The Barefoot Baroness

Chapter Nineteen

Laura did not enjoy that set of dances. The old quizzes had set up a rebellion against the waltz. She wished the younger ladies would organize one against the country dance, which played havoc with the coiffure and turned the face an unbecoming scarlet. Was it only slightly older ladies like her who felt this way? Or was the real cause of her distress the possibility that Livvie was up to some mischief with Hyatt? By the end of the set, Laura wanted to go abovestairs and brush her hair, but what she really needed was a glass of wine to cool down.

Her escort accompanied her through the milling throng to the refreshment parlor. As soon as she set a toe into the room, she realized her error. Hyatt was there. Worse, he was talking to Mr. Meadows. They both looked at her-not just a glance, but a long, meaningful look. From their air of excitement, she sensed that something was afoot, and looked for Livvie's red head. The baroness was not with Hyatt, as she had feared. A little surge of hope rose, then plunged to the ground when she saw the frown on Hyatt's face. Whatever Livvie had done, it had obviously disgusted him. She refused to be part of it.

"Perhaps you would get a glass of wine for me, Mr. Talbot, and bring it to me?" she asked of her partner for the last set. "I shall wait in the ballroom, just inside the door."

"Very wise. This goes beyond a squeeze. It is a crush."

She fled to the nearly deserted ballroom and sat on the first empty chair, twisting her fingers in anxiety. She could just imagine what Olivia had told Hyatt. "Cousin Laura is blue as megrims since you left. Why do you not ask her to dance?" She wondered, too, whether he would come…

She was not long left in doubt. Even before Mr. Talbot returned, Hyatt's tall form appeared in the doorway. He quickly scanned the room, while Laura shrank into the smallest possible space, hoping he would not see her. Surely he was looking for her? At length he spotted her and came pacing forward. The speed of his advance suggested some urgency.

But when he arrived, his first speech was totally different from what she had expected. "Have you seen the baroness recently?" he asked.

"Not since she stood up with Lord Talman. I thought she was with you. That is-Mr. Meadows mentioned something of the sort."

"I only said two words to her, before she slipped upstairs. Meadows has taken the notion she tipped you both the double and went off with Yarrow. He is gone as well."

Laura was thrown into a spasm of fear. "Oh, dear! I had hoped she was through with Yarrow. He has not pestered her all week. Perhaps she is upstairs. I'll have a look." She rose to leave. "Thank you for telling me, Lord Hyatt."Let me know if she is there."

"Yes," she said, and darted off.

When Mr. Talbot returned a moment later with a glass of wine, Hyatt told him that Miss Harwood was feeling faint and had gone upstairs. Naturally Laura and Meadows wanted to keep the baroness's latest spree quiet. Hyatt went into the hallway to await Laura's return.

He knew as soon as he saw her pale, worried face that she had not found the baroness. He mentally cursed the wretched child for giving Laura such a difficult time. Laura spotted him and was grateful for his support in this crisis.

"She's not there. The maid said she was there half an hour ago, snatched up her pelisse, and left. Where can she be?"

"Probably on the Great Road North to Gretna Green," Hyatt said grimly. "Meadows is having a look at the Pantheon. He heard the fellow with Yarrow mention something about it. I'll take a quick scoot up north."

"That is very kind of you, Lord Hyatt, but I think Mr. Meadows is right. Olivia asked me about the Pantheon a while ago. Naturally I told her it was not the thing."

"That was your mistake. You should have told her it was a staid do. We'll go to the Pantheon first; if she is not there, Meadows and I shall arrange to cover the other alternatives. I still feel Yarrow has his eye on her blunt. He's badly dipped."

Laura heard that "we'll go to the Pantheon" with joy and gratitude but felt compelled to object. "There is no need for you to trouble yourself, Lord Hyatt. Very kind-"

"You can hardly go alone. I assume you came in Meadows's carriage?"

"Yes.”

"Grab your pelisse, then. I shall make some excuse to Mrs. Peckford."

Laura darted back upstairs. When she came down, Hyatt already had on his cape. "I've called for my rig. I told Mrs. Peckford the baroness has a headache, and Meadows has taken her out for a breath of air. We are taking her home," he said.

He took her elbow and led her out. His carriage soon appeared. Hyatt held the door and Laura hopped in. "The Pantheon, Oxford Street," he called to his driver.

He got in and said, "If the chit keeps this sort of thing up, she'll have no hope of making a respectable match. There were already rumors at Castlefield."

"I know it very well. She has changed completely since she came to London. She used to be very biddable. The attention has gone to her head. Did she say anything to you-"

"She asked me when she might have her portrait."

"Then you were her excuse to escape from Mr. Meadows. He is kind enough to help me mind her. I doubt if his love will withstand much more of this Turkish treatment. She won't even get an offer from him if she does not watch her step."

