The Dashing Miss Fairchild (23 page)

Priddy entered, taking the hatbox from Clare to place it on top of the wardrobe. She sniffed with disdain that Miss Godwin did not take the hint that Clare was to change her clothes after her ride.

Quickly removing her jacket, then her habit shirt, Clare stepped from the full, trailing skirt, handing it to Priddy before picking up the lavender muslin gown she intended to wear the remainder of the morning. The highwaisted gown had a little ruff at the discreet neckline that Clare thought becoming to her age. An embroidered flounce at the hem and delicate embroidery at the wrists of the long sleeves pronounced it the first stare of elegance.

Annoyed that Venetia would remain, although it must be said that Venetia spent her time staring out the window at the green across the way, Clare permitted Priddy to do up the back of the gown while listening to Venetia's running series of complaints.

"I am sorry you are so unhappy, Venetia. Perhaps things will improve."

"Not with Aunt Peasely dead, they shan't,” grumbled Venetia. Then espying a footman making his way to their door, she scurried from the room, leaning over the stair rail to see who was to receive the missive.

Bennison glanced up to where he observed the lady waiting. “It is a message for Miss Fairchild.'’ He marched up the stairs with a stately tread, refusing to relinquish the letter to Venetia.

"I could take it in to her, for she is dressing."

"I should be remiss in my duty if I did not hand it to her personally, miss.” The butler stared down at Venetia with a purposefully blank look that made her drop her gaze, then retreat to the drawing room, her resentment evident in every line of her figure.

"What is it, Bennison? Ah, a letter,” Clare said as she left her room, accepting it with pleasure. She broke open the seal, then unfolded the parchment. “Only see, Venetia! Lady Kingsmill is giving a ball for Miss Oliver. They doubtless will announce her betrothal to Lord Adrian Grove. Mr. Talbot said he saw them on Milsom Street utterly engrossed in each other to the point of seeing no one else.'’ She waited to see if Venetia would explain her so-called visit to Susan Oliver that never occurred.

"I loathe betrothal parties. It is so depressing to see chits barely from the schoolroom waltzing off to the altar.” Venetia flounced about the room, picking up a vase, then putting it down, then doing the same with another object.

Clare began to fear for the safety of the decor. She walked to Venetia, taking her restless hands in her own. “You ought to be happy for Susan, for I believe she is very much in love with Lord Adrian. He has an excellent competence, and she stands to inherit a goodly sum from Lady Kingsmill, so the marriage is off to a good beginning."

"That is as may be,'’ Venetia snapped, pulling her hands from Clare's, then drifting over to the window to stare out with moody eyes.

"What shall you wear, for there is to be dancing. Lady Kingsmill will take over the Upper Rooms for the party. It is a charming place. Since there are no assemblies this month, I imagine it is easily possible."

"If one has enough money, nothing is impossible,” Venetia said, laughing at her wit.

"You seem in a peculiar frame of mind today. Do you feel well?” Clare stood by the sofa, toying with the invitation in her hands.

"Will Lady Millsham attend?” Venetia said with a petulant sniff.

"Oh, I hardly think she will wish to, given the circumstances. Although, I feel certain Lady Kingsmill would be so gracious as to include her. I suspect that until Lord Millsham leaves the area, Lady Millsham will confine herself to the house. I know I would."

"I believe I shall go for a walk.'’ Venetia paused by the door, turning back with a speculative expression on her face. “Do you have any idea who else might receive invitations?"

"I suppose all the nobility, the gentry in town. Lady Kingsmill is of the first consequence in Society, you know. Everyone who is anyone shall be invited."

Venetia beamed a catlike grin. “Lovely.” She ran up the stairs to her room, shortly returning with her smart leghorn bonnet draped with black silk riband plopped on her head.

"Going out so early in the day?” Clare wondered aloud.

"Oh, I should like to get to the draper's for a length of pretty silk before the selection is all picked over. I intend to find a nice lavender silk. Just because my Aunt Peasely died does not mean I intend to forgo the ball. Besides, my three weeks of mourning shall be nearly over by then. Bath is so excruciatingly dull."

"Dull?” Clare echoed softly. She had found the city anything but dull. She drifted over to the window to watch Venetia hurry along Brock Street. Would she actually call in at the draper's shop? Or would she be off on a mysterious meeting?

