Rendezvous

8

Claudia walked into Augusta's bedchamber and stood calmly amid the whirlwind of commotion that was taking place there. She frowned gently at her cousin over a sea of gowns, shoes, hatboxes, trunks, and plumes.

"I do not understand the necessity for all this packing up and dashing about, Augusta. It makes no sense to get married by special license when the plans for your wedding in four months are coming along very nicely. It is not quite the thing to hurry matters like this. Graystone, of all people, should understand that."

"If you have any questions, I suggest you take them directly to Graystone. This is all his idea." Augusta, busy directing the flurry of activity from her command position near the wardrobe, scowled at her maid. "No, no, Betsy, put my ball gowns in the other trunk. The petticoats go in that one. Have my books been packed?"

"Yes, Miss. I packed 'em meself this mornin'."

"Good. I do not want to find myself stuck in Dorset with only the contents of my future husband's library available to me. I imagine it contains a great many volumes on old Greeks and Romans and not a single novel."

Betsy hoisted a mountain of silk and satin out of one trunk and lowered it into another. "Don't know what ye'll be needin' these for in the country, Miss."

"Best to be prepared. Do not forget the matching slippers and gloves for each gown."

"Yes, Miss."

Claudia waded forward through the piles of trunks and hatboxes and forged a path around the bed, which was strewn with petticoats, stockings, and garters. "Augusta, I would like to talk to you."

"Talk away." Augusta turned to call through the open door of the bedchamber. "Nan, is that you? Will you please come in here and give Betsy a hand?"

A housemaid stuck her head in the door. "You want me to help with the packing, Miss?"

"Yes, please. There is a great deal to be done and we are growing short of time. My fiance has sent word that we are to be on our way tomorrow morning directly after the wedding."

"Oh, dear, Miss. That ain't much time at all, is it?" Nan scurried into the room and began taking instructions from a frazzled Betsy.

"Augusta, please," Claudia said firmly, "we cannot talk amid this confusion. Let us have a cup of tea downstairs in the library."

Augusta straightened her frilled muslin cap and eyed the bedchamber. So much remained to be done and she had a feeling Harry would not be pleased if he were obliged to delay their departure because she had not finished packing. On the other hand, she was badly in need of a strong cup of tea. "Very well, Claudia. I believe things are under control here. Let us go downstairs."

Five minutes later, Augusta sank into an armchair, put her slippered feet up on a stool, and took a long swallow of tea. She set the cup and saucer down with a sigh. "You were right, Claudia. This was an excellent notion. I need this little break. I feel I have been rushing about since dawn. I vow, I shall be exhausted before I even set out for Dorset."

Claudia studied her cousin over the rim of her teacup. "I wish you would tell me why all this haste is necessary. I cannot help feeling that something is not quite right here."

"As I said, you must ask Graystone." Augusta massaged her temples wearily. "Personally, I believe the man has become slightly unhinged, which certainly does not bode well for my future as his wife, does it? I wonder if that sort of thing runs in his family."

"You cannot mean that." Claudia looked genuinely alarmed. "You think he has truly gone mad?"

Augusta groaned. Claudia's branch of the family had a somewhat limited sense of humor. Rather like Graystone, now that she considered the matter. "Good heavens, no. I was being sarcastic. The thing is, Claudia, I myself do not particularly see the need for a special license and all this rushing about, either. I would have much preferred to spend the next four months getting to know Graystone better and allowing him to come to know me."

"Precisely."

Augusta nodded morosely. "I cannot help but think he may be letting himself in for some rude shocks by marrying me. And after the wedding, there will not be much he can do about it, will there? He will be stuck with me."

"I did not think Graystone the precipitous type. Why is he suddenly consumed with a need for this hasty wedding?"

Augusta cleared her throat and studied the toes of her slippers. "I fear that, as usual, it is all my fault, although he gallantly denies it this time."

"Your fault? Augusta, whatever are you saying?"

"Do you recall how we once discussed the problems that can arise when one allows a man a few harmless intimacies?"

Claudia's brows knitted together and a slight flush appeared in her cheeks. "I recall that discussion very well."

