Chapter 24
Clandestine meetings were hard to arrange, for a woman.
Impossible, really. Allegra thought that Mr Severin must surely have more experience of this sort of thing – this would not, after all, be hard – and if she could contrive to share a few words with him, he would know what was to be done.
The Season was coming to an end, but there was a ball tonight, one of the last large ones this year, which was likely to be a crowded, chaotic sort of an affair, and if he was there…
Allegra wore a plain white muslin gown that evening, once more covered with the gauzy over-dress.
This had been seen too often in its previous guise and was looking rather tired, like many a lady at this stage of the summer, so Mrs Constantine had dyed it dark blue, which might, perhaps, pass it off as an entirely new garment.
At this point, its wearer didn’t really care.
There was a great crush of people on entering the house in Grosvenor Square, and on passing through into the ballroom.
Bodies were pressed together willy-nilly, feet were stepped on, flounces torn; it was unpleasant, especially in the oppressive summer heat.
She could see his tall figure on the other side of the room, drawing her like iron to a magnet, but it was impossible to reach him, even if she’d been bold enough.
Their eyes met, though, and something passed between them.
She had to hope that it would be enough.
She stepped out with Lord Milton, who was good enough to confine their conversation to the merest commonplaces, and with Sir Harry, who could talk only of the excessive heat.
It seemed to her that the young Baronet’s wooing of her had become a sort of habit with him; he was generally acknowledged as her admirer, and content that it should be so, but he made no further push to engage her interest. Perhaps he did not know how, or perhaps he needed greater encouragement from her than she’d ever been inclined to give him.
Or maybe he was cleverer than she gave him credit for, and his choice had lighted on her just because he somehow sensed she’d never pick him, and he could have all the public credit of a hopeless passion while remaining safe from consequences.
Maybe it was foolish to think you ever understood people, and what made them act as they did.
She was unsettled, tonight, and prey to strange imaginings.
The dance floor was near as crowded as the other spaces, so that she was glad to have no other partners, but to stand aside, fanning herself.
Mr Englishby was here, and she felt his unwelcome gaze upon her, but he didn’t speak to her or ask her to dance, for which she was grateful.
She could only hope he had turned his attentions elsewhere.
She had other worries to contend with now.
A deep voice by her ear murmured, ‘I’m close behind you. Don’t turn round. I’ll move away in a moment. What’s the matter?’
It was an illusion, probably, to feel his breath caressing her bare neck and shiver because of it. ‘I need to see you. Privately,’ she whispered. She had her fan up, as did many ladies in this heat; nobody could see her mouth, and the loud music of the small orchestra should cover their low speech.
‘Am I to congratulate you on your engagement? I’m not sure we need to meet for that. It’s hardly traditional to celebrate…’
He could still provoke her, despite everything. ‘No. I am not betrothed.’
‘Well then, let me consider…’ A second or two’s silence between them, as the musicians sawed away at their fiddles, and then a soft laugh. ‘I have it.’ He named a fashionable modiste’s shop. ‘You know the place?’
‘Yes. I’ve never been there, but I do.’
‘Meet me there tomorrow at eleven in the forenoon. That’s a reasonable time for a young lady to go shopping, isn’t it? Bring a maid, if you can, rather than your terrifying mother. Just arrive there, and I will do the rest.’
She didn’t much care for the sound of it; he seemed far too practised at this sort of assignation, with a place already prepared.
But she wanted to meet him, didn’t she? So she could hardly complain.
Before she could make any answer, she could feel that he had gone, and taken much of the room’s energy and colour with him.
She was reasonably confident that their brief conversation had gone entirely undetected.
Allegra was lucky, in an odd way. She perceived in her mother – her sisters, too – a slight tendency to handle her with kid gloves, since Lord Milton’s proposal.
The girls just wanted something positive to happen, she thought, and were made uneasy by this limbo that she’d placed them all in.
They’d seen two offers of marriage before, two acceptances, two weddings shortly after.
This was what was supposed to happen, in this house, at the end of a Season.
This lack of a resolution was new, and perhaps also Leontina had told them not to pester her, and decided not to do so herself either.
