The Hermit's Daughter (12 page)

Excitement at the approaching party diluted the disappointment of not learning Monstuart’s wicked past. He was so seldom met, in any case, that there was little likelihood of being able to twit him about it.

The entrance hall of Carlton House was lit with hundreds of lamps, giving the effect of stepping from night into the blazing heat of day. The heat was even worse than the light. The gentlemen, who were required by decency to keep their coats on their shoulders, thought so, at least. They tugged surreptitiously at their cravats, gasping for air. The Prince found the room comfortable, despite the heavily ornamented uniform he wore.

“The on dit is that the jacket weighs what it cost—two hundred pounds,”
Sir Darrow chuckled. “We are in luck tonight. He don’t play the flute when he’s decked out in his comic opera uniform. Here he comes now, to do the pretty. Butter him up, ladies, and he’ll make you both duchesses.”

The Prince Regent was in high spirits. He had just that day learned he had lost two pounds. “High time you came out of the woodwork, Madam, and let society admire your charming daughters,”
he told Mrs. Hermitage. “I attended the Queen’s Drawing Room and saw your gels make their bows. The prettiest pair in the lineup, and the three loveliest ladies in town, I might add. I see from the corner of Willowby’s mouth that he is not pleased with me. Poaching, eh what, Willowby? He’ll take me to court, heh-heh.”

The ladies curtsied, so awed by all the magisterial splendor of house and uniform that they scarcely heard the inanities flowing from his lips.

“There is a bit of a dance going forth in the next room,”
the Prince told Sally. “I would ask you to waltz, but the old quizzes at Almack’s would frown at me. No good making those charming eyes at me, lass. My authority stops at the doors of Almack’s. The patronesses reign there. Be civil to Countess Lieven, and she will give you the nod. I’ll introduce you now.”

He turned aside to speak to a gaunt female wearing the strangest hair style ever seen in public. It looked as though she had starched her hair and gotten caught in a violent windstorm, to stiffen it into spikes. The Russian ambassador’s wife was one of the all-powerful patronesses of Almack’s club, however, and was catered to by everyone. Even the Prince gave her a great smacking kiss on the cheek and called her “My dear Dorothea.”

“So this is the Hermit’s daughter,”
Countess Lieven said, skimming her eyes over the new beauty. “You didn’t get your looks from your papa, did you? I hope you nicked a corner of his brains. I adored him. We must have a chat later. I am on my way to the table before the salmon and daubed goose are all gone. What a wretched little snipe that was you served for dinner, Your Majesty. Since you are gone on a diet, we are all starving to death. No jellies or creams for dessert. You know I detest fruit—slow poison. Delighted to have met you, Miss Hermitage.”

She was off to the table, and Sir Darrow led the ladies through various chambers to goggle at the ornate decor till their eyes ached. “I should have brought my smoked glasses,”
Sir Darrow complained. “The lights here give me the migraine. Ah, here is an excellent chap, Wilton Parkes. He will make you a good partner while your mother and I escape to the card room, Sally.”

Their ideas of a good partner did not jibe. Sally could not feel a gentleman on the windy side of forty was entirely agreeable, but the escorts Sir Darrow supplied were never young. She endured half an hour of slightly archaic chivalry from Parkes while scanning the room for more youthful companionship.

She noticed Monstuart had entered during the dance and taken up a position at the side of the room. She thought he might come forward at the set’s end, but he chose another lady. Parkes, fatigued after the unusual exertion of the cotillion, gratefully handed Miss Hermitage over to a confrere, Mr. Peacock.

Outside of Monstuart, Peacock was the youngest man in the room, though he was about twice Melanie’s age. Unlike Sir Darrow and Parkes, he was conversable. He had that facility to remain interested and interesting past his prime. As he had made a point to be presented to Sally, he was regarded with some favor by her.

“At last,”
he said with a languishing sigh when he offered her his arm. The laughter lurking in his eyes robbed the words of folly.

She looked with rising interest to gauge his appearance at close range. He smiled, showing a rather dashing face that was not far from reckless. “You are a difficult young lady to meet, Miss Hermitage. I have been staring at you through my opera glasses at the theater, my quizzing glass at the routs, my carriage window in the park, and my own unaided orbs at balls for close on two weeks now, trying to catch your attention. I expect you have been ignoring me to pique my interest.”

