Rendezvous

14

I must say, Graystone, you are surviving married life very nicely." Peter helped himself to claret from the decanter that had been set out in the library.

"Thank you, Sheldrake. I flatter myself that not every man could survive being married to Augusta."

"Takes a certain degree of stamina, I would imagine. But it appears you are thriving. In fact, I would go so far as to say you have undergone a distinct change in your temperament. Who would have imagined you bothering with a house party in the past?"

Harry's mouth curved wryly as he took a swallow of his own claret. "Who, indeed? But Augusta seems to enjoy that sort of thing."

"So you enjoy indulging her? Amazing. You have never been the indulgent type." Peter grinned mockingly. "I told you she would be good for you, Graystone."

"So you did. And how are you doing with the other Miss Ballinger?"

"I have succeeded in getting her attention, I will say that much for my efforts. The Angel is proving the very devil to woo, however. But Scruggs has supplied me with a great deal of useful information about her tastes and opinions. You would not believe the sort of books I have been reading lately in order to make conversation on the dance floor. Even had to plow through one of yours."

"I'm honored. Speaking of Scruggs and related matters, how is Sally?"

The amusement vanished from Peter's expression. "Physically, she is growing extremely frail. She really will not last much longer. But she has taken a keen interest in tracking down details of Lovejoy's background for you."

"I got your letter last week saying there was very little information available," Harry said.

"The man has an unexceptional past, to be sure. Last of his line, apparently. At least there are no close relatives that Sally or I could discover. Estates in Norfolk seem profitable, although Lovejoy does not appear to pay much attention to them. Some investments in mining, too. Excellent record as a soldier, good at cards, popular with the ladies, no close friends, and that is about it."

Harry swirled the claret in his glass and considered the matter. "Just another bored ex-soldier seeking to amuse himself with an innocent lady of the ton, is that it?"

"I fear so. Do you think he was attempting to provoke a challenge? Some men enjoy the sport of the dueling field." Peter grimaced in disgust.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. 'Tis possible. But I had the feeling his goal was to put me off the notion of marrying Augusta altogether rather than provoke a challenge. It was as if he wanted to discredit her in my eyes."

Peter shrugged. "Probably wanted her for himself."

"Sally told me Lovejoy did not start paying any marked attention to Augusta until her engagement to me was announced."

"I told you once that some men enjoy the challenge of seducing another man's woman," Peter reminded him.

Harry mulled that over in his mind, unwilling to let the puzzle drop. But there were other, more pressing riddles. "Very well. My thanks, Sheldrake. Now I have a far more interesting task to set you. I believe I have found a clue that may point us in the direction of the Spider."

"The devil you have." The glass in Peter's hand made a sharp cracking sound as he set it down on the desk. His blue eyes were riveted on Harry. "What have you got on that bastard?"

"He may have been a member of the old Saber Club. Do you recall it?"

"Gone. Burned down a couple of years ago, did it not? It was not around long."

"Correct. What we need," Harry said as he opened the desk drawer and removed the bloodstained poem, "is a list of the members."

"Ah, Graystone," Peter murmured as he took the small sheet of paper from Harry's hand. "You never cease to amaze me. May I ask how you came by this?"

"No," said Harry. "You may not. Suffice it to say we would have had our hands on it two years ago if Crawley had not been the one sent to make inquiries after a certain suspicious incident."

Peter swore. "Crawley. That bumbling idiot?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Ah well, what is done is done. Tell me what this means."

Harry leaned forward and started to talk.

Betsy was fastening the clasp of the ruby necklace around Augusta's throat when the urgent knock came on the door of the bedchamber. She went to answer it and frowned when she saw the young maid hovering anxiously in the hall.

"Well, what is it, then, Melly?" Betsy demanded imperiously. "Her ladyship's busy gettin' ready to greet her guests downstairs."

"I'm sorry to bother her. It's Miss Fleming. I'm 'avin' a terrible time. Her ladyship told me I must help her get ready for the evenin', but Miss Fleming don't want 'elp. She's in a frightful takin', she is."

Augusta got up from the dressing table, the skirts of her deep golden gown swirling about her golden satin slippers. "What on earth is the matter, Melly?"