If everyone kept very quiet and calm, maybe Allegra would decide of her own free will to accept the handsome offer she’d been made.
If her relations bothered her, there was no knowing how stubborn she might become.
She’d always been awkward and disobliging.
At any rate, when she asked if Polly could accompany her on a short shopping trip next morning, Mrs Constantine raised no objection.
They were even allowed to take the carriage, which was by no means usual.
She gave their coachman the direction; it could not have been easier.
Perhaps her mama meant her to reflect that such ease and freedom would be an everyday thing for her, if she said yes.
Her heart was pounding as she and her companion – who was delighted not to be on her hands and knees scrubbing the stairs – made their way up a couple of steps into a tidy little establishment in Grafton Street.
It was pleasing to the eye, the woodwork being freshly painted in glossy dark green, setting off a plate-glass window that was currently displaying a selection of bright, eye-catching gowns and elegant accessories.
She couldn’t possibly afford to shop here. But then, she hadn’t come for that.
A bell tinkled over their heads as the door opened, and a tall, elegant woman moved forward to greet her. ‘May I help you, mademoiselle?’
‘Madame Lisette?’ she asked with as much composure as she could manage, and the woman nodded.
She was beautifully though soberly dressed in indigo silk, and much younger than one would expect the owner of a thriving shop to be – perhaps in her mid-twenties.
Allegra was aware of shrewd blue eyes, running up and down her frame – mostly down – and pricing every stitch she had on.
Most of her clothes were homemade and repurposed, which this woman would be able to tell in an instant, but despite that she didn’t push Allegra and Polly out of the door and down the steps into the street, but continued in her slight, musical French accent, ‘Miss Constantine? I am happy to see you. Come with me – my servant will give your maid some tea and sweetmeats. I expect she will be glad of a rest. Pass through into my changing room, won’t you, mademoiselle?
I am certain we will find something there to please you. ’
Was that a wink…?
Allegra found herself on the other side of a thick velvet curtain.
Madame Lisette smiled conspiratorially at her, and said in very different tones, with no trace of her former accent whatsoever, ‘I don’t make a habit of this sort of thing, you know, Miss Constantine.
This really is a very good modiste’s, and not a house of assignation.
But I was told it was an emergency, and I must admit I was curious to see you.
Through there… You won’t be disturbed for an hour or so. ’
This place was a warren of little panelled rooms. There was a door, and on the other side of it a cosy parlour, with a brocade sofa, a couple of chairs and a small table, a pile of sketches lying upon it, and scraps of fabric.
More drawings were pinned to large cork boards hung upon the walls – gowns, of course, beautifully rendered, finished in delicate watercolour.
Other than that, it was empty, apart from Mr Severin, large and masculine and gloriously out of place.
‘I wasn’t entirely sure you’d come,’ he said, rising to his feet.
‘I told you I wanted to see you.’
‘Or did you say needed?’
She might have said needed. ‘Whichever. Here I am.’ She wanted to ask him about the woman who had brought her to this room, with whom he must surely have a peculiarly intimate sort of a relationship. But her pride would not let her, and besides, what did it matter?
‘You are not easy in your mind.’ She shook her head wordlessly. ‘What do you want, or need, from me, Allegra? You know I will give it to you if I can.’
‘Well, I didn’t come to be measured for a gown.’
‘A pity, perhaps.’
She shivered. ‘Undress me,’ she said on a sudden impulse.
Her breasts were heavy, and her clothing chafed her in unaccustomed places.
Heat pooled between her thighs. She wanted to do something dangerous and wanton that had nothing in the world to do with the demands that others made upon her, or the hard and irrevocable decision she would soon have to make.
‘You would like to be naked, in this room, with me?’ His voice held no trace of mockery now.
‘I think I would.’
She was still wearing her bonnet and pelisse, and even her gloves.
He untied the ribbons and set the hat carefully aside, then his too-clever fingers unbuttoned her coat and slid it from her shoulders.
Very meticulously, he unfastened the tiny buttons of her gloves and peeled the soft kid leather back over her hands, dropping a kiss in each palm, his breath caressing her sensitive skin. She was trembling, but not in fear.