CHAPTER TWENTY #2
Her tinkling laugh and the gentle rap of her fan upon his lordship’s knuckles led several ladies to assume that Aurelia Rendlesham had taken up again with the dangerous Lord Easby, and to hope, uncharitably, that she might suffer as a result.
Only one noticed that his lordship looked most unlike a man engaged in flirtation, and he shortly afterwards withdrew to an evening of gaming.
Lady Rendlesham spent an evening of almost unalloyed pleasure.
Only her failure to speak with Miss Ashling, to hint at her knowledge – largely surmised – of the recent incident, and to drip the poison of her most recent acquisition into her ear, kept her from complete happiness.
Well, the delights of that encounter could wait, and might even be better for the chance to think first how to get the most from it.
She was not a woman of many virtues, and patience was certainly not one she possessed.
Her failure to see Miss Ashling at all the next evening, either at the Castlereaghs’ rout, or the three other lesser parties that she deigned to honour with her brief presence, left her irascible.
Her shoes, she decided, pinched horribly, and the refreshments at the smaller entertainments were inferior.
Both these things she blamed, illogically, upon Elizabeth Ashling.
272She returned home with her mind working overtime, and was far more disagreeable than usual with her maid, who frequently had to put up with harsh words and thrown hairbrushes.
She submitted to her abigail undressing her but subjected the woman to waspish complaint.
The release from corsetry and myriad hairpins did not, as the maid had hoped, improve her temper.
The sound of her husband’s slightly unsteady footfall upon the stair made her purse her lips. That was all she needed after a frustrating evening. She hoped that he was foxed enough not to notice the light from under her door, but her hope was in vain.
Lord Rendlesham was not drunk. He would deny he was drunk to anyone who suggested otherwise. He had already informed the friend who walked home with him that he was perfectly sober, also a link boy, two complete strangers, the butler and a chair in the hall.
The thought of his bed was alluring, but at the sight of the narrow shaft of light beneath the door of his wife’s bedchamber, an image even more alluring presented itself.
He hiccupped softly, and smiled to himself.
He was a very fortunate man, possessed as he was of a beautiful young wife.
She was expensive, of course, but then keeping her rigged up to the nines was worth it when she drew all eyes to her.
She had her odd humours, but then that was what women were like: fragile, delicate things prone to frequent headaches and indispositions.
He knocked tentatively upon the door, and, in a moment of pure revenge, the maid went to open it a fraction, feigning surprise at seeing her employer.
273‘My lord!’ She curtseyed, hiding her smirk as much as possible by lowering her gaze. He did not even spare her a glance, his eyes being only upon the delectable form of his wife, seated at her dressing chest.
She was arrayed in a lace wrapper and her maid had just finished brushing her hair, so it lay in thick dark tresses on the white lace. She looked into the dressing mirror as he entered the room, and groaned inwardly. At least, she thought, she had enough to keep her mind occupied.
‘Good evening, my dear,’ he enunciated, only a trifle thickly, and nodded dismissal to the maid, which made his wife’s smile even more forced. ‘I saw your light was on, and …’
‘Yes, indeed, my lord. I have had much to occupy my thoughts.’ Distraction, well, it sometimes worked. ‘Did you know that Sir Lucius Radstock looks about to offer himself and all his worldly goods, mostly smelling of horse, to the terribly overrated Miss Ashling?’
‘What, not the golden-haired chit? Emily, is it? Chalford’s girl.’
‘No, my lord, her cousin, Miss Elizabeth Ashling, whose papa drank himself to death and left her so nearly destitute.’
‘You don’t say! Well, that’s a bit rich.’
‘Why, sir?’ The silk thread trembled again in her arachnoid mind.
‘Why, it was he who coined her name, “the Unassailable”. Overheard Nuneaton mention it to Foxton in the club yesterday evening, though Nuneaton had broached a third bottle of burgundy and might have been wrong, I suppose. Never saw Radstock as the marrying sort, but, there. 274Wonder if it took him unawares, or he’s a devilish deep’un and thought to put fellows off the scent.
’ He paused, and frowned. ‘If he did it failed, for I would swear it made more prick up their ears and have a go.’
Lady Rendlesham’s eyes widened, and she turned upon the dressing stool to face him directly. ‘My lord, are you sure? Did not Nuneaton start the rumour?’
‘He advanced it, but said the idea was not his own, and only wished it had been. I wondered if it was a hum because she was largely ignored before that, you know, so it was a dashed foolish thing to say.’
‘It was Sir Lucius who invented that title.’ She was standing now, holding the back of the chair, eager.
‘I tell you that is what Nuneaton said. He is no crony of Radstock’s. What reason would he have to make such a thing up, my pretty?’
She hated it when he called her that, but her delight at learning this vital snippet of information helped her ignore it. She even went so far as to step close to her husband, place her hand upon his cheek and gently set her lips to his. His breath was heavy with brandy.
‘Thank you.’
Lord Rendlesham was not quite certain for what he was being thanked, but his wife was so rarely approachable he did not bother to enquire more closely, preferring to take advantage of the situation that presented itself. Her ladyship swiftly regretted her impetuosity.