‘I am not apprehensive, Major,’ the lady replied in arctic tones, clearly unused to being contradicted on any topic. ‘I do not suffer from nerves. Or if I do, I overcome them through the power of my will, as everyone might if they merely use a little resolution. I have always been of a courageous nature, even from a girl. My father often remarked approvingly upon it.’
Several of the persons present were seized by a well-founded fear that Lady Synett was about to begin recounting anecdotes from her childhood illustrative of her remarkable bravery, and Mrs Bartrum said hurriedly, with the air of someone who would do almost anything to avoid that fate, ‘Is it really true that your sister was wooed by Mr Brummell, Miss Constantine?’
‘I believe so, ma’am,’ answered Cecilia, since a glance at Bianca’s face suggested that she was not to be relied upon to take any useful part in this extraordinary conversation. ‘Viola felt that he was not serious, but was merely seeking to cause a sensation; certainly, that was the light-hearted spirit in which she took the offer, though I think Lord Ventris, as he was then, didn’t necessarily feel quite as sanguine.’
‘Have you met him? The Beau, I mean, naturally.’
Mr Brummell was an object of general speculation in most circles, high or low; however, Cecilia was not sure that Mrs Bartrum had any real interest in the celebrated leader of fashion, but was motivated only by a desperate desire to stem the flow of Lady Synett’s self-regard, and perhaps a fear of what other outrageous things Her Ladyship might say if left to herself to direct the conversation. ‘I have. He told me to my face that I was well enough, in my way, but not as handsome as my sister. It’s perfectly true, so I was not offended. He still likes to maintain the fiction that he nurses a great unrequited passion for Viola, and was left desolate when she remarried, but I’m quite certain it’s all said in jest.’
Lady Synett had clearly tired of no longer being the focus of attention, and said rather rudely, ‘Well, handsome or not, no doubt you will be glad to have my son Algernon as a partner. Algernon, you will take Miss Cecilia Constantine out for the next set this instant.’
‘Yes, Mama,’ the young Viscount said meekly. He was a thin, nervous-looking youth who bore a decided and unfortunate resemblance to his mother, and he did not give the impression that he had any great desire to dance with Cecilia, or anyone. But plainly, his formidable parent was not to be denied.
The musicians had been taking a break to refresh themselves with foaming tankards of ale, but they had returned to their seats now, and the fiddles began to scrape again. Cecilia took her place with Lord Synett – who addressed not one word to her directly – at the head of a set just forming up, and Bianca came to stand beside her with Mr Rory Bartrum as her partner, both shooting her droll looks that she steadfastly ignored.
When the music paused at the end of the dance, Cecilia was annoyed to see Lord Pallant lurking again, clearly meaning to claim her for the next reel. This wasn’t Almack’s; unfortunately, nobody was going to tell him that to step out three or four times with the same lady was impermissible. But no – it seemed he meant to engage her in conversation rather than to solicit a dance, which was even worse. And his first words made it plain that he’d been eavesdropping, to some effect.
‘I did not realise that your sister was a duchess; you have never spoken of the matter, Miss Cecilia, in my hearing.’ He sounded subtly annoyed, though he was trying hard to conceal it, as if they were intimate friends and this was information she should have given him long ago.
‘Why should I?’ she said flatly, ruthlessly abandoning her empty-headed persona, since it didn’t seem to be working to deter him.
He smiled, showing teeth. ‘Most ladies would think such a noble connection something to boast of. But I see that you are not like other ladies. Your delicate modesty is quite delightful – has anyone ever told you so? I must confess, every time I see you, I find myself more and more enchanted.’ His Lordship was looking at her with what he no doubt intended to be a soulful expression, but she could only see it as false and calculating. He reached for her unwilling hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed her fingers, one by one, and agonisingly slowly. ‘Enchanting Miss Cecilia!’ he murmured.
Suddenly, disastrously, she had had enough. She pulled her hand out of his grasp, not without a little difficulty. If she’d not been wearing gloves, she’d have felt a strong desire to scrub at her flesh till it felt clean, assuming it ever would. Instead, she thought she’d throw the gloves away. She’d never be able to wear them again without thinking of his lips on them, and shuddering.
Most of the Constantines suffered from the affliction of a hasty temper; Cecilia was better than some, but worse than others. She could be sunny-natured enough for long stretches of time, but when pushed beyond endurance, she would inevitably snap, with unpredictable results. And she was excessively tired of Lord Pallant and his preposterously flowery compliments. She wouldn’t have enjoyed hearing such sickly nonsense from anyone, but when they came from a man who was keeping his housemaid as his mistress, was widely rumoured to be a rapist, and had half a dozen natural children that he refused to acknowledge or support scattered through the neighbourhood, such attentions must be revolting to her.
‘Sir,’ she said crisply, happy to feel that she was being honest to herself again at last, whatever the consequences might be, ‘a week or two ago, you approached me in the street and practically forced your acquaintance on me. Since then, I have heard most disturbing rumours about your mode of life, from sources I am bound to trust. As a result of that unwelcome intelligence, I have been behaving like a perfect fool every time I have been in your company, with the fixed intention of driving you off. I have said and done ridiculous things, and yet you have smiled and swallowed them. You have not been deterred, but have instead redoubled your attentions. I simply cannot believe that this is because you are enamoured of the person you have seen me to be, because I don’t see how anybody could be. I am far more inclined to suspect that your sudden passion has been caused bymysudden acquisition of a fortune and a share in a property that once belonged to your family. And tonight, wherever I turn, you dog my steps, and kiss my fingers in a quite nauseating manner. I don’t know if you think that you are charming me – I suppose you must. But it isn’t working – quite the opposite. Could you please leave me alone, tonight and forever, and tell your brother to leave my sister Bianca alone into the bargain? To make matters quite plain, none of us may marry for a year, nor even become betrothed in that time, by the strict terms of Mrs Albery’s will, but in any case,Ishall never marryyou. I would not take you if you were the last man left alive in England.’