The young maid looked at her. "Miss Fleming won't wear the new gown you ordered, ma'am. Says it's the wrong color."

"I will speak to her. Betsy, come with me. Melly, run along and see if any of the other maids need help tonight."

"Yes, ma'am." Melly scurried off down the hall.

"Come along, Betsy." With her maid at her heels, Augusta swept along the corridor and flew up the staircase to the next floor, where Clarissa's bedchamber was located.

At the top of the stairs she nearly collided with an unfamiliar young man wearing Graystone's black and silver livery. "Who are you? I've never seen you around here before."

"Beg pardon, your ladyship." The young man looked flustered and embarrassed at having nearly run down his mistress. He was heavily muscled and the livery strained across his shoulders. "The name's Robbie. Got taken on two days ago as a footman to help out with the house party."

"Oh, I see. Well, run along, then. They'll be needing help in the kitchens," Augusta said.

"Yes, your ladyship." Robbie hastened off.

Augusta continued on down the hall and came to a stop in front of Clarissa's door. She pounded loudly on it. "Clarissa? What is going on in there? Open the door at once. We have very little time."

The door opened slowly to reveal a besieged-looking Clarissa who was still wearing her wrapper. Her graying hair was tucked into an old muslin cap. Her mouth was set in militant lines. "I shall not be coming down, madam. Do not concern yourself."

"Nonsense, Clarissa. You must come down. I am going to introduce you to my uncle tonight, remember?"

"I cannot possibly come down to join your guests."

"It is the gowns, isn't it? When they arrived late this afternoon, I was afraid you would be concerned about the colors."

At that an astonishing glimmer of tears appeared in Clarissa's handsome eyes. "They are all wrong," she wailed.

"Let me see them." Augusta marched to the wardrobe and opened the door. An array of gowns hung there, all in deep jewel tones. There was not a slate gray or dull brown one in the lot. Augusta nodded in satisfaction. "Just what I ordered."

"What you ordered?" Clarissa was astounded. "Madam, I allowed you to talk me into new clothes for your house party, although as you know I held strong opinions on the impropriety of a governess attending such an event. But I distinctly told that silly dressmaker that I wanted everything done in dark, subdued shades."

"These are dark shades, Clarissa." Augusta fingered a deep amethyst silk and smiled. "And they will look divine on you. You must trust me on this. Now hurry and get dressed. Betsy will help you."

"But I cannot possibly wear such brightly colored gowns," Clarissa said, looking frantic.

Augusta fixed her with a stern expression. "You must remember two things here, Miss Fleming. The first is that you are a member of his lordship's family and he will expect you to dress appropriately for this evening. You would not want to embarrass him."

"Oh, good heavens, no, but…" Clarissa broke off, her expression hunted.

"The second is that my uncle, even though a scholarly sort, has been living for some years now in London and has grown accustomed to a certain style among the women of his acquaintance, if you see what I mean." Augusta crossed her fingers on that last bit.

She had a hunch Sir Thomas would not notice whether a woman wore sackcloth or silk, but it would not hurt to have Clarissa make a good impression. And she knew how badly Clarissa wanted to impress Sir Thomas. At this point Clarissa no doubt had only intellectual passions in mind, but Augusta had hopes for a more fundamental relationship developing between the two. Getting Clarissa into a flattering gown was only prudent.

"I see." Clarissa drew herself up, her eyes going to the array of new gowns in her closet. "I had not realized your uncle held opinions on female style."

"Well, the thing is," Augusta said in a confidential tone, "he has spent his whole life studying the lives of the ancients. And I fear that most of those women of antiquity were noted for their stylishness. Only think of Cleopatra and the fine draping on all those Greek statues."

"Oh, dear. I see what you mean. Sir Thomas has no doubt absorbed a certain classical ideal of how a female should appear, is that what you are saying?"

Augusta smiled. "Precisely. As it happens, the gowns we have ordered for you will give you a classical silhouette and Betsy will arrange your hair in the Greek style. You shall look exactly like a goddess of antiquity when you descend the stairs tonight."

"I shall?" Clarissa was clearly awestruck by that image.

