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Chapter Eleven
Members of the company who’d noticed Lilith’s departure with Lord Brandon held their collective breath while counting the minutes until her return. They would have all been asphyxiated if Lady Fevis hadn’t decided to have her fortune told.
The Future was no sooner revealed than the heretofore sweet and gentle Lady Fevis burst from the gypsy’s tent, flew at her husband, and began thumping his head with her parasol. When the weapon was wrenched away by her mama, and her husband dragged away to safety, the enraged wife fell back momentarily. She collected herself, then made another mad rush—this time at Lady Violet Porter, whose hazel eyes Lady Fevis showed every inclination to tear from their sockets.
Mr. Porter tried to pull Lady Fevis away from his wife. Lady Fevis’s brother, Mr. Reginald Ventcoeur, ordered him to remove his filthy hands. Mr. Porter made an uncomplimentary observation. Mr. Ventcoeur rushed forward, spun Mr. Porter round, and knocked him down. Mr. Porter jumped up and rushed at Mr. Ventcoeur and brought him down. The two young men commenced to savagely pummelling each other.
Lady Violet screamed. Lady Fevis fainted. Friends rushed forward to help. Two gentlemen, trying to separate the foes, knocked their own heads together. Instantly, they gave up pacifism and began flailing at each other. One of Mr. Ventcoeur’s friends was heard to make a remark regarding “horns.”
Two of Mr. Porter’s friends immediately fell upon him.
In short order, thanks to the enlivening effects of large quantities of champagne, nearly all the younger gentlemen had thrown themselves into the battle. Of their elders, the greater part busily made wagers, while an unheeded minority called for order.
It was during the melee that Cecily slipped off to her forbidden rendezvous with Lord Robert. He, having retired to a distance to await her, was unaware of the excitement until it was well over.
In fact, the battle itself lasted scarcely five minutes. The confusion it engendered, however, continued long after. Though the ladies of the company had been led away to safety, a score felt duty bound to fall into swoons or strong hysterics. Between tending to these and the male wounded, considerable time and effort was expended in restoring tranquility to Redley Park.
Thus, except for those directly concerned, not one person of the several hundred realised Mrs. Davenant had been gone with Lord Brandon nearly an hour. She rejoined her battle-weary fellows to find her reputation safe. Of her virtue, Lilith was not so certain.
The first time Lord Brandon had kissed her, at Cecily’s comeout, he’d taken Lilith by surprise. Though this scarcely made it right, it was an excuse of sorts. Unfortunately, such a frail excuse works but once. What she’d done this time didn’t bear thinking of.
Had her schooling in deportment been less mercilessly thorough, Lilith could never have faced her fiancé. As it was, the strain soon told in the usual way, with a headache. Fortunately, she never needed to plead illness. Thomas was eager to be gone from a party that had turned into a thoroughly barbaric spectacle.
Though Lilith said little during the ride home, her silence went unremarked. Cecily was too busy trying to extricate details about the contretemps from a tight-lipped Sir Thomas. He refused to discuss the cause, except to speak vaguely of silly misunderstandings and a lot of ill-mannered youths drinking more than was good for them.
On the subject of manners, he grew more talkative. Striking one another with fists and rolling upon the ground like a lot of Cockney ruffians was not Sir Thomas’s idea of gentlemanly behaviour.
One of the combatants had been thrown against a servant who carried a tray of champagne glasses. The tray, sent spinning into the air, had struck the back of Sir Thomas’s head. He was lucky, he told the ladies, not to have been cut to shreds by broken glass. It was the sort of episode one might expect in a gin shop—not at a great society affair.
“Young men nowadays,” he intoned, “have no notion of self-restraint. I can only blame this obnoxious fad for boxing. In my day, the gentry set the example. They did not imitate their inferiors. But what can one expect of fellows who consider it the height of fashion to adopt the costume and manners—or lack thereof—of common coachmen?”
“Well, I’m sure it was very disagreeable for you,” said Cecily. “All the same, I do think fists preferable to pistols and swords. I’m glad duelling is illegal. It may be more elegant, but it’s also far more deadly. I do wish I knew what had started it,” she added with a sigh. “I should like to have something exciting to write Rodger.”
Lilith was not altogether surprised to see Lord Brandon at Almack’s the following night, though the assembly hall’s staid exclusivity, unappetizing refreshments, and inept orchestra could scarcely appeal to a man of his cosmopolitan tastes. He would come, of course, because he was the last person on earth she wished to see. She had but to glimpse his gleaming black hair and broad shoulders, and every mortifying detail of the previous afternoon came back to flog her conscience.
When he approached, her heart raced. But the marquess stopped only long enough to exchange a few civilities with her and Thomas.
