Wicked and Wonderful (12 page)

Kelthorne removed the pillow and the tablecloth after which Laurence reclined his head. “You have returned just in time, Aubrey, for I am completely worn out. Now you must entertain your guests.”

Kelthorne regarded the ladies wondering if he could perchance suggest that the hour was ripe for retiring, but they both met his gaze with eyes showing not the smallest hint of fatigue. “May I offer a game of pool?”

“I should like that,” Miss Currivard said quickly.

Miss Banwell wrinkled her nose. “I have already lost three times. I do not intend to do so again. How glad I am there is a pianoforte in this room. I do like this chamber a great deal, Lord Kelthorne, for it offers a variety of entertainment.”

“Thank you. It was the one thing I insisted upon when my sisters suggested I refurbish the house, a pianoforte in several of the chambers. I have one here, one in the drawing room, as you know, and if you have not been to the little music room off the conservatory, there is a pianoforte in there as well.”

“Well, it is an excellent notion for now I shall play for you while Mr. Doulting regains his strength and you and Abigail clatter all those balls about for the next half hour or so.”

Kelthorne set up the billiard balls and bowed to Miss Currivard who thanked him. She then proceeded to show that she was quite skilled at billiards. The conversation was lively among the four of them. Miss Banwell was quite accomplished on the instrument and could carry on a great deal of discourse all the while playing every note correctly. Laurence quickly recovered from his antics and held his part in the ongoing dialogue. As for Miss Currivard, she spoke, as she always did, with great intelligence. He only grew uncomfortable when the subject turned to the troupe’s performance.

“I must say,” she said, holding her cue stick upright. “I was enchanted the entire time, from beginning to end. Really, it was remarkable that so much varied skill and talent could be found in the wilds of Somerset. I do not believe I was ever more entertained, not even at Drury Lane.”

“I quite agree,” Kelthorne said, realizing she had assessed the troupe’s ability exactly. “The actor, Charles Hemyock, is a man of great dramatic presence and execution. He quite puts me in mind of Keane.”

“I have not yet had the privilege of seeing Keane perform,” Harriet called out.

Laurence twisted his head to look at her. “You have not seen real acting until you have seen Keane. Was it Byron who said when he saw Keane perform one of the Bard’s plays that it was like reading Shakespeare by flashes of lightning?”

“I do not think it was Byron, but I cannot think who it was.”

“What an intriguing description,” Miss Currivard said. “I believe I would say something similar of Miss Lovington’s performance—hearing her sing was like listening to an entire Beethoven symphony in one simple song. Did you not think her extraordinary?”

Kelthorne stared at Miss Currivard remembering how he had offended all the ladies earlier by praising Judith to the skies.

Miss Currivard laughed suddenly. “But of course you do. I now confess it was unhandsome of me earlier to have thought your praise of her as coming it a bit too strong. But you were right, you know, she does sing with the voice of the angels.”

“And that, Miss Currivard, is very
handsome
of you now to say as much. I will only add that I think anyone who hears her must hold just such an opinion.”

“I agree. I wonder that she has not been taken up by one of the London theaters.”

Kelthorne took his turn and struck the ball hard with his cue, sending it forcefully against the edge of the table and breaking apart a cluster of balls. He had wondered the same thing. “Now there is a mystery,” he stated. “She ought to be in London. There can be no two opinions on that score. I wonder what has prevented her.”

“I did not see her after the performance,” Miss Currivard stated. “I was surprised for all the other ladies were happy to consort with anyone who wished to speak with them. She alone was absent. I noticed it most particularly.”

Kelthorne was surprised at how easily the lady on the opposite side of the table spoke of her. He wondered if she did so by design.

Laurence said, “Mr. Hemyock once spoke quite vehemently on the subject of how often the troupe pulls up its stakes on her account. She has apparently been pursued a dozen times by quite
unworthy
gentlemen, so much so that the only escape she has is for the entire troupe to steal away in the middle of the night.”

“Is this so?” Kelthorne said. “Good God. ” He recalled the dagger Judith had showed him, how she had spoken of knowing just how to use it. “I confess I am all amazement.”