"He hopes to marry the baroness, then?" Hyatt asked, interested. He had decided that Laura and Meadows were a match, as they were constantly seen together.

"Oh yes. And it is not creampot love either. Not entirely. He seems genuinely devoted."

"That explains it," Hyatt said cryptically, and was of course asked what he meant. "It seems to be the new custom for ladies to abuse those gentlemen who are fond of them."

"I cannot imagine what you mean, Lord Hyatt!" she exclaimed.

"Can you not, Miss Harwood? I no sooner expressed my feelings for you than you began castigating me as some sort of monster."

Her sense of wrong was still green, and she replied stiffly, "That is a different matter altogether."

"It has in common unmerited abuse of a gentleman by the lady he-cares for."

"Unmerited?" she exclaimed. "Upon my word, if sneaking into a lady's chamber in your stocking feet in the middle of the night does not merit abuse, I should like to know what does."

"I was not in my stocking feet, and I did not sneak in. I knocked on the door. It was your intransigence that-"

"I am not talking about my room, Lord Hyatt," she said.

"Then whose?" he asked, genuinely confused for a moment. Before long, the truth dawned on him. "You are referring to Lady Devereau?"

"Did you visit other ladies' boudoirs as well?"

"There is a good and simple explanation for my calling on Lady Devereau."

"There is no point trying to whitewash your sins with euphemisms, Lord Hyatt. A gentleman 'calls' at the front door, with his hat in his hand. If you have fabricated some excuse, I do not wish to hear it."

"An accused man is always allowed to present his defense," he pointed out. "Even murderers are granted that minimal justice. Am I worse than a murderer?"

"Can we not quit this subject?" she said impatiently.

He was not so easily put off. If she would not listen, he would present his defense by indirection. "I did it for you," he said, sure that this would rouse her to curiosity.

"Indeed? And how, pray, did I benefit from that midnight rendezvous? Did you arrange to be seen, thus ensuring that I would be spared the mistake of accepting your offer? You cannot expect me to be taken in by such blatant sophistry as that."

"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! If that is not sophistry-" Her curiosity had risen to an unbearable height, and she looked to hear what he might say next.

Knowing he had hooked her, Hyatt fell silent. After a moment's pause, Laura said, "Well, why did you go, then?"

"You are not interested. I shan't bore you with my poor defense."

"I hear you gave Lady Devereau her portrait," Laura said, with a knowing look. "That, too, was for my benefit, no doubt."

"But of course. That is why I went to visit her, to tell her she might have the portrait. I figured that was the easiest way to conciliate her. She had become an embarrassment-well, you saw for yourself at Castlefield."

"Do you usually call on ladies in your stocking feet, when your visit is so innocent?"

"Only when I fear some busybody is listening. Who was it that saw me? Mrs. Campbell?"

"It was Mrs. Traemore who told me. Everyone at Castlefield knew about it," Laura said. She wondered if Hyatt was telling the truth. Like the rest of the world, she had assumed Lady Devereau's persistence had won, and she had secured Hyatt. But as Laura reviewed the past week, she recalled that she had not seen them together.

"Your stiff-necked behavior confirmed it, if anyone was so naive as to doubt," he informed her.

"There is no point blaming me. What did you expect me to do?"

"I hoped that the woman I planned to marry would trust me, at least enough to hear my side of the story."

"You never wanted to marry me anyway," she said.

"Of course not. That is why I asked you."

"We're here," Laura said, as the carriage drew to a stop. The resolution of their argument must wait until later.

Hyatt opened the door without waiting for his driver. He glanced toward the Pantheon and saw three bucks staggering out, drunk as Danes. "You'd best wait in the carriage," he said to Laura.

"So this is the infamous Pantheon!" she said, gazing at it. She was overcome with a strong desire to enter. She had been hearing about it forever. In her mind, it glittered with the allure of forbidden fruit. Only the most dashing ladies entered these portals, and she was a little angry with herself for having missed it. Perhaps Livvie was the wise one after all. She was squeezing more excitement into her Season than Laura had had in her whole life. Clandestine meetings with gentlemen, tossing over such an unexceptionable suitor as Talman, and now coming here. "I should like to see it, Hyatt."

Hyatt noticed that she had unconsciously dropped the "Lord," which had been bothering him all evening. He saw that expression of unfulfilled yearning on her face, and suspected its cause.

"It is no fit place for ladies. And besides, you don't have a domino or mask."

"Olivia might need me," she said, to proffer some poor sort of excuse at least. She looked hopefully for Hyatt's opinion. He frowned. "I must at least see it!" she said crossly, revealing the true purpose of her insistence.

