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How could she have found herself in the midst of such a nightmare?
Chapter 7
Lissa dubiously eyed the garment that lay upon the narrow metal-framed bed wedged beneath the tiny casement window. She supposed she should be feeling grateful at not having to share a bed with one of the household servants. And she should, of course, be hugely appreciative of the fact that Lady Julia had, she said, seen fit for Lissa to act as Lucinda’s chaperone for the night so that Lissa ‘could enjoy some high society’.
Of course, that was so Lady Julia might have free rein to enjoy herself without having to keep an eye on Lucinda. A more pliant charge than Lucinda might have been trusted to behave with decorum, but Lucinda was a wild card. Lissa knew that as well as Lady Julia.
Feeling ill, Lissa donned the plain evening gown that served for any event that required a greater attention to dress than dinner en famille and walked, very slowly, along the corridor to knock upon Lucinda’s door.
The young girl’s face was flushed when she opened it, and Lissa thought how pretty she looked in a blue and cream piped gown with puffed sleeves and heavily-embroidered roses at the hem.
“Wasn’t it fortunate I packed this?” Lucinda remarked, skimming her waist with her hands before offering the back of her head for Lissa’s perusal. Often, Lucinda utilized any opportunity to belittle her governess, but clearly, tonight she was too excited at the prospect of shining in high society and seemed to want Lissa’s approval regarding the fall of her ringlets.
After being reassured that Lucinda’s ringlets, and indeed Lucinda herself, had never looked better, the young girl gripped Lissa’s wrist as they began their progress toward the ballroom and begged, “Please keep as much of an eye on Lady Julia as you have to on me. You know what she’s like when she’s had too much Madeira.”
Lissa smiled. “Well then, I promise to keep as strict an eye on her as I’ve promised her I shall keep on you.” Lucinda’s grin elicited the first feeling of camaraderie she’d felt for the girl. But then the girl’s mouth drooped, and she was once again the pouting adolescent that bored and frustrated Lissa by turn as she asked, “And what about Lord Beecham? He showed no interest in ensuring I was properly supervised?”
“Lord Beecham leaves such matters to the mature women in his household and trusts you will not embarrass him.” Lissa should not have added that piece of information in the schoolmarmish tone calculated to set up Lucinda’s bristles. Immediately her charge pulled away and marched up the corridor, and Lissa wondered why she was so bad at pandering to an adolescent’s precious dignity. But then, she hadn’t seen Ralph in two weeks, and their enforced separation was taking its toll. He was, she knew, busy working on some business for his employer as Lord Debenham was trying to negotiate the sale of some land in Buckinghamshire, no doubt to settle some gaming debts.
Ralph was using the opportunity to pry deeper into his employer’s contacts. Perhaps he’d find something conclusive that built on the letter his cousin—who was both his lover as well as being Sir Aubrey’s wife—had penned intimating his criminal involvement not just in the Lord Castlereagh affair. Perhaps there was other evidence which supported his involvement in the grubby pamphleteering which had led to two members of the House of Lords taking their own lives.
There were so many instances of alleged misconduct which pointed to Lord Debenham, yet nothing conclusive had ever been established. Maybe Lissa would be the one to supply the evidence he was involved in a plot to discredit Princess Caroline of Brunswick, the Prince Regent’s wife, who evoked such violently mixed feelings among the populace and peerage.
Lissa knew this was something very much on Ralph’s mind. If he could only prove that Lord Debenham had a hand in any of these matters, he would be rewarded for his services to the Home Office with a more senior role in their hallowed echelons.
He might even be rewarded with a salary or sinecure that would enable him to do as he’d declared so ardently to Lissa was his greatest dream—be in a position to marry her.
First, of course, was the nightmare that confronted her—negotiating this evening without being exposed. Would it even be possible not to attract the observation and consequent outrage of her father, not to mention any others in the area who might recognize her?
It was the reason Lissa had chosen to wear her dullest clothing and adopt a hairstyle that was as demure and unflattering as possible.
Four hours. If she could just survive four hours—one of which would be taken up watching a play that would, fortunately, enable her to fade into the background—then she could insist it was time for her young charge, who was of course not yet out, to go to bed.
Head down, she led Lucinda to several chairs at the end of a row, hoping to attract no interest. However, the audience seemed too busy gossiping with acquaintances they’d not seen since being in London, which was probably but days ago since pleasurable indulgences were all these people seemed to live for, she thought uncharitably.
She was unnerved to see Lord Ludbridge seated next to Araminta and quickly looked away, praying neither would see her, though of course that would not be possible. Lady Debenham’s enthusiastic welcome had included an invitation to Lord Beecham to stay the night, but her tone had cooled when she’d seen his companion. Lissa wondered if they’d be sent on their way, poste haste, once their vehicle was repaired. Lady Julia seemed immune to shame or embarrassment, though Lissa was well aware that she courted opprobrium at every turn. Not only was there that bad business with Edgar, Lord Partington’s late heir, but she was a married woman in company with a single man and his charge. She wondered how that had been explained.
But while Lady Julia had her own embarrassment to contend with, there was Lissa’s own awkwardness in dealing with Araminta. She’d not seen her half-sister in some months, and of course Lissa was responsible for a number of sketches made during the fateful night at Vauxhall Gardens. This had deepened the investigation into Debenham’s affairs and led, indirectly, to Araminta being pressured—so Lissa had heard—into marrying the villain.
Ought Lissa to feel some responsibility, guilt, or even sympathy for her half-sister?
Watching the self-composed beauty seated several rows away, she reassured herself that neither Araminta nor Lord Ludbridge would be likely to acknowledge her. Lissa would be an embarrassment to them on so many counts—for what she knew, what she had done, and what she was.
It was this last part that rankled.
For her entire life, Lissa had been conscious of the way others judged her on account of her parentage. Now she was sitting here in the midst of her worst nightmare, and there was nothing she could do.
Her throat felt dry, and sh
e licked her lips as she glanced about her. Once she’d ascertained where her father was seated, she’d do her best all evening to keep her head low and out of sight.
As for Lord Debenham, he was the main reason she’d not pleaded a megrim and kept to her room. Lissa felt in her pocket for her sketchbook. Her job was to produce lightning sketches detailing the associations between people of interest to the Home Office. They wanted evidence of all the personages with whom Lord Debenham conversed in any manner that suggested clandestine matters were being discussed. Her sketches of Debenham at Vauxhall in company with Buzby and Smythe had indicated that he was in deep with men who were strongly suspected to be radicals involved in more than just grubby pamphleteering and possibly counterfeiting. If Lissa’s sketches could bear that up or find evidence of, perhaps, Spencean associations, she would be lauded for a job well done.
And it had been a long time since Lissa had been lauded for anything.
Kitty waited in the wings, terror and anticipation making her lightheaded and nauseous. Her costume would not be sufficient to disguise her from those who knew her best—namely, her father. Her name would be another shock. Silverton would not be best pleased that she was under the same roof as his future wife. In the same room. What’s more, Miss Mandelton might well recognize Kitty and engage her in conversation before Kitty got the opportunity to slip away.
She dashed a tear from the corner of her eye as she angled herself behind the curtain in order to get a view of the audience. There he was. Her beloved Silverton. How commanding and dashing he looked. Yet also kind and personable. Her breath hitched in her throat as she watched him smilingly converse with Miss Mandelton, who was sitting on his right side. The fact that she was so plain made the reality of what Kitty faced so much bleaker. Miss Mandelton’s sweetness and vulnerability would appeal to Silverton’s chivalry. How could he bear to tear himself in two?
