The Wrong Miss Richmond Page 16

  “Has the cat got your tongue, Hal Richmond?”

  “I ... I don’t know what to say. I had no idea you were Robert’s aunt.”

  “I didn’t think you did, and it amused me greatly to keep silent about our acquaintance. I’ve been waiting for this moment, just to see the look on your face, and I must say, it was worth waiting for.” She chuckled.

  Mr. Richmond began to recover from his initial shock. “I don’t find it at all amusing, madam,” he said rather stiffly.

  “Madam? Come now, I seem to recall once being your adored Alicia.”

  “That was before ...” He broke off, clearing his throat.

  “Before the advent of Vincenzo Lunardi? Yes, I suppose it was,” she replied.

  Christina and Robert recognized the name, for Vincenzo Lunardi had been the first man to ascend in a balloon in England.

  Mr. Richmond was a little cool. “I don’t wish to discuss it.”

  “I seem to recall that that was your attitude at the time,” mused Lady Chevenley with a sigh. There was a pause, during which she was evidently perusing her former lover from head to toe. “I often wondered how you’d turned out, Hal, and it pleases me to still be able to see the slender, dashing young blade I remember.”

  “If you’re fishing for compliments, which my past experience tells me you most probably are, I’ll oblige your vanity by replying that you haven’t changed a great deal either, you’re still as lovely as ever.”

  “Thank you, Hal. You could have said it a little more gallantly, but at least you’ve said it. Now, then, when was it that we last saw each other?”

  “The fifteenth of September, 1784, in Chelsea,” he replied promptly.

  “How gratifyingly instant and accurate you are, Hal.”

  “I’m hardly likely to forget the day you first clapped eyes on that damned flying Italian.”

  “Ah, dear Vincenzo, he was so adorable. I vow half of England gathered that day to watch, and he gave them such a spectacle to behold.”

  “The popinjay in him made him a natural for Astley’s,” Mr. Richmond said scathingly.

  “He wasn’t a popinjay, he was utterly charming.”

  “The practiced charm of the philanderer.”

  “Hal, are you suggesting that I succumbed to his advances?”

  “No, of course not, for you were ever the lady, but he wasn’t a gentleman, and what he had in mind for you was very clear indeed.”

  She chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it was. I confess to having been rather flattered.”

  “You made a positive meal of it,” replied Mr. Richmond, still deeply piqued by those long-gone events.

  “If I did, Hal, you had only yourself to blame.”

  “I fail to see ...”

  “That always was your trouble, you always failed to see. I adored you, but you were infuriatingly complacent. It didn’t matter to me that you were only moderately wealthy, I loved you, and I wanted to marry you, but you dilly-dallied without coming to the point of asking me. I thought I’d make you jealous, and so I encouraged Vincenzo to lay siege to me, but it went hopelessly wrong that day in Chelsea, didn’t it? My, what a dash you cut at first, and how splendidly you rode that brute of a Hanoverian. I confess I thought you ten times as attractive as poor Vincenzo.”

  “I don’t wish to be reminded of anything that happened that day.”

  “No, I can quite understand that,” replied Lady Chevenley, her voice breaking suddenly on an irrepressible snort of laughter. “Oh, dear, if you hadn’t chosen that particular mount, if they hadn’t fired those cannon when the balloon began its ascent, and if that pile of, er, manure hadn’t happened to be just where it was ...” It was too much, and she dissolved into mirth.

  Mr. Richmond was far from amused. “Apparently you still find it as entertaining now as you did then.”

  “I couldn’t help smiling when you were tipped into the mire,” she admitted weakly, struggling to stem the laughter.

  “Smiling? You guffawed so much you practically fell out of your carriage!” he snapped.

  “Guffawed? Hal Richmond, I’ve never been so unladylike as to guffaw in my life.”

  “You don’t think so?” he responded acidly.

  “I know so. I also know that you still refuse to see my actions that day for what they really were.”

  “I saw that you preferred that Italian showman to me, and I removed myself from London forthwith.”

  “Yes, you did. And you returned all my letters,” she added.