"Betsy will see to it, won't you, Betsy?"

Betsy bobbed a curtsy. "I'll do my best, ma'am."

Augusta's brows rose. "I shall depend upon you, Betsy. Put Miss Fleming in the amethyst tonight, will you? Now, then, I must be off. His lordship will no doubt be pacing the floor, wondering where I am."

Augusta rushed back downstairs to her bedchamber and threw open the door, only to discover Harry. He paused in midstride and scowled ferociously. He glanced meaningfully at the clock.

"Where the devil have you been?"

"I am very sorry, Harry." Augusta gazed at him in deep appreciation. Harry looked elegant and powerful in his black and white evening clothes. "Clarissa balked at the notion of wearing something besides gray or brown. I had to convince her that she would severely embarrass you if she did not wear one of her new gowns."

"I do not care in the least what Clarissa wears."

"Yes, well, that is somewhat beside the point, my lord. Where is Meredith? I distinctly told her to be down here by half past so that we could all walk downstairs together."

"I still feel Meredith is much too young to be allowed to attend this sort of thing," Harry said.

"Nonsense. She has been extremely helpful in the preparations and she deserves to be allowed to participate for at least a short while. My parents always allowed me to come downstairs long enough to be introduced to their friends. Do not concern yourself, Harry. Meredith will be off to bed before you know it."

Harry looked doubtful, but he apparently decided not to do battle over the issue. Instead he allowed his gaze to skim over Augusta's golden gown. "I was under the impression, madam, that you were going to start ordering your gowns cut a bit higher at the neckline."

"The dressmaker made a slight miscalculation, my lord," Augusta said breezily. "No time to repair it now."

"A miscalculation?" Harry took two strides forward and inserted his finger just inside the low bodice. He slid the finger slowly, tantalizingly over one nipple.

Augusta sucked in her breath, partly in shock and partly because she always reacted fiercely to his touch. "Good grief, Harry. Stop that at once."

He slowly removed his finger, his gray eyes gleaming. "Do you know what I think, Augusta? I think the miscalculation was yours. As you will no doubt discover later this evening when I come to your room with a measuring tape."

Augusta blinked and then laughter bubbled up inside her. "You are going to measure me, sir?"

"Most carefully."

A knock on the door spared Augusta the necessity of answering that. She opened it and^ found Meredith in the hall looking very serious indeed. Augusta examined the charming little frock of white muslin which was trimmed with lace and ribbons.

"My goodness, Meredith, you look exquisite." Augusta turned to Harry. "Does she not look wonderful, my lord?"

Harry smiled. "A diamond of the first water. In fact, I do believe both of my ladies will put all the other ladies in the shade this evening."

Meredith's anxious expression dissolved into a smile as she basked under her father's approval. "You look very nice tonight, too, Papa. And so does Augusta."

"Then let us be off to greet this houseful of people we seem to have acquired," Harry said.

At the top of the stairs Harry took his wife's arm and his daughter's hand. And as the three of them descended into the hall Augusta felt a little surge of contentment.

"I vow, we look quite like a real family tonight, Harry," she whispered as they entered the drawing room, where everyone was gathering for the evening.

He shot her a strange glance, but Augusta ignored it. She was much too busy with her duties as a hostess.

With a wide-eyed Meredith at her side, Augusta floated among the guests. She introduced her stepdaughter proudly to those who did not know her, made certain everyone was involved in a conversational group, and kept an eye on the flow of beverages.

Satisfied that all was going smoothly on this, her first social occasion as mistress in her own home, Augusta paused at a small cluster of people that consisted of Harry, Sir Thomas, Claudia, and Peter Sheldrake.

Peter grinned with relief when he saw her. "Thank God you are here, madam. I am being overwhelmed with the details of some very ancient battles. I vow, I have lost track of which famous Greek or Roman hero did what to whom and when."

Claudia, angelic as ever tonight in an elegant gown of palest blue trimmed with silver, smiled archly. "I fear Uncle Thomas and Graystone are off on one of their favorite topics. Mr. Sheldrake has apparently grown bored."

