Graham. 'Duncan,' she said. 'Oh, how brave of you to come to the theater this evening, though Graham calls it foolhardy, just as he did last evening when you attended the Tindell ball. I ought to have waited for you to bring your betrothed on a formal visit, I know, but you did not come this afternoon when I remained at home in the expectation that you would, you provoking man. Introduce us now, if you please.' 'Mama,' he said, 'may I have the honor of presenting Miss Huxtable, who is /not/ my betrothed, though she was kind enough to invite me to join her family in the Duke of Moreland's box this evening? May I present my mother, Miss Huxtable? And Sir Graham Carling, her husband?' 'Not /betrothed/?' His mother stepped forward and took both of Miss Huxtable's hands in her own, preventing her from curtsying. 'But of course you are or will be soon. The whole world believes it, and what the whole world believes inevitably come to pass later if not sooner.
And did you not, Miss Huxtable, admit last evening to some military officer whose name escapes me that you are betrothed to my son?' 'I did, ma'am,' Miss Huxtable said. 'But I was vexed with Major Dew over a private matter and lied, I am afraid.' 'At my suggestion,' Duncan added, noticing the pained expression on Sir Graham's face. 'And so you have found yourselves in a very public scrape today,' his mother said with a laugh. 'But it need not continue to embarrass either of you when the solution is so easy. You must make the lie into the truth and announce your betrothal. You make a very handsome couple. Do they not, Graham?' 'I believe, Ethel,' he said after growling out something that might have been agreement and might not, 'the play is about to resume. We had better return to our box.' 'Yes, we must,' she agreed, squeezing Miss Huxtable's hands before releasing them. 'My son must bring you for tea tomorrow, Miss Huxtable.
We will talk about the wedding, which must be arranged quickly because Duncan's grandfather, who has always been an old grump, is being even more odious than usual and has cut off his funds. He is bound to restore them if Duncan marries someone so very eligible. He will really have no choice, will he? But even a hasty wedding need not be a clandestine or dreary affair. I shall have some ideas to suggest by tomorrow. Do promise to come.' Miss Huxtable looked at Duncan – and then smiled. 'I will be delighted, ma'am,' she said. 'Though I must warn you that there may not /be/ a wedding.' 'Of course there will,' his mother said. 'All men develop icy feet when marriage looms large on their horizon. I shall work upon Duncan before tomorrow afternoon and bring him to heel. You must not lose a wink of sleep over the matter.' 'I shall not, ma'am,' Miss Huxtable promised, and her eyes were actually twinkling as Sir Graham ushered Duncan's mother from the box and they resumed their seats. 'Oh,' she said, 'I /do/ like your mother. I like people with character.' 'Do you also like the infamous sons of such mothers?' he asked.
But she merely laughed as her family returned to the box.
Perhaps, he thought as the play resumed, his mother would talk her into the marriage. He hoped so.
There was so little time left to begin all over again.
The box that had been occupied by Turner and Norman and Caroline was empty, he noticed.
9
SIR Humphrey and Lady Dew had arrived from Shropshire on a rare visit to London. They had brought their granddaughter with them and were staying at Grillon's Hotel.
They had come primarily to spend some time with their son and bring his daughter closer to him. However, they were delighted to find that their old neighbors, the Huxtables, were in town and lost no time in sending invitations to them all to come for dinner in their private dining room at the hotel the evening after the theater visit.
Stephen was obliged to send a reluctant refusal, though he did promise to call upon the Dews another day. He had another engagement for that evening. But the others were free to go.
Margaret wished she were not. She had loved the Dews as neighbors and was quite eager to see them. But she also feared that Crispin would be at dinner too. Indeed, it was almost inevitable that he would be. She really did not want to see him again. She was still angry with him and upset and confused. She did /not/ still love him, and she did /not/ want to marry him. But even so… Well, she wished his wife had lived and he had stayed with her and their child in Spain. She had put that painful part of her life behind her, and it was disturbing to have it all resurrected again.
Lord Sheringford had told her she still loved Crispin.
He was /wrong/.
Nevertheless, she did send off an acceptance to her invitation.