"Miss Harwood, I take leave to tell you, you are a fraud. Beneath that prissy exterior beats the heart of a wanton. You are over twenty-one, and if you wish to enter the Pantheon without even a mask to cover your shame, I cannot prevent it. But if you are set upon by a marauding band of rakes, it is on your own head. Don't put it in my dish. I strongly disapprove of this shameless spree," he said, with a smile that showed his total approbation.

He watched, fascinated, as her lips parted in a bold smile. "One more sin will not be noticed in your dish, Hyatt. Don't be so unchivalrous."

"This is how a man loses his reputation," he joked, taking her arm to lead her to the entrance. "A prey to every beautiful hussy who comes along and bats her eyelashes at him. Take care or I'll be tapping at your boudoir door later tonight."

"Surely you can do better than a prissy fraud such as I. One hears the Pantheon is full of lightskirts."

"My usual fare, of course," he said blandly, "but one likes a change from time to time."

"I was joking!"

He held the door and she entered. The lobby was empty, save for the doorman and two females who were having no luck within and had decided to grab the next gent before he got inside.

"You had best stay here," Hyatt said. "Stick close to the doorman while I take a run inside."

"I cannot stay alone!" she said, clinging to his arm as a couple of bucks strayed into the hallway. They were looking from the lightskirts to Laura in an assessing way.

"No more you can," he agreed. "I'll take you back to the carriage."

As he spoke, a sudden pounding of feet and raised voices were heard from the stairway. "Come along, gentlemen. The roundhouse is waiting. You can send for bail when you've sobered up.”

"Oh, dear!" Laura exclaimed, clinging tighter to Hyatt's arm.

They both watched as Bow Street led a band of miscreants out. Laura spotted Yarrow, his nose bloodied and his eyes glazed with drink. She looked at Hyatt, and he lifted his eyebrows to tell her he recognized the fellow.

"Livvie must be here," Laura whispered. "At least she has escaped incarceration."

"It is usually the gentleman who takes the brunt in these cases," he said, with an air of mock injury.

"I wonder if Mr. Meadows managed to rescue Olivia. We should make sure, before we leave."

"I'll take a run upstairs, while Bow Street is within shouting distance to protect you."

Before this was necessary, Mr. Meadows came down, holding a much subdued baroness on one arm and Miss Carstairs on the other. Olivia was sniffling into a handkerchief; Miss Carstairs was trying to look blase.

"Found her," Meadows said. "Unharmed but pretty badly shaken up."

Olivia interrupted her sniffling to say, "It was horrid! I should have listened to you, cousin. He didn't even bring enough money to buy wine. You won't tell Aunt Hettie."

"We shall settle on some story in the carriage," Laura said, patting the baroness's shoulder. She glanced at Hyatt to thank him and saw the look of disappointment on his face. "I must go with her. Thank you, Hyatt. You have been very helpful."

"Meadows can take her home," was all he said.

"I'll see that both these young ladies get home safely," Meadows said, nodding to Angie and Olivia. He planned to take Miss Carstairs home first. He had not had the baroness in such a chastened state before and hoped to take full advantage of it. "No point upsetting the old ladies. We shall say the baroness was feeling fagged, and I brought her home. You'll see that Miss Harwood gets home, Hyatt?"

"Yes, certainly. We might return to Peckford's for a waltz first." Seeing the blue mask dangling from Olivia's fingers, he turned to her and took her hand. "I hope you have learned your lesson, Baroness. Now dry your eyes, and run along." When he removed his hand, he held her blue mask.

They left, and he dangled the mask in front of Laura. "A lady should never visit the Pantheon without a mask."

That wicked smile broke out. "Could we?" she asked. "Livvie said it is horrid."

"It is, but with a hardened rake to guard you, lesser rakes will keep their distance-if they know what is good for them. I wonder-we cannot be the only people who have been caught unprepared." He went to the doorman and returned with a black mask, purchased at an inordinate price.

Laura put on the blue mask, Hyatt the black, and together they went into the ballroom. She was trembling with excitement. Never before in her life had she willingly gone into a treacherous situation, and she realized what wonderful excitement she had been missing.

When Hyatt drew her into his arms, she gazed up at him. The mask turned him into a stranger. Dark eyes glittered dangerously behind it, and below, his lips parted in a reckless smile.

"Does it live up to your expectations?" he asked.

"Oh, it is wonderful!" The reeling music and Hyatt holding her close produced some enchantment. If this was sin, then she was born a sinner, for she had never enjoyed a dance so much. She was unaware of the din of uncouth voices raised in mirth or anger. She did not notice that some of the gentlemen danced with both arms around their companions to keep from falling over. She was only aware of being held by Hyatt, in the magic circle of his arms, while they moved in unison to the music.

"Do you believe me?" he asked.

"What are you talking about, Hyatt?"