Peter was aggrieved. "Not bored, Miss Ballinger. Never that. Not as long as you are near. But history is not my favorite subject and even you must admit the endless details of some very old battles do become a bit tedious after a while."

Augusta grinned as her cousin blushed a lovely shade of pink. "Actually, Meredith and I were having a most interesting discussion about historical matters ourselves just the other day. Is that not so, Meredith?"

Meredith brightened. Her serious eyes were lit with a familiar gleam that was not unlike the expression in her father's gaze when he was involved in a discussion of this sort.

"Oh, yes," Meredith said quickly. "Augusta pointed out the most astonishing fact to me, one I had never noticed before. It has made me think a great deal about the ancient heroes of Greek and Roman legend."

Sir Thomas flicked a slightly startled glance at Augusta, cleared his throat, and looked down at the girl. "And what fact is that, my dear?"

"Why, how often the heroes in the old legends were obliged to prove they could outfight or outwit a female. Augusta says that fact demonstrates that the ancients knew that women can be very strong and fierce. Just as strong and fierce as men. She says we do not know nearly enough about the ladies of the classics. Aunt Clarissa agrees with her."

A startled silence greeted this unexpected remark.

"Good Lord," Sir Thomas muttered. "I had not thought about that. What a singular notion."

Harry's brow rose as his eyes rested on Augusta. "I must admit, I had never put the facts in quite that light," he murmured.

Meredith nodded seriously. "Only think, Papa, about the famous female monsters the ancient heroes had to overcome. There was Medusa and Circe and the Sirens and a great many others."

"Amazons," Claudia said, looking quite thoughtful. "The old Greeks and Romans were always exceedingly concerned about fighting off Amazons, were they not? It does give one pause. We are always being told that women are the weaker sex."

Peter chuckled, a rueful expression in his eyes. "I, for one, have never underestimated the ability of the female of the species to make herself a most wily adversary."

"Nor I," Harry said softly. "But I much prefer the ladies when they are in a friendlier frame of mind."

"Yes, well, a man would, would he not?" Augusta said blithely. "So much easier for him that way."

Sir Thomas was scowling in grave consideration. "I say, Graystone, this is an interesting notion. Outlandish, but interesting. It makes one realize that we do not know a great deal about the women of the Greek and Roman cultures. Just the name of the occasional queen. And there are bits and bobs of poetry that have survived, of course."

"Such as the beautiful love poems by Sappho," Augusta put in cheerfully.

Harry gave her a sharp glance. "I did not know you read that sort of thing, my dear."

"Yes, well, you know my frivolous nature, sir."

"Yes, but Sappho?"

"She wrote most charmingly of the feelings love produces in a person."

"Damn it, as far as we know she wrote most of those poems to other women—" Harry broke off, aware of Meredith's fascinated gaze.

"I suspect the feelings engendered by true love are universal," Augusta said thoughtfully. "Both men and women can succumb to them. Don't you agree, my lord?"

Harry scowled. "I think," he said grimly, "that is quite enough on the subject for now."

"Of course, my lord." Augusta's attention was diverted by the sight of a newcomer in the doorway. "Oh, look, there is Miss Fleming. Does she not appear quite stunning this evening?"

Everyone automatically glanced around to where Clarissa stood gazing uneasily into the crowded drawing room. She was wearing the deep amethyst satin gown that Augusta had chosen for her and her hair was done in a classical chignon secured by a fillet. She held herself proudly, shoulders back, chin outthrust, as she prepared to face the uncomfortable social situation.

"Good God," Harry muttered, and took a swallow of his claret. "Never saw Aunt Clarissa looking quite like that before."

Sir Thomas was riveted. He stared at the figure in the doorway. "I say, Augusta, who did you say this was?"

"One of Graystone's relations. A most intelligent female, Uncle. You will find her extremely interesting. She has been doing some research on the very subject we were just discussing."

"Has she, indeed? I say, I should like to talk more about the matter with her."

Augusta smiled, satisfied with the reaction. "Yes. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall go and fetch her."

"By all means," Sir Thomas said hastily.

Augusta detached herself from the group and headed toward the door to catch hold of Clarissa before the older woman lost her nerve and dashed back up the stairs.

