Rendezvous by Amanda Quick
“Yes, I know, but occasionally you do have extremely refined notions of propriety and some of the things you see in Pompeia’s may offend them.”
“Such as?”
“Such as the butler,” Augusta murmured as the door was opened by Scruggs.
“Well, well, Miss Ballinger,” Scruggs growled as he spied Augusta on the doorstep. “Bit surprised to see you here today. Heard you were to be married with what some might call indecent haste.”
“That is none of your affair, my good man,” Claudia announced in quelling accents.
Scruggs’s mouth fell open in astonishment as he finally noticed Claudia standing to one side. His brilliant blue eyes widened and then immediately narrowed in amazement. He recovered himself at once. “Good God. Never tell me the Angel has come calling at Pompeia’s. Paying a visit to the nether regions, Miss Ballinger? What is the world coming to, pray tell?”
There was a short, charged silence as Claudia bestowed a disapproving stare on Scruggs. Then she turned to Augusta with royal disdain. “Who on earth is this odd creature?”
“This is Scruggs,” Augusta explained, hiding a satisfied smile. “And you must pay him no heed. Lady Arbuthnott retains him merely to add an interesting atmosphere to the place. She is fond of eccentrics, you know.”
“Obviously.” Claudia looked Scruggs up and down very slowly and then swept past him into the hall. “I cannot wait to see what other bizarre things I shall find in this place. Lead on, Augusta.”
Augusta swallowed her laughter. “Miss Ballinger is a new member of Pompeia’s, Scruggs. She very kindly volunteered to visit Lady Arbuthnott while I am out of town and keep me informed of her condition.”
“And here I was thinking things might be a bit dull without you around to liven up the place and entertain her ladyship.” Scruggs’s eyes never left Claudia, who stood imperiously near the drawing room door.
Augusta smiled as she removed her huge, fashionable, flower-trimmed hat. “Yes, I have no doubt things will continue to be amusing. I only regret I shall not be here to watch.”
Scruggs smiled beatifically as he opened the door of Pompeia’s. Augusta and Claudia stepped into Sally’s drawing room.
Augusta was aware of her cousin taking in the scene around her with an observing eye as she steered her toward where Sally sat near the fire.
“How extraordinary,” Claudia exclaimed softly, her gaze on the paintings of famous Greek and Roman women.
Sally closed the book on her lap, adjusted her India shawl, and looked up expectantly as Augusta and Claudia approached. “Good afternoon, Augusta. Have you brought us a new member?”
“My cousin Claudia.” Augusta made the introductions quickly. “She will be calling on you in my stead during the next few weeks, Sally.”
“I shall look forward to your visits, Miss Ballinger.” Sally smiled at Claudia. “We shall miss Augusta, of course. She has a way of keeping things lively around here.”
“Yes, I know.” Claudia said.
“Do sit down.” Sally waved a hand gracefully toward the nearest chair.
Augusta glanced at the book Sally had been reading. “Oh, you have a copy of Coleridge’s Kubla Khan. I intend to read it soon. What do you think of it?”
“Extraodinary. Quite fantastical. He claims that the entire story came to him when he awoke from an opiuminduced sleep, you know. I find the images of his tale fascinating. Almost familiar. I cannot explain it, but there is a certain comfort in it.” She turned to Claudia and smiled. “Enough of such musings. Tell me, what do you think of our little club thus far?”
“I think,” Claudia said thoughtfully, “that your butler reminds me of someone I have met.”
“I expect ’tis the limp,” Augusta said easily. “If you will recall, Claudia, our gardener walks in the same awkward fashion. Rheumatism, you know.”
“Perhaps you are right,” said Claudia.
Sally turned promptly to Augusta. “So you are to be married by special license and whisked away to Dorset, my dear.”
“It is incredible how gossip swirls through the ton.”
“And winds up here in Pompeia’s,” Sally concluded. “I should have known you would not do things in the usual, accepted manner.”
“It was not my idea. It was Graystone’s. I only hope he will not come to regret his decision.” Augusta paused, tilting her head slightly to one side as she accepted a teacup. “On the other hand, it is something of a relief to see that my fiancé has an impetuous side to his nature.”
“Impetuous?” Sally considered that briefly. “I do not think that is quite the right word to describe Graystone.”
“What is the right word, madam?” Augusta asked, curious.
“Deceptive. Shrewd. At times rather hard, perhaps. A most unusual man, Graystone.” Sally sipped her tea.
“I quite agree and I must say it can be very disturbing,” Augusta said. “Do you know he has the most unnerving habit of always being aware of whatever scheme I happen to have set in motion? No matter how secretive I have been? I swear, it is rather like being pursued by Nemesis himself.”
Sally sputtered on a sip of tea and dabbed quickly at her pale lips with a handkerchief. Her eyes were gleaming with laughter. “Nemesis, eh? What an odd thing to say.”
• • •
Nemesis. Augusta was still mulling over that observation the next afternoon as Graystone’s traveling coach bowled along the highway toward Dorset.
The wedding that morning had been quick and efficient. Graystone had appeared to be preoccupied and had taken very little note of her carefully chosen white muslin gown. He had not even complimented her on the demure ruffle that she had ordered sewn onto the low neckline. So much for her first wifely effort to impress her husband with her modesty.
