Page 55 of Twice Shy
Aurelia Rendlesham was like a spider in the centre of a web; she felt the tremors in distant threads and went to investigate in case there was anything worth wrapping up for later use. She felt, rather than knew, that something had268happened when Lord Easby did not appear at functions two nights running where she knew he had been engaged to attend, and then on the third behaved in a slightly peculiar way with Miss Ashling. She knew his body language pretty well, and also that the country dance that he danced with her was one he loathed. There must, therefore, be a reason for his standing up with the lady, and it was most certainly not indicative of victory.
Lady Rendlesham had a suspicious mind, and, thanks to a generous allowance, an open purse. She thought the money she expended on one of her grooms whiling away an evening in an alehouse that Lord Easby’s servants were wont to frequent during their leisure hours, well spent, especially when it meant that she found out his lordship had returned from driving Miss Ashling round the park sporting a thick lip, bloody nose and the hint of a black eye. She naturally enough did not assume these injuries were inflicted by the lady herself, but by some gentleman desirous of defending her honour, for some as yet unknown reason. That the man would be Sir Lucius Radstock was not hard to work out. Part of her hoped that he would fail with Elizabeth Ashling, since seeing her on the shelf and dwindling as a spinster made her feel very smug, but at the same time it was hard not to wish to gloat over Lord Easby’s failure. He had said he would shrug and move on, but Lady Rendlesham knew how highly he valued himself, and how little he understood failure. This must rankle.
It was two evenings later, on the eve of Sir Lucius’s Derby expedition, that she was able to get close to Lord Easby in one of Lady Sumercote’s drawing rooms. He did not look,269when he thought himself unobserved, a very contented man. Lady Rendlesham could barely contain her delight, and worked her way to his side.
‘So, my lord’ – she smiled with assumed sweetness – ‘I hope you are recovered from your, er, unexpected bloodletting. I do hope it vented any excess passions from your blood.’
He looked sharply at her. ‘I fail to un—’
‘No, really, my lord, I think you have to admit I know you far too well for silly lies. I wonder what you did that brought about such violence. Oh, do not tell me that you forgot that simpering maidens do not play by the rules that we married ladies comprehend so well. Was the poor little thing overcome by shock?’ She tittered. ‘You would have been better remaining at my side, Frederick.’
‘Hardly, madam,’ he snapped. ‘Far better the dangers of the chase than deadly boredom.’
Her eyes flashed, and two spots of colour that owed nothing to the rouge pot flew onto her cheeks. ‘Indeed, sir. Ennui is so much a part of a woman’s relationship with men that we become inured to it.’ Her beautifully moulded lip curled. ‘For a man who said it mattered not if the lady proved impervious to your self-inflated charms, you look blue as megrim, my lord. You have no chance of her now, of course, and how much more galling it must be to see her falling like a ripe plum into the welcoming hands of Sir Lucius Radstock. You do so like your fruit ripe, as I recall.’
The look he shot her was of loathing, and she almost laughed out loud. This was more entertaining than the270most daring dalliance. She was suddenly reminded of an incident as a girl, when a cat had brought a mouse into the schoolroom, and proceeded to play with it before killing it. Her sisters and governess had screamed and hidden their eyes, but she had watched and applauded the cat’s ruthlessness in its tormenting.
‘I take it Sir Lucius’s hands were not so welcoming to you, by the way. How foolish of you, my lord, to take liberties, and one assumes that was what you were doing, in a place where others might intervene.’
‘You should be careful of your sharp tongue, ma’am, lest you cut yourself with it.’ Easby smiled, but spoke through gritted teeth.
‘Do tell. You were teaching her to drive, as I recall. Did she find your hands over-responsive? Or did you meet her out riding upon that grey of Godmanchester’s?’
‘No more Godmanchester’s than mine, my lady. Ah, you do not know everything, you see. That horse was chosen and paid for by Radstock. I only found that truth today.’
Lady Rendlesham caught her breath, and Easby thought briefly that he had at least paid her back for one jibe. A slow smile spread across her face, a smile that was purely private. Then she laughed very softly, and gave the Earl a look that was both disdainful and mocking.