"That I paid only a brief visit to Lady Devereau, to tell her she might have the portrait. I only wanted to be rid of her. She was becoming a wretched nuisance.”

It was easy to believe what she wanted so badly to believe. "I suppose so," she said, "but-"

"Are there other sins on my part that require explanation? Let us tackle the whole dish now, Laura, while you are in this generous mood."

She thought of the groaning bedsprings. It did not necessarily take two to make such noises. Lady Devereau, presumably, had been in bed. She would not lower herself to mention it. As Laura hastily reviewed what she knew of Hyatt, she could find no outstanding offenses. In fact, if he was telling the truth about Lady Devereau, it was she who had acted badly. "I behaved like a ninnyhammer," she said simply. "I even tore up that lovely sketch you did of me, and have regretted it a dozen times since."

"I'll do another," he said, his voice husky with pleasure. "A proper portrait, in oils."

"Would you? How shall you do me?"

"As an angel-with a cleft foot," he added, and laughed. His arms drew her more tightly against him.

"You have already done a barefoot lady."

"Then I shall set your halo slightly aslant, to reveal you are in danger of becoming one of the fallen angels."

"I own I do enjoy the Pantheon. Perhaps I am a fraud for warning Livvie away, then coming myself at the first opportunity."

"It is temptation that makes sinners of us all. There is no merit in being unaware of temptation. It is withstanding it that builds character."

"Then we shall leave now," she decided.

"I thought you were enjoying yourself."

"I was, but that mention of a cleft foot jolted me."

"You darling, foolish girl! Satan is a long way from getting you in his clutches," he said, and he gave her a ruthless kiss, right in the middle of the ballroom.

Caught off guard, Laura was stunned into momentary immobility. This could not be happening! Even Livvie had never done anything as outre as this. She pulled away, looking all around for signs of outrage and finding none. "Hyatt!" she squealed. "What are you doing?"

"I am succumbing to temptation. Let us get out of here."

He drew her out of the ballroom, through the lobby, and into his waiting carriage, all at breakneck speed. "If anyone recognized me, I am sunk!" she wailed.

"And unfortunately, Lady Jersey, that unstoppable old gossip, did see you."

"Lady Jersey would never attend the Pantheon."

"She did tonight. Lady Emily Cowper as well, and Queen Charlotte. She spilled her snuff in shock when she saw you."

"Oh, you are too ridiculous," she laughed. "Why did you try to frighten me?"

"I was just setting myself up as your rescuer. A ruined lady requires a gentleman to do the right thing by her. Nothing short of marriage can save you now, Miss Harwood."

He removed first his own mask, then lowered hers. In the dim shadows, she saw that his playful mood had altered subtly. He was still smiling, but it was a different smile-softer, intimate. Before she could assess its component parts, the carriage gave a lurch, throwing her against him. Hyatt's arms closed around her, and his lips found hers.

In her mind, she was back in the Pantheon, reeling helplessly to the insidious strains of the waltz. Then his lips firmed, and she was wafted off to some loftier plain, above mere earthbound mortals. She soared into the ether, her halo perilously askew as she responded to Hyatt's embrace.

It was much later when she said, from the comfort of his shoulder, "Are you sure we would suit, Hyatt? I am really not the dashing sort of lady you take me for."

"I have a very good idea who and what you are, darling. I did mistake you for an experienced lady at first, but then I also mistook the baroness for a country charmer. It was not long before I realized your true nature: a conciliator. A lady of good sound sense, who realized her charge was a pain in society's collective neck, and with a kind enough heart to try to alleviate the situation."

"And is that my great attraction-that I will pour oil on the waters you have disturbed? Smooth ruffled feathers-"

"You have been through enough. I shall behave with such monumental propriety that you will never have to conciliate again. How I am to explain a wife who goes jauntering off to the Pantheon without even the decency to put on a mask first is another matter."

"I would not want you to be too proper, Hyatt. I do like a little abandonment in my gentlemen."

"Gentleman!" he objected, and obliged her with a delightful show of abandonment.

They did not return to Peckford's, but drove through the streets of London for half an hour instead, planning their wedding. They would marry at Whitchurch, "To show you off to all my friends," she said. "We cannot do it until after Olivia's ball. She has still not found a husband."

"Meadows is awake on all suits. She'll be engaged this very night."

"He will have to speak to Mrs. Traemore first. And you will have to convince Mama."

"Has she taken me in aversion?"

"She knows a rake when she sees one," she lied shamelessly.

"No matter, a man likes to have to struggle to win his prize. I'll offer to do her portrait."

"No! You always fall in love with ladies when you do their portraits. I refuse to have you seduce my mother!"

"Then you must chaperone us," he said, and tried his wiles on Mrs. Harwood's daughter instead, with very good luck.