That Infamous Pearl Page 6

  "It is always so," agreed Lady Belmont. She made her way into the plush box, and proceeded to seat herself, fanning vigorously. "Goodness, look at that ridiculous dress Agatha Brierton is wearing. It makes her look enormous."

  Rowena scanned the five tiers of boxes, finally sighting the object of her aunt's scorn. She nodded vaguely.

  "It is hideous," she agreed. Her eyes continued to search the boxes, crowded with bejeweled lords and ladies, and then she turned towards the pit, where the fops and dandies crowded, showing off their extraordinary interpretations of fashion. A slight frown crossed her face.

  "Are you looking for someone, child?" asked Lady Belmont. "I cannot imagine who it might be. All the world is here tonight."

  "All the world, indeed," said Rowena. She refused to admit, even to herself, that she had felt a jolt of disappointment when she realized that Lord Brayleigh was not present.

  Lady Belmont glanced around the boxes and then suddenly froze, a gasp escaping her lips. "Such effrontery," she whispered to her husband. "One wonders how she dares."

  Lord Belmont grunted, and Rowena followed the direction of their gaze. Lady Bingham, dressed in an alluringly sheer gown of blue silk, was waving in their direction, a beautiful smile lighting her face. Lady Belmont drew back into the shadows of the box.

  "Whatever shall I do if she tries to talk to me?" she demanded. "This is impossible. First Brayleigh makes a nuisance of himself and now this! We shall never live it down."

  "Quiet, Louisa. The girl is here," said Lord Belmont, glancing at Rowena, who was watching her aunt with avid curiosity.

  Lady Belmont started and closed her mouth with a snap. Rowena leaned forward, anxious to find the cause of the excitement.

  "Whatever is going on?" she asked. "Why is Lady Bingham waving at you?"

  Lady Belmont gave her a wild glance and sighed with relief as the curtains opened. "Hush, Rowena. The opera is beginning."

  Rowena sat back in her chair, frustrated and curious. Her aunt's words and actions had been very odd. Nothing Lady Belmont had said previously indicated that there was any reason Lady Bingham might be showing such familiarity. Indeed, her aunt had expressed only scorn for the baroness.

  Rowena glanced over at Lady Bingham's box and was startled to find that lady's eyes resting on her with a speculative gaze. Her surprise must have shown, for the baroness smiled wickedly. She turned to her companion, a red-haired gentleman with a dissolute countenance, and said something that made him glance up at Rowena and laugh. Rowena flushed and looked away. She determined to demand an explanation from her aunt at the first interval.

  But when the interval came Lord Belmont, with a glance at his wife, excused himself to go talk to a friend, and Lady Belmont immediately launched into a long and rapid discussion of the relative merits of the woman singing the lead part, not pausing for breath until the door to the box opened and Mrs. Brierton entered, her son in tow. A look of relief crossed Lady Belmont's face.

  "Agatha! How delighted I am to see you. What a lovely dress you are wearing. Yellow becomes you so. And Martin. I daresay you came to speak to Rowena. She will be delighted to see you again."

  Mr. Martin Brierton, a thin and inarticulate young man of twenty-five, looked at Rowena and flushed. It was his mother's greatest wish to see him married to Lady Rowena, the niece of her dear friend Lady Belmont and the heiress to a handsome fortune. He came forward and seated himself next to Rowena, stammering a greeting.

  Rowena responded civilly, but Martin's dull conversation failed to hold her attention, and she found herself reflecting that she much preferred dark men, perhaps a bit more mature, to young, blonde ones. With an effort she drew her mind back to the theatre and responded to her companion's polite, if labored, discourse.

  "I tell you, it is positively shocking to see her parading herself about so. Who would have thought she would be so brazen?"

  Rowena's ears pricked up at Mrs. Brierton's words, and she smiled encouragingly at Martin to indicate to him she was fascinated by the long and convoluted story he was telling her of a recent trip to his father's hunting lodge. She turned slightly in her seat in order to better overhear her aunt's conversation.

  "I live in fear that she will approach me," Rowena heard her aunt say. "I would be mortified. And Rowena must not find out, of course. It has been bad enough for her with Brayleigh's inexplicable behavior."

  Mrs. Brierton murmured sympathetically.

