Three

When she awoke, Ellen was lighting the candles and drawing the curtains. “There you are, miss. I was just about to wake you. Time to dress for dinner.”

Gwendeline rose from the bed feeling crumpled and untidy, as she always did after sleeping in the daytime. She stretched as Ellen began undoing the buttons at the back of her traveling dress.

“Your new house is very fine, Miss Gwendeline,” Ellen said cheerfully. “I’ve just come from there. Mr. Reeves is proper set up, he is. The parlor maid is French, from Paris, France, and so is the cook. Chef, I should say. He’s a man.” She giggled. “And a fair strange little man at that. When I went to the kitchen for tea, he was carrying on something fierce because the cook boy had dropped his raspberry tart. All in French and mortal fast. Then, when he saw me, he just stopped dead and came to meet the new pay-teet mam-zel. That’s what he called me, miss. And he kissed my hand.” She giggled again. “Yvette, the parlor maid, didn’t like that a bit, she didn’t. They call the chef Alphonse.”

Gwendeline took advantage of the momentary pause to steer Ellen’s attention back to matters of dress. Soon her curls were newly arranged and she wore her black evening gown. As she surveyed herself critically in the mirror, she decided that black became her well enough, though tonight it made her look pale. She didn’t care for the color, however, and wished she could put on her old pink evening frock. She sighed. She would have to buy more mourning clothes instead; she had only three black dresses.

Gwendeline started downstairs to dinner feeling less lost than when she’d first arrived in the house. Living in London would be stranger and perhaps more difficult than she’d thought. In the country, where she’d known just what to do, she’d felt much more grown-up. However, that life was gone forever, and she must make do with what she had. At this, she scolded herself again. Make do indeed; many girls would give a great deal to be staying in town with the Countess of Merryn as the season was about to begin. She smiled. Soon she would learn the way of things and be completely at ease in London.

When she reached the drawing room, she found the earl there alone. He bowed slightly as she entered, but said nothing. Gwendeline stopped beside him, in front of the fire. She wanted to ask him several questions about his mother, but it was difficult to find the proper words.

“You don’t look as if your first impressions of London are favorable,” said Merryn, looking down at her as she stared at the fire.

Gwendeline glanced up sharply, thinking he was mocking her, but his expression was bland. “I must say, it’s not just what I expected,” she answered after a pause. “My conversation seems inadequate. Sometimes I didn’t quite understand what your mother meant when she spoke to me, and I could never think of any reply.”

The earl laughed. “You mustn’t take my mother as typical of London, Gwendeline. At least, not of fashionable London and the ton. Mama fancies herself a literary light.”

“Literary,” said Gwendeline. “She must read a great deal. Her desk was covered with books. What was the name…Rousseau? Have you read that?” This last remark sounded slightly forlorn. “I’m afraid I’m not the least bookish. Your mother will find me quite stupid.” The prospect of living with a literary lady, even temporarily, filled Gwendeline with dismay.

The earl laughed again. “Don’t look so blue-deviled. My mother’s literary ‘fits’ are worst while she’s actually writing. Between books, she’s a fairly normal member of polite society. And when she finds you’re interested in other things, she won’t plague you. At least, not often.” But his expression was more hopeful than certain, and he turned the subject. “What sorts of things are you interested in, Gwendeline? I don’t believe we’ve discussed that.”

“You’ve never appeared unduly concerned with my interests, my lord, only in harrying me about in accordance with your own.” Gwendeline paused and blinked. “Oh dear, that’s unfair. I apologize. I really am most grateful for all the money you’ve spent to bring me here and the house and…and everything.”

“You’re much more amusing when you’re berating me, Gwendeline. Your eyes flash so brilliantly.”

“Oh,” said Gwendeline. “You’re insufferable, and I wish you would stop calling me Gwendeline. It is impossible to thank you. I—”

“Then cease trying. We were talking of your interests. Do you ride?” This question happily diverted them into an intense discussion of horses and hunting that lasted until the earl’s mother entered the room.