Brandon danced with several ladies, including two of the patronesses and, to Lilith’s astonishment, Lady Enders, who blushed and giggled throughout. He also danced twice with a very pale Lady Fevis. The second was a waltz, during which the lady’s colour and spirits revived remarkably. Lord Fevis’s colour was observed to heighten about the same time. When the next set commenced, he gratified the company by stalking up to his wife to announce it was time to go home.
Eventually, Lilith realised she was studying Lord Brandon’s movements more intently than was seemly. Her gaze went immediately in search of her niece.
Lilith’s eye lit upon Cecily just as Lord Robert was taking the girl’s hand. The widow did a rapid calculation and began to move even more rapidly across the hall. Before she could reach them, she saw Lord Brandon approach, say something to Robert, then lead Cecily out.
The marquess brought Cecily back to her aunt at the dance’s end.
“You needn’t scold her,” he said. “I’ve just rung a peal over them both. Robert apparently experiences difficulties with higher mathematics.”
“I’m so sorry, Aunt,” said Cecily. “I had my mind on something Anne said and forgot completely I wasn’t to dance with any gentleman more than twice.”
“There are some matters one has not the luxury of forgetting,” Lilith said repressively. “In future, Cecily –”
She was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Ventcoeur, who, sporting a swollen upper lip and bruised jaw, had come to claim his dance.
When the younger man had swept Cecily to safety, Lord Brandon turned to Lilith. “Will you do me the honour, Mrs. Davenant?”
“No, thank you.” She managed a polite smile for the benefit of any interested onlookers.
“I knew you would refuse. I kept away so I would not be tempted to ask. It’s no good, you know. There’s no substitute for dancing with you—a matter I have not the luxury of forgetting.” He turned his gaze to the dancers.
Though she wished he would go away, Lilith was obliged to acknowledge the service he’d performed.
“Thank you for rescuing Cecily from her mistake,” she said, her eyes, too, upon the dance floor.
“I promised to keep watch on Robert. At any rate, it was the least I could do. Miss Glenwood’s timely appearance stopped me in the midst of a greater error yesterday. I should have had more care for your reputation, regardless the heat of the moment,” he added gently. “I was abominably selfish and thoughtless.”
Her chin went up. “My reputation is not in your keeping, my lord,” she answered. “You will please refrain from making me out to be a helpless victim of your irresistible charm. I resent your implying I do not know right from wrong. I am not a backward child.” With another polite smile, she left him.
The next morning, Lilith chaperoned Lord Robert and Cecily on yet another attempt to break their own and the horses’ necks simultaneously.
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The black stallion and its master arrived moments after the young pair had dashed across the meadow.
“Is this not devotion?” his lordship asked. “To arise at such an hour, merely to speak with you?”
“I wish,” she said tautly, “Lord Robert did not make a habit of revealing his plans to everybody.”
“He had no need to tell me. I had but to observe his retiring betimes and hear him at daybreak clomping down the stairs. Not that I wouldn’t have stretched him on a rack for the information, had that been necessary. You cannot tease me with provocative statements, madam, and expect to be left in peace.”
She stared blindly ahead, trying to recall exactly what she’d said the night before, when the marquess had so infuriated her.
“You set me down for taking the blame all to myself for our... indiscretion,” he reminded. “Now I’m on pins and needles to know whether or not you’ve concluded it was entirely your fault. Was it you led me astray, Mrs. Davenant?”
Her face grew warm. “You know that is not what I meant.”
“What did you mean, then?”
“I wish you would not affect stupidity. It is another insult to my intelligence.”
“I want to know exactly what you meant,” he said stubbornly. “Your remarks might be construed in several ways. Shall I conclude you came with me knowingly and willingly? I should very much like to believe that.”
“Though I’m engaged to be married, my lord? I know you have little regard for such commonplaces as vows—but have you so much contempt for me as to believe I deliberately—Why do I ask?” Lilith said bitterly. “I’ve earned your contempt. You were selfish and thoughtless, you said. Does that excuse me?” she asked, pressing her hand to her thumping heart. “I’m no cypher. I have a mind—and a will—and morals—or so I thought. But now I scarce know what to think myself.”
He dismounted, threw the reins over a bush, and approached her. “Come down,” he said, holding up his hands.
“No.”
“Don’t make me pull you from the saddle, Lilith.”
His hands grasped her waist, and she, seeing no alternative, cooperated. She caught her breath as her body brushed his in the process, but in an instant she was on solid ground and he’d let go of her waist to take her hand instead. Even through the leather glove, she felt pulse beating against pulse.
“More than once,” he said, “you’ve spoken of my contempt for you. As if that weren’t bad enough, you persist in claiming you’ve earned it. Because of a few kisses, a few caresses? Be sensible, Lilith. If my disdain is so easily earned, what must I think”—he paused and smiled—“well of the other women, you know.”
