Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Dressed in identical dark sapphire-blue evening capes that contrasted so vividly with their bright tresses, Elizabeth and Maria stood before their mother and Emma for critical inspection.

“Masks, I think.” Bridget opened the old trunk that held theatrical paraphernalia and produced a pair of masks on sticks. “Do not cover your faces with them,” she warned. “We want everyone attending the play tonight to get a good look at you both. Just carry them for dramatic effect. Emma, what do you think?”

“Absolutely stunning, ma’am.”

“Good, that’s the effect we are aiming for. Maria, Elizabeth, keep yourselves aloof from the riffraff tonight,” she ordered.

A half hour later, when they arrived in Drury Lane by hansom cab, the entire theater district was crowded. Opening night was the fashionable place to be for London’s élite. Bridget emerged cautiously from the carriage, followed by her daughters. The moment Maria set her foot to the pavement, cries went up.

“It’s the Gunnings!”

“Let me see!”

“Look, it’s them! It’s the Gunnings!”

The cries were accompanied by a great deal of jostling, pushing, and shoving, mingled with shouting and cursing. The throng outside the theater was rapidly becoming involved in a mêleé.

Coventry and Hamilton had just purchased box tickets for the performance, when the crowd around them erupted. “What the devil is going on?” Hamilton demanded. “Bloody rabble should be shot!”

Coventry, taller than most in the crowd, caught a glimpse of silver-gilt hair. “James, it’s them . . . it’s the Gunning ladies! By God, they will be trampled.”

Hamilton carried a silver-headed malacca cane, which he wielded effectively as he ordered, “Make way, make way there!” The crowd fell back enough for the two men to clear a path to the ladies.

“Lord Coventry, how can I thank you for your gallant rescue? We should not have come! It is getting to the stage where my daughters cannot appear in public without being mobbed!”

Elizabeth looked at the Earl of Coventry whom Maria claimed was already hooked on her line, but then her eyes were drawn to the man who accompanied him. He was staring openly at her and made no attempt to hide his blatant interest. She lowered her lashes to break their eye contact, but when she raised them again, she found his unblinking gaze transfixed upon her. His hazel eyes devoured her. She covered her face with her mask in a protective gesture.

“Let us get inside the theater lobby, away from this unruly crowd,” Coventry urged, genuinely concerned for Maria.

Once inside, they were no longer being pushed, but they were certainly being stared at and whispered about.

“We have a box. I suggest you ladies join us for your own protection,” Hamilton invited.

Bridget arched her brows. “I rather think not, my lord. Sitting in a box would be tantamount to putting my daughters on display for the audience to gape at!”

“Permit me to introduce my friend, James Douglas, Duke of Hamilton. This is the honorable Bridget Gunning, her daughter Mistress Maria, and I assume Mistress Elizabeth.”

“Your Grace, I am delighted.”

Hamilton saw the look of speculation on Bridget Gunning’s face and pressed his advantage. “I must insist! I believe you ladies will be far safer in our box than sitting in the audience.”

Bridget inclined her head. “Your Grace is too kind.”

It was her first concession; he vowed it would not be her last.

They were led to the box by an usher, who was all deference to the noble gentlemen. He held aside the plush curtain, and Maria Gunning stepped in and took a front-row seat as if she owned it. Elizabeth held back, awaiting directions from her mother. When Bridget indicated where she should sit, Beth quietly took her seat and shook her head when the duke offered to remove her cape.

Maria’s fingers fluffed out her hair as she looked over the audience. She felt quite complacent at the number of people who were gazing up at her with frank curiosity. Her beauty had caused quite a stir tonight, and she liked the way it made her feel. Elizabeth, on the other hand, felt vaguely suspicious. It was almost as if her mother had arranged for them to be mobbed the moment they arrived. She also wondered if this meeting with a Duke of the Realm was contrived. She recognized immediately that Lord Hamilton and her mother were two of a kind. Both were strong-willed and used to taking control. A small curl of fear constricted her breathing.

When the curtain went up, Elizabeth focused on Peg Woffington.