“
I assure you I never saw you before this evening, sir. Odd you have not had yourself presented before now. Shyness, obviously, is not at the root of it.”

“Bashfulness is for boys. The fact is I don’t run with Derwent and those juveniles who surround you. I knew sooner or later you would find your proper milieu, the Prince Regent’s set.”

“That’s hard to take as a compliment! The ladies of his set are no longer in the first blush of youth. If you will look, Mr. Peacock, you will see I am wearing a white gown.”

“I never judge a book by its cover. I have done more than stare at you. I have also hung about at your elbow, and I know your conversation is more interesting than your puppies deserve.”

She smiled, pleased with his flattery. “It’s strange I never noticed you before if you have been underfoot these two weeks.”

“I have often observed you never look
down,
Miss Hermitage. You hold your head so high you only see gentlemen seven feet or taller. Underfoot was the wrong place for me to hang about. I would have done better to hang from a tree branch in the park.”

“Except that you might have been taken for a monkey.”

“Mistaken, surely!”
he objected with a readiness of wit that was welcome after Mr. Parke’s staid common sense.
“You have a radiant smile, you know. It beams like the sun. I wish you would stop. We don’t need any more heat or light in here.”

“I thought monkeys enjoyed a warm climate.”

“We are going to get along just fine, Miss Hermitage,”
he decided. He tucked her hand under his elbow and led her to the floor when Fate, with her natural perversity, promptly struck up a waltz. The waltz was not permitted for debs till the Patronesses of Almack’s decided they were sufficiently bronzed to withstand its insidious temptation.

Peacock led Sally out for a glass of wine instead. With a parting glance over her shoulder, she saw Monstuart looking after her, frowning even while he whirled his partner around the floor. Mr. Peacock was subjected to a few jibes at his fine jacket and exquisite cravat when it occurred to his partner that his name must not escape unchallenged.

“You wear a less appropriate name,”
he retorted. “I find it hard to believe a family of hermits brought forth such a dazzler. In fact, to speak of hermits bringing forth anything but philosophy refutes their calling. We must discuss this mystery further. I’ll call on you tomorrow afternoon and take you to Hyde Park. We’ll select my tree, and next time you are there you can bring me a fruit.”

“And a chain to put around your neck. If you are to be my pet, you must become accustomed to the leash.”

“I cannot promise such docility, even for the Hermitess,”
he answered with one of his reckless smiles that sent her heart racing faster. “I misread your character if you would be happy with a tame pet on a string. No shackles for me. I’m not interested in marriage.”
He looked a challenge at her.

“You misunderstood me, sir. It is not my intention to marry my pet. Ladies hardly ever do, do they?”

“I’ve seen more than one marry a puppy, or even a jackass, but I take your point. Is it possible I’ve met my match?”
His bold eyes raked her from head to toe in a way that made her feel naked. His eyes flickered to the door, and he added, “I fear I have. It is Monstuart, come to rescue you from my clutches. He will give you a stern lecture on my lack of character. Pay him no heed. I’m not nearly so bad as I let on. Oh, about Hyde Park ... shall we say three tomorrow?”

With Monstuart pacing quickly toward her, she said in a loud voice, “Three o’clock is fine, Mr. Peacock. I look forward to it.”
Mr. Peacock bowed and aimed a laughing bow at Monstuart as he departed.

“I might have known!”
was Monstuart’s first speech, said in a loud, angry voice.

“Good evening, Monstuart. Come to read me a lecture? It is not necessary. Mr. Peacock has already told me he has no character. When a gentleman has such a ready tongue and pleasing wit, however, it can be overlooked. One can’t have everything.”

“I doubt it’s his pleasing appearance that drew you to him.”

“The attraction was initially on the gentleman’s part. I confess I find him amusing. You imply it is his lack of character that draws me?”

“No, Miss Hermitage, I acquit you of any girlish sentiment in your affairs. My implication is that it is his fortune that appeals to you.”