Graystone had insisted on setting out immediately on the honeymoon trip to his estates. Now he lounged across from Augusta on the opposite seat of the coach. He had been sunk deep in his own thoughts since they had left London.
It was the first time they had been alone together since the night they had made love in the carriage.
Augusta fidgeted, unable to read or concentrate for long on the scenery. She plucked at the braiding of her copper-colored carriage gown and fussed with her reticule. In-between these activities she stole glances at Graystone. He looked lean and powerful in his gleaming boots, snug-fitting breeches, and elegantly cut coat. His pristine white cravet was immaculately folded, as always. A paragon.
A paragon, Augusta thought sadly. How was she ever going to live up to Harry’s standards? she wondered.
“Is there something wrong, Augusta?” Harry finally inquired.
“No, my lord.”
“Are you quite certain?” he asked softly.
She gave an elaborate shrug. “’Tis only that I have the oddest sensation that nothing is quite real today. I feel as if I shall awaken at any moment and discover I have been dreaming.”
“I trust that is not wishful thinking, my dear. You are most definitely married now.”
“Yes, my lord.”
He exhaled deeply. “You are anxious, are you not?”
“Somewhat, sir.” She thought of all that lay before her: a daughter she had never met, a new home, a husband whose first wife had from all accounts been a model of womanly virtue. She straightened her shoulders bravely. “I shall try to be a good wife to you, Harry.”
He smiled faintly. “Will you, indeed? That should be interesting.”
Her tentative smile faded. “I am well aware that I have many faults in your eyes and I realize I have a difficult task ahead of me. Naturally, it will be extremely difficult to live up to the high standards set by your first countess. But I feel certain that with time and patience I can achieve some measure of—”
“My first wife was a lying, deceitful, falsehearted bitch,” Harry said calmly. “The last thing I would have you do is follow in her footsteps.”
Augusta stared at Harry in shocked silence. “
“I am aware of that. I saw no reason to disabuse the world of its opinion. Prior to the marriage I, too, believed Catherine to be a model of female propriety.” Harry’s mouth curved bitterly. “You may be certain she was careful to allow nothing more than a few chaste kisses during our engagement. I, of course, mistook her lack of warmth for true virtue.”
“I see.” Augusta blushed hotly as she recalled how much she had allowed Harry before the wedding.
“It was not until I found her as cold on our wedding night as she had been during the engagement that I finally realized she did not have any affection for me at all. I also strongly suspected there had been someone else. When I confronted her she broke down in tears and explained that she did indeed love another and had given herself to him when she discovered she would be obliged to marry me.”
“Why was she obliged to wed you, sir?”
“The usual practical reasons, namely my title and my fortune. Catherine’s parents insisted on the match and she agreed to it. Her lover was quite penniless and Catherine was not so lost to common sense as to actually run off with him.”
“How very sad. For both of you.”
“You may well believe I wished she had run off with the bastard. I would gladly have paid him to take her away if I’d known my own fate. But what was done, was done.” Harry shrugged. “She told me she regretted everything but that she would endeavor to be a good wife to me. I believed her. Hell, I wanted to believe her.”
“And it would not have been right for you to hold her lack of virginity against her,” Augusta said, frowning seriously. “Unless you yourself were, uh, untouched?”
Harry quirked a brow and did not respond to that comment. “In any event, there was little I could do about the situation except make the best of it.”
“I understand. Marriage is so very permanent,” Augusta murmured.
“I believe Catherine and I could have made a go of it if Catherine had not lied to me right from the start. Dishonesty is something I cannot forgive or condone.”
“No, I can see where it would be very difficult for you to make allowances for a woman or anyone else who lied. You are very severe about some things, my lord.”
He eyed her sharply. “Catherine, as it happens, had no intention of ever trying to be a true wife. The best I can say for her was that at least she was not carrying her lover’s babe when she came to me. She did, however, become pregnant on our wedding night and was extremely angry about the fact. Apparently her lover lost interest in her as she grew big with my child. To keep him bound to her she began giving him money.”
“Harry. How awful. Did you not notice that she was doing so?”
“Not for quite some time. Catherine could be extraordinarily convincing. Whenever she came to me for more money, she would tell me she needed the funds to further her charity work. Which was not precisely a lie, I suppose, when you think about it. Her lover was entirely without means and quite dependent on her largesse.”
“Oh, dear.”
“I have let the rumor stand that she died of the fever after giving birth to Meredith,” Harry said without inflection. “The truth is, she was recovering quite nicely when she learned her lover was seeing someone else. She rose from childbed too soon and slipped away to confront him. When she came home she was distraught. She had also caught a chill that settled in her lungs. She went back to bed and never recovered. Toward the end she was out of her mind and she began calling for her paramour.”
“That was how you discovered who he was?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to him?” Augusta demanded, a sense of foreboding closing in on her.
“Cut off from his only means of reliable financial support, he was obliged to join the army. Quite soon thereafter he managed to die a hero’s death on the peninsula.”
“How dreadfully ironic. No one knows about all this?”
