Sir Aubrey was not wont to boast of his antecedents, Mr. Brundy was intrigued by Lady Tabor’s narrative in spite of himself. “What sort of services, me lady?”

“He contributed a very large sum of money in support of the King’s troops in Ulster.”

Mr. Brundy’s mild interest turned to wicked enjoyment. “Why, Lady Tabor, do you mean to tell me that Aubrey’s ancestor
bought
‘imself a title?”

Her ladyship’s face assumed an angry flush, and her rigid form fairly quivered with outrage, but if Mr. Brundy noticed these warning signs, he paid no heed to them. “Did you ‘ear that, ‘elen?” he asked, raising his voice to make himself heard over the lilting notes of the pianoforte and the clipped bark of Sir Aubrey’s instructions to his pupil. “Aubrey’s great-great-grandpapa bought ‘imself a title. Maybe I should do that, too. You’d like to be Lady Brundy, wouldn’t you, love?”

Lady Helen never missed a beat. “Not at all,” she replied at her haughty best, tossing a disdainful glance over her shoulder at her husband. “I shall not be satisfied with anything less than Her Grace, the Duchess of Brundy.”

Even had it not been for Mr. Brundy’s carelessly dropped endearment, Lady Tabor could not have failed to read the message contained in Lady Helen’s words, and in that hasty but speaking look.

“Good heavens!” she uttered to her opponent in an undervoice. “Can it be that the most mercenary union in recent memory is in reality a
love match?”

“Do you find it so surprising that any man would fall in love with Lady ‘elen?” demanded Mr. Brundy, with a twinkle in his brown eyes that belied his outraged accents. ‘“Tis an insult to me wife, ma’am! If you were a gentleman, I would feel obliged to call you out!”

“And
if you
were a gentleman, I might agree to meet you, if only to silence your impertinence!” retorted her ladyship. “Are you aware, Mr. Brundy, that the whole of London believes you to have bought Lady Helen Radney for one hundred thousand pounds?”

“Aye, that I am—although why they think I would part with such a sum if I weren’t already ‘ead over ears, I ‘aven’t the foggiest notion.”

“And Lady Helen?” demanded the dowager. “Does she return your, er, affections?”

“As to that, me lady, you’ll ‘ave to ask me wife,” said Mr. Brundy with a smug smile. “Aubrey tells me that a gentleman never boasts of ‘is conquests.”

Lady Tabor was not the only one confronted with new and unwelcome discoveries. She might have found a kindred spirit in the person of her roommate, who was at that moment submitting warily to Sir Aubrey’s instruction. From her first meeting with the baronet, Polly had been aware that he did not believe her to be whom she claimed, and so had been determined to be particularly on her guard whenever she was in his company. One false step, one careless word, might mean exposure and ruin. She could not afford such an ignominious outcome, least of all now, when her goal at last was in sight.

Unfortunately, it was not until Sir Aubrey’s arm encircled her waist that she discovered a new and quite possibly greater threat to her well-being. Sir Aubrey’s artfully arranged chestnut locks, wasp-waisted coats, and intricately tied cravats might lead one to suppose he was nothing but a dandy, but with a scant twelve inches between his body and hers, Polly was acutely aware of the physical strength beneath the exquisite tailoring. Sir Aubrey’s touch evoked a very different response than Mr. Minchin’s had done, and Polly, marveling at the new and thrilling sensation, could not but wonder if her mama’s downfall had begun so pleasantly. The thought was an unnerving one, and consequently Polly’s lithe form grew stiff and unyielding in her partner’s arms.

“Good God!” grumbled Sir Aubrey, half dragging his unexpectedly wooden partner through the movements of the waltz. “I’ve seen men engage Gentleman Jackson in the ring with more grace!”

Polly, stung, trod squarely upon his foot.

* * * *

As if in accordance with Lady Tabor’s wishes, the rain did in fact let up that evening, and by the time the five set out for the Old Ship Hotel on the following night, the ladies of the party had no fears for their slippers. Indeed, at least one of them had no thought to spare for such fripperies in any case, for Polly was beside herself in anticipation of furthering her acquaintance with the man who might be her father. Sir Aubrey, observing the added sparkle in her blue eyes (the effect of which was heightened by the pale blue satin of her gown), thought Mr. Brundy would not be forced to endure his unwanted houseguest’s presence much longer; Lord Camfield’s bachelor days were surely numbered.

To one accustomed to the elegant ballrooms of London or the exclusive company of Almack’s, the assembly room of the Old Ship Hotel must appear nothing out of the common way. Polly, however, had nothing with which to compare it, and consequently was dazzled by the spectacle presented by dozens of richly dressed couples whirling about the dance floor.