“We’ll have to see about getting you a mount,” said the earl as they turned to greet her. “You’ll want to ride in the park, I’m sure. Good evening, Mother, you’re looking particularly dashing tonight.”

Indeed, Lady Merryn’s appearance in evening dress seemed to confirm what her son had said about her place in society. Her amber silk gown was cut in the latest mode, and her gray hair was dressed à la Meduse. She wore a set of magnificent emeralds and a paisley silk shawl with long trailing fringes. Gwendeline felt pale and countrified beside her. “Let’s go directly down to dinner, shall we?” the older woman said. “We can make plans as we eat.” With this, she took the earl’s arm and led the way to the dining room.

The table was beautifully appointed, and the meal perfectly cooked and served, but Gwendeline later remembered little about the food. From the moment they sat down, her future was the topic, and she was seldom allowed to make any comment or offer any suggestion.

“Well,” Lady Merryn began efficiently. “Of course, you’ll want to get into society as soon as may be. Almack’s, perhaps a presentation at court later on. London will be very thin of company for a few weeks yet, but I daresay we could arrange a small private party to begin.”

“Gwendeline is in mourning, of course, Mother,” put in the earl.

“Oh lud,” said the countess. “How shatter-brained I am! You must think me a monster, child. I haven’t even mentioned your parents’ sad accident.”

“Not at all,” said Gwendeline. “I was never close to my parents. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“Indeed,” replied her ladyship. She looked thoughtful. “Well, I hadn’t considered the question properly before, but I should think that’s all for the best.” She exchanged a significant look with her son, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

Gwendeline felt that she’d failed to catch some implication, but the countess quickly turned the talk back to her plans. “Do you consider that six months’ mourning would be right, Gwendeline? I don’t want you to feel pushed.”

“It’s difficult to feel grief for two people who merely brought me into the world, then ignored me,” said Gwendeline. “I’ll leave it to you to decide what is proper. I would be pleased to be done with all this black.” She looked down at her dress with distaste.

The countess’s eyes twinkled. “You are certainly honest, my dear. That is most refreshing. Well, then, I think that six months should be adequate. Do you agree, Alex?” The earl nodded. “And that will give you plenty of time to get settled,” his mother continued. “And to get some clothes. We can begin tomorrow.”

Gwendeline felt she must begin to assert herself before she was again swept up in someone else’s schemes. “That’s very kind of you,” she said. “I’d be grateful for your help in choosing a few things suitable for London. But I don’t wish to spend much money.” She glanced at the earl. “And I hope to get my own house in order very soon so that I need not trespass on your hospitality.” Lady Merryn seemed about to speak, but Gwendeline rushed on. “And I think one of my first duties should be to go and thank those people who have combined to help me.”

“C-combined?” echoed the countess, looking mystified.

“I’ve told Miss Gregory that several of her father’s friends gathered the means to aid her,” interrupted St. Audley smoothly.

“Her father’s friends?”

“Yes,” he answered firmly. He turned to Gwendeline. “Unfortunately, most are out of town right now, but you’ll no doubt have a chance to express your thanks later.”

“I… All right,” said Gwendeline. Lady Merryn’s expression was odd, and Gwendeline was beginning to resent feeling out of her depth. “I suppose I can spend the time tidying up my new house,” she said a bit defiantly. “May I go to see it tomorrow?”

“Certainly,” the earl replied. “But if you wish to live there immediately, we must make some arrangements for a companion. You can’t live in London alone.”

“But there are the servants. Reeves is completely trustworthy, I assure you. We managed quite well at Brooklands.”

“I’m sure you did. But even in the country, it was improper for a young lady to have no chaperone, and in the city it’s impossible.”

“But you are to stay with me,” Lady Merryn broke in plaintively. “I thought it was all settled. I was quite looking forward to a very long visit. You mustn’t leave immediately.”