“I have kept my own counsel until now. You are the only other person I have ever told and I fully expect you to keep equally silent on the subject.”
“Yes, of course,” Augusta said weakly, thinking of how badly Harry’s honor must have been savaged. “After such a disastrous experience, ’tis no wonder you are so concerned with the proprieties, my lord.”
“It is not only my own pride that concerns me,” Harry said bluntly. “I wish to maintain the fiction of Catherine’s perfection for Meredith’s sake. A child needs to be able to respect the memory of her parents. Meredith is nine years old and as far as she is concerned, Catherine was a loving mother and a virtuous wife.”
“I comprehend completely. You need not worry that I will alter her impression of her mother.”
Harry smiled faintly. “No, you would not do any such thing. You are very kind and very loyal to those for whom you feel affection, are you not? ’Tis one of the reasons I married you. I am hoping you will come to care for my daughter.”
“I am certain I shall.” Augusta looked down at her gloved fingers, which were laced on her lap. “I just hope she will learn to love me.”
“She is an obedient child. She will do as she is told. She knows you are to be her new mother and she will show you every respect.”
“Respect is not the same as love, my lord. One can force a certain amount of respect and good manners from a child, but one cannot force love from anyone, can one?” She slanted him a meaningful glance. “Not even from a wife or a husband.”
“I will settle for respect and good manners from both my child and my wife,” Harry said. “In addition, I shall expect loyalty from my wife. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, of course.” Augusta went back to plucking at the braid trim on her gown. “But I have tried to tell you from the beginning, my lord, that I cannot promise to be a model of perfection.”
He smiled gravely. “No one is perfect.”
“I am very glad you realize that.”
“I will, however, expect you to make a few earnest efforts in that general direction,” Harry added, his voice quite dry.
Augusta looked up quickly. “Are you teasing me, sir?”
“Good Lord, no, Augusta. I am a dull, prosing scholar entirely lacking in the sort of lightness of spirit that would inspire me to any levity.”
Augusta scowled. “You are teasing me. Harry, I must ask you something.”
“Yes?”
“You say you cannot abide deceit in a wife, but I myself have not always been completely straightforward with you. I did not tell you about that stupid gaming debt I owed to Lovejoy, for example.”
“That was not a matter of deliberate deceit. You were simply acting in your customary reckless fashion, carrying the standard of Northumberland Ballinger honor, and you quite naturally got into trouble.”
“Quite naturally? Now see here, Harry—”
“If you have an ounce of common sense, madam, you will refrain from reminding me of the incident. I am trying to put it out of my head.”
“It is going to be difficult to do that, sir, considering the fact that the ‘incident,’ as you call it, led directly to your being obliged to marry me out of hand this morning.”
“I would have married you sooner or later, Augusta. I told you that.”
She looked at him, perplexed. “But, why, my lord? I still do not completely comprehend why you settled on me when there were so many other more suitable candidates on your list.”
Harry eyed her consideringly for a long moment. “Contrary to everyone’s opinion, impeccable manners and perfection of behavior were not my chief requirements in a wife.”
Augusta’s eyes widened in surprise. “They were not?”
“Catherine’s manners and deportment were exemplary, as it happens. Just ask anyone who knew her.”
Augusta frowned. “Then, if it was not perfection of manners and behavior, what precisely were yo
“You said it yourself that night I found you sneaking about in Enfield’s library. All I wanted was a truly virtuous woman.”
“Yes, I know. But surely for someone such as yourself, female virtue goes hand in hand with a sound knowledge and respect for the proprieties.”
“Not necessarily, although I will admit it would be convenient if it did.” Harry looked rueful. “As far as I am concerned, virtue in a woman is based solely on her capacity to be loyal. From all I have observed, while you are unfortunately inclined to be impetuous and headstrong, you are also a very loyal young female. Probably the most loyal one I have ever encountered.”
“Me?” Augusta was startled at the observation.
“Yes, you. It has not escaped my notice that you have demonstrated great loyalty toward your friends, such as Sally, and the memories of the Northumberland Ballingers.”
“Rather like a spaniel, I imagine.”
He smiled at her disgruntled tone. “I happen to like spaniels.”
She lifted her chin, anger flaring in her. “Loyalty, my lord, is like love, at least as far as I am concerned. You cannot purchase it with a wedding ring.”
“On the contrary. I did precisely that a few hours ago,” he said quietly. “You would do well to remember that, Augusta. I am not concerned with the emotion you call love. But I shall expect the same degree of respect and loyalty from you that you give to the other members of your family, past and present.”
Augusta drew herself up proudly. “And am I to have the same in return?”
“You may depend upon it. I shall do my duty as a husband by you.” His eyes gleamed with sensual promise.
She narrowed her eyes, refusing to be drawn by the hint of teasing warmth. “Very well, my lord, loyalty it shall be. But that is all it shall be until I choose otherwise.”
“What the devil is that cryptic statement supposed to mean, Augusta?”
She turned her head to gaze resolutely out the window. “Merely that as long as you do not value love, I will not provide you with any.” She would force him to realize that there had to be more to this marriage than a cold exchange of loyalties, she told herself fiercely.