grandness of her station in life. He watched her say something to her brother who also looked in John’s direction. The Apothecary could not resist it. He bowed, waved and grinned like a lunatic all at one and the same time. George glowered, then changed his mind and approached.
‘How do, Mr Rawlings? That is your name, isn’t it?’
‘It is, and it please your lordship.’
George looked slightly surprised. ‘Last time I saw you I was brawling in a tavern, I believe.’
‘Knocking the living daylights out of one Freddy Warwick.’
‘Never could abide the fellow. Yet he seems to shadow me. Trouble is that we both belong to the same social set so he has this awful habit of turning up wherever I am. See, there he is now. Talking to that fascinating woman with the scarred face. Dying to meet her but so far our paths have not crossed.’
John turned his head and saw Freddy deep in conversation with the Marchesa.
‘She’s the Lady Elizabeth di Lorenzi,’ George continued. ‘I believe she married some damn Eyetie, hence the funny name. D’you know, I’ve always been captivated by older women. By God, I wouldn’t mind going for a gallop with her, I can tell you. I bet she’d give me the ride of my life.’
The Apothecary actually felt the colour leave his cheeks. ‘Be very careful, Sir. You are speaking of my mistress.’
George turned on him a look of total surprise. ‘Really? Well, I’ll be damned. By the way, who’s your tailor?’
John was rendered utterly speechless by the incongruity of the question and just stared at the fellow, who by now was grinning like a cat.
‘That’s beside the point,’ he said eventually.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ answered George, who was clearly having the time of his life. ‘His workmanship looks damned good to me. I’ll wager he dwells in London.’
‘Yes, Sir, he does.’
‘Damn fine. Well, I must be off. Got to pay my respects to Sir Godfrey. Au revoir.’
And he sauntered away without a backward glance. John was just about to rejoin the subject of the recent conversation when he felt a small tug at his elbow and looked round to see the beautiful Miss Cordelia Clarke regarding him.
‘Oh Mr Rawlings, how nice to see you again. Is this not an elegant gathering? And it is so wonderful to make your acquaintance once more.’
John bowed very deep, then raised her small gloved hand to his lips. ‘The pleasure is entirely mine, Miss Clarke.’
She blushed divinely and John thought what a sweet and attractive girl she was. And at that moment two people bore down on him simultaneously: the formidable Lady Bournemouth, clearly chaperoning Miss Clarke, and Elizabeth with a wary look in her eye. John bowed again to them both.
‘Oh do present me, Sir,’ said Miss Clarke. ‘I have admired the Lady Elizabeth from afar for an age.’
Lady Bournemouth interrupted. ‘My turn first, my child. Mr Rawlings, pray introduce me to your companion. I saw you together when you arrived.’
John turned to the Marchesa. ‘Lady Elizabeth, allow me to present Lady Bournemouth to you. She is held in very high regard by Sir Gabriel, with whom she plays cards.’
They bobbed curtsies at one another and the older woman said, ‘How de doo? It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Elizabeth. And now may I introduce you to my late sister’s granddaughter? A very dear child. Cordelia Clarke.’
‘I cannot think how we have not met before,’ Elizabeth answered, giving a grand curtsey to Cordelia. ‘What a lovely girl you truly are.’
Miss Clarke blushed becomingly once more. ‘I am so thrilled to be presented at last, my Lady. I often ride past your house and look at it admiringly.’
‘Well, next time you must come in, my dear.’
But this conversation got no further because at that moment Freddy Warwick joined the group, bowing magnificently to all the ladies in turn. Finally he stopped, fixed on John a look that beseeched him not to say a word about the fight in the tavern, and said, ‘How nice to see you again, Sir.’
Yet it was obvious, even at this stage, that Freddy had eyes only for Cordelia and had joined the group with the express purpose of talking to her. Having made his greetings to the other ladies he turned to the object of his desire.
‘How nice to see you again, Miss Clarke. Did you enjoy your visit to London?’
‘Oh yes, thank you, Mr Warwick. I met some most interesting people.’
‘More interesting than the people one meets on the Exeter social scene I don’t doubt.’
‘Oh yes, far more.’
Her eyes were sparkling and she seemed full of fun — and John, regarding her, thought, young and innocent though she might be, she was quite enjoying putting this youthful admirer through a little bit of torture.
‘But surely,’ he replied with spirit, ‘you did not attend anything as grand as this rout. I mean the betrothal of a peer of the realm is something to celebrate for sure.’
She drew his head down and whispered in his ear. He listened and then burst out laughing.
Lady Bournemouth drew herself up. ‘Cordelia, whispering in public is considered the height of ill manners. Were you at home I would send you to your room. Apologize to Lady Elizabeth and Mr Rawlings immediately.’
Miss Clarke dropped her eyes to hide the fact she was bubbling with mischief, and dropped a penitent curtsey. ‘Please forgive me, Marchesa, Mr Rawlings — it’s just that I have known Freddy for ever and a day. I’m sorry, I mean Mr Warwick.’ Having said this she burst into a fit of giggling in which Freddy joined.
John was delighted. It seemed that this young couple had found the ability to laugh together, which was something he considered very important. Lady Bournemouth huffed angrily but saw the amusement in Elizabeth’s expression and condescended to smile. So they were standing, a little group clearly enjoying themselves, when a shadow fell over them. Looking up, John saw the Earl and Miranda clearly waiting to be addressed.
In that moment, before a word was spoken, John regarded the elderly bridegroom-to-be and actually felt physically repelled. It was as if the man’s soul had been dragged out, leaving a husk with cold blue-ice eyes with which to glare at the rest of mankind. And what eyes they were. It was like looking at an Arctic landscape and feeling the chilling gale blow, like gazing on a terrain where the sun never shone. Despite himself, John looked away.
St Austell stood there in silence, obviously considering himself too high up the social scale to start any kind of conversation. It was Elizabeth who saved the day. She swept a small curtsey, with much rustling of her gown, and said, ‘We meet again, Lord St Austell. To remind you, I am Lord Exmoor’s daughter. May I congratulate you on your forthcoming marriage. And you, Miranda, I wish you every happiness.’
St Austell stared at her and John could have sworn that a glimmer of salacity moved in the depths of those terrible eyes. Then he spoke.
The Apothecary had been expecting a deep boom but instead the voice rasped, almost painfully. ‘How dee do, Lady Elizabeth? I trust you are keeping well. You may present your friends to me.’
Elizabeth did not meet John’s eye as she introduced Lady Bournemouth, who made much of curtseying to a peer of the realm, sweeping very low and then having some difficulty in rising again. Thankfully her great niece offered an arm and an embarrassing situation was avoided. John made a short bow and muttered his congratulations. On the one occasion he looked at the Earl it was to see the slightest of sneers upon his face.
Cordelia and young Freddy Warwick had obviously met the man before and all they had to do was to congratulate him and wish Miranda well, it being considered the height of bad manners to offer congratulations to the bride as if she had finally achieved her objective. This done, there was a short silence into which Miranda spoke.
‘I can’t tell you how happy I am,’ she said gushingly, linking her arm through that of her future husband. ‘Montague is so good to me. I dare not tell you or I think all you ladies will be jealous.’
Neither Elizabeth nor Cordelia smiled, but Lady Bournemouth let out a high-pitched titter. John caught Freddy’s eye and they exchanged a glance. But George Beauvoir was making his way towards them at which young Mr Warwick, running his fingers over the back of Cordelia’s hand in a gesture that no one was meant to see, made a hasty exit.