Miss Banwell played the last note of a sonata and rose from the pianoforte. “Mr. Doulting, might I persuade you to guide me through this rather maze-like house to my room? I have grown fatigued and now desire my bed but I have a dreadful fear of spirits and old Coxley informed me Portislow Castle has at least three in residence.”

Laurence sat up and yawned. “I find I am ready to retire as well. Your request comes at a most propitious moment, although I may have to lean on your arm, if but a little.”

“You are welcome to it, sir.”

Arm in arm, they quit the chamber, Miss Banwell’s laughter returning from down the hall. The ploy was neither unexpected nor unusual. Kelthorne thought it likely that a previous arrangement had been constructed between Miss Currivard and her good friend in order to allow for a little private conversation.

He continued to play, moving around the table and passing in front of Miss Currivard. He heard her sniff, if faintly, and glanced at her wondering if she might be weeping though he could imagine no possible cause for it. There was nothing of that in her expression, however. Instead, she appeared rather stunned.

He made his shot and tried to comprehend whether she had suddenly grown missish at being alone with him until the scent of lavender struck his nostrils, reminding him too late that he carried Judith’s scent on his person. There could be no doubt that Miss Currivard had caught the fragrance as well. What was to be done?

He continued to move around the table making his shots. Silence settled in the room and it was utterly his fault. Yet there was nothing he could do to alter what had happened except to try to begin anew if he could.

“Have you been to London often?” he asked, not looking at her but lining up his next shot.

“No, not very often, three times only and just to enjoy the theaters with my father. I do not believe I could have borne London society with even the smallest degree of equanimity.” She took up a seat near the table, her cue stick still in hand.

He bent over to analyze his next shot further and glanced at her. A slight frown had settled between her brows. “I do not take your meaning,” he said. He adjusted his stick and slung the cue forcefully. Balls clattered again.

She was silent for a moment. “You play billiards very well. My father adores the game. He loves many things. He loves in particular the notion of his daughter getting a handle to her name.”

He rose up and stared at her. “This is plain speaking.”

“Yes. Sometimes it is best to state that which must be obvious regardless of propriety. The reason I could not bear the thought of residing in the Metropolis for any great length of time was because Bath had already proved so full of fortune hunters that I nearly went mad. Only after six months did I begin to feel I might enjoy some normalcy in my social engagements. Therefore, I thought that were I to go to London, my experiences would be worsened tenfold.”

“You were probably right.” He found himself intrigued by her. “Since you have spoken so candidly, may I ask whether you wish for a handle, as it were?”

She did not answer right away, but regarded him in her forthright manner. This he already knew about her, she knew nothing of artifice. She would always say what she thought, a quality he valued very much.

She smiled suddenly, “When I was very young, yes, of course, as did every girl in my school. The only desire greater was to be a princess, but that is hardly attainable so, to some degree, being addressed as “my lady” was the more popular game. I hope, however, that in the ensuing years I have gained some essential wisdom in that regard. The handle, I believe, would only be worth the quality of the man to whom the handle belonged.”

He liked her answer very much. “And love?” he asked, curious.

“Yes, love is of the utmost importance. I will not marry where there is not love. I had rather die an ape-leader.”

“Strong words, indeed,” he said.

“Strongly held sentiment,” she returned. “On this point I am firmly fixed.”

He rounded the table again but missed his shot.

She rose from her seat, bent over the table and slung her cue.

“You play admirably.”

“I flatter myself that I do,” she said.

He chuckled. “You do not seem in the least uncomfortable with
our
situation.”

“That I was invited here like a horse being displayed at Tattersall’s?”

He smiled. “Precisely.”

She tapped a ball gently, acquiring another point. “I thought I might suffer some distress at being here, at meeting you, but oddly I have not. Your friend in particular has quite put me at my ease and has kept me laughing so much that I have hardly had time to experience even the smallest discomfort. I understand perfectly why you keep Mr. Doulting close at hand.”