Yet even with her suspicions, Clare hesitated to suggest Venetia move elsewhere. With the death of her aunt, it seemed poor Venetia had no place to go. A priority would be to find a place for her to reside. Perhaps Sarah would know of someone who might have need of a companion?

Or did her suspicions exceed reality? How unseemly to judge Venetia guilty, without a jot of proof. Most unfair. And if there was anything Clare prided herself on, it was her fairness and tolerance.

When Miss Oliver called in at the residence at the Royal Crescent later on that day, it was to find Venetia in a flurry of activity, busy with planning her gown. Having succeeded in finding precisely the deep shade of lavender desired, a particularly lovely black lace, and ells of satin edging, Venetia consulted one and all as to the best way to complete the gown.

"Dear Miss Oliver, how wonderful you are to have a ball,” Venetia burst forth enthusiastically. “Though it is a wonder that you will marry Lord Adrian, him being a younger son and all. Clare would have it that true love can overcome all difficulties. But then, what can she know of problems?” Venetia smiled, her mouth tilted up in what Clare considered a rather malicious grin.

"There are a few that I grant you are exceedingly tiresome,'’ Clare replied, looking straight at Venetia.

The reproof was lost on Venetia, for she shrugged, then drifted out the door with the fabric and trimmings.

"How does it go?” Susan inquired, with a faint tilt of her head toward the door.

"Oh, well enough.” Clare dismissed Venetia in favor of discussing the fascinating details of the ball, not to mention the forthcoming wedding. “I am pleased for you. From all I have seen and heard, it appears you have found a true love match."

Susan blushed. “Indeed. We shall have a comfortable life. Do not share this with another, but Lord Adrian is to receive a new peerage. The Letters Patent is being prepared, and once the title is gazetted, I shall let you know. Then I shall be a lady in truth for my new baron,” she said, giggling a little at Clare's admonishing face.

"You are a lady now, as far as I am concerned. Lady Grove, is it to be? I think it delightful, and I am terribly happy for you.''

They fell to discussing the gowns each planned to wear, until Susan declared it time she returned to Lady Kingsmill's. The house on the Royal Crescent seemed oddly quiet once she left. Upon investigation, Clare discovered that Venetia had gone to find a mantua maker.

In the ensuing days, Clare spent quite a bit of time with Lady Millsham. They found much in common and shared innumerable cups of tea while chatting about favorite books and people. Little William had cooed his way into Clare's heart, and she did not like to think of the day when he might leave.

"I think it a shame you cannot come with us to Miss Oliver's ball at the assembly rooms. Yet Mr. Talbot assures me you are correct in your assessment. It is best for you to remain here with the baby. Rest assured that Mr. Talbot and I have seen to it that extra men keep an eye on the house at all times. I am determined that the true earl shall be restored to his rightful place at Millsham Hall with you at his side to guide him.” Clare smiled fondly at Lady Millsham before scowling at the next thought to claim her. “It is utterly appalling that that odious man should usurp the tide after such a horrible deed. Alas, I fear we have no proof ... as of yet."

"Does Mr. Talbot intend to find such? I believe it to be a difficult matter,” Lady Millsham replied earnestly. “He must be careful. The present earl is not one to trifle with."

Knowing just how true that statement was, Clare agreed. By mutual agreement, Clare and Mr. Talbot had not told Lady Millsham about the shots fired at Clare or her ruined bonnets.

Across the Avon, Mr. Talbot chatted with Lady Kingsmill. “You sent him an invitation?"

"But of course. He is of the nobility, even if in a havey-cavey manner, and I prattled to everyone within my hearing that I intended to invite everyone of the
ton.
"

"Has he accepted yet?"

"Do you know,” Lady Kingsmill dropped her voice to a raspy whisper, “he did so at once! I vow that surprised me. Perhaps he seeks to establish his credibility? We shall have to keep a close eye on him during the ball. I cannot trust the man."

"True,” Mr. Talbot replied, his eyes twinkling at Lady Kingsmill's notion of conspiracy. “He must wish to be convincing in every way."

"So,” the old lady leaned back on her sofa, well satisfied with the progress of events, “I am pleased that the ball for my dear niece will accomplish two goals."