"Yes. Well, Claudia, the long and the short of it is that last night, due to some unforeseen circumstances, I happened to find myself in a darkened carriage alone with Graystone. Suffice it to say that this time I allowed him more than a few kisses. A great deal more."

Claudia paled and then turned a bright pink. "Are you saying you… Augusta, I cannot believe any such thing. I refuse to believe it."

"I fear I did." Augusta heaved a sigh. "Mind you, if I had it to do over again, I would think twice about the matter. It was not really all that wonderful, although it started out pleasantly enough. But Graystone assures me it will grow more comfortable with time and I shall just have to trust he knows what he is talking about."

"Augusta, are you actually telling me the man made love to you in a carriage?" Claudia's voice was weak with shock.

"I know you must find the whole notion disgusting and thoroughly reprehensible, but it did not actually seem that way at the time. I suppose you had to be there to understand."

"Graystone seduced you?" Claudia demanded, her voice hardening now.

Augusta frowned. "I would not say I was seduced, precisely. As I recall, he began the whole thing by reading me an extremely severe lecture on my general lack of propriety. He was quite annoyed with me. One might say passionately annoyed with me. And one sort of passion led to another, if you see what I mean."

"Good grief. He attacked you?"

"Heavens, no, Claudia. I just explained he made love to me. There is a difference, you know." Augusta paused for another sip of tea. "Although I did wonder about that difference myself for a time afterward. I confess I was a bit stiff and somewhat uncomfortable. But I felt much better after a bath this morning. I do not think I shall go riding in the park this afternoon, however."

"This is outrageous."

"I am well aware of that. I suppose there's a moral here somewhere. Aunt Prudence would no doubt have been able to summarize it for us. Something succinct and pithy, such as, Never get into a closed carriage with a gentleman or you are likely to find yourself married in haste and repenting at leisure, perhaps."

"I suppose that under the circumstances you must be grateful Graystone is willing to marry you," Claudia announced primly. "Some men might take the attitude that such loose behavior before marriage on the part of a female implies a grave lack of virtue."

"I fear it is his own behavior which shocked Graystone. Poor man. He is such a stickler for the proprieties, you know. He was extremely annoyed with himself and feels he will surely fall from grace again before the four months of our engagement are out. That is why we are all rushing around this morning preparing for a special license."

"I see." Claudia hesitated. "Are you truly unhappy about the way events have gone, Augusta?"

"Not entirely, but I will confess I am extremely anxious about the whole thing," Augusta admitted. "I wish I had the next four months to be certain of what I am about. I do not know if Graystone loves me, you see. He never said a word about love last night, not even—" She broke off, her face growing warm.

Claudia's eyes widened. "Graystone does not love you?"

"I have my doubts. He professes not to be concerned with such nonsense, you see. And the thing is, Claudia, I am not certain I can teach him to love me. That is what is so frightening about this business of rushing the marriage." Augusta gazed glumly out the window. "I do so wish he loved me. It would be very reassuring."

"As long as he is a good husband to you, I hardly think you have grounds for complaint," Claudia said crisply.

"I knew a Hampshire Ballinger would say that."

"Very few people in our circles marry for love. Mutual respect and some degree of affection are all that one can ask. Many couples do not even have that much. You know that, Augusta."

"Yes. But I suppose I had allowed myself some foolish dreams over the years. I wanted a marriage like that of my parents. Full of love and laughter and warmth. I am not quite certain what I shall be getting into with Graystone. I have realized recently that there is a part of him that is hidden from me."

"What an odd thing to say."

"I cannot fully explain, Claudia. I only know that much of Graystone lies deep in shadow. Lately I have begun to wonder just how much darkness there may be in him."

"Yet you are drawn to him, are you not?"

"From the first," Augusta agreed. "Which does not, I suppose, speak well for my intelligence." She set down her teacup with a clatter. "And then there is the matter of his daughter. I have never even met her and I cannot help wondering if she will like me."

"Everyone likes you, Augusta."

Augusta blinked. "That is very nice of you to say." She smiled bravely. "But enough of that morbid conversation. I am to be married on the morrow and that is all there is to it. I shall just have to make the best of matters, shall I not?"

Claudia hesitated and then leaned forward to speak in a soft rush. "Augusta, if you are genuinely alarmed by the notion of marrying Graystone, perhaps you should speak to Papa. You know he cares for you very much and he would not want to force you into this marriage against your will."