She Stoops to Conquerwas a comedy that poked fun and often ridiculed the manners of Society. Somewhere in the middle of the first act, Beth became immersed in the play and began to laugh.

James Hamilton never took his eyes from the golden-haired female. Her beauty easily eclipsed that of his former fiancée, Elizabeth Chudleigh, but this lovely young girl had an indefinable air of chaste innocence about her as well. The sister also was undeniably beautiful, but she was fully aware of it, and it lessened her charm. Of the two, Maria would be far easier to bed and therefore less of a challenge. James Hamilton’s appetite was whetted. He had a sudden desire to own Elizabeth, body and soul.

The first act ended, but before the lights went up, Beth became aware of the duke’s eyes upon her. The spiral of fear curled tighter inside her chest. When she recognized the occupants of two boxes across the theater, some of her anxiety left her. The Countess of Burlington and Lady Charlotte sat in a box next to the Cavendish sisters, who were accompanied by their brother, Will, Lord Hartington. She watched as he visited Charlie’s box, feeling acute disappointment that his friend John was not with him.

Before the lights went down, Charlie waved to her. She was about to wave back when Beth found her mother glaring at her as if she had committed an unforgivable social blunder. “A lady never draws attention to herself, Elizabeth.”

Beth quickly lowered her lashes before her mother could see the resentment flash in her eyes. You are a hypocrite! You want us to draw the attention of all London. Why else are we sitting here on display in this theater box with a duke and an earl?

When the theater darkened, Elizabeth felt a hand cover hers. Her lashes flew up, and she looked directly into the duke’s eyes. Ostensibly, the hand was to comfort her, but Beth knew otherwise. It was to gain her trust. She poked it with the stick of her mask and was disconcerted when it did not have the desired effect. Hamilton gripped her hand more firmly and squeezed. When she stared coolly into his eyes, he smiled. She knew he was showing his power when he did not remove his hand until he was good and ready.

The play was spoiled for Beth since she could no longer focus on anything save Hamilton’s overpowering presence. She was greatly relieved when her mother declined a ride home in his carriage. “Thank you, but we shall join my friend Lady Burlington. We are to discuss plans to attend Almack’s on Wednesday night.”

Bridget Gunning bade the gentlemen good night, her daughters dropped curtsies, and the three ladies took their leave.

Dorothy Boyle gave Bridget a faux embrace. “I swear the name of Gunning is on everyone’s lips tonight. People were jostling just to get a glimpse of you.”

“If we hadn’t been rescued by His Grace, the Duke of Hamilton, I don’t know what we should have done.”

Dorothy changed the subject. She would save the gossip about Hamilton for when they were more private. “We are having a house party this weekend at Chiswick. Maria and Elizabeth’s invitations are in the post but I wanted to assure you that I shall chaperon them every moment. No need for you to worry at all.” She winked. “You may be sure that any young men included will have coronets.”

Bridget pressed her lips together. Dorothy Boyle was making it clear that only her daughters were invited; she was not. But if this was the way things were done by the families of the ton, she would acquiesce. Emma, of course, would accompany them to Chiswick.

When they had returned to Great Marlborough Street, Elizabeth waited until she and Maria were in their bedchamber. “I quite liked the Earl of Coventry. It is easy to see that he is ready to lay his heart at your feet.”

“I much prefer your duke to my earl. Perhaps I’ll steal him!”

“He isn’t my duke!” Elizabeth protested. “Coventry is a far more amiable gentleman and would be more amenable, I believe.”

“But I would much rather be a duchess than a countess, and it would be far more fun bringing a duke to heel than an earl.”

“It isn’t a game, Maria.”

“Between a man and a woman, it is always a game. And it is a game I shall win, because I set my own rules!”

Mother sets the rules.“You shouldn’t pit two friends against each other.”

“Whyever not? I love men to fight over me. Tonight, my beauty almost caused a riot!” Maria was inordinately pleased.

Her vanity blinds her to Mother’s manipulation.

“White’s or the Kit-Cat Club?” Hamilton asked Coventry before they climbed into the carriage.

