Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

In London, the social whirl over Christmas and New Year built in a crescendo of invitations to Court entertainments and private parties by the reigning families, and climaxed in January with the New Year’s Honors List from the king. This was to be celebrated at the first drawing room of the year at St. James’s Palace.

Bridget Gunning, who had been watching for the royal invitation, easily intercepted a note addressed to Elizabeth from the newly married Lady Hartington. She opened it quickly and scanned its contents:

Elizabeth:

I am so excited about William’s appointment as Master of the Horse, which will be announced at the king’s drawing room for the New Year’s honors.

J sends regards, and we all look forward to seeing you at St. James’s Palace.

Love,

Charlie

Bridget handed over the note. “Who is J?” she demanded.

“Jane . . . Charlie’s maid,” Elizabeth improvised quickly, swallowing her guilt over the lie.

“He would never have gotten the appointment if his father wasn’t the Duke of Devonshire!” Bridget said with malice.

Elizabeth skipped over the first part of the message and concentrated on the second. Charlie was telling her that John was back in London and looked forward to seeing her at St. James’s. Her heart did a somersault as she rushed upstairs to dress.

John Campbell graciously agreed to escort Lady Mary Montagu to the drawing room at St. James’s Palace. He felt it his social duty to introduce the young débutante to the Court, then his obligation would be finished. Upon his arrival in London, he had immediately visited his best friend, Will Cavendish, and his bride at Burlington Gardens. He was delighted that Will would be Master of the Horse, an appointment he had long anticipated, and attending the drawing room would give John a chance to report to the king. He asked Charlie to let Beth know he was back in London and most eager to see her.

When John arrived, he lost no time in escorting Lady Mary to the king. He glimpsed Maria Gunning close by, and his pulse quickened as he realized Elizabeth must be somewhere in the chamber. “Your Majesty, it is my honor and my pleasure to present the Duke of Buccleuch’s daughter, Lady Mary Montagu.”

King George looked her over. “The pleasure is ours, Sundridge. Welcome to our Court, Lady Mary.”

She sank into a deep curtsy. “You honor me, Gracious Majesty.”

“We trust your journey from Scotland was uneventful, what?”

“Lord Sundridge gave me safe escort, Your Majesty.”

“Quite! Couldn’t be in better hands!” King George’s speculative glance moved over the couple, then he made eye contact with Campbell and indicated that he would see him in his privy chamber after the reception.

The king wasn’t the only one speculating. George Coventry and James Hamilton watched John return the lady to her aunt then walk across the chamber to greet them. As Hamilton began to hum “The Campbells Are Coming,” Coventry jested, “By God, I told you he might return from Scotland leg-shackled!”

“She has such lovely manners . . . Buccleuch, Bowhill, Boughton.”

“I’m glad I amuse you,” John said dryly. “If her manors interest you, please feel free to pursue the lady.” His dark glance swept relentlessly around the room until it found the object of his desire. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”

As he walked a direct path to her, he saw her mother join Dorothy Boyle, leaving Elizabeth in the company of Charlie and Will. John took her fingers to his lips, and his eyes drank in the smile of radiant joy she bestowed upon him.

“Lord Sundridge,” she said breathlessly.

She wore a new gown of ice-blue satin over a lace under-dress; her golden curls remained unpowdered. She was a thousand times more lovely than he remembered. “My beauty,” he murmured for her ears alone. Then he proceeded to press his newlywed friends to arrange a rendezvous at Burlington Gardens.

Across the room, Dorothy bent close to Bridget. “You’d think the duchess would be here to see her son honored with the appointment of Master of the Horse. Her actions prove she is neither aristocrat nor even plutocrat.” Dorothy shuddered. “Middle-class!”

“She should be ashamed to embarrass the duke and her son in such a manner. Gossip about her is rife!”

“The ugly duchess is without shame. In all the years her husband was Viceroy of Ireland, she spent only a month there. Stuck her nose up at the Irish and decamped back to Chatsworth. Is it any wonder he turned to his two other loves?”

Bridget’s eyebrows lifted in inquiry.

“Gaming and drink!” Dorothy laughed at her own joke. “I see Johnny Ponsonby’s name on the Honors List. Old Devonshire has managed to get him appointed Baron Duncannon. That’s strictly to appease the old bitch. When Cat Cavendish weds him, she’ll have the title of Lady Duncannon.”