"I doubt that even Uncle Thomas could convince Graystone to hold off on the wedding now. The man has made up his mind and he is quite strong-willed." Augusta shook her head ruefully. "In any event, I am afraid it is much too late for me to back out. I am soiled goods, you know. A fallen woman. I can only be grateful the gentleman who assisted me in my fall from virtue is willing to do the right thing."

"But you are strong-willed also and no one can force you into this, not if you really do not want—" Claudia broke off to stare at her. "Oh, dear. I have just realized. You truly are in love with Graystone, are you not?"

"Is it so terribly obvious?"

"Only to one who knows you well," Claudia assured her gently.

"That is indeed a relief. I am not at all certain Graystone would welcome a lovesick wife. He would probably find it quite a burden."

"So you are going to live up to the rash and reckless reputation of your side of the family and plunge yourself heedlessly into this marriage." Claudia appeared thoughtful.

Augusta poured herself another cup of tea. "Things are going to be difficult enough for a while. I just wish I did not have to follow in the footsteps of such a virtuous and noble paragon of a wife as my predecessor apparently was. I have always found comparisons of that sort quite odious and they are bound to be made in my case."

Claudia nodded in understanding. "Yes, I imagine it will be extremely difficult for you to live up to the high standards set by Graystone's first wife. From all accounts Catherine Montrose was a model of the womanly virtues. But Graystone will no doubt assist you in your efforts to improve yourself to her level."

Augusta winced. "No doubt." There was silence for a time in the library, although the sounds of trunks being shifted about overhead could be heard. "Do you know, Claudia, one of the things that concerns me most at the moment is that I shall not be able to call upon Sally for the next few weeks. She really is very ill, you know. And I am so fond of her. I shall worry a great deal about her welfare."

"You know I have never quite approved of your association with her or that club she operates," Claudia said slowly. "But I understand that you consider her a dear friend. If you like, I shall undertake to call on her once or twice a week while you are gone. I can relay news and write to you of her condition."

Augusta felt an enormous sense of relief. "You will do that for me, Claudia?"

Claudia squared her shoulders. "I fail to see why I should not do so. She might appreciate the occasional visit in your absence. And it would relieve your mind to know that I was keeping an eye on her."

"I would appreciate that more than I can say, Claudia. Why do we not go to see her this very afternoon? I can introduce you."

"Today? But you are busy preparing for your departure."

Augusta laughed. "I can make time for this call. Indeed, I would not miss it for the world. I believe you are in for a surprise, Claudia. You do not know what you have been missing."

Peter Sheldrake helped himself to the contents of Harry's claret decanter and turned to eye his host. "You want me to look into Lovejoy's background? Why the hell do you think that necessary, Graystone?"

"It is difficult to explain. Let us just say that I do not care for the man or for the way he has singled out Augusta for his unpleasant little games."

Peter shrugged. "Unpleasant they may be, but we both know they are not uncommon. Men of Lovejoy's stamp play such games with ladies all the time. Usually they are merely seeking to amuse themselves by flirting with another man's woman. Keep Augusta out of his reach and she will be safe enough."

"Incredible though it seems, my fiancée has apparently learned her lesson concerning Lovejoy. Augusta is inclined to be somewhat reckless, but she is not a fool. She will not trust him again." Harry ran one finger along the spine of a book that was resting on his desk.

The volume, titled Observations on Livy's History of Rome, was a slender one that he himself had written. It had only recently been published and he was quietly pleased with it, even though he knew it would never meet with the sort of popular acclaim that greeted the latest Waverley novels or an epic poem by Byron. Augusta would no doubt find the book deadly dull. Harry consoled himself with the knowledge that he was writing for a different audience.

Peter gave Harry a speculative glance and moved restlessly to the window. "If you feel your Miss Ballinger has learned her lesson, why are you concerned?"

"My instincts tell me there may be more to Lovejoy's vicious little games than a simple desire to flirt with or perhaps seduce Augusta. There is a calculated quality to the whole thing I do not like. And when I went to see him, he made a point of hinting at how unsuitable Augusta was to be my wife."

