Julia Justiss – The Earl's Inconvenient Wife (страница 11)

‘What, precisely, would you have me do?’

‘I have invited a few of the most important society hostesses. After greeting them all, I wish to speak privately with each one. Your task, Gifford, will be to assist my niece in keeping the other ladies entertained, the conversation flowing brightly, so none are tempted—or able—to eavesdrop on my tête-à-tête.’

‘What part am I to play?’ Temper asked.

‘You, my dear, will be sitting by me, so that each lady gets a...proper introduction.’

And with that explanation, which explained nothing, I will have to be satisfied, Temper thought, suppressing a smile. Very well. She was quite prepared to recite her few lines while Lady Sayleford directed the overall action.

‘I don’t suppose I’m permitted to ask who, what or why?’ Giff said, posing what, from the frown Lady Sayleford returned him, Temper knew had been a rhetorical question.

‘Ah, here she is! Angela, allow me to present my godson, Gifford Myles Newell, and the young lady you are to chaperon, Miss Temperance Lattimar. Children, this is my great-niece, Mrs Angela Moorsby.’

Sucking in a breath in apprehension, Temper watched a small, plump woman cross the room, her rotund form garbed in a slightly out-of-fashion gown.

‘Mr Newell, well met!’ she said, curtsying to them, her pleasant face wreathed in a smile. ‘And Miss Lattimar! So you are the angel of mercy who is enlivening my dull life by providing me a Season in London. And a complement of lovely new gowns, as well! Thank you! I intend to enjoy myself exceedingly—and, I promise you, to chaperon with a very light hand.’

Temper smiled back at the friendly gaze and open, honest countenance of Angela Moorsby, her fear of having to deal with an incompatible chaperon melting into an instant rapport.

And a sharp stab of guilt, to doom this pleasant, innocent lady to the criticism and censure she expected her presentation would heap on the head of her hapless chaperon. Looking over at Lady Sayleford, she said, ‘Have you warned her what my Season will likely entail?’

‘Oh, no, my child. I thought it better to allow you to do that.’

So you can listen to me explain one more time before giving final approval? Temper would not be at all surprised, should she express something to incur Lady Sayleford’s disapproval, to have the offer of sponsorship revoked on the instant and the great-niece sent back to rural obscurity.

‘Are you acquainted with the...circumstances of my family?’ she asked Mrs Moorsby.

‘Yes, Lady Sayleford related to me the...unusual nature of your upbringing and the reason why you are in need of a chaperon.’

‘So you know society expects me to be ill behaved, amoral and capricious. Although I am none of those things, neither am I interested in marriage, so while my behaviour will give no credence to the first two traits, I am perfectly happy to play up the latter. In fact, I may take a few strategic actions to reinforce my reputation as an ungovernable woman no respectable gentleman would have as a wife. Acting as chaperon to such a creature may well be accompanied by...an unpleasantness that may make you wish you had remained in Portsmouth. Are you sure you want to take me on?’

‘So that you can fulfil your father’s requirement that you have a Season and go on to become a lady explorer? What a marvellous thing! If I hadn’t grown so fond of my snug hearth and my comfortable little Portsmouth community, I would almost be tempted to go exploring again myself. I was never the Beauty you are, but I was rather adventuresome myself as a girl, marrying a merchant captain over my family’s objections and going to sea with him.’

‘How wonderful!’ Temper declared, delighted. ‘You must tell me about your travels!’

‘Some other day, perhaps,’ Mrs Moorsby replied.

She looked up to find Lady Sayleford smiling and was struck again by her shrewdness. You sly old lady, she thought. You chose the perfect chaperon for me.

‘I’ve never held with mealy-mouthed females who haven’t the wit to form their own opinion or who constantly look to some man for guidance.’ Mrs Moorsby winked at her. ‘My aunt warned that you will likely kick over the traces. I shall enjoy watching you.’

Temper smiled wryly. ‘I hope it may prove entertaining. However, you may well have your judgement and your competence questioned, or find yourself pitied, when I prove to be...less than conformable.’

Mrs Moorsby shrugged. ‘What do I care for the opinions of people I shall never see again, once the Season is over? As long as you enjoy shopping, theatre, concerts and—’ she winked at Giff ‘—the company of handsome gentlemen, I’m sure we shall get on splendidly.’