“You are very kind, my lady, but…”

“I won’t hear of it,” the countess continued. “This is utter nonsense. Why should you go and live in Green Street, quite out of the world, when you’re perfectly comfortable here? Alex, I forbid it!”

“But you wouldn’t wish to keep Miss Gregory here against her will, Mother,” the earl replied. “Certainly if she wants to go to her own house, you will respect her wishes.” There was a peculiar intensity to his words.

The countess frowned at him, then her face fell. To Gwendeline’s horror, tears began to form in her hostess’s eyes. “You’re right, of course, Alex. It’s just that I so looked forward to having some company.” She turned to Gwendeline. “Since my husband died years ago, I have been rather lonely, you see, my dear. But I mustn’t be selfish. I’ve accused Alex of it, and you’ll begin to think he inherited the failing from me. Go to your house, of course, Gwendeline. I shall be quite all right.” She sniffed quietly.

“Oh, I never meant… Your generous hospitality… I’m so sorry.” Gwendeline was so intent on comforting Lady Merryn that she failed to see the gleam of malicious amusement in the earl’s eyes. “Of course I will stay if you truly wish it. I was only worried about being a burden to you.”

“No, no, Gwendeline,” said her ladyship sadly. She sat up straighter in her chair. “You must not give in to my selfish whims. You must do as you like.”

“But I want to stay,” said Gwendeline desperately, feeling as if she had betrayed some trust. “I truly do.”

“Well,” began Lady Merryn, “if you’re not just being kind.” She brightened.

“Oh no, I mean it.”

“Wonderful.” She beamed at the girl happily. “That’s settled. You’ll stay with me indefinitely. Your house will remain in readiness for the time you decide to move. And tomorrow, I shall take you to Bond Street, and we can begin our shopping.”

“All right,” answered Gwendeline weakly.

“But now, my dear, you’re looking completely fagged. Perhaps you’d prefer to go to bed early tonight, after your journey?”

Seizing this chance to escape, Gwendeline agreed. As she left the dining room, the earl directed a telling glance at his mother. She met it squarely. “Very neatly done,” he said after the door had closed.

“I thought so,” she replied complacently. “It was much like Melantha’s speech in Terror at Wellwyn Abbey, wasn’t it?”

“It was indeed, Mother, and I thank you. I had no idea how to persuade her, and I was afraid of setting her back up.”

The countess smiled. “Gentle persuasion isn’t one of your strong suits, Alex. You have a distressing tendency to command obedience. So like your father, and so very wrong in this case. I do wish you’d taken me to Devonshire with you.”

Her son returned her smile ruefully. “As do I, believe me. But it’s come out right in the end. She’s settled here. Once you’ve taken her about a bit and society is accustomed to her existence, perhaps she can live in Green Street.”

Lady Merryn looked doubtful. “A young girl all alone? No, utterly unsuitable. And such a sweet, innocent girl at that. I must keep her here. Particularly under the circumstances.”

The earl shrugged. “Perhaps you’re right. But she is a taking little thing, isn’t she?”

“Extremely.”

“I think a respectable match is the thing, if you can contrive it.”

The countess considered. “Of course, that would be best. But with no fortune and the on dits still circulating about her parents, it will be a difficult thing to manage. It’s a pity she resembles Annabella so closely.”

“Her character seems quite unlike her mother’s,” offered Lord Merryn.

“So I hope, my dear, so I hope. One can never tell.” As her son made a protesting gesture, she added, “Oh, I’m sure you’re right, Alex. But a good match? I simply don’t know.”

“Well, you must do the best you can. It was only an idea.” He rose. “And now, I must go, Mother.”

The countess nodded vaguely, and he took his leave. Lady Merryn remained at the table for some minutes, a look of concentration sharpening her features. Finally, she too stood. “We shall see,” she murmured, and she went back to her study, frowning.