Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
S wearing under his breath, Jack tied off the tails of his cravat with an impatient tug and turned away from the looking glass.
“Damnation,” he added in a louder voice. He would much rather spend the evening alone with a bottle of brandy mulling over what he might do to help Camille and her missing husband.
But a promise was a promise, and he had given his word to Anthony Taft, an old friend, that he would make an appearance at the ball Anthony’s parents were giving in honor of their daughter’s debut into Society.
Apparently, his much-trumpeted return from the dead had made him quite a feather in the cap for any hostess.
Promises, promises.
Jack ran a hand through his hair, undoing the cursory attempt he had made to brush the long locks into order.
Despite his pledge to Camille, he was not about to let her face the dangers and deceptions alone. He would, of course, honor his word, however, there were plenty of ways for him to investigate the mystery of Pierre’s disappearance without going to the authorities. After doing his duty for Anthony, he planned to quietly take his leave and head to his club, where he could begin making discreet inquiries.
A short while later, as he joined the crush of guests jostling their way up the grand marble staircase, he was cursing yet again, reminded of how much he disliked the glitter and insincere flatteries of Polite Society. Total strangers were clapping him on the back and mouthing effusive compliments, while those people he knew spouted nonsense about him being a glorious hero.
As if taking a blade of steel to the chest had anything to do with heroism. The truth was, he had merely been too confused and too paralyzed by the mayhem to move.
“Why the black face?” James edged up beside him and offered him one of the two glasses of champagne he had just plucked from the tray of a passing waiter.
“Thank God,” muttered Jack as he quaffed a quick swallow of the effervescent wine. “I find these opulent entertainments oppressive. Heaven forbid that people say what they really think.”
James let out a wry chuckle. “You mean such things as the Duchess of Deerfield shouldn’t be allowed to appear in public wearing a gown which reveals that much quivering flesh?”
Jack choked back a snort. “Perhaps this enforced interlude won’t be as bad as I imagined. We can spend the requisite half hour making rude comments about all the other guests.”
A mischievous glint sparked in James’s eyes. “That,” he murmured, “would be evil.”
“What are you two devils chortling about?” Their hostess approached and tapped her fan to Jack’s shoulder. “Stop conspiring with each other and go dance with the young ladies.” A fond smile flitted over her lips, as she had known them since they were mere sprats at Eton. “What good is it to have two of the most eligible rapscallions in London attending my ball if you won’t go cause a few swoons?”
“We shall endeavor not to shock the young innocents into a faint,” drawled Jack.
“Hmmph.” She raised an elegant brow. “How disappointing.”
James coughed to cover a laugh.
“And now, I had better go greet the Dragons.” She gestured toward a group of turbaned matrons seated by the arrangement of potted plants.
“I suppose we had better go do our gentlemanly duty,” muttered James. “I’ve always found it a good strategy to ask one of the wallflowers to dance, rather than any of the reigning belles, when one is looking to make a quick exit. There’s no chance of getting caught up in an endless pas de deux of flirtation. One dance, and then after leading her back to the shadows, one can discreetly slip off.”
“Excellent,” answered Jack. “I’m looking to scamper as well.”
“Care to join me at Lucifer’s Lair?”
“Perhaps another evening. I’ve other plans tonight.”
James curled a knowing smirk. “Which I suspect involve a lady.”
“In a manner of speaking,” murmured Jack as they started to make their way to a colonnaded alcove at the far end of the ballroom.
His friend accepted the oblique answer without any further questions. “Speaking of ladies—or rather, ladybirds—I spotted the lovely Mrs. Currough riding in the park this morning. What a stunner.” He slanted a glance around the room. “No matter all their august titles and fancy finery, none of the female guests here can hold a candle to her. She has a... a certain presence, though it’s bloody hard to define.”
“Don’t bother trying,” advised Jack. “She’s under Brentford’s protection. Given his fortune and the fact that he’s known for being exceedingly generous to his paramours, I doubt she would be tempted to leave.”
“Lucky dog,” replied James. “Ah, well.”