Bridget Gunning was incensed that so many weddings were taking place among her daughters’ acquaintances. Her girls were far more beautiful than any of the chits who were becoming brides, especially Maria. Bridget’s resolve hardened. She would have to take matters into her own hands. Time was of the essence.

Unwittingly, King George became her ally when he beckoned Maria and lightly scolded her about her newfound friendship with her Tory admirer. Even Maria understood that the king preferred Whig supremacy in Parliament and on the spot decided it was time to stop giving George Coventry the cold shoulder. She assumed that all she’d have to do was crook her little finger and he’d come running. She felt a small frisson of panic when she found the earl laughing with the female John Campbell had presented to the king as Lady Mary Montagu, daughter of Duke Somebody-or-other. Her mother had warned her: If you chase two rabbits, you end up losing both!

Maria placed a proprietary hand on Coventry’s sleeve. “George, are you going to introduce me to your friend, Lady Mary?”

“It would be my pleasure. May I present Lady Mary Montagu, daughter of the Duke of Buccleuch? Mistress Maria Gunning.”

Determined to separate George from Lady Mary, she asked sweetly, “Isn’t John Campbell escorting you this evening?”

Lady Mary laughed. “Actually he’s escorted me all the way from Scotland. John and I’ve known each other since we were children.”

Maria plied her fan. “George, I’m thirsty, could I impose upon you to help me find a glass of ratafia?”

“Certainly.” He covered Maria’s hand with his and bowed to Lady Mary. “May I get you some refreshment, my lady?”

“No, thank you, Lord Coventry. It was lovely to see you again.”

“I suppose she’s a wealthy heiress,” Maria asked acidly when they were barely out of earshot. “An ideal wife?”

George’s pulse began to race. Was it possible that Maria was jealous of his attention to another lady? “An ideal wife for John Campbell, no doubt. Hamilton and I were baiting him about the property of Buccleuch, Bowhill, and Boughton.”

His words did not ease her panic. What man in his right mind would choose her over a bride who would bring castles and wealth? She sipped the ratafia he handed her and fished for an invitation.

“I would love to see The Rival Queens at Drury Lane. I haven’t been to the theater since before Christmas.”

“Would you do me the honor, Maria, of allowing me to escort you on Friday evening? Your Mother and sister too, of course.”

“I would love to. But why Elizabeth? The play is The Rival Queens not The Rival Sisters!”

“You have a delicious sense of humor, Maria,” he said fondly.

On the hackney ride home Bridget forbore lamenting their lack of a carriage and instead focused on her latest resolve. “I have it on good authority that Cat Cavendish will be the next bride. Old Devonshire has bribed Ponsonby with the title of Duncannon to become her husband. Gentlemen, it seems, need to be bludgeoned! We have been in London five months—our time is running out!”

“It’s difficult to bring a man up to snuff when we have nothing to bribe him with. We are in direct competition with the daughters of dukes such as Devonshire and Buccleuch!” complained Maria.

“You have your beauty! A clever woman wields it as a weapon!”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I did tonight. As a result, the Earl of Coventry is taking me to the theater on Friday evening.”

“Your sister and I are included, I take it?”

Elizabeth came out of her happy reverie. “Charlie invited me to Burlington Gardens on Friday evening to . . . to help her plan her first entertainment as a married lady,” she improvised.

“What the devil would you know about entertaining on the lavish scale of the Burlingtons and Devonshires, pray tell?”

Her mother’s acerbic tongue usually rendered Beth speechless, but it was her only chance to see John. “Charlie values my opinion. She assumes we lived on a grand scale in Ireland, and when I’m acting a role I’m not tongue-tied or shy.”

“Far better that you attend the theater. Perhaps Coventry could invite the Duke of Hamilton to partner you,” Bridget suggested.

Elizabeth withdrew into silence in the corner of the carriage.

“I believe it would be more intimate if George and I did not have another couple along. I mean to bring him up to the mark!”

“You are probably right, Maria. We should concentrate on making you a countess. A far easier task, I warrant, than snaring a marriage proposal for your sister.”

They arrived home around eleven o’clock, just as Jack was about to leave to go gaming. Bridget, already in a peevish mood, pounced. “It is downright humiliating to take a hackney to and from St. James’s Palace! I have waited five months for that carriage you promised, Jack Gunning! Five long months!”