"We can but hope that it will. I am persuaded the man is a loose screw. Yet I suppose that others have succeeded with this sort of mad scheme."

"Yes, only think of the story of the little princes!"

They reflected on past history a moment, before Mr. Talbot rose to take his leave. Lord Welby came up the stairs just as Mr. Talbot left the drawing room.

"A word, sir,” Lord Welby said, his voice low and confiding as he searched the area for possible listeners.

Mr. Talbot gave him an encouraging nod.

"I happened to see an odd couple in secluded conversation while on my way over here. What do you think? Miss Godwin together with Lord Millsham!"

"Egad! What a curious turn. Upon reflection, I cannot say it astounds me, however. She is a particularly annoying female, and you know they can be depended upon to do all manner of peculiar things."

"Quite so.” Lord Welby exchanged a significant look, then took himself off to enjoy a comfortable coze with his favorite lady while Richard Talbot continued out of the house, then across Pulteney Bridge into the center of town.

By the evening of Miss Oliver's ball, Clare found her nerves at a fever pitch. Mr. Talbot had sought to reassure her. He had strolled along with her while she went to the millinery shop to hunt for a suitable evening hat.

Trying on a confection of white satin trimmed with tiny pearls and an elegant plume of white feathers, she blushed when she caught sight of Mr. Talbot's approving look.

"It will go well with my gown, which is also white satin,” she explained, trying to justify this extravagance.

He nodded. “I can scarce wait.” A slow grin crept across his handsome face to disconcert her.

She darted a glance at him to see if he was teasing her. His eyes held an intense, serious gleam in them that set her heart to fluttering again, as it seemed to do so often when in his company. Abruptly thrusting the hat at the milliner, Clare told her in a slightly strangled voice that she would purchase the thing. She quickly paid for it, and allowed Mr. Talbot to carry the hatbox for her when they left the shop.

"Really, it is too bad of you to put me to the blush so often,'’ Clare scolded.

"But, your blushes are so very delightful, my dear Clare,” countered Mr. Talbot.

"You ought not tease so, you odious man,'’ she stated in firm tones, then sent him a look intended to be reprimanding. Somehow it got lost, becoming a searching study of green eyes that possessed strange depths to them.

"I shall continue, however,” he replied, bestowing a lazy grin before escorting her across Milsom Street. “It is by far my favorite pastime."

Clare ignored this provocative remark. She caught sight of two of the tabbies who had cut her so severely when she'd first come to Bath. While it offered small comfort, she noted they both now bowed most correctly and even assumed polite smiles.

"I believe things are improved for you,” Richard said, taking close note of the gossips. He appeared to have achieved his aim, removing the stigma from Clare's name. That he had managed to do far more than that, as far as he was concerned, was another matter.

"Yes,” she replied. Memories of the moments in the coach, in his arms while on the boat ride, all the many hours spent together in excellent conversation, tumbled about in her mind. “I must thank you for helping me. You have given so generously of your time, and you reap danger in exchange. I fear it has cost you a goodly sum,” she said, her face earnest. Her heartfelt smile dazzled him.

He cleared his throat. “Once this business with Lady Millsham and her baby is cleaned up and she can be restored to Millsham Hall, we have things to discuss, my sweet."

Fearing, yet hoping, Clare gave him a tremulous look, then took a fortifying breath. “Yes, well, we shall see.” Which was an obscure statement at best.

Instead of leaving her at the door of the house on Royal Crescent, Richard entered, handed his hat to Bennison, then strolled up the stairs with Clare. At the landing, Clare handed the hatbox, her light pelisse, and gloves to Priddy, then took off her bonnet as they walked into the drawing room. She examined it while terribly aware of his presence.

"I spoke with Lady Kingsmill this morning,” he said. “She informed the that Lord Millsham has accepted her invitation to the ball. It seems that we shall have the pleasure of seeing the man again."

"Oh, dear. I suspect my feelings toward him will be difficult to hide. I am not an actress.” She tossed her bonnet aside, then raised her face to give Talbot a rueful look.

"Thank heavens for that.” Talbot's eyes glittered with amusement at the very thought of Miss Fairchild on the boards. “Lord Welby was forthcoming with another piece of information. He observed Lord Millsham in close conversation with Miss Godwin. In the center of Bath hard by the abbey, if you please."