A bright smile beamed. “What delightful news you bring. So unlike you! I made sure the man was a pauper. The interesting ones usually are. Who would have expected an eligible parti to be so charming?”

“He is not eligible.”

“Now, that is more the sort of thing I expected to hear from you. You have come to tell me he is married, with a dozen children. He beats his wife and starves the children.”

“The man is a bachelor, so far as I know.”

Sally cast a laughing look at him. “You’re slipping, Lord Monstuart.”

“The word eligible has a dual connotation. It includes decent birth, along with fortune. You must not let your interest in the latter blind you to propriety.”

Her eyes snapped at this thrust, but she refused to argue in public. “Peacock is a good old name.”

“That’s probably why he borrowed it.”

“You mean it is not his
real
name?”
she asked, more intrigued than dismayed.

“He says himself he only took it for a jest. He came sailing home from India a month ago with a fortune in his pockets. Some part of it, I hear, was made from the opium trade with China. As for the rest of it, it is as shady as his parentage.”

Sally was shocked to hear it but assumed a bland face. “It is odd one should meet him in the home of the First Gentleman of Europe, is it not?”

“It is exactly where I would have expected to meet him. Money is the requirement to sit down to cards with the Prince’s set. Once a man has a pocketful of his chits, invitations to such dos as this have a way of popping up in the post. You have made an engagement with Peacock?”

“What big ears you have, Lord Monstuart. Yes, we are going out tomorrow.”

“I would not repeat the outing, if I were you.”

“We shall see,”
she replied, looking about the room in a way that clearly finished the topic.

A flush of color stained Monstuart’s swarthy cheeks. “You came here to make a profitable match,”
he said. “Peacock is not your man. He would no more marry you than he’d give up gambling. You won’t find him nearly so biddable as Derwent.”
The look Sally directed at him would have shriveled a bowl of greens, but Monstuart remained unwilted. “Stick to your callow youths, still wet behind the ears. You will find them easier to lead.”

“Don’t underestimate me, Monstuart. Peacock is not unobtainable. He has plenty of money, which is
of course
the only thing of interest to me. I can supply the breeding and connections. At least we shan’t be dull.”

“Nor even respectable, for very long.”

A flash of green fire lit her eyes. “An odd subject for you to choose, milord. How respectable would
you
be if my father hadn’t pulled you out of the suds?”
Monstuart gave a conscious start. “Have I caught you off guard? Don’t worry. Your five hundred guineas bought the family’s silence. We would not dream of betraying your little lapse from respectability, and as Lady Dennison appears to be remaining in the country, you might
pass
for a gentleman of character. If you can restrain yourself from any further unwise impulses, that is to say. The Hermit is no longer here to protect you.”

Monstuart’s nostrils quivered in outrage. “I can’t imagine what Willowby is about, bringing you to this place.”

“I am inclined to agree with you. I haven’t met a single gentleman who is completely respectable.”
Her skimming gaze included the present company.

He ignored the taunt. After a few moments’
silent sipping of champagne, he continued in a calmer tone. “How are the finances coming along? Have you outrun the grocer yet?”

“I only spend the money, I am not the accountant. Ask your nephew. When the keeper of Debtors’
Prison comes after us, Derwent is the one they’ll carry away.”

“He knows where to find me,”
Monstuart said. “Would you care to stand up for a dance, Miss Hermitage?”

“No, thank you. I am going into the refreshment parlor—to save on groceries at home, you know. Every little bit helps.”

“Some restraint in personal adornment would help even more,”
he pointed out as his eyes ran over her white gown.

Sally was secure that he would find no flaws. “Oh, but I most particularly promised you I would update my toilette, when you urged me to at Ashford.”

A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “Are you enjoying your Season?”

“Not much, till this evening. But I think now things are taking a turn for the better,”
she told him with a smile that was a shade too demure to trust.

“That compliment does not refer to your present partner, I think.”

“You
are
clever.”

“You’ve been warned. I’ll say no more on the subject of Peacock.”

“Good. I am relieved you don’t mean to become repetitive. A word to the wise is always considered sufficient.”

Sally looked about for Peacock after Monstuart left her. She knew that some of the gentlemen had retired to a parlor for cards, and as he was not to be found, she assumed he had joined them.