Jack shifted his attention from the jewel-tone swirl of silks and satins on the dance floor to the shadowed recesses up ahead. There were several small clusters of young ladies huddled together?—
His gaze paused on a familiar face. He was surprised to see Harriet here, given her assertions that she found the frivolities of Polite Society a bore. It was a sentiment he shared, but given their uncomfortable encounter earlier in the day, he decided it might be best to avoid another tête-à-tête, no matter that the requisite wallflower dance would be far more interesting with her as a partner. There were few other ladies of his acquaintance who could converse intelligently on such a wide range of subjects. Her experience as a diplomat’s daughter...
His steps slowed. Clearing his throat with a brusque cough, Jack glanced at his friend. “Jamie, do me a favor. Do you mind if I claim Miss Farnum, while you take her friend.”
“You wish for me to partner the plump one?” asked James.
“She’s actually a great gun,” said Jack, rising to Theodora Bingham’s defense. “Truly.” Theo had been a loyal ally in helping his cousin and Kyra Sterling thwart the scoundrel threatening to break up their romance, and he considered her a friend. “It’s just that I have something I wish to discuss with Miss Farnum.”
“Oh, very well,” conceded James. “What does it matter? I simply want to make a few twirls across the parquet and then hare off to more entertaining activities.”
They rounded the arrangement of potted palms, and found that Harriet and Theo had moved even deeper into the leafy shadows. The two of them appeared engrossed in a private conversation, and when Harriet looked around, a pinch of annoyance seemed to tug at the corners of her mouth.
“Forgive us for interrupting,” began Jack.
“Halloo, Harry,” intervened James. “How is William? Is he still in Boston with the Foreign Office’s trade delegation.”
“Yes, he is. Until springtime.” Harriet turned to her friend. “Lord Osborne was also a schoolfriend of my brother. And even more of a scamp than Jack.”
Smiling, James inclined an exaggerated bow as Harriet made the formal introductions. “I am charmed to make your acquaintance, Lady Theodora. Might I request the pleasure of the next dance?”
“Y-You wish to s-step out with me?” stammered Theo, a furious blush rising to ridge her cheeks.
“Yes, well, that’s rather the idea.” James’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Dancing does require moving one’s feet.”
Theo turned even redder.
Feeling a surge of sympathy, Jack shot his friend a warning look that was meant to say Be Nice To Her . Theo was engagingly smart and possessed a sharp sense of humor, but until her initial shyness with strangers wore off, she tended to sound like a stuttering schoolgirl.
“Theo floats like a dream over the polished parquet,” he assured his friend.
Harriet caught his eye and smiled her thanks.
“Yet another reason I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” Giving her no chance to protest, James placed Theo’s hand on his arm and escorted her out to where the next set was forming on the dance floor.
“James may be an incorrigible scamp, but he is capable of gallantry when he so chooses,” observed Harriet.
“Surprisingly enough, he does occasionally rise to the occasion.” He held out his arm. “As for me, I claim no such praise for gentlemanly conduct. I have an ulterior motive for asking you to dance.”
It was, she knew, foolish to feel a tiny stab of disappointment. Quickly masking her feelings with a cool smile, she took care to match his casual tone. “But of course. Why else?”
A momentary shadow seemed to pass over his eyes, but she dismissed it as merely the stirring of the palm fronds in a puff of breeze. The musicians struck up first chords of the music as they took up a position on the perimeter of the polished parquet, and Jack guided her through the first few figures of the waltz in silence before answering.
“There are reasons I seek you out other than crass expediency, Harry,” he murmured. “You’re good company.”
“I believe I’ve just been damned with faint praise.”
He chuckled. “You know what I mean.”
Unfortunately, I do.
“What is it you wish to ask?” she replied after they had spun through a twirl.
“Your father is involved in the negotiations with our allies on the future of France if Napoleon finally falls, is he not?”
She nodded.
“I’m curious to know whether he has any dealings with the Royalist exiles here in London, and what his opinion is of their leaders.”
“He does, and he isn’t impressed with any of them. According to him, they are a quarrelsome lot whose jockeying for power is based on personal vanity and greed rather than any real concern for their country.”
Jack’s expression turned shuttered and for a moment he seemed lost in thought.
“You seem to have a sudden interest in the land of the Frogs,” she observed.
“What makes you say that?” he said warily.
“You were mumbling in French earlier today,” answered Harriet. Something havey-cavey was definitely afoot, though she had no idea what it was. “But clearly you don’t intend to confide the reason as to why.”