"Likely he planned to try his hand at a bit of blackmail. Mayhap he believed you would pay far more than a thousand pounds for Augusta's marker in order to keep the whole affair quiet. You have a reputation for being somewhat straitlaced, if you do not mind me saying so."

"Why should you refrain from mentioning it? Augusta flings the fact in my face at every opportunity."

Peter grinned. "Yes, she would. That, of course, is one of the reasons why she is going to be so good for you, Graystone. But about Lovejoy, just what are you hoping to discover?"

"As I said, I am not certain. See what you can find out. No one seems to know very much about him. Even Sally admits the man is a mystery."

"Sally would be the first to hear anything of him, good or ill." Peter looked thoughtful for a moment. "Perhaps I shall ask her for some help in this little investigation. She will welcome the project. It will remind her of the old days."

"Use your own judgment, but do not tire her. She has very little strength left."

"I realize that. But Sally is the kind of woman who would prefer to live every minute right up until the last rather than conserve her strength by taking to her bed."

Harry nodded, gazing out the window into the garden. "I believe you have the right of it. Very well. See if she would like a taste of old times." He slid his friend a sharp glance. "I will, naturally, expect both of you to be extremely discreet in this matter."

Peter assumed an expression of insulted innocence. "Discretion is one of my few virtues. You know that." Then he chuckled wickedly. "Unlike a certain gentleman I could name who finds himself having to procure a special license today due to a singularly indiscreet act which occurred in a closed carriage."

Harry scowled in warning. "One word of last night to anyone, Sheldrake, and you may as well set about composing your own epitaph."

"Fear not. I can be as silent as the tomb on certain subjects. But damnation, man. I wish you could have seen the expression on your face when you stepped down from that carriage with Miss Ballinger. 'Twas priceless. Absolutely priceless."

Harry swore softly. Every time he thought about last night—and he had thought about little else since—he was astounded. He still could not credit his own deplorable behavior. Never had he been so much at the mercy of his physical nature. And the worst of it was that he was not even sorry the whole thing had happened.

He reveled in the knowledge that Augusta now belonged to him as she had never belonged to any other man. Furthermore, the event had given him the excuse he had needed to push for an early marriage.

His one regret, and it was a deep one, was that his own loss of control had resulted in Augusta's failure to fully enjoy the experience. But he would soon remedy the bad impression he had left, he told himself confidently. He had never had a woman respond to him the way she had. She had wanted him. And she had surrendered herself to him with a gentle, eager innocence that he would remember for the rest of his life.

Unlike that deceitful bitch Catherine.

Peter turned back toward the window. "I have been thinking, Graystone. I wonder what the odds are of getting the Angel alone in a closed carriage."

"I would imagine that depends on how much interest you display in the book she is writing," Harry muttered.

"Believe me, I have done nothing but talk about A Guide to Useful Knowledge for Young Ladies on every possible occasion since you mentioned it. Damn it, Harry, why did I have to fall for the wrong Miss Ballinger?"

"Just as well you picked the Angel. The other Miss Ballinger is unavailable. Send me word in Dorset if you discover anything of interest about Lovejoy."

"At once," Peter agreed. "Now, I must be on my way. Scruggs is due to go on duty at the front door of Pompeia's in an hour and it takes a while to get into that bloody costume and those false whiskers."

Harry waited until Peter had left and then he opened Observations on Livy's History of Rome and tried to read the first few pages to see how his work looked in print. But he did not get far. All he could think about was how he would go about making love to his new wife in a proper bed.

After a moment Harry decided he really was not in the mood to read a discourse on Roman history, even if he himself had written it. He closed his own book and went to a bookshelf to take down a copy of Ovid.

"The thing is, Claudia," Augusta said as she and her cousin went up the steps of Lady Arbuthnott's town house. "Pompeia's started out as a sort of salon. And then one day it struck me that it would be much more fun to turn it into a real club in the manner of the St. James Street establishments. You may find it a bit, well, unusual."

"I am fully prepared for Pompeia's. I assure you, I shall endeavor not to embarrass you," Claudia murmured dryly.

"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?"

"Extraordinary. Quite fantastical. He claims that the entire story came to him when he awoke from an opium-induced 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 fiance 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 cravat 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."