Harris returned then, intoning, ‘Lady Spencer-Woods, Mrs Dalworthy, Lady Wentwith and Mrs Dobbs-Henry.’

‘You know what you are to do?’ Lady Sayleford murmured as they all rose to greet the newcomers.

‘Perfectly,’ Mrs Moorsby said with a conspiratorial smile.

‘Welcome, ladies,’ the Countess said after the exchange of bows and curtsies. ‘I wanted you to be the first to meet my protégée, Miss Temperance Lattimar, who makes her debut this Season. Her chaperon, Mrs Moorsby, and my godson, Mr Newell.’

The pleasant smiles of greeting on the faces of the newcomers froze as Lady Sayleford spoke. Four heads turned as one to fix surprised, then horrified, then offended gazes on Temperance.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened and gazed straight back, a smile fixed to her lips. Is this how you do it, Mama?

‘Ah, here is Harris with our tea. Won’t you be seated?’

Under the Countess’s direction, Temper found herself on the sofa next to Lady Sayleford, Lady Spencer-Woods in a chair adjacent to them, while Giff and Mrs Moorsby sat with the other ladies in a grouping of chairs closer to the hearth.

After the initial shocked silence, with a murmur of voices and clink of cups emanating from the group near the fireplace, Lady Sayleford said, ‘So, Elizabeth, I expect you will give your usual ball, now that Parliament is in session.’ She turned to Temper. ‘Lady Spencer-Woods’s Opening Ball is the premier entertainment of the Early Season, attended by everyone of importance in society.’ Looking back at her guest, she continued, ‘You will certainly send Miss Lattimar and Mrs Moorsby a card.’

The guest shifted uncomfortably, shooting Temper a pained, faintly contemptuous glance, ‘Really, Emily,’ she said in a low voice, leaning forward as if speaking with the Countess alone, ‘I know you are somehow...connected to her family, but this is outside of enough! You may amuse yourself, inviting the Vraux woman to your entertainments, but you cannot expect me to recognise a daughter of that...creature!’

Temper didn’t need the Countess’s subtle warning glance to know she must remain silent. As if I weren’t right here, listening to every word, Temper thought, outrage filling her and the tea turning bitter on her tongue. You must accustom yourself to hearing this and worse. Was that what Lady Sayleford meant to teach her, by compelling her to witness this exchange?

‘Leaving aside any commentary on Lady Vraux’s character, the child is not her mother.’

Lady Spencer-Woods gave a thin smile. ‘She might be worse.’

‘I’ll let that indictment of my judgement pass,’ the Countess said mildly, but with a frigid look that saw her visitor’s defiance collapse. ‘It would please me mightily to have you send Miss Lattimar and her chaperon a card. And see that all your friends do, as well. However, if you wish to be...disobliging, I might suddenly recall a certain incident with a dancing master that happened in our debut Season.’

The matron paled. ‘I hardly think society would be interested in...in a silly contretemps from so many years ago.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. When a lady is one of the premier arbiters of society, whose judgements about the character of young ladies have made or destroyed reputations and Seasons, I expect there might be exceptional interest in the story of a—’

‘Never mind,’ Lady Spencer-Woods interrupted, bright spots of colour blooming in her cheeks. ‘I don’t think any further details are necessary.’

Not with a highly interested witness sitting in, Temper thought. Lady Sayleford, how clever you are indeed.

‘For a woman, “incidents” are never truly past and forgotten, are they? Even when one has lived blamelessly for thirty years.’

‘Felicia Lattimar has hardly lived “blamelessly” for thirty years!’

‘She might have, had her idiot of a husband paid her any attention. And might have still, had that cad Hightower not spread his malicious stories all over town. In any event, you will invite Miss Lattimar to your ball—won’t you? Ladies of power and influence should present a united front.’

Lady Spencer-Woods held her hostess’s unflinching stare for a moment, before dropping her gaze. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Then we understand each other. Excellent.’

Lady Sayleford smiled serenely, as if she hadn’t just manoeuvred her outraged guest into checkmate. ‘You need do nothing more than receive Miss Lattimar. I shall not hold you responsible for her ultimate success, or lack of it. Unless, of course, I learn you’ve said or done something disparaging to compromise it.’