Chapter 16 #2
But that would have to wait. For now, she allowed Janet to ready her for the morning callers awaiting her in the lovely primrose yellow gown the maid had chosen earlier.
It was a beautiful dress in soft cambric with a full skirt, embroidered with tiny silk primrose flowers, and a flounced hem.
A chemise style bodice with long, loose sleeves and a high neckline, edged with a double frill, gave it a suitably fresh and pretty look for a young woman just out.
Unused to having to make such a fuss about her appearance, Izzy fidgeted as Janet tidied her hair, disarranged by the carriage ride with Ben.
“There, miss. That didn’t take so long, did it? And you look like a spring day, even if it is raining outside.”
Izzy laughed at this description, finding herself delighted with the results even if it had taken an age to achieve. “I shall become horribly vain if you keep this up,” she told Janet, who only tsked but looked rather pleased with herself.
Izzy hurried down the stairs to the front parlour and joined Clementine, who was entertaining a parcel of fashionable young men, some accompanied by sisters or female relations.
An hour later, she was feeling a little overwhelmed by the constant parade of people who arrived upon their doorstep.
Most of them were rather dull, but Mr Kimble and Mr Pultney, two very fashionable young men who arrived together, amused her with their good-natured chatter and seemed to genuinely enjoy conversing instead of trying their utmost to flirt with her.
Sadly, they were in the minority, and she began to long for the door knocker to be silent so she could catch her breath.
As a new batch of guests sauntered in, she groaned inwardly.
“At least they can only stay half an hour,” she whispered to Clementine.
Clemmie’s lips twitched but she sent Izzy a warning look. That half hour seemed to extend for an interminable time, however, with Izzy doing her best to keep up with all the politely fatuous chit-chat such calls seemed to require, until yet another guest arrived.
“Lord Alveston for Miss Honeywell,” the butler announced, as the man himself strode into the room.
Izzy’s heart skipped in her chest with mingled alarm and anticipation as she realised she had been given a wonderful opportunity to get closer to the man. Though Ben had warned her off, she could hardly throw the fellow out for no good reason. That would only make him suspicious.
Izzy stared at him as he smiled at her. He looked every inch the gentleman, well-dressed and polite, paying calls upon a young lady.
But this man was responsible for having the Revenue hunt Boreas through the woods like a wild animal, he was responsible for the bullet that had almost killed him.
Rage bubbled up inside her, scalding her with the desire to unleash her anger, but she tamped it down.
He would pay for what he’d done, and for his wickedness in betraying his country for money, but she would need to keep her wits about her to achieve that.
From her first meeting with the fellow, it had been clear that he thought highly of himself.
No doubt he would consider it his due for a young lady to fall head over ears in love with him and hang on his every word.
He carried a delicate posy of narcissi, prettily arranged with yellow and green silk ribbons.
Though lovely, the gift made Izzy smile as she remembered a book her sister Bea had loved, about folklore and the meaning of flowers.
Narcissi could mean respect, or chivalric regard, no doubt what the man had intended.
However, they also stood for vanity and self-love, which seemed rather more accurate to Izzy.
He executed a polite bow, offering her the posy with a charming smile.
“Miss Honeywell, I chose these flowers because they reminded me of you, so lovely and delicate they are. Now I see I chose better than I realised, for it appears the goddess of spring has descended from the heavens, come to walk among us poor mortal folk.”
Izzy took the flowers, rather mortified by the overblown sentiment, as the other gentlemen looked on with varying degrees of irritation.
Still, she did not doubt her blush of embarrassment would be interpreted in a different light by Lord Alveston, who looked about the room and selected an empty chair.
Smiling benignly at the young fellow who sat closest to Izzy, he slid the chair in the space between them and sat down.
A cold sensation tiptoed down Izzy’s spine at his audacity, at the way he took what he wanted without apology, but she kept her expression impassive even as her instincts prickled, her palms becoming clammy.
He was so close his knee brushed her skirts, and Izzy shifted away, hoping it looked like shyness and not revulsion.
“You are too kind, my lord. I am touched by such a thoughtful gift and your kind words,” Izzy said, smiling at him though it made her sick now her previous distrust was compounded by the knowledge of what a villain he truly was.
Still, a vicar’s daughter had ample opportunity for exhibiting patience and kindness when she might prefer to tear her hair out.
If she was determined to help Ben, now was her chance to prove her worth.
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. Now, how are you enjoying your first taste of town life? I imagine it must all be rather overwhelming after living so quietly with your papa. Still, I am glad that you took my advice after all. I felt sure that you would once you’d had time to think about it. ”
Izzy fought back the desire to tell him he was a condescending blackguard, and her decision had nothing to do with him nor his opinions.
Instead, she gazed down at the flowers, her posture calculated to appear demure when what she really wanted to do was throw them at him.
“Indeed. I am afraid I was rather rude to you, and I beg you will forgive me. It was only that coming to London was such a daunting prospect, and I was rather afraid of it. But your sensible advice made me see I was being foolish, and that I… I would have friends to protect me.”
She glanced up from under her lashes, daring to send him a shy smile.
Izzy could feel Clementine’s startled expression, her eyes boring into the side of her head.
Izzy did not dare look at her. Lord Alveston, however, appeared delighted by her words.