It’ll be five long years before I can afford a carriage and horses, my girl!Jack had so many gambling debts he didn’t know which way to turn. He made the rounds of the gaming hells every night, hoping for that one big win that would deliver him from dun territory. As did all gamblers, he won many small wagers that paid his way into high-stakes games, where he hoped to make a killing from wealthy addicts like the Duke of Hamilton. However, the nobleman had had the Devil’s own luck of late, and Jack prayed that tonight was the night it would change.

“Lady Luck is with me tonight.” He winked at Bridget. “I feel it in my bones!”

Relief washed over Elizabeth as she closed their bedchamber door. “Thank goodness Father was on his way out. Mother was spoiling for a row.”

“Father and I have learned to say just the right thing when she unsheathes her claws. You always end up getting scratched.”

Elizabeth picked up the wig Maria had flung onto the dressing table and fit it over its stand. “Thank you for saying you preferred going to the theater without me, so I can visit Charlie.”

“If you’re hoping to see John Campbell, be prepared for disappointment. Not only did he present Lady Mary Montagu to the king this evening, he escorted her all the way from Scotland. Did you know she is the wealthy Duke of Buccleuch’s chit? They own Buccleuch Castle, Bowhill, and Boughton House in Northamptonshire. George told me that John’s friends expect him to marry her.”

Elizabeth felt as if she had received a blow to her solar plexus. Her hand went up to cover her heart in a protective gesture. Her inner voice warned: Maria is trying to hurt you. Don’t believe her! Her vulnerability made her feel devastated for a moment or two, then she remembered the look on John’s face when he had seen her tonight. It had been both fierce and tender, and completely possessive. The pain in her heart melted away. “Good night, Maria. I hope you enjoy the play.”

The liveried servant opened the door, took Elizabeth’s cloak to reveal her gray chiffon dinner dress, then disappeared quickly as the new Marchioness of Hartington came to greet her guest. Dandy welcomed Elizabeth with a wildly wagging tail and three short barks. She bent down, picked him up, and dropped a kiss on his head, then she followed Charlie into the elegant sitting room. “Does he like Burlington Gardens?”

“He likes it very much—what he’s seen of it.” John was standing by the fireplace mantel with a drink in his hand.

Elizabeth caught her breath. He looked taller, darker, and more devilishly handsome than any man had a right to, and his glittering brown eyes devoured her as she stood cradling the dog.

Charlie ignored John’s remark. “Dandy took to the house immediately, and Will has already taught him to go outside to do his necessary.”

Will slipped his arm around his diminutive wife. “Now if I could just teach you not to leave little turds on the new carpets.”

Charlie slapped him playfully then raised her eyebrows to her husband when neither John nor Elizabeth laughed at his outrageous remark. Apparently they could hear or see nothing but each other.

Charlie took Dandy. “Elizabeth, why don’t you give John a grand tour of the house, while I see about dinner?”

“My bride is so domesticated she has already learned from cook there are three meals each day—breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

Charlie gazed up at her husband with adoration. “Never mind, darling—I’ll laugh at your jokes.”

John set his glass on the mantelpiece and walked toward Elizabeth, and together they left the room as if they were in a trance. When the door closed behind them and they found themselves alone, John let out a whoop, swept her up in his arms, and swung her about then lifted her high.

As she looked down at him, her laughter bubbled up and spilled over, flooding them with happiness and joy.

“Lord God, how I missed you.”

“I missed you too, John.”

“How much?” he demanded. “Show me how much you missed me!”

Laughing, she held up her fingers about half an inch apart.

“Heartless little wench!” His fingers dug in to tickle her, then suddenly his laughter fled and his face hardened with need. He slid her slowly down his body until her feet touched the carpet, then he cupped her face with reverent hands and his mouth covered hers in a kiss that was fierce with pent-up demand.

His lips were warm and tasted of brandy; his male scent, a mixture of leather, tobacco, and heather, was intoxicating. He kissed her hungrily, murmuring love words, for half an hour, before they drew apart and it came back to them where they were. He slipped his arm about her, and they began to wander through all the elegant chambers of the newly built mansion. At least once in every room, John pulled her into his arms to let his fingers run wild through her golden curls or glide his hot lips along her neck. If they encountered a mirror, he pulled her before him so she could watch him cup her breasts possessively, while she rubbed her bottom against his arousal, teasing and tempting each other to the limits of their endurance.

When they came to the magnificent spiral staircase, John swept Elizabeth into his arms and carried her up to the bed-chambers. His lips playfully nuzzled her ear. “If I had my way, I’d do this every night of your life.” He stepped into the newlyweds’ chamber, with its marble fireplace and big curtained bed, and stopped dead in his tracks, wishing with all his heart it could be their bedchamber tonight. He set Elizabeth on her feet, and together they retreated, knowing the room’s intimacy was too overwhelming for them in the vulnerable state they were in tonight.