“He is the best of friends in every possible sense.”

She nodded. “As for
our
situation, there remains only one question to be answered—whether there can be love between us.”

He watched her closely. “That is the question. I quite agree.” He moved to stand near her. She rose from her skilled bent position and turned to face him in what was a bold manner.

He understood the invitation clearly. Never in his life had he hesitated kissing a lady before, particularly one who was obviously willing, her green eyes luminous in the candlelight. There was so much to like about Miss Currivard, not less so her willingness in this moment to be kissed when they had only just barely met.

The scent of lavender rose to his nostrils again, however, and he released a great breath of air. He could not kiss her, not tonight. He did, however, catch her chin and hold it tenderly. “I am glad you have come, Miss Currivard. Indeed, I am.”

She drew in a deep breath and smiled. When he released her, she said, “As am I.” She turned back to the table, slung her cue very hard, and missed her shot

He followed and with two more strikes of his stick ended the game.

The night was finished. He escorted her back to her bedchamber and learned that she had traveled extensively with her father. The remainder of the distance to her room was spent hearing about her experiences in India, on the hot plains, in the cool mountains, in the humid jungles.

“You must tell Laurence of your adventures,” he said. “He always longed to travel but never had the means. He will want to know every detail.”

“Have you never left England?” she asked.

“After Waterloo, I traveled the continent, but no farther than Italy. I did not have the bottom to cross to Greece since there is so much civil unrest in that country. However, I would like to do more in the future I think.”

Reaching her door, she turned and offered her hand. “Well, I suppose I shall bid you goodnight, then.”

He lifted her fingers to his lips. He heard her sigh quite deeply. He kissed the back of her hand and she surprised him by sweeping low and stealing a kiss from his lips. She was gone before he realized just what it was she had done.

He stared at her door for some time. He had the profound sensation that Mary and Amy were right about Abigail Currivard, that she was, indeed, perfect for him.

Chapter Six

“I believe this to be madness,” Judith said. She sat on a stool in John and Margaret’s tent, staring up at the former and pleading her case.

“Ye make too much of it.”

“Indeed, ye do,” Margaret added. “Besides, ‘twere the lady wat suggested the picnic, not Kelthorne. Have I the right of that, luv?” She looked up at her husband. Margaret was sitting on their bed, cradling and rocking Shelly in her arms. The child was fast asleep.

“‘Tis true, Judith. ‘Twere not his lordship. The invitation is written at the hand of Miss Abigail Currivard. Besides, I don’t see why ye are overset. ‘Tis only a performance.”

How could she make them understand? Kelthorne would be there and as a point of civility she would be required not just to see him, but probably to speak with him as well. The last thing she wanted in the world was to do either of these things. How was she to protect herself from his advances if she was in company with him? ‘Twas bad enough to see him in an audience, but a thousand times worse to actually be near him.

She had spent a greater part of the morning pondering his visit to her tent of the night before, a visit Margaret had sanctioned. She examined at length the terrible weakness she experienced whenever she was close to him, a circumstance she was convinced Margaret did not in the least comprehend. She wished it were otherwise, but she felt powerless in the rogue’s presence. Last night, she had had ample opportunity to chase him away with her dagger, as she had done with other gentlemen. Instead she had, just as Margaret had said, thrown her arms about his neck.

“If ye be afraid that Kelthorne will make unwanted advances,” Margaret said, appearing oddly sad as she spoke, “I believe there is something ye ought to know. Mrs. Marnhull, in speaking with the castle cook, was told that Miss Currivard is to be the next Countess of Kelthorne. ‘Tis all but settled.”

Judith stared at her. “Indeed?” she queried, stunned.

“I fear ‘tis so, which makes me wish I had not allowed his lordship to come to yer tent. Fer that, I apologize. But as ye can now see, ye have nothing to fear. He will hardly chase yer skirts with his bride-to-be looking on, now will he?”

Judith blushed at her choice of words. “I suppose not.”

“Besides,” John added, “we are being paid handsomely, and I do not think I could prevent the engagement without a war among the players.”