Another prolonged silence as they moved through an intricate combination of steps. Jack seemed to be doing some mental dancing, too, though judging by the frown tightening on his face, his thoughts seemed increasingly out of tune with the capering notes of the violins.
“I can’t,” he finally replied. “It isn’t my secret to share.”
“Very well.”
He expelled a harried sigh. “Thank you for that.”
“For what?”
“For not pressing me.” His mouth compressed to a grim line. “Look, I know I have no right to ask for your help, but if your father would be willing to share any information on the Royalist leaders—who is allied with whom, strengths and weakness in their personalities... that sort of thing—I would be very grateful.”
“Anyone in particular?”
He gave her three names.
Harriet thought for a moment. “Are you working for the generals at Horse Guards, or is this personal?”
“Personal,” answered Jack after a flicker of hesitation. “Does it matter?”
“Not really,” she said. “I am simply curious.”
The music was cresting to a crescendo. The couples around them were whirling faster and faster, turning the dance floor into a dizzying blur of colors and the diamond-bright flashes of precious gems.
“Well, will you do it?” he asked.
“We’re friends, Jack. And friends help friends, even if the reasons for asking are somewhat murky.”
A smile slowly curled on his lips.
No man ought to possess such a sinfully sensuous mouth.
Harriet looked away abruptly, hoping he would dismiss her stumble as mere clumsiness.
“Is it true,” she asked abruptly, “that a gentleman likes a lady to be mysterious?”
Jack seemed taken aback by the question. “I hadn’t really thought of it in those terms. But yes, I suppose so. A puzzle is a challenge. It begs to be solved.”
“Ah.” Aware that the music had ended and the other couples were already drifting away, Harriet stopped in mid-step. “Your duty is now done. You can escort me back to the League of Wallflowers and head off to whatever more alluring entertainments you have planned for the night.”
Jack was still puzzling over Harriet’s odd behavior as he slipped out through the back gardens of the stately townhouse and made his way to the adjoining side street to flag down a passing hackney. Their exchanges usually had the same well-worn fit of a favorite waistcoat. The pattern was familiar—he teased, she bristled—and comfortable.
Tonight had been... different. Something about her seemed altered. If he didn’t know better, he would have said she had grown a few inches, for she appeared to take up just a little more of the room.
Frowning, he tried to shake off such addlebrained thoughts. Harry was Harry. If she seemed a little calmer, a little more composed, perhaps it was because she had tippled an extra glass of champagne.
But whatever the mysterious aura surrounding her tonight, he had more pressing conundrums to solve.
The breeze tugged at his coat, and as he stood waiting for a hackney to take him to his club, Jack went over the three names he had mentioned to Harriet, trying to jog his memory for any bit of information he might have read about them in the newspapers.
“Damnation,” he muttered, stamping his feet on the pavement to ward off the damp chill blowing in from the river.
“What did Harriet do to cut up your peace?” James joined him on the pavement. “She does have a tongue like a razor at times, and isn’t shy about using it.”
“Nothing,” growled Jack. “Harry has nothing to do with my mood.”
“Right-o.” His friend clasped his hands behind his back and turned to stare down the opposite end of street.
Jack stomped his feet again, aware of how badly he was behaving with an old friend. “Forgive my ill-humor. Someone I know is in trouble and it is deucedly frustrating that I can’t figure out how to help.”
James gave a curt nod of sympathy but tactfully remained silent.
After another few brooding moments of contemplating the cracks in the pavement, Jack looked up. “What do you know of the Frogs who gather at Lucifer’s Lair?”
“They drink too much and wager too wildly,” replied his friend. The moonlight played over the sardonic expression that hardened his handsome features. “Don’t we all?”
“Quite likely,” agreed Jack. “But aside from the usual debaucheries that take place in a gaming hell like the Lair, what is your impression of the leaders?”
James shrugged. “I have little contact with them. You ought to ask Ingalls. He often plays vingt-un with Amirault and his cronies.”
A hackney turned down the side street and rumbled to stop.
“You go ahead. I’ll wait for another as I’m heading east.”
“On second thought,” said Jack. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll come with you.”
“Fancy that.” Her face still a little flushed from dancing, Theo tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “A Wallflower waltzing with the Adonis of Mayfair. I had better pinch myself to make sure I am not dreaming.”