  “I wished to have nothing more to do with you.”

  “Yes, well, I was miffed enough with you to wish to have nothing more to do with you, as well. I took myself off to relatives in Madras, met Chevenley, and was reasonably happy with him until his death eight years ago. But you, I gather, remained a widower.”

  “I did not, as you must know full well. I married Georgiana Vesey, almost immediately after leaving London, Jane’s mother, but she, alas, again made me a widower within the year.”

  There was a surprised silence, and then Lady Chevenley spoke again. “You married twice? So that explains my muddle.”

  “Muddle?”

  “Yes, when Robert first told me of his intention to marry your daughter, he said she was the child of your marriage to Georgiana Vesey, but I seemed to remember you speaking to me of your late wife Jeanne, or Joan, or some such name.”

  “Joan. Joan Stapleton. She was a clergyman’s daughter.”

  “That’s right. Well, Robert was most insistent that your wife’s name was Georgiana, and I simply thought my memory had played me false. The fact that your daughter’s name was Jane didn’t mean anything to me one way or the other, for I couldn’t remember the name of your child.” She paused. “Hal, am I to understand that you have two daughters?”

  “Yes. My elder daughter is Christina, and Joan was her mother. Jane is the daughter of Georgiana.”

  “Oh.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Er, no. At least, I don’t think so.” Lady Chevenley then adopted a brisker tone. “Now, then, this tea is getting cold, and since the others show no sign yet of joining us, I suggest you sit next to me on the settle, and I’ll pour.”

  Outside, Christina and Robert drew back from the door, moving far enough away to be able to talk without being heard. Christina was a little bemused, for it was astonishing to learn that Lady Chevenley was her father’s beloved Alicia; it was also strange to hear the story of the day in London when the loathing for balloons and balloonists had apparently been born.

  Robert smiled, glancing back at the parlor door. “Well, we may not have known about my aunt’s part in your father’s past, but at least his instant dislike for poor William is now amply explained.”

  “Yes,” she replied, thinking that her father would have disliked William even if he hadn’t had any connection with balloons, for William had made his liking for Jane far too plain.

  “Shall we go in?” asked Robert.

  “Yes, but I think we should pretend we know nothing, don’t you?” She looked at him. “Robert, why is my presence causing such consternation?”

  “Consternation? Oh, hardly that.”

  “Your aunt seemed, well, almost uneasy when she learned about me.”

  “I’m sure you’re wrong. To tell the truth, my aunt prides herself on her memory, and I think she’s a little put out to realize she hadn’t remembered as clearly as she thought where your father’s first marriage was concerned. Come now, let’s face them.” He offered her his arm, and together they entered the great parlor.

  The vast room was very splendid indeed, with a lofty hammerbeam roof and cartwheel chandeliers of considerable age. The glow of candles and firelight was almost lost in such a large chamber, but the two on the settle next to the fireplace were picked out very clearly indeed.

  Alicia, Lady Chevenley, was a very striking woman, her long graying hair powdered and curled in an old-fashioned but very becoming style. She wore a dark-r
ose dimity gown, and there were opals at her throat and in her ears. She surveyed Christina.

  “Ah, there you are at last, my dear. Welcome to Bellstones.”

  “Thank you, Lady Chevenley.’’ Christina gave a respectful curtsy.

  “You’ll no doubt be astonished to learn that your father and I are old friends.”

  “Indeed?” Christina trusted she looked suitably surprised.

  “Yes, although when last we met, which was a disgracefully long time ago, I was still unmarried. Tell me, my dear, did you have an arduous journey from Bath?”

  “Not at all, it was most agreeable.”

  Lady Chevenley smiled. “You’re very pretty, my dear, and now that I’ve met you, I’m quite sure Robert has chosen well, for you’ll be a great asset, both to him and to Bellstones.”

  Christina was acutely embarrassed to again be mistaken for Jane. “Oh, my lady, I ... I think—”

  Robert intervened hastily. “Aunt, I fear you’re making an error. This isn’t Miss Jane Richmond, it’s her elder sister, Christina.”