True to his word, Lord Camfield hurried forward to claim her first dance. As Polly allowed him to lead her into the crush, she was aware of Sir Aubrey’s watchful gaze upon her, and resolved to demonstrate to that exacting taskmaster that she was not so clumsy as he had supposed. Fortunately for the success of this mission, she was relieved to discover that Lord Camfield’s embrace left her unafflicted by that self-consciousness which had so hampered her progress under Sir Aubrey’s tutelage. In fact, the earl’s arm about her waist roused no more unseemly passion than an orphan’s very natural joy at being reunited with a long-lost father—an emotion which, though undoubtedly powerful, was certainly more comfortable than that response which Sir Aubrey’s nearness had engendered.

“Why, Miss Crump, I can see I have been deceived,” Lord Camfield scolded with mock severity. “You told me you could not dance!”

“Nor could I, until Sir Aubrey was good enough to instruct me,” insisted Polly. “I am afraid any credit must belong to the teacher, rather than the pupil.”

“Nonsense!    What makes a good teacher, but an accomplished pupil? I vow you could make any dancing master seem unparalleled in his field.”

“You are too kind, my lord,” protested Miss Crump, embarrassed by the lavishness of his praise.

Nevertheless, she could not resist glancing toward the wall where she had left her party. Lady Tabor had sought the card room, and Mr. Brundy had claimed Lady Helen for the first dance, but Sir Aubrey lingered beside a large potted plant, leaning negligently against the wall and observing Polly’s progress with interest. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, and he nodded ever so slightly in her direction before the movement of the dance bore her out of his line of vision.

For his part, Sir Aubrey was not a little surprised to see his inept pupil display a grace and ease of movement which he had never suspected she possessed. Her newfound skill brought a smile of cynical amusement to his lips. He might have known the intrepid Miss Crump would rise to the occasion. Whether or not she had ever trod the boards professionally, she was a consummate actress. Surely anyone seeing her tonight for the first time would suppose she was nothing more than what she appeared to be: a young lady enjoying her first dance.

No, she was more than that. Over a long and checkered career, he had seen dozens of young ladies at their first dances, and most of them were simpering little ninnies. Miss Crump might lie like the very devil, but to her endless credit, she had never once simpered, at least not in his presence. And while she might be, as Mr. Brundy had suggested, a scheming little adventuress, she was certainly no ninny. Given a choice between an adventuress and a ninny, he would take the adventuress any day, particularly if she were slender and blue-eyed, with hair that shone in the candlelight like burnished copper. If she were to smile up at him the way she was smiling at Lord Camfield, he might even be tempted to put his own fate to the touch. At this sudden and unexpected thought, his cynical smile faded. Mr. Brundy was quite right. The girl must be gone, and the sooner the better.

“I say. Cousin Aubrey,” put in a boyishly high-pitched voice, “who is that absolute angel you came in with?”

Welcoming any distraction from reflections which were becoming disconcertingly personal, Sir Aubrey turned to the speaker, as this personage was prevented by his absurdly high shirt-points from turning to him. The young viscount Sutcliffe, Sir Aubrey’s cousin and heir apparent to the Marquess of Inglewood, gazed raptly after Miss Crump in a manner indicative of an acute case of calf-love.

“Good evening to you too, Coz,” drawled Sir Aubrey. “The angel, as you call her, is Miss Apollonia Crump, a fellow guest in Mr. Brundy’s house.”

“Oh.”

His countenance fell perceptibly, and Sir Aubrey had no difficulty in guessing the source of his woe. Sutcliffe’s papa the marquess would be unlikely to countenance any union between his son and a girl with such dubious connections. On the other hand, his cousin Inglewood had always been a starched-up prig. Sir Aubrey elected to take pity on the love-struck youth.

“I believe Miss Crump is a great friend of Lady Helen,” he remarked.

“Oh!” Lord Sutcliffe’s countenance brightened immediately. “In that case, would you introduce me?”

“The pleasure will be all mine,” swore Sir Aubrey. “But if you will take a bit of advice from older and wiser heads—”

“What is it, Cousin?” asked the marquess eagerly.

“As a rule,” pronounced the older and wiser head, “angels are vastly overrated. All that virtue tends to pall on one after a while.”

“I’m sure Miss Crump could never pall on anyone,” declared young Sutcliffe. “Why, a man might spend an eternity just gazing at her!”

Privately, Sir Aubrey suspected that while a stripling might spend an eternity thus agreeably occupied, a man would very shortly require some more active form of adoration.   This, however, he forebore to point out to the infatuated young man. The music soon ended, and Lord Camfield led Polly back to the wall, where Mr. Brundy and Lady Helen were also returning.