“Jamie has more sense than I give him credit for,” murmured Harriet.
“I don’t think sense had anything to do with it. If you will note, Lord Osborne slipped out through the side salon right after the music finished. I was a tactical advantage, allowing him to escape, nothing more.” A faint smile flitted over her face. “Still, it was rather nice to be twirling across the ballroom floor in the arms of a handsome rogue. It’s not likely to happen again anytime soon.”
“Of course it will,” said Harriet absently. She had noted that Jack had disappeared as well and couldn’t help but wonder where he had hared off to.
Somewhere French is spoken , she thought a little acidly, then chided herself for being ridiculous. Jack’s affairs were of no concern to her.
Or shouldn’t be.
“Don’t be silly,” responded Theo, as if echoing her own inner jeers. “I’m not the sort of lady who will ever capture a gentleman’s fancy. I know that.” A breathless little sigh escaped her lips. “So it’s a moment to be savored.”
Shoving her own brooding aside, Harriet turned to her friend. “Capturing a gentleman’s fancy has nothing to do with the things you think are important. Beauty and charm come from within.”
Theo let out a low snort. “That’s the sort of cheery nonsense you hear from your mother or grandmother.”
“And yet it’s true. I have it from the highest authority on what gentlemen desire,” countered Harriett.
A pause. “Who?”
She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Mrs. Currough, the most sought-after courtesan in London.”
Theo’s eyes widened. “I heard Lady Adelaide Hunter and her sister whispering about Mrs. Currough at Gunter’s. The Irish Beauty is said to have every man in Town groveling at her feet.” She glanced around before asking, “Wherever did you, er, encounter her?”
“She attends the meetings on social reform held by Lady Catherine,” answered Harriet. “After today’s discussion on education for girls, the talk turned to men, and Mrs. Currough was kind enough to share her thoughts on how a lady captivates their attention. She believes beauty is all about the art of illusion.”
“How fascinating,” mused Theo. “Er... such as?”
Harriet explained what she had heard. “She has promised to continue the lessons at the next meeting. Would you like to come along?”
“My parents would expire on the spot if they heard I was keeping company with a fallen woman—and a notorious one at that.”
“You may tell them you are spending the afternoon with me.” Harriet paused. “It won’t be a lie.”
“True.” Theo’s face scrunched in thought, and the longing light in her eyes showed how much she wanted to cast caution to the wind. “I am not nearly as adventurous as you are, Harry. I don’t have the nerve or the imagination.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” asked Harriet softly. “Because if it’s me, you are wasting your breath. I know you have courage and boldness in spades.”
Theo opened her mouth to speak but Harriet didn’t give her a chance. “Look at how resourceful and clever you were in helping Lady Kyra out of a terrible coil. But the trouble is, you see yourself through a different set of spectacles, one whose lenses are distorted by your own expectations.”
“I...” Theo drew in a lungful of air—and then let it out in a reluctant laugh. “I am not quite sure whether I’ve just been complimented or castigated.”
“Perhaps a little of both.”
They smiled at each other.
“In that case, I would be foolish not to take heed of both exhortations. Mayhap it’s time for me to be a bit more daring.”
“That’s the spirit. I, too, have been thinking the same thing.” Harriet freed a palm frond from the ribbons of her upswept hair, suddenly tired of being seen as naught but Harry the Harridan, an outspoken, opinionated Bluestocking. She wanted to be just a little bit exotic and alluring. A little bit mysterious. “It seems that the League of Wallflowers has just resolved to turn over a new leaf.”
“Or at least blossoming forth with a few new petals.” Theo glanced down at the profusion of pale yellow flounces festooning her bodice and made a face. “I have let Mama take charge of choosing my ballgowns, even though I know she has no eye for fashion. But now I look forward to hearing what Madame Deauville has to say on the subject.”
Stepping out from the shadows of the ornamental trees, Harriet boldly signaled to one of the footmen to bring over two glasses of champagne. “Let us toast to?—”
“To having men grovel at our feet?” suggested Theo with a mirthful grin.
“I would settle for a sonnet. But even that may be asking too much.” She watched the tiny bubbles fizz and froth within the cut-crystal flute. “Let us just raise a glass to following our hearts, wherever they may lead.”