“Drop me off at home, if you don’t mind, James. I’m preparing a speech for the House tomorrow.”

“Bolton Street.” Hamilton gave his coachman the address of Coventry’s townhouse then climbed in after his friend.

“Well, what do you think?” George asked eagerly.

“The Gorgeous Gunnings! Indeed, you did not exaggerate their beauty. There wasn’t a man at the theater who wouldn’t have given his left ball to be in our shoes tonight! Pity the mother is such a fucking dragon. Knows the value of her merchandise, I’m afraid.”

They soon arrived in Bolton Street. As Coventry climbed from the carriage he asked, “Will I see you at Almack’s, James?”

“Almack’s? I’d as soon be buried alive, George!”

At Sundridge, John Campbell, who had been debating with himself for the past two days, finally summoned his secretary to Combe Bank’s library. “Robert, how would you feel about a quick trip to Ireland? I need some inquiries made and know I can count on your discretion.”

“I am completely at your service, Lord Sundridge.” Hay grinned. “The Irish Sea should be free from gales until late October.”

“I would like you to visit County Mayo and make inquiries about Theobald Burke, Viscount Mayo, or, more precisely, about his daughter, Bridget.”

Hay wrote down the information his lordship required.

“Then I need you to travel to County Roscommon and make inquiries about the family of John Gunning, who own Castle Coote.”

“Is there anything in particular you wish to know, my lord?”

“Just general information. Their social connections—where the Gunnings stand in the pecking order, that sort of thing. Take a good look at the castle and its landholdings to see how well it prospers.” John picked up the invitation to Chiswick and banished the twinge of guilt he felt. “I’ll have your money and maps ready by the time you are packed.” He scribbled his acceptance across the invitation and set it with his other letters to be posted.

On Wednesday when Elizabeth opened her eyes, her very first thought was that she was finally seventeen. Her second thought was that she would see John Campbell this weekend at Chiswick. Both thoughts filled her with happiness.

Maria forgot that it was her sister’s birthday and at breakfast chattered on about her upcoming visit to Almack’s this evening. “Did you know that it is absolutely de rigueur to arrive at Almack’s after eleven o’clock? May I stay until dawn, Mother?”

“We shall take our cue from the Countess of Burlington. When she decrees it time for Lady Charlotte to leave, we shall leave. That way, we are guaranteed a ride home, since we still don’t have a carriage of our own. Ah, Jack, there you are. Almack’s has a gaming room. Are you planning on joining us tonight?”

“No, I plan to take Elizabeth out for a birthday supper.” He dropped a kiss on his younger daughter’s golden curls and gave her a scroll wrapped with ribbon. “Happy birthday, my beauty. I’m sorry I couldn’t buy you the ball gown I promised.”

Elizabeth unwrapped the scroll and smiled with delight. “It’s a Virgo horoscope! How lovely! Thank you, Father.”

“Everyone knows a Virgo is a paragon of virtue!” Maria said sweetly. “To say nothing of being demure and always proper.”

“Maria, you would do well not to sneer at such qualities. Gentlemen find them enchanting,” her father said pointedly. “Go on, read it aloud. Give us a list of your virtues, my beauty.” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose at Maria and began to read. “A Virgo is conscientious, tactful, thoughtful, and endearingly sincere. A Virgo also is punctual, prudent, unfailingly discreet, and knows how to keep secrets. She loves animals, nature, and writing poetry. She is modest, self-effacing, yet ultrafeminine.”

“Enough virtues! Read us your vices, Elizabeth,” her mother said.

“A Virgo arrogantly applies her lofty standards to others. A Virgo has skittish emotions and fragile nerves. High-strung Virgo requires harmony and tranquillity to thrive. She often daydreams and indulges in fantasies that try the patience.”

Bridget concurred. “Well, that hits the nail on the head. You certainly do your best to try my patience at times, Elizabeth.”

The footman appeared at the dining room door, holding a large box. “This was just delivered, madam. For Mistress Elizabeth.”

