When Rachel wished to pry, her idea of subtlety was to end declaratory statements on an interrogatory note.
“A libertine is by definition disagreeable to me,” Lilith answered. “All the same, there is nothing to pardon in you. I am not a green girl, and I imagine one brief unchaperoned ride will not sink me beneath reproach.”
“Of course, my dear. Naturally, he saw you home speedily, as he ought, and it was foolish of me to be concerned for your safety. Even Brandon must know better than to behave improperly with an affianced lady?”
“Yes, I am sure he must.”
“I do hope you had not to wait up for Cecily. I recollect you were feeling poorly, and I worried you would not have sufficient rest. But I daresay she was home before you were?”
“She returned quite early, according to Mrs. Wellwicke.”
Lady Enders scrutinised her face. “I fear, all the same, you did not sleep sufficiently. You seem pale, Lilith. Doubtless it is the comeout ball on your mind? Arranging a young lady’s debut can be so stressful, perhaps even more so for her family than for herself?”
“Perhaps.”
“Well, at least you will be spared one distressing guest. You did say Brandon was not invited. I remember distinctly, because I thought at the time it reflected so much to your credit. Many hostesses will invite some of the most unsavoury characters, merely because they are attractive and amusing— as though these men were no more than decorations.”
“It appears we shall have such decoration,” Lilith said, folding her hands very calmly before her. “There has been a misunderstanding, and both Lord Brandon and his cousin, Lord Robert Downs, plan to attend, I am informed.”
Several stiff green ribbons jerked to attention. “A misunderstanding? You do not mean to say he had the effrontery to invite himself?”
Lilith briefly explained the situation, accompanied by her guest’s expressions of disbelief and dismay.
“Indeed. Well, I am very sorry,” Lady Enders said, shaking her head. “Though I see it cannot be mended now. One can only hope he will not again subject you to the sort of attentions which gave rise to so much distressing talk scarcely a week ago. One is, unfortunately, judged by the company one keeps.”
“I trust you do not mean to imply I am keeping company with such a person,” came the chilling reply.
Lady Enders spluttered and fussed and declared this was not what she meant at all. The trouble was, Lord Brandon had singled Lilith out at the Lievens’ ball, had danced once with her, and left almost immediately thereafter—
“Perhaps,” Lilith interrupted, “because I bored him to distraction.”
“My dear, it is not I who say this, but others. You know how it is. No one has ever been able to breathe scandal about you, and lesser persons are always too eager to bring others down to their level. There are some who say he pursues you for precisely that reason—because you are so far above his touch.”
“Then I must congratulate their acuteness of vision. It is far superior to my own, for I perceive no signs of being pursued and therefore need contrive no fanciful reasons. In any case, I feel we have this day expended far more breath upon the topic than it merits.”
***
The afternoon had advanced considerably when Lord Robert’s conscience finally awoke and agitatedly reminded him of his mistress. Filled with self-reproach, he sped to Henrietta Street, and within a quarter hour had thrown this same conscience into twelve fits by telling a series of bouncers.
“Drunk?” Elise repeated. She sat at her dressing table, stating at his reflection in the glass. “I cannot comprehend. You are always so moderate—in that, at least,” she added with a naughty smile.
He did not observe the smile, being preoccupied with sniffing in a baffled way at the air.
“Robin?”
“What? Oh, sorry. Did that clumsy maid spill your perfume again? The room fairly reek—that is to say,” he hastily corrected, “everything smells odd today, don’t you know. I expect it’s the after effects. Really, you should be thankful I kept away. I wasn’t a pretty sight, according to Julian—and this morning I was cross as a bear.”
“Poor boy,” she said, turning slightly. She reached up to tousle his fair hair affectionately. “You had not your little Elise by to nurse you.”
“Well, I didn’t want to subject you. That’s hardly fair, when it was my own dratted fault. But really,” he went on hurriedly, “it was one of those curst dull parties, and there was no other way to amuse myself, so I made free with the wine. I should have thought, I’m so sorry I worried you. You look as though you haven’t slept a wink. What a selfish beast I am!”
“But, mon cher...” She paused. Her looking glass reflected a beautiful young woman, well-rested, her skin smoothed with exotic emollients, the paint subtle, virtually invisible. She was five and twenty, yet might easily have passed this day for five years younger.
“Ah, I slept,” she said after a moment. “But my dreams were bad.”
In touching proof of his remorse, Lord Robert promised not to stir from his mistress’s side until late the following day. He didn’t want to leave her even then, he assured her, but if he appeared occasionally in Society, his relatives’ ruffled feathers might be smoothed a bit. It would be pleasant, wouldn’t it, to spend the next few months free of harassing visits and letters? After that, of course, the family must stop pestering him, mustn’t they? Because then he and his darling Elise would truly commence their life together.
The noble self-sacrifice he proposed, along with his expressions of affection and loyalty, ought to have touched his future bride’s heart. Regrettably, that was about the only way she was touched. Today there were no passionate embraces, and the few caresses he bestowed were perfunctory. Mainly Elise was showered with words—from a young man whose verbal gifts were not of the highest order.
Furthermore, Lord Robert seemed to be in the throes of very long-enduring drink aftereffects, for Elise caught him more than once sniffing the air in the same vaguely disturbed way. That night, he fell asleep as soon as he climbed into bed.
Lying beside him, the wise Elise found in these and other small matters much to reflect upon. Being wise, she put them together logically enough, and was troubled all the more.
Chapter Seven
They were small white orchids, tinged with the exact shade of pale mauve as her gown.
With Sir Thomas’s spray of white rosebuds and baby’s breath had come a note, properly worded and lightly touched—but only lightly—with sentiment, as became a man of maturity and sense.
The orchids bore no card, no note, yet Lilith knew who had sent them. Perhaps the marquess thought it high irony to send such exotic flowers to a dowd. The sprays lay before her on the dressing table, where her maid had placed them a few minutes before.
Lilith now looked enquiringly up at Mary.
“I thought perhaps you’d wish to wear the orchids in your hair,” the abigail said. She had served her mistress nearly fifteen years, and was therefore less easily intimidated than the rest of the staff. “I wouldn’t have suggested it, but they might have been dyed to match your gown, and it seemed a shame—”
“I cannot wear these,” her mistress cut in. “Furthermore, I am not a young girl, to wear flowers in my hair.”
“Well, I don’t know many young girls who could wear orchids, for that matter. It would take a precious sophisticated one, I’m sure.”
Mary took up one mauve-tinged blossom and set it against her mistress’s ear. “I’d like to know who picked it out,” she said. “Creamy white, as though it had been made from your skin. There’s not another lady has your complexion, madam—as smooth and white as a flower petal. As to young girls—why, what are little rosebuds for, then?”
“Mary, Sir Thomas sent me the rosebuds. That is what I shall wear. Or, if you object to them as too young for me, I shall do very well without any flowers at all.”
“He won’t notice,” Mary muttered. “He ne
ver notices anything. But the other gentleman must. That I’d swear to.”