  Lady Chevenley seemed stunned, staring at him for a long moment before managing a smile. “Oh, dear. When you came in together, I just thought—Robert, why didn’t you inform me of the situation?”

  “The omission wasn’t intentional, believe me.”

  His aunt searched his face for a moment, and then nodded. “No, I’m sure it wasn’t,” she murmured.

  At that moment, Jane herself came into the parlor, her frilled white lawn gown fluttering as she moved. A pink-and-white shawl dragged on the floor behind her, and the single long curl from the knot in her hair bounced. There was a pretty flush on her cheeks, and her brown eyes were meltingly apologetic as she hurried toward them, sinking into a becoming curtsy before Lady Chevenley.

  “I’m so very sorry I’m late, I truly didn’t mean to be. The hem on my other gown had come undone, and there wasn’t time to sew it up again.” She raised her big eyes to Lady Chevenley. “Please forgive me.”

  “You’re forgiven, of course, my dear. Stand up, now, and let’s have a look at you.” As Jane obeyed, Lady Chevenley studied her carefully, before nodding. “Charming. Quite charming,” she murmured, her glance moving momentarily toward Robert. “Well, this surfeit of young ladies has at least solved a problem for me.”

  Robert raised an eyebrow. “A problem? For you?”

  “Merely a matter of numbers at the dinner table tonight. I suppose you know I’ve been visiting the Grenfells?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was my intention to invite Mr. and Mrs. Grenfell to dine with us, but she really is too indisposed, and, as you know, they never go out unless both are able to. I was surprised to find William at home on a visit.” She turned suddenly to Mr. Richmond. “I understand you made his acquaintance in Bath?”

  “Yes, that’s correct,” Mr. Richmond’s lips twitched.

  “He spoke so glowingly of you that I was prompted to invite him to join us this evening.”

  Mr. Richmond looked at her with a total lack of enthusiasm, and said nothing.

  A little taken aback at this response, Lady Chevenley turned to look at the others. Jane lowered her glance, fidgeting with her shawl, and Christina found the fire totally absorbing. Lady Chevenley engaged her nephew’s gaze, then. “Five would have been a disagreeable number at table, don’t you agree? Six is so much better.”

  “Indeed so,” he murmured.

  Lady Chevenley glanced thoughtfully around again, for it would have taken a very dull intelligence indeed not to have detected the strained atmosphere that had entered the proceedings the moment William Grenfell’s name had come up.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was a quarter to eight, and Christina hurried along the gallery to the queen’s chamber to speak to Jane before they went down to dinner. She was wearing the lilac satin gown with the long tiffany gauze sleeves, and her hair was twisted up into a shining knot at the back of her head, with ribbons fluttering down to touch the nape of her neck.

  Her mother’s pearl choker necklace was at her throat, although much against Jenny’s advice. The clasp had been difficult to do up, but Christina had been determined to wear it because it was her favorite item of jewelry.

  She reached her sister’s door. “Jane? May I come in?”

  “Yes.”

  Jane was seated at her candlelit dressing table. She looked very lovely in dark-green velvet, her red hair worn à l’Egyptienne, and she was just putting on her emerald earrings.

  Her eyes met Christina’s in the mirror. “I know what you’re going to say, but you don’t need to. I’ll conduct myself properly tonight.”

  “William Grenfell means trouble, Jane.”

  Jane rose, and turned to face her properly. “Christina, I didn’t know he was here, no matter what you may think, and I’m not at all happy that he’s going to be a guest at dinner tonight. I hoped that when he left Bath that that would be the last I’d see of him. I like him very much, Christina, and I know how much he likes me, but it’s Robert that I’m going to marry.”

  “Lady Chevenley suspects something, you realize that, don’t you?”

  Jane bit her lip. “Well, I suppose William might have said something to her.”

  “Something? Like what, for instance?” asked Christina sharply. “Jane, what is there for him to tell her? And I’m not just referring to the invitation to tea or the unplanned flight in the balloon.”

  Jane looked away guiltily.

  Christina stared at her in growing dismay. “I think you’d better tell me what’s been going on,” she said firmly.