  "It is enough to give me a spasm," continued Lady Belmont. "It has nearly reached the point where I am afraid to show my face in public. If I had not promised Rowena's father that I would find her a husband, I swear I would fly to the country."

  "Oh no, you must not do that," soothed Mrs. Brierton. "Think how people would talk."

  "But they do already," countered Lady Belmont. "At least I should not be here to listen to it."

  "It is a pity that Brayleigh should have been paying such marked attention to Rowena prior to this," observed Mrs. Brierton. "It would be best if she were married swiftly and out of this situation."

  "I can only hope that she will become engaged soon. There are countless men who are interested of course; the girl is positively headstrong, however, and wishes to marry for love, if you please." Lady Belmont sighed. "If she only knew the disaster that hangs over our heads."

  "Surely not a disaster," said Mrs. Brierton. "Lady Bingham would never have the temerity to speak to you, I am sure."

  At that moment the door to the box opened and Lady Bingham entered, a malicious smile on her lips. The blue gown, enticing at a distance, was almost indecent up close, clinging to her figure in an exaggerated manner and leaving little of her fine bosom to the imagination. A splendid diamond necklace decorated her deep décolletage, while it was clear that her petticoats had been damped to encourage her gown to cling to her hips and legs. She swept forward, her bright blue eyes reflecting considerable amusement as the red-haired man followed in her wake.

  "Lady Belmont," she exclaimed. "How splendid to see you again. It has been far too long."

  "Twelve years," said Lady Belmont gloomily.

  "Is it indeed? What a pity that I should be so long without your company," exclaimed Lady Bingham. "And Mrs. Brierton. How have you been? Is this your son? He has grown very handsome."

  Lady Bingham leaned seductively towards Martin, who had scrambled hastily to his feet upon her entrance. He turned a brilliant shade of red and stammered out a greeting, his eyes attempting, and failing, to settle anywhere except on her nearly exposed breasts. Lady Bingham cast him a bewitching smile and then promptly forgot him.

  "And who is this?" she asked, giving Rowena a curious glance. "I did not know you had a daughter, Lady Belmont."

  "My niece, Lady Rowena Arlingby," said Lady Belmont repressively.

  Lady Bingham favored Rowena with another of her calculatedly dazzling smiles. "How delightful," she purred. "Then you are Malcolm's sister. We should be the very best of friends."

  "You know my brother?" asked Rowena, surprised.

  "Very well indeed," answered Lady Bingham. "You must call on me and we shall have a comfortable chat. I am also a good friend of another acquaintance of yours, Lord Brayleigh." She watched Rowena closely she spoke.

  Rowena managed to appear unconcerned, though the words caused a wrenching sensation in the pit of her stomach. "I am sure you are well-acquainted with any number of people, Lady Bingham," she replied.

  The baroness's eyes narrowed. She shut her fan with a snap. "Do you know Lord Voxley?" She beckoned the redheaded gentleman forward. "Lord Voxley, Lady Rowena Arlingby."

  Lady Belmont made a hasty movement as though she would step between Rowena and Voxley, but then stopped herself. With an amused look, Lord Voxley took Rowena's hand and kissed it.

  "Charmed," he murmured. "You are a vision of loveliness, Lady Rowena."

  Rowena felt an unaccountable urge to snatch her hand from his moist grasp, but restrained herself. She smiled politely.
r />   "Well, we are very cozy here," observed Lady Bingham. "I came to talk to you, Lady Belmont, because I am charged with a message from Malcolm. I saw him before I came home, and he begged me to bring you his best wishes."

  "You saw Malcolm?" repeated Lady Belmont, obviously struggling to contain her astonishment.

  "Indeed. He was in Paris at the same time I was. Oh, it was a mere coincidence; it has been years since Malcolm and I have been...close. But it was delightful to see him. He is irresistible, as always."

  Lady Belmont swallowed. "I thank you for bringing me his message, Lady Bingham."

  A pause followed this exchange, and Mrs. Brierton seized the opportunity to depart. "I really must be on my way, Louisa dear," she murmured, gathering up her shawl and looking askance at Lady Bingham. "Come, Martin."

  Martin tore his eyes from Lady Bingham's chest and, muttering something polite to Rowena, followed his mother from the box. Lady Bingham smiled brilliantly at Lady Belmont.

