The Hourglass (10 page)

Genie was catching her breath, and not just from the wild waltz. She had never been held so easily, with so much joy. “Of course it would. You must attend. The prince might listen to your plans to improve conditions of the poor instead of spending all his money on building palaces and pavilions.”

“From what I hear, he will never listen. But others might. You will be expected at my side, of course. People are already asking about you, and I can only claim your weariness from the journey for so long.”

She wrapped the string around her fingers, rather than meet his eyes. “I thought I would not attend public functions yet. In memory of Elgin, you know.”

“Nearly everyone there will have lost someone in the war. They are celebrating that no more young men will be sacrificed.”

“There is no reason to stir up more gossip,” she insisted.

“Gossip lurks in every dark corner, like dust. Such it has been in every court I have ever visited, as well as every alehouse, washing well, and milking shed. The only way to defeat it is in the open air. Furthermore, the Russian prince will be there with his sister, and three Austrian princesses, I understand. Everyone will be talking about them, not you.”

“I am not ready to go out.”

“What, you have nothing suitable to wear?” He raised one dark eyebrow at the stacks of parcels in the small, cluttered parlor at the back of the house. There was even a crate in one corner.

“These are not mine! I would never spend your money on so much frippery.”

He peered into one box, but saw only wrapping tissue. “Toys for poor children? Hats and mittens for the workhouses? I thought we discussed hiring a warehouse for that kind of thing.”

“We did. These are your packages. They are all hourglasses.” She led him to the connecting room, where shelf upon shelf was filled with the timepieces. Some were tiny, with enough sand to time an egg or a move at a game of chess. Others were so large they could have clocked a cricket match. Some were wood, some brass. A few were gold, or gold plated. Some of the sand was white, and some looked like mud dredged out of the river Thames yesterday.

“Campbell found a man to build the shelves,” Genie told Ardeth. “Scores of hourglasses arrive every day through your agents, more so