  “You ... you won’t approve.”

  “I still need to know.”

  “You were right when you thought you saw me returning to the house in the yellow gown and pelisse, for I’d slipped away secretly to Sydney Gardens to watch the balloon. William saw me as the balloon descended, and he called out to me, but I was afraid to speak to him and so I ran back to Johnstone Street.”

  “Oh, Jane, when I think of the times you’ve fibbed to me about that wretched pelisse!”

  “And about going out into the garden at night.” Jane forced herself to meet Christina’s eyes. “I really went out to meet William in the coach house.”

  Christina couldn’t believe her ears. “You ... you what?” she asked faintly.

  “I know I shouldn’t have, but I was so confused. I liked him so much, and I enjoyed his company. I ... I didn’t want to make a mistake by marrying Robert if it was William I really loved.”

  Christina closed her eyes. How could Jane have been so foolish? “You’ve really excelled yourself in indiscretion, you realize that, don’t you? Can William be trusted to be honorably silent about it?”

  “I ... I think so.”

  “You’d better know so, Jane.”

  “He loves me, Christina.”

  “Enough to fight for you, no matter what?”

  “He promised me he wouldn’t, and I really think he meant it. He wouldn’t have hinted anything to Lady Chevenley, I’m sure. Besides, he didn’t only promise me, he promised Robert as well.”

  Christina stared at her again. “Robert knows about all this?”

  “No, of course not, he only knows that William loves me. William called on him at Royal Crescent, as you know, and Robert perceived how William felt about me. William gave him his word he wouldn’t pursue me, and met me in the coach house that night to tell me he was leaving Bath, and why.”

  Christina looked resignedly at her. “I really don’t understand how you could have been so utterly foolish, Jane.”

  Jane bit her lip once more, picking up her hairbrush and running her fingertips over the bristles. “I thought it was all over. Oh, I knew that one day I’d meet William again, because Grenfell Hall is so near here, but I thought it would be some time away, and that he’d have forgotten me. At least, perhaps not forgotten, but just put me in the past, if you know what I mean. Then, when Lady Chevenley said he was going
to dine with us tonight ... I don’t know what to do, Christina. It’s Robert I want, but if William should ...”

  “We’ll have to hope he doesn’t. There’s nothing else we can do.”

  “I can’t blame anyone but myself, can I?”

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry, Christina.” Jane’s voice was small.

  “So you should be, for this could possibly end very embarrassingly for the Richmond family, and if it does, Father will be a long time forgiving you.”

  Christina realized she was being a little harsh, and smiled. “Come on, wretch, we’d better go down to this dinner.”

  Looking miserable, Jane picked up the cloth-of-gold shawl she always wore with the green velvet gown. “I really am sorry,” she said again. “I wouldn’t have told you, indeed I meant to keep quiet, but I suddenly just couldn’t, I had to confide in you.”

  “Well, we’re allies, now, although I have to confess that I can’t understand your even glancing at another man when you have Robert. If he was mine, I’d be the happiest woman on earth.”

  “Perhaps he should be yours, you deserve him more than I do. I don’t deserve anything after all I’ve done recently.”

  They left the room and walked to the head of the staircase, but then Christina realized she’d left her own shawl in her room. “You go on down, Jane. I’ll follow in a moment.” Turning, she hurried away along the gallery.

  The only light in the garden room came from the fire, which flickered brightly in the hearth. Christina went to the bed to pick up the shawl, but a movement by the window made her freeze. “Who’s there?” she whispered nervously.

  “It’s only me, Christina.” Robert turned to face her, the pin in his neckcloth flashing in the firelight. He was dressed for dinner and had been standing looking out of the window.

  “You startled me,” she said, laughing a little. “Do you often lurk in ladies’ bedrooms?”

  “There are those who are convinced it’s my favorite pastime, but on this occasion I’m here because of this particular room. It used to be mine, before I succeeded to my father’s title and was expected to occupy the rather grand King Charles suite in the north wing, but this is still my favorite room. Forgive me if I frightened you, but I didn’t expect you to return and catch me stealing a secret moment.”