Mary Nichols - Regency High Society Vol 5 - The Disgraced Marchioness / The Reluctant Escort / The Outrageous Debutante / A Damnable Rogue

‘I can even promise you any number of opera dancers who will doubtless cast out lures to you. Your evening might not be wasted!’

He ignored her caustic comments, appreciative of her disordered spirits. ‘And to escort so attractive a lady as yourself. It will be my greatest pleasure. How can I refuse?’

‘How indeed.’ Her brows rose.

‘Ah—are we to be chaperoned to this seductive event?’

‘Of course. It is not my intention to be seen alone with you at such a performance—to replace one scandal with another. My mother will accompany us. We shall all enjoy every minute of it!’

Thus a private box was procured at Drury Lane.

Eleanor made an appearance, spectacular in a new gown, guaranteed to catch every eye. The Italian silk and lace shimmered in the candlelight, its intense violet hue iridescent and sumptuous. A jewelled aigrette held a discreet spray of egret feathers in her hair. A rope of amethysts wound its shining path around her slender throat. She had even made judicious use of cosmetics to disguise the ravages of strain and sleeplessness. A little Olympian Dew to bring a sparkle to her eyes, the veriest hint of Liquid Bloom of Roses to enhance the soft colour in her cheeks. Her appearance at the theatre, Henry realised, was to be a deliberate challenge, a throwing down of the family gauntlet to all those who would dare to question the Marchioness’s presence in London society. She looked magnificent, as had been her intention.

Henry dared make no comment, resorting instead to discretion, knowing that any compliment would have received a short reply. There was fire and temper in her eyes this night. So he merely bowed as he handed her and her watchful mama into the town carriage, quelling the desire with stern intent, desire that had run hot through his blood when faced with the glory of her appearance and her enforced proximity.

It was a tension-filled evening: more than one lorgnette levelled in their direction; more than one cold shoulder turned as Lord Henry ushered the two ladies with consummate ease through the crowded lobby; more than one half-heard whisper. But Mrs Stamford, well rehearsed by her daughter in her role for the evening, acted her part with undisturbed composure and dignity, set to ignore any unpleasantness as if it were beneath her notice. Eleanor was at her superb best. She bowed, smiled, conversed, sipped champagne—not everyone was at the Carstairs’s Drum!—gave her full attention to the performance as if nothing troubled her thoughts beyond the colour and style of the gown that she would wear on the following day. And she stared down those whose gaze she considered too insolent to be tolerated. She watched the remarkable Vestris in the role of Macheath, shapely legs scandalously clad in masculine breeches, with due admiration. She frowned at the courtesans who paraded in the lobby and sent flirtatious glances at her escort—how dared they!—and frowned equally at her escort, who was not averse to returning the smiles. And she engaged Henry in trivial and lively conversation to keep from dwelling on the critical stares of the Dowagers in their boxes.

Mrs Stamford found need to comment on young women—no lady here!—who cavorted on stage in male attire. She could not imagine why anyone of breeding and sensitivity would prefer such a performance to a production of King Lear with Edmund Kean—so talented as he was. The Darling of London indeed! Vestris was in Mrs Stamford’s considered opinion no better than she should be! What was the world coming to! Eleanor turned a deaf ear.

Henry watched the performance with an amused smile and appreciative eye.

‘I trust you are enjoying yourself, my lord?’ Eleanor wielded her fan with considerable energy and expertise. Her mama was momentarily and safely occupied in conversation with a passing acquaintance.

‘I am.’ He slanted a glance at her lovely face.

‘And you approve of Vestris?’

‘Miss Lucy Bartolozzo? Definitely an asset to the production. It is everything you promised me. And the company of a beautiful woman, of course. You outshine everyone here, even the ladies of the lobby.’ His smile was fast and devastating. Dangerous, Eleanor decided, lowering her lashes to hide her confusion at his compliment.

‘Thank you, my lord.’ Her lips curved in a genuine smile, despite her best intentions to remain censorious on the subject of the courtesans. ‘Such a compliment lifts my spirits inordinately.’

‘Is it possible that you are flirting with me, madam?’

‘Certainly not!’

Henry laughed aloud, drawing more than one pair of eyes towards their box.

‘Hush! I would not willingly give the town tabbies anything other to talk about! I was merely expressing my heartfelt gratitude.’ Eleanor looked away, more than aware that her cheeks were burning.

‘You must not, you know.’ Henry covered her hand for a moment with his own, his voice very gentle. ‘You are doing very well, Eleanor. It is not necessary to take the town by storm.’

‘No? I think that perhaps it is. Smile, Hal.’ Her own was brittle, but she held her head high. Once again, he could not but admire her spirit. ‘The town is watching us. I will enjoy this evening if it is the death of me!’

At last the never-ending evening drew to a close. At last! Henry helped the ladies from their carriage and into the entrance hall in Park Lane.

‘Satisfied?’ he asked, with a quizzical glance.

‘Yes.’ Eleanor raised her chin, still vibrating with energy.

‘Something you would wish to repeat?’

‘No.’ She could not lie. ‘Not in the foreseeable future. If you wish to renew your acquaintance with Vestris, it will be without my company. But you have my gratitude, Hal. I felt a need to…to make a grand gesture and be noticed. I do not regret it.’

Mrs Stamford halted on the bottom step before retiring to bed, turning to look at his lordship over her shoulder. ‘I have to thank you, Henry. For your unfailing support of my daughter. It should not go unsaid.’ She spoke as if the words were wrung from her against her better judgement.

‘My pleasure, ma’am.’ Henry bowed, hiding his initial amazement.

‘Not the easiest of evenings,’ the lady continued, arranging her embroidered Kashmir stole more elegantly round her shoulders. ‘And I am sure that you would have preferred to spend your time in other amusements.’

‘Not when the comfort of her ladyship is a priority.’

‘No. I realise that you have Eleanor’s best interests at heart. I have not given you sufficient credit for that in the past, have I?’ She gave him a considering look ‘Perhaps I—’ She broke off, redefining her thoughts. ‘But no matter.’

She turned on her heel to precede them up the stairs.

Eleanor’s eyes met Hal’s in lively astonishment.

‘Now that must be a first,’ he murmured, when Mrs Stamford was out of hearing. ‘Your mama’s approval is a state that I had never hoped to achieve.’

‘I advise you to treasure it,’ was Eleanor’s dry reply. ‘In all probability it will never happen again.’

Before the Faringdon family could embark on their own social event, they were committed, the following evening, to the small soirée at the elegant London home of the Earl and Countess of Sefton.

‘I would rather not go,’ Eleanor stated, with every intention of following her statement with action, making a graceful withdrawal from the invitation. Taking the air in Hyde Park was one thing. So was an intimate family gathering. Even a private visit to the theatre. But appearing in public at so splendid an occasion, with the haut ton present, when she would draw the attention of, and need to converse with, any number of people without means of escape, was quite another matter.