‘Oh, my lord, such a fool as you are, but then that is the way of men. You cannot see the weapons before you unless they are those of physical violence, which are, I am sure you will agree, exceedingly clumsy.’
He frowned, not understanding her, which increased her pleasure. The smile lengthened, and the glitter in her hard271eyes made him almost recoil at the depth of their calculating malice.
‘Poor Frederick. You really ought to withdraw to those encumbered estates of yours, and lick your wounds in private, or are you going to make a last-minute attempt on the Gillingham girl, out of pure desperation? Sorry, impure desperation.’
Her tinkling laugh and the gentle rap of her fan upon his lordship’s knuckles led several ladies to assume that Aurelia Rendlesham had taken up again with the dangerous Lord Easby, and to hope, uncharitably, that she might suffer as a result. Only one noticed that his lordship looked most unlike a man engaged in flirtation, and he shortly afterwards withdrew to an evening of gaming.
Lady Rendlesham spent an evening of almost unalloyed pleasure. Only her failure to speak with Miss Ashling, to hint at her knowledge – largely surmised – of the recent incident, and to drip the poison of her most recent acquisition into her ear, kept her from complete happiness. Well, the delights of that encounter could wait, and might even be better for the chance to think first how to get the most from it.
She was not a woman of many virtues, and patience was certainly not one she possessed. Her failure to see Miss Ashling at all the next evening, either at the Castlereaghs’ rout, or the three other lesser parties that she deigned to honour with her brief presence, left her irascible. Her shoes, she decided, pinched horribly, and the refreshments at the smaller entertainments were inferior. Both these things she blamed, illogically, upon Elizabeth Ashling.
272She returned home with her mind working overtime, and was far more disagreeable than usual with her maid, who frequently had to put up with harsh words and thrown hairbrushes. She submitted to her abigail undressing her but subjected the woman to waspish complaint. The release from corsetry and myriad hairpins did not, as the maid had hoped, improve her temper.
The sound of her husband’s slightly unsteady footfall upon the stair made her purse her lips. That was all she needed after a frustrating evening. She hoped that he was foxed enough not to notice the light from under her door, but her hope was in vain.
Lord Rendlesham was not drunk. He would deny he was drunk to anyone who suggested otherwise. He had already informed the friend who walked home with him that he was perfectly sober, also a link boy, two complete strangers, the butler and a chair in the hall.
The thought of his bed was alluring, but at the sight of the narrow shaft of light beneath the door of his wife’s bedchamber, an image even more alluring presented itself. He hiccupped softly, and smiled to himself. He was a very fortunate man, possessed as he was of a beautiful young wife. She was expensive, of course, but then keeping her rigged up to the nines was worth it when she drew all eyes to her. She had her odd humours, but then that was what women were like: fragile, delicate things prone to frequent headaches and indispositions.
He knocked tentatively upon the door, and, in a moment of pure revenge, the maid went to open it a fraction, feigning surprise at seeing her employer.
273‘My lord!’ She curtseyed, hiding her smirk as much as possible by lowering her gaze. He did not even spare her a glance, his eyes being only upon the delectable form of his wife, seated at her dressing chest.
She was arrayed in a lace wrapper and her maid had just finished brushing her hair, so it lay in thick dark tresses on the white lace. She looked into the dressing mirror as he entered the room, and groaned inwardly. At least, she thought, she had enough to keep her mind occupied.
‘Good evening, my dear,’ he enunciated, only a trifle thickly, and nodded dismissal to the maid, which made his wife’s smile even more forced. ‘I saw your light was on, and …’
‘Yes, indeed, my lord. I have had much to occupy my thoughts.’ Distraction, well, it sometimes worked. ‘Did you know that Sir Lucius Radstock looks about to offer himself and all his worldly goods, mostly smelling of horse, to the terribly overrated Miss Ashling?’
‘What, not the golden-haired chit? Emily, is it? Chalford’s girl.’