His Lordship had endured this tirade in white-faced silence. Cecilia’s voice had not been loud, but it had been perfectly clear, and without question, he had heard every word. The expression on his handsome face now was excessively ugly, and he stepped towards her menacingly, seemingly not entirely in control of himself. ‘Why, you insolent little b?—’
‘Don’t,’ said a deep voice close behind him. ‘Pallant, I’ve no objection to you making a cod’s head of yourself in front of everyone in the county, but if you insult this lady any further, you must be aware of the consequences. If you are wise, you will unclench your fists, step away from Miss Constantine, and refrain from uttering another word. Ideally, you’d leave without a further syllable spoken.’
The Major was looking particularly forbidding, his hands held loosely at his sides, as if in readiness to strike should Pallant move as much as an inch towards Cecilia. His brother stood shoulder to shoulder with him, his aspect equally grim. They were not alone; Miss Macintyre was behind them, along with Mrs Bartrum, Mrs Drinkwater, and the frowning vicar. All of them were glaring at the Baron, waiting for his response. He would find no supporters here.
His Lordship drew a long breath, and his expression became a little less fixed, even slightly amused. Perhaps he was aware that, where the Constantines were concerned, he’d burnt his boats. There could be no coming back from this. ‘You’d challenge me to a duel over a worthless jade, would you, Bartrum? How medieval of you.’
The Major’s features did not relax, nor did his vigilance. ‘Duelling is ridiculous, and also illegal. But if you insult a young lady who has merely told you the plain truth and asked you to leave her alonejustoncemore, I’ll be happy to meet you and put a bullet in you, wherever and whenever you choose. That’s if you think you can persuade a second other than your brother to stand by you. I can’t imagine where you’re going to find someone who is happy to embroil himself with a man who’s fighting an affair of “honour” only because his most marked attentions were disagreeable to a young lady, and he threated and insulted her when she told him so. I know it’s a struggle for a man of your enormous consequence to admit, but you are squarely in the wrong. Let’s have no pointless heroics, therefore. You will not provoke me to a vulgar tussle here, if that’s what you’re trying to do. Go!’
Lord Pallant shot a perfectly venomous look at Cecilia, and she met it steadily. Looking about him and seeing only unsympathetic faces, the Baron did not utter another word, only nodded tersely at nobody in particular, then turned on his heel and walked away. Most of the people present had carried on dancing or conversing, without the least notion that anything was wrong, but Lady Synett’s penetrating tones could be heard over the music, demanding to know what precisely had happened, and what had she missed?
38
Alistair could only be glad that he’d kept his temper as well as he had. A sort of red mist had descended upon him when he’d seen Pallant bowing over Cecilia’s hand, practically slobbering over it, and seen too the revolted expression on her face. She had looked trapped, and it had infuriated him.
His rage had receded a little when he’d heard the perfectly magnificent set-down she’d given him, but reignited when the man had dared to step towards her with what looked remarkably like violent intent, and then offered her a fresh insult into the bargain. He would very much have liked to knock the fellow down, and a few years ago, he would have done it without a second’s hesitation, but he was almost thirty now and he knew, as his younger self would not have done, that no lady could be expected to enjoy being implicated in a public fracas. Cecilia must have disliked the attention and resulting notoriety even if he had any solid, undeniable right to protect her, as a relative, fiancé or husband – and he was most painfully aware that he did not.
‘I’m going out to see if he’s really left,’ Rory told them, frowning. ‘It’s certainly better if you do not, Alistair, in case he’s lurking outside with some foolish idea of revenge in his head.’
‘I can’t imagine even he would be so reckless,’ the Major responded. ‘And I saw that Sebastian followed him out like a whipped dog; I’m sure they will be calling for their carriage at the inn by now, and good riddance to them. But it is as well to check, I suppose – thank you, Ro.’
‘Yes, sir, and thank you for your forbearance too, Major,’ Cecilia said with a creditable show of composure as the younger Bartrum left them. ‘I confess at one moment, I feared that you were about to hit him, and though he richly deserved such a set-down, it would undoubtedly have been a mistake. Indeed, I wish now I had not said all I did. But I have a sadly rash temper and I simply could not endure his attentions for a moment longer.’
‘Nor should you have been obliged to,’ Miss Macintyre put in bluntly. ‘Chaperons exist partly to discourage such appalling creatures, or what am I here for? I blame myself for the fact that I have not been able to do so, and so would your mother if she knew of it. Like Lady Synett, I have not previously been known for my lack of resolution. But then, he had not quite overstepped the mark till his attentions just now. It is not possible at this point in history, unfortunately, for a lady simply to tell a gentleman that she really does not care for his manner or his presence. I wonder if it ever will be?’
‘Let us take some refreshment and think no more about it,’ said Mrs Bartrum comfortably. ‘Perhaps we should reassure ourselves that he was drunk, as gentlemen – though not my sons, of course, I am happy to say – often are on such an occasion. And not just gentlemen. Alistair, do you remember the time when…’ And she continued in the same placid vein as she shepherded the little group away to where glasses of orgeat and cider were being served to the thirsty dancers.
Alistair hoped he was making a fair show of ease, but doubted that he was. Unlike his mother, it was not quite possible for him to shrug Pallant’s behaviour off so easily, but he would have liked to give an impression of insouciance, as if what had occurred was nothing serious, even though he feared it was.