  "And now it is just the four of us," she said. "How cozy. Shall we renew our acquaintance? And I would so enjoy getting to know Lady Rowena better. I daresay she would be delighted to hear some tales of her brother."

  Rowena smiled. The tension in the box was palpable, but she felt that this was a not to be missed opportunity to learn more about Malcolm. She was not sure exactly what Lady Bingham's relationship was to her brother, but it seemed likely that she might know something of the events of twelve years before. She opened her mouth to begin her questioning.

  The door to the box flew open again and the occupants swung around to see who the newcomer might be. Alaric entered, a look of fury darkening his countenance. Rowena drew in her breath, beginning to understand why he inspired so much awe and fear. He looked quite capable of committing murder. He glanced quickly from Lady Belmont's mortified face, to Rowena's curious one, to Lady Bingham's self-satisfied smile.

  "Good evening, Lady Belmont," he said mildly. "Lady Rowena, how pleasant to see you again."

  Lady Belmont appeared ready to sink through the floor of the box. "Brayleigh," she whispered.

  "Good evening, Lord Brayleigh," said Rowena brightly. "I have been making the acquaintance of Lady Bingham."

  Alaric turned his frosty gaze on Marguerite. "What a pity she cannot stay and chat. I have been charged by Mrs. Werwent to bring Lady Bingham to her box."

  "But Lady Belmont's box is so comfortable," said Marguerite, her voice light. "I am sure Caroline can wait until the next interval."

  Alaric placed his hand on Marguerite's arm and raised her to her feet with no more effort than if she were a feather. "I understood the matter to be quite urgent. You will come now."

  The baroness's blue eyes narrowed. Alaric's grip on her arm was painful, and she very much feared she would have a bruise in the morning. It was obvious that he was in a towering fury. Perhaps she had gone too far this time.

  "Very well, if she is so insistent," she said. "I will speak to you some other time, Lady Belmont. It was a pleasure to renew our acquaintance. And I so enjoyed meeting you, Lady Rowena. I look forward to our chat."

  Alaric did not release her as he guided her to the door. "Good evening, Lady Belmont, Lady Rowena," he said calmly. "Come along, Voxley."

  Lord Voxley shrugged and stood, bowing politely to the ladies. He followed Alaric and Marguerite from the box.

  "The audacity of the man," said Rowena, her anger sparked not only by Brayleigh's actions, but also his very apparent familiarity with the baroness. "How dare he come in here and drag Lady Bingham away like that? I was just about to ask her about Malcolm."

  Lady Belmont sank back in her chair, her handkerchief pressed to her lips. "Hush, Rowena. I never thought I would be grateful to see Brayleigh, but tonight I was, although surely the gossip will be only that much worse now. The look on the man's face! Child, I cannot but think that he has intentions towards you, and I fear they are not good. Goodness, we must be the focus of every eye in the theatre. I was never so mortified in all my life."

  "And why is that, Aunt Louisa?" Rowena's violet eyes sparkled with curiosity. "How is it that Lady Bingham knows Malcolm, and why should that distress you so?"

  Lady Belmont shuddered. "She is little more than a lightskirt, and not a suitable topic for conversation, Rowena. You will not make a friend of Lady Bingham. I trust you understand me?"

  "I don't think I want to be her friend," answered Rowena frankly. "But I would like to ask her some questions about Malcolm. I do wish Brayleigh hadn't taken her away."

  Lord Belmont entered the box, and his wife almost threw herself on his chest. "Take me home, Jonathan," she demanded. "I feel a spasm coming on. It has all been too horrible."

  "I saw Lady Bingham in here," said Lord Belmont, looking cautiously at Rowena. "What did she want?"

  Lady Belmont closed her eyes. "Please, Jonathan. I cannot bear to stay here a moment longer."

  "But Aunt Louisa, we will miss the rest of the performance," objected Rowena. "It would look excessively odd if we were to leave immediately after Lady Bingham's visit to our box. If you are concerned about appearances, it is best that we stay until at least the next interval."

  Lady Belmont gave Rowena an uncertain look, and then nodded. "Very well. But not a question out of you, Rowena! If you so much as say Lady Bingham's name even once we shall leave immediately, gossip or no gossip."