"I must say, Augusta, this is turning out to be a most entertaining house party," Claudia declared the following evening as she and Augusta stepped out of the crowded ballroom for some fresh air and privacy. "The trip to the seaside at Weymouth today was great fun."

"Thank you."

Back in the ballroom the musicians struck up a country dance and the guests took the floor enthusiastically. In addition to the elegantly dressed visitors from London, the colorfully garbed local gentry were out in full force. Every Graystone neighbor for miles around had been invited to the ball. Augusta had laid on a lavish buffet, including plenty of champagne.

Well aware that it was the first time in many years that such an event had been held at the great house, Augusta had wanted everything to be perfect and she was secretly delighted with the results. It was obvious that a talent for entertaining ran in the blood of her branch of the Ballinger family.

"I am delighted you and Uncle Thomas were able to come down to Dorset." Augusta paused beside a circular stone fountain and took a deep breath of the cool night air. "For so long I have wanted to be able to thank you properly for all you have done for me since Richard was killed."

"Really, Augusta. No thanks are necessary."

"You and your father were very good to me in London, Claudia. I fear I sometimes did not always express my gratitude properly, nor was I able to repay you."

Claudia gazed into the shadowed pool of the fountain. "You repaid us in ways that you did not even guess, Augusta. I realize that now."

Augusta looked up quickly. "That is very kind of you, cousin, but we both know I was something of a nuisance in your household."

"Never that." Claudia smiled gently. "Unconventional and unpredictable and sometimes extremely unsettling, but never a nuisance. You rather brightened things up, you know. I would never have gone out into Society if it had not been for you. I would never have experienced Pompeia's or had an opportunity to get to know Lady Arbuthnott." She paused. "I would never have met Peter Sheldrake."

"Ah, yes, Mr. Sheldrake. I must say he appears quite enchanted by you, Claudia. How do you feel about him?"

Claudia studied the satin tips of her dancing slippers and then raised her eyes to meet Augusta's inquiring gaze. "I fear I find him most charming, Augusta, although I do not understand why. His compliments are frequently too warm to be quite proper and he sometimes infuriates me with his teasing. But I am convinced that beneath that devil-may-care exterior that he presents to the world, he is really quite intelligent. I sense a serious side to his nature that he is careful to conceal."

"I do not doubt it. He is, after all, a close friend of Graystone's. I like Mr. Sheldrake, Claudia. Indeed, I have always liked him. I feel he would be good for you. And you would be good for him. He needs a stable and calming influence."

Claudia's mouth curved in a rueful smile. "Are you going on the theory that opposites may attract?"

"Certainly. Only consider my own situation." Augusta wrinkled her nose. "No two people could be as opposite as Graystone and I."

"It would appear so on the surface." Claudia shot her a quick searching glance. "Are you happy in your marriage, cousin?"

Augusta hesitated, unwilling to launch into a detailed discussion of how she actually felt about Harry and her marriage. It was all still too complex, still too new, and there was still so much she longed for in the dark hours before dawn. She did not know if she would ever have everything she desired from Harry. She did not know if he could learn to love her the way she loved him.

She did not know how long he would silently watch and wait to see if she was going to prove as lacking in virtue as the other countesses of Graystone.

"Augusta?"

"I have everything a woman could hope for in a marriage, Claudia." Augusta smiled brightly. "What more could I possibly want?"

Claudia frowned intently. "That is quite true, of course. The earl is all that one could wish for in a husband." She paused, cleared her throat delicately, and then added in a tentative tone, "I wonder, cousin, if you have had an opportunity to make any observations yet about husbands in general."

"Observations about husbands? Good grief, Claudia. Does this mean you are seriously interested in Sheldrake? Is marriage in the offing?"

In the shadows it was impossible to see Claudia blush, but there was no doubt she was doing so. Her normally cool, calm tone of voice was clearly strained. "There has been no mention of marriage and I would naturally expect Mr. Sheldrake to approach Papa first if he intended to make an offer."

"The way Graystone did when he offered for me? I would not count on that." Augusta laughed softly. "Mr. Sheldrake is not nearly so given to old-fashioned proprieties. My guess is he will ask you first. Then he will go to Papa."