Bridget took the box and he withdrew. Jack motioned for his wife to give it to Elizabeth and with reluctance she did so.

Beth read the card. “It’s from Charlie! It’s a birthday present.” She unwrapped it slowly and lifted the lid. For a moment, she couldn’t believe her eyes. It was the gold tissue ball gown she had tried on at Madame Chloe’s. “Ohhh,” she sighed softly, blinking back tears.

“My God, it must have cost the earth,” Jack marveled.

“Money means nothing to these people! Now do you see why I am willing to dedicate my life to ensuring that you marry into wealth? No matter the sacrifice to myself?”

“I want to wear it to Almack’s!” Maria could not hide her envy.

“And so you shall, but not tonight, Maria. After all, it is Elizabeth’s birthday.”

“Now we can all go to Almack’s, and I’ll win us a fortune!” Jack grinned.

“Mmm, my desire for a carriage will soon be fulfilled, I warrant,” Bridget said with exquisite sarcasm.

The Gunning sisters spent the afternoon washing their hair. Bridget had soon realized that their glorious tresses gained her daughters the lion’s share of attention at any gathering. She wisely refused to hide their crowning splendor beneath powdered wigs. Emma, amazingly gifted as a coiffeuse, fashioned Maria’s silver-gilt hair in a high pompadour to show off her long, slim neck. When she was done with Elizabeth, her golden hair cascaded down her back in a hundred glossy ringlets.

It was after the hour of eleven when the Gunning family stepped down from the hired cabriolet in Pall Mall and swept into the hallowed halls of Almack’s. The Gunning sisters were the on dit of the moment, and their entrance brought a gasp or two from those assembled. Other débutantes felt dismay; their mothers felt resentment. The men felt their bodies stir at such exquisite youth and tantalizing beauty.

Dorothy Boyle introduced Bridget to Almack’s patronesses, Sarah Jersey and Emily Cowper, who were avid to meet her, then took Jack Gunning’s arm. “John, the gaming room awaits you.” She laughed up into his handsome face. “This is becoming a habit with us. Too bad our meetings are always public, never private.”

Jack squeezed her hand. “Lead on, and I shall follow.”

“Is that a promise?” she asked archly.

She was not the first titled woman who had made overtures to him, and he quite enjoyed charming the ladies. He knew that if he rebuffed the countess, he would not only make a deadly enemy but sound the death knell to his daughters’ social aspirations. Jack lifted her fingers to his lips. “Perhaps it is.”

When she came back downstairs, she saw William Cavendish arrive with his sisters. “Lord Hartington, it does my heart good to see such a dutiful brother.”

“Please call me Will, Lady Burlington.” He bowed over her hand and murmured, “My sisters gave me a perfect excuse to come and dance attendance on Lady Charlotte, but I don’t see her.”

“That is because Charlie and the Gunning sisters are surrounded by an adoring throng of admirers. If you don’t make haste, their dance cards will be completely filled.”

Will hurried off, leaving Rachel and Cat Cavendish to their own devices. “Lady Burlington, I hope this warm, sunny weather lasts through the weekend. We are so looking forward to Chiswick.”

“September is always a lovely month. I invited Orford, but is there someone special you’d like me to invite, Lady Catherine?”

When Cat flushed, her sister Rachel suggested, “If you invite Harriet Ponsonby, perhaps her brother, Johnny, will accompany her?”

So, Cat Cavendish, you are hot for John Ponsonby, who is without a title. Your mother will be livid, but here is my chance to gain your undying gratitude!“Since the Ponsonbys are our closest Chiswick neighbors, their invitations have already been posted.” Or will be the moment I get home.

When the Cavendish sisters arrived in the crowded ballroom, Rachel was dismayed to see the Earl of Orford worshipping at the shrine of Maria Gunning, along with many other infatuated males. “I have decided that I have pined for the attentions of John Campbell long enough,” she murmured to Cat. “From now on I shall devote myself to Orford until he makes a commitment!”