John looked down ruefully. “I wish we were in Kent tonight.”

She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder wistfully. “The lady in gray will be standing at the window, waiting for her lover.”

“You are my lady in gray.” His brushed his fingertips across her cheek. “I wish you were waiting at the window for me tonight.”

They looked down and laughed. Dandy was sitting watching them with his head cocked on one side, and it brought them out of their wishful fantasy.

“Will and Charlie look extremely happy together.”

“They are,” she agreed. “In spite of the duchess’s disapproval of the marriage, they are a well-matched couple in every way.”

Charlie watched them descend the staircase with their arms entwined about each other. “Did Beth show you the nursery?”

“Nursery? Do you plan on a family soon?”

“Sooner than you think.” Charlie laughed as her husband joined her. “I’m already breeding.”

“Well, congratulations, you old Devonshire Dog! Your appointment should have been Master of the Bedchamber, not Master of the Horse.”

“Oh, he’s both . . . quite a stallion,” Charlie said with a wink.

Elizabeth blushed, and it was brought home to John just how innocent she was. He lifted her fingers to his lips, knowing he was a lucky man. He was the one who would continue to initiate her in the rites of love, and he was in an agony of anticipation.

The four enjoyed an intimate dinner filled with toasts to the newlyweds and a good deal of companionable laughter.

“I’m so glad you could come tonight. You are our very best friends,” Charlie declared.

“I almost didn’t. Maria went to the theater with George Coventry, and Mother wanted me to join them. I said you needed me to help you plan your first entertainment as a married lady.”

“Why, that’s a splendid idea! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself. What do you think, Will?”

“You’d like to throw a party a week from this Saturday night?”

“Yes! Oh, I know, a masquerade party! What do you say, Beth?”

“Well, I don’t have a costume,” Elizabeth said hesitantly.

“Think of the fun you’ll have creating one,” Charlie declared. “Will, I want enough plants brought from Chiswick to fill our conservatory, and we’ll borrow footmen from Devonshire House.”

Will lifted his hands in helpless appeal to John and Elizabeth. “What can I say? She rules the roost like a termagant!”

Charlie confided to Beth, “I’ve always wanted to disguise myself as a male. I imagine myself in a tie-wig, wearing a black formal suit so that I could circulate among the men and hear what they say when they think no ladies can hear them.”

Beth thought of the many times she had dressed as a boy while rehearsing the male role in a play. “Why don’t you?”

“I couldn’t possibly! People would gossip, and I would embarrass my husband. It would give my mother-in-law just cause to hate me.”

Elizabeth and Charlie spent the next hour making plans for the party, while Will and John talked quietly, enjoying each other’s company. At a sign from Will, John stood and stretched. “These children should be abed. I’m taking you home.”

“Oh, I couldn’t . . . Mother—”

“—will still be at the theater. Come, I’m not taking no for an answer.”

John told his driver, who had spent the evening in the warm kitchen eating the same food as his master had been served abovestairs, “Great Marlborough Street.”

Inside the carriage, Elizabeth almost asked him about Lady Mary Montagu, but fear held her tongue. She didn’t want to spoil the perfect evening. Eventually she would find out the truth of their relationship, but tonight it was better not to know. Elizabeth, enfolded in John’s arms, allowed his warm, compelling presence to engulf her. When his possessive hands slipped inside her cloak, she led his fingers to the place where she had sewn his military button in the lining. “I touched it a thousand times while you were gone.”

His hand moved up to cup her breast. “In my dreams, I’ve touched this a thousand times. Do you dream of me, Beth?”

“Yes. I sometimes dream about us swimming in the loch.”

“I can never look at water without becoming aroused.” His arms tightened, and his lips pressed kisses into her lovely golden hair. “I wish I could take you home with me tonight.”

“I love Combe Bank,” she said softly. “Is that where you are going tonight?”

“Yes, but I shall be back next Saturday for the party,” he promised. The carriage ride was far too short. He wanted more, he needed more, and he intended to have more. His mind was busy conjuring plans for Saturday night’s masquerade. In costume it should be a simple matter to slip away without detection. He knew he couldn’t spirit her all the way to Sundridge, but he did have a town house just minutes away in Half-Moon Street.