His gaze roved over her, and despite the high, modest neckline of her gown, Izzy felt underdressed as his attention lingered upon her bosom, a calculating quality to his examination of her person that made her want to get up and run from the room.
“Ah, my dear Miss Honeywell. I cannot tell you how pleased I am by your words and your apology. I commend you for overcoming your fears and doing the right thing. Might I offer you a word of advice, however?”
Assuming he would treat her to a patronising list of places she ought or ought not see, and advice on how to comport herself whilst visiting, Izzy nodded politely, inclining her head a little as she prepared herself to endure it without throwing the teapot at him.
“Stay away from Midwinter.”
His words were so shocking, she jolted in surprise.
Though she tried not to react further, Izzy could feel the colour leaching from her face.
He returned a thin smile, probably imagining the expression was comforting as he reached out and gently patted her hand.
It was all Izzy could do not to snatch it away.
As it was, her fingers curled, and she made a mental note to thoroughly scrub her hands to rid herself of his touch, which was cool and slightly damp.
He leaned closer to her, lowering his voice.
“Ah, my dear, do not look so horrified. You are an innocent, and were not to know, but he is a most unsavoury fellow, and it will do you no good at all to be seen with. His father was a despicable libertine and guilty of the worst of crimes—I shall not sully your ears with such tales—but suffice to say he was no gentleman, and his son appears to be worse. I should be dismayed to see you keeping company with him again.”
Izzy fought to keep her composure. Had he seen them out driving together?
Was he watching Ben—following him, perhaps?
But no, gossip flew among the ton, that much she had learned quickly.
He had likely just heard about it. Still, her stomach twisted with anxiety as she tried to find a suitable reply, one that would not infuriate him but that she could stomach speaking aloud.
Besides which, she would not avoid Ben no matter what this wretched devil instructed.
“I beg your pardon, Lord Alveston. Whilst I understand your desire to protect me, I always use my father’s teachings to guide me.
Mr Midwinter has treated me with nothing but respect, and my papa would not wish me to judge a man on the actions of his father. That would be unchristian.”
Something unpleasant flickered in his eyes, and Izzy quailed a little.
It was there and gone, but she had seen a glimmer of something hard and vicious.
He did not like being told he was in the wrong, especially not by a mere woman.
For a moment her courage wavered, and she wondered if perhaps Ben was right, and she ought to leave the man alone.
The idea of spending another moment in his company was not a happy one, but Ben needed her help, whether or not he wished to admit it.
“If you will forgive me for observing it, Miss Honeywell, your father is a vicar, a man of God whose experience is limited to a small town. I am a man of the world, I know Midwinter’s sort, and I am telling you he poses a danger.
Stay away from him, or I fear you may find yourself in a situation no young lady’s reputation could recover from. ”
Izzy stared at him, her heart hammering. Had that been a threat? Or was he really arrogant enough to believe he could order her to do as he told her? “You truly believe he is dangerous?” Izzy asked him, keeping her voice to a whisper.
“I know he is.”
There was something about the way he said it: the implacable nature of the words, the smug look on his face.
He knows.
Though she told herself she could not be certain, that it was no more than instinct, Izzy’s stomach twisted into a knot, a sensation akin to being doused in cold water rushing over her.
Ben had been right to be concerned. Whether his own father had informed the man, she did not know, but somehow Lord Alveston had discovered there was a connection between Boreas and Mr Midwinter.
She did not know if he realised they were one and the same, but he knew enough to realise they posed a threat.
“Come, come, my dear. You were not to know, and you have come to no harm. Now I have armed you with the facts, you may behave in a wiser fashion. I’m quite certain you will take care in the future.
Now, let us speak of happier things. Will you be attending the Duchess of Whitney’s ball this evening? ”
“Yes, indeed. I am looking forward to it,” Izzy said, struggling to appear calm and as though she was enjoying this interlude.
She took her glasses off, focusing on cleaning them to give herself a moment.
Somehow, she must warn Ben that the danger was more immediate than even he realised.
They had to deal with Alveston, and quickly, before he used his advantages of rank and respectability to accuse Ben and make the accusation stick.
Even if he could prove nothing and Ben escaped prosecution, he would be ruined in society.
Ben would be forced to leave the country and return to France.
It took all of her self-control to carry on the conversation.
“I am afraid Mr Midwinter has secured a waltz,” she added, putting her glasses back on and gazing at him mournfully.
His expression darkened, his displeasure undeniable as his lip curled. “Well, I suppose you cannot deny him after accepting, it would cause too much talk, and that would do you no good. You ought to be safe enough in public, I suppose, and I shall be there, watching your every step, I assure you.”
Izzy shivered.
“Just make certain it does not happen again,” he told her sternly, his words harsh, looking as if he expected her immediate capitulation.
“Of course,” she said at once, lowering her head so she appeared shamefaced and silently praying she got to see the day he was taken away in chains as a traitor to the Crown.
There was a brief silence as he allowed her to squirm in the light of his admonishment before he softened a degree.
“Well, as I believe there will be two waltzes this evening, I hope you will save me a dance?” he asked, looking so blandly charming she could see how he had got away with his duplicity.
Who would believe such a polite and well-mannered young man was a traitor? Heaven only knew what else he was guilty of. What other crimes might he have perpetrated to keep his secret?
Izzy smiled, repulsed by the idea but knowing she must endure it for Ben’s sake.
“Of course, my lord. It would be my pleasure.”