Maria Gunning, deciding an Earl of the Realm wasn’t quite good enough, was doing her utmost to ignore the attentions of George Norwich. Since word had spread like wildfire about her being mobbed at the theater, tonight she had attracted a throng of gentlemen, and she flirted with everyone save the Earl of Coventry. Finally, like a kicked hound, he slunk off to join her sister, Elizabeth, who stood amidst a gathering of her own, receiving birthday wishes. He greeted his friend Will and envied him the adoring looks young Charlotte Boyle was bestowing upon him.

“Hello, George. Seems everyone is here tonight.”

Coventry brightened. “Everyone is right. Even Hamilton deigned to attend, though the other night he swore he’d rather be buried alive. He’s up in the gaming room.” George elbowed aside the young man who was talking to Elizabeth. “Would you do me the honor of the next dance, Mistress Gunning?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Lord Coventry, the next dance is taken, but I will save you the one after that,” she promised with a smile.

“I warrant m’sister Cat’s dance card isn’t full yet, George.”

“Really, Will?” Coventry brightened still further. A Cavendish lady, though no raving beauty, was a prize indeed.

Elizabeth stayed on the ballroom floor for twelve dances in a row. The gold tissue gown made her feel beautiful, and each time she spoke to Charlie, she thanked her again for the generous gift. She was thoroughly enjoying herself; her only regret was that John Campbell was not there to see her and dance with her. Before the night was over, she suspected that she would dance with every young man present. She had no idea which men were titled and which were not and, in fact, never thought about such things, unlike most young ladies, who could quote verbatim from Burke’s Peerage.

Elizabeth and Charlotte were accompanied to the supper room by George Coventry and Will Cavendish. The ladies were happy with the almond-flavored ratafia, while their partners settled for sherry. When the men looked askance at the dainty sandwiches and seed cake, Charlie laughed and promised more substantial fare at Chiswick.

It was around two o’clock in the morning when Jack Gunning left the gaming room in the company of the Duke of Hamilton. Jack had lost most of his money to the nobleman, who was an habitual gambler. Then, an hour ago, when the duke learned his name was Gunning, his luck turned and Jack recouped all his losses.

Maria Gunning saw the Duke of Hamilton the moment he stepped into the ballroom. She had been watching for him ever since Coventry had told her the duke was upstairs in the gaming room.

Maria glided to his side and touched his hand. “Your Grace,” she whispered seductively, giving him a provocative sideways glance, “you have kept me waiting for three hours.”

His hazel eyes swept her from head to toe. “Mistress Gunning, let me be blunt so that I do not waste any more of your time. I am not in the market for a duchess. A liaison, however, is another matter entirely, and I am at your disposal.”

Maria gasped as if she’d been slapped in the face. “You must be drunk, sir!”

He bowed. “After midnight, dearest lady, I am always drunk.”

She turned on her heel and walked off with disdain. She searched out Coventry and found him about to partner Elizabeth. She placed a proprietary hand on his arm. “I have neglected you shamefully tonight, Lord Coventry, but I am free for this dance.”

Elizabeth saw that the earl was torn between desire for Maria and duty toward her. She said graciously, “Do partner Maria so that I may ask Father to dance.”

Jack Gunning took Elizabeth’s hand and led her onto the floor. “Happy birthday, Beth. You’re the prettiest lady here tonight.”

She laughed up at him, happily. “It’s the gown, Father.”

“No, it is not the gown, my beauty.”

As they danced, she had the eerie feeling that someone was watching her. She glanced uneasily into the shadowed recesses that dotted the perimeter of the ballroom, but saw no one. She concentrated on the music to keep time, but the feeling became so strong that she felt the back of her neck prickle. Her glance once more searched around the room. And then she saw him, half hidden by a pillar. It was the Duke of Hamilton. His attention was riveted upon her, his unblinking stare relentlessly followed her about the ballroom. A shudder rippled down her spine.

“Surely you’re not cold, my beauty? It’s warm in here.”

“No, just a little tired, Father.”

“Let’s find your mother. I think it’s time we went home.”

“Thanks, Father.” She smiled gratefully and squeezed his hand.