  "But Aunt, I need to know how Lady Bingham came to be acquainted with Malcolm," protested Rowena.

  "Not another word, Rowena." Lady Belmont seated herself and glared out over the sea of faces in the theatre, most of them, it seemed to her, turned towards the Belmont box. "If you have a shred of feeling for me you will respect my wishes."

  Rowena seated herself, frustrated at her aunt's refusal to answer questions, and with her own lively curiosity further roused by the night's events. Perhaps Lady Bingham knew something that would help to clear Malcolm's name. She would tell Lord Brayleigh tonight that this was a lead they should definitely follow.

  Alaric dragged Marguerite down the corridor, icy rage stamped on his face. He had arrived at the opera late, not having meant to attend at all, but drawn there by his knowledge that Rowena was present. He had been annoyed enough with himself for yielding to this temptation, but when he had seen Marguerite in the Belmont box, chatting familiarly with Rowena, a cold hand had seemed to grip his heart. He could only imagine what she might be saying, and he knew immediately that he had to stop her. It was unfortunate that her removal from the Belmont box had to be conducted so publicly, but he had never been one to shrink from an unpleasant task.

  "Alaric, you're hurting me. And everyone is staring," said Marguerite, her voice plaintive.

  Alaric stopped, but did not let go of Marguerite's arm. "You deserve to be hurt, and I have never known you to object to attention," he ground out, staring down at her. "What do you think you were doing back there?"

  "Renewing my acquaintance with the Belmonts, of course," said Marguerite, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "And meeting your little Lady Rowena. She's very charming, my dear, but a trifle naive, don't you think? Rather like a fluffy white kitten."

  "You may keep your opinion of Lady Rowena to yourself," snapped Alaric. He glared over her shoulder at Lord Voxley, who stood behind Marguerite, a vacant look on his handsome face. "Your company is always so charming, Voxley, but I believe we can dispense with it. I have a matter of a private nature to discuss with Lady Bingham."

  Voxley gave Marguerite an inquiring glance, and at her nod, strolled off.

  "Your latest toy, Marguerite?" asked Alaric.

  "He amuses me." Marguerite wrenched her arm out of Alaric's grip. "But not nearly so much as you did. We could have a great deal of fun together again, Alaric."

  "I am not interested in your sort of fun." Alaric gave a forbidding look to a matron who looked as though she was about to approach them. She turned away hastily.

  "What a pity. But I gather you are finding your enjoyment elsewhe
re. All the talk is of your intention to seduce little Lady Rowena."

  "My intention to do what?" demanded Alaric.

  "To seduce Lady Rowena." Marguerite turned wide blue eyes on him. "Alaric, do not look so surprised. No one thinks you seriously wish to marry the girl, and what other reason can there be for your behavior?"

  "My behavior is none of your business."

  Marguerite shrugged. "Your reputation, of course, cannot be damaged any further. But Lady Rowena could speedily be ruined. They say you wish to add her to your collection. Oh, not the one of artwork, of course, but the one of beautiful women. Just think, Lady Rowena and I shall soon be members of the same company."

  "You are disgusting." Alaric stared down at her beautiful face, wondering how he could ever have been taken in by her. It seemed impossible that once he had desired her with a soul-consuming passion.

  "At least I have never killed anyone," said Marguerite sharply.

  "Nor have I," said Alaric. "Not that I care if you believe I did."

  "You have a stone for a heart, Alaric."

  "At least I have one. Yours, my dear, shriveled up and blew away years ago. Now, you will listen to me. You will stay away from Lady Rowena Arlingby. If I hear that you have spoken one word to her, that you have even looked at her, you will find yourself compelled to return to France. Do you understand?"

  Marguerite looked up into Alaric's furious face and shivered. "Why does she mean so much to you? Do you still want revenge on Malcolm that badly?"

  "This has nothing to do with Malcolm. This has only to do with you and me. I trust you will obey my orders."

  "And what if Lady Rowena comes to me?" asked Marguerite. "Am I to cut her dead?"

  Alaric sighed. "Why would Rowena come to you, Marguerite? I am sure she knows her aunt disapproves of you heartily."

  "Because she has learned I am a friend of her brother's," said Marguerite artlessly. "Surely the child is curious to know about him."