In the meantime, though, she had agreed to take tea with Lady Carling in the afternoon. She could have walked or taken the carriage to Curzon Street, as she had pointed out to the earl last evening. But he had insisted that he would come and escort her there himself. He arrived earlier than she expected. 'I am under orders to woo you in public, Miss Huxtable,' he said after they had stepped out of the house, leaving Stephen standing in the hallway like a concerned and brooding parent. 'We will walk to my mother's house by a circuitous route, then, and go through the park. It is a lovely day and there are bound to be crowds there even this early in the afternoon.' 'I daresay there will,' she agreed, taking his offered arm. 'I would have brought a curricle in which to convey you,' he said, 'except that I do not have a curricle, I am afraid. I really am quite impoverished, you see.' 'Walking is better exercise anyway,' she said. 'But am I now intended to feel so sorry for you, Lord Sheringford, that I will agree to marry you tomorrow if not sooner in order to restore your funds?' '/Do/ you?' he asked. 'And /will/ you?' 'No,' she said. 'Then I did not intend any such thing,' he said.
Margaret smiled. 'Had you seen Mr. Turner before last evening?' she asked as they walked in the direction of Hyde Park. 'Since your elopement with his wife, I mean?' 'No,' he said. 'Nor his sister either, since the evening before my planned wedding with her. The morning papers made the most of the almost-encounter, did they not?' 'They did,' Margaret said. It had been somewhat disconcerting to see her name in print for the second morning in a row. 'It was noted that Mr.
Turner and Mr. and Mrs. Pennethorne did not return to their box for the conclusion of the play, that a perfectly well justified outrage drove them away from having to share a roof with a notorious villain. Are you sorry that you spoiled their evening?' 'Not at all,' he said. 'If it /was/ spoiled, that is. Which I very much doubt. They probably enjoyed an hour or two of righteous and thoroughly pleasurable indignation over their supper.' He handed a coin to the crossing sweeper as they crossed the road and then entered the park. 'Is your heart so very hard, then?' she asked him. 'I daresay it is,' he said. 'Life's experiences do that to a person, Miss Huxtable.' 'Harden the heart?' she said. 'I hope not. I would hate to become a cynic merely because I could not take responsibility for my wicked actions.' 'Am I wicked, then?' he asked, looking down at her. '/You/ tell /me/,' she said. 'You are the one doing the wooing.' The paths and carriageway were busy enough even though it was not yet the fashionable hour. Their appearance attracted noticeable attention, as though the /ton/ could not get its fill of looking at them. What did they expect to see, exactly?
What they saw was the Earl of Sheringford leaning his head closer to hers and looking very directly into her eyes as his free hand came up to cover hers on his arm. A deliberately intimate gesture? Well, she had asked for it. 'Things are not always what they seem, Miss Huxtable,' the earl said.
No, indeed. She half smiled. 'Meaning that you are not wicked after all?' she said. 'You did not really abandon the bride you professed to love? You did not really run off with another man's wife and live in sin with her for five years? We all know that gossip can err, but can it err to quite such a degree?' 'I did not love Caroline by the time I abandoned her,' he said, 'though that fact in itself did not excuse me for doing so. I daresay nothing did. And Laura Turner was very willing to run away with me, a fact that did not at all excuse me for taking her, I suppose. I daresay nothing did. Yes, Miss Huxtable, I must concede that by your definition of wickedness I am doubtless very evil indeed.' He curled his fingers about hers as an open barouche of ladies bowled past, and moved his head a fraction closer. 'By /anyone's/ definition,' she said. 'If you will.' Constantine was cantering toward them with a few other gentlemen, all of whom Margaret knew. They reined in and stopped for a few moments to exchange greetings. All of them called the earl /Sherry/. Gentlemen, it occurred to Margaret, forgave far more easily than ladies did. Perhaps they envied a man who did as he pleased and thumbed his nose at society – and hurt other people in the process. 'Margaret,' Constantine said, fixing her with a very direct look. 'Your fame grows with every morning paper. May I join you and Sherry on your walk?' 'Thank you, Constantine,' she said, 'but we are on our way to take tea with Lady Carling.' 'And I promise most faithfully, Con,' Lord Sheringford said,
