Mary Nichols - The Incomparable Countess

The maid brought in the refreshments and a few minutes were occupied in pouring tea and offering sweetmeats, during which the conversation, conducted entirely between the Countess and the Duke, revolved around the weather.

‘Now, Lady Lavinia,’ Frances said, at last. ‘I believe you are to come to me for drawing lessons.’

‘So Papa says.’

‘You do not like the idea yourself?’

Lavinia shrugged. ‘I am hopeless at it.’

‘Oh, dear. Who has told you that?’

‘Miss Hastings, my governess. She loses all patience with me—’

‘It is not to be wondered at,’ the Duke put in. ‘You do not even try.’

‘I cannot see the point in trying. What use is being able to draw to me? Or dancing? Or playing the harpsichord? Or mincing about learning to curtsy?’

He sighed. ‘We have been over this all before, Vinny. These are accomplishments all young ladies need in order to enter Society.’

‘Then I shall not enter it. It is all a terrible bore.’

‘Lavinia,’ he said sharply, ‘you will do as you are told. You know what we talked about only yesterday…’

‘That Mama would have wished it. Yes, yes, I know, but Mama is not here, is she?’

Oh, poor child, Frances thought. She misses her mama dreadfully and he cannot see that. ‘Lady Lavinia,’ she said gently. ‘Shall we have a trial, just to see how we deal together? If we cannot do so, there is no point in continuing; I cannot teach you if you do not wish to be taught.’

‘Do not forget, I have also commissioned a portrait,’ Marcus reminded her. ‘I insist she sits for that.’

‘We will deal with that later,’ Frances said, looking from the girl to the man, her brows drawn together in annoyance. How was she to get through to the child if he continually interrupted?

He glared at her, but fell silent under her withering glance.

‘Now, my lady,’ Frances went on. ‘Shall you come again tomorrow and we will talk some more? Perhaps you could come with your governess, so that your father may go about his business.’

‘I will bring her,’ Marcus snapped. ‘My daughter does not go about town without a proper escort. Her governess would be useless in a tight corner.’

‘Very well, your Grace,’ she said, wondering what sort of tight corner he had in mind. ‘I will expect you both at ten o’clock. I am afraid I cannot make it any later. I have a class at noon and an appointment for the afternoon.’

‘That will serve,’ he said, rising. ‘Come Vinny, we have other visits to make.’

All very cold and businesslike, she told herself after they had gone, and cold was the only word to describe him, cold and top-lofty. Was he like that with his daughter all the time? Did he ever show her any affection? Whether she would break through the girl’s petulance, she did not know but, for some reason she could not explain, even to herself, she wanted to try. Perhaps it was simply that she enjoyed a challenge.

She repeated that thought to Sir Percival when they were riding in Hyde Park the following morning. They had enjoyed a good gallop over the turf and had returned to walk their horses along the carriageway before returning home.

‘If you do not mind my saying so, Fanny, you are a ninny,’ he said, while bowing to an acquaintance in a phaeton. ‘You will only invite gossip.’

‘It was you who told me no one would remember the scandal, Percy.’

‘Yes, but you do not have to remind them of it.’

‘I am not, but if I had refused the Duke’s request, he would think I bear him a grudge and that I cannot have. The past is dead and gone and teaching Lady Lavinia will prove it.’

‘How?’

‘Why, because nothing will come of it. It is a business arrangement and when it comes to an end and he takes his daughter back to Derbyshire, everyone will see it is.’ She smiled and inclined her head in greeting towards Lady Jersey, sitting in a carriage with one of her bosom bows.

‘You should be careful you are not hoist on your own petard, my dear.’

‘And what is that supposed to mean?’

‘Oh, I think you are well aware of my meaning.’

‘I have no interest in the Duke of Loscoe, except as a client,’ she said, turning back towards the Stanhope Gate. ‘He is paying me well.’

He laughed. ‘And you so poor you cannot afford to turn him down!’

‘No, I can’t. I put the money I earn to very good use.’

‘Now, I never had you down as a pinchcommons.’ He sighed. ‘It just shows how wrong a fellow can be.’

She laughed. ‘You know me better than anyone, Percy, and you know I am not at all interested in money for its own sake.’

‘Do I?’

‘Naturally, you do.’

‘But you know the latest on dit is that his Grace is looking for a second wife.’

‘So?’

‘Will he go back unmarried, I ask myself?’

‘What has that to do with me?’

‘He is rich as Golden Ball, if it is money you want. Not that you would have much of a bargain. The gabble-grinders have it that his marriage was far from content and the consensus of opinion seems to be that it was his fault. He is too stiff and overweening to make any woman happy and only his enormous wealth will make the ladies overlook his failings.’

‘Percy, I do believe you are a little jealous.’

‘Not at all.’ They passed through the gate into Park Lane. ‘But do not say I did not warn you.’

They rode on in silence while she mused on what he had said and arrived at Corringham House, just as the phaeton containing the Duke and his daughter turned into the road. This was beginning to become a habit, she thought, this meeting on the doorstep. She must remember that the Duke was a stickler for punctuality and not to be late in future. They stopped and Sir Percival sprang down to help her dismount as the carriage containing the Duke and his daughter came to a halt.

She was magnificent, Marcus decided, standing at her door in a green velvet habit that nipped her waist, and the most amazing riding hat, like a man’s top hat, but with a sweeping feather and a wisp of veil to make it more feminine. He jumped down and made his bow. ‘My lady.’

She inclined her head, almost haughty, except that her smile belied it. ‘Your Grace, am I late or are you early?’

‘I am punctual, my lady. It is the politeness of kings, so they say, and who am I to be less polite than a king?’

‘I will remember that, my lord. Will you please come in? Sir Percival, will you join us?’

‘No, don’t think so, m’dear,’ he murmured, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. ‘Things to do, don’t you know?’

‘Of course. Thank you for your escort.’

‘My pleasure, dear lady.’ He turned to the Duke. ‘Good day, Loscoe. Lady Lavinia.’ And with that he remounted and set off at a trot towards Brook Street.

‘I do not intend to stay long,’ Marcus said to the groom who came round from the side of the house to lead the horses away. ‘Just keep a watch on the horses for me.’

Relieved by that, Frances conducted them indoors and, once his Grace had been relieved of his hat and Lady Lavinia had been divested of her pelisse and bonnet, led the way up to her studio, where she left them to go and change out of her habit.

It took her no more than five minutes and she returned to find Lavinia standing at the window with her back to the room and the Duke prowling round looking at the pictures displayed on the wall. He had his hands clasped under the tail of his brown frockcoat.

‘These are good,’ he said. ‘A deal better than that fribble you did of Lady Willoughby.’

‘Thank you. They are the ones I have painted for my own pleasure.’

‘You should share that pleasure, not hide them away.’