"Do you think so?"

"Definitely. Now, then, you want to know my observations on managing a husband, is that the question?"

"Well, yes, I suppose that is what I am asking," Claudia admitted.

"The first thing one must learn about the proper management of husbands," Augusta said in her best lecturing tone, "is that they prefer to think themselves in command of the household. They quite enjoy the illusion that they are the field marshals and that their wives are the captains who carry out orders, if you see what I mean."

"I see. Is it not rather annoying?"

"On occasion, yes. Without doubt. However, men are a bit slow-witted in some things and that rather makes up for the problems caused by their tendency to believe they are in charge."

"Slow-witted." Claudia was shocked. "Surely you cannot be talking about Graystone? He is very intelligent and very scholarly. Everyone knows that."

Augusta waved a hand with airy dismissal. "Most certainly he is intelligent enough when it comes to knowing the odd historical fact such as the date of the Battle of Actium. But I must tell you it is no great task to let a husband go on believing he is in command of the household whilst one goes about organizing things precisely as one wishes. Does that not imply they are a bit slow in some respects?"

"You may have a point. Now that I consider the matter, I must admit I have always known one could manage Father in that fashion. He is always so preoccupied with his studies, he pays no attention to household matters. Yet he believes himself to be in command."

"I rather think we can say the tendency is a common trait of men in general. And I have come to the conclusion that women do not disabuse their men of the notion because men appear to be more accommodating when they believe themselves to be in charge of even small matters."

"Quite a fascinating observation, Augusta."

"Yes, it is, is it not?" Augusta was warming to her topic now. "Another trait I have discovered in husbands is that they have a rather limited notion of what constitutes proper female behavior. They tend to worry excessively about the cut of a neckline or whether one has gone riding without a groom or how much one has spent on even bare essentials such as new bonnets."

"Augusta—"

"Furthermore, I would advise any female considering marriage to give careful thought to the matter of another common masculine characteristic I have discovered. That is their inclination to be astonishingly stubborn once they have formed an opinion. And that is another thing: Men are never loath to form opinions very quickly. Then one must—"

"Uh, Augusta—"

Augusta ignored the interruption. "Then one must set about the annoying business of getting them to see reason. Do you know, Claudia, were I to be in a position of advising a woman on what to look for in a husband, I would ask her to consider the qualities she would look for were she to be in the mood to purchase a horse, instead."

"Augusta."

Augusta held up her gloved hand and began to enumerate crisply. "Look for good blood, strong teeth, and sound limbs. Avoid the creature that shows any inclination to kick or bite. Pass up one which exhibits a tendency toward laziness. Avoid the beast which displays excessive stubbornness. Some thickheadedness is unavoidable and no doubt to be expected, but too much probably indicates genuine stupidity. In short, search out a willing specimen who is amenable to training."

Claudia clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes brimming with something that might have been either shock or laughter. "Augusta, for heaven's sake, look behind you."

An ominous sense of impending disaster settled on Augusta. She turned slowly around and saw Harry and Peter Sheldrake standing less than five feet away from her. Peter appeared to be having a great deal of difficulty swallowing his amusement.

Harry, one hand braced negligently against a tree limb, wore an expression of polite curiosity. There was, however, a suspicious glint in his eyes.

"Good evening, my dear," Harry said softly. "Please feel free to carry on. Do not let us interrupt your conversation with your cousin."

"Not at all," Augusta said with an aplomb she felt would have done credit to Cleopatra greeting Caesar. "We were just conversing about the qualities one looks for in a good horse, were we not, Claudia?"

"Yes," Claudia agreed quickly. "Horses. We were talking about horses. Augusta has become quite an authority on the subject. She was telling me the most fascinating details about managing them."

Harry nodded. "Augusta never ceases to amaze me with the breadth and scope of her knowledge about the most unusual subjects." He extended his arm to his wife. "I understand they are just about to play a waltz, madam. I trust you will honor me with a dance?"

It was a command, not a request, and Augusta had no difficulty recognizing it as such. Wordlessly she tucked her hand under Harry's arm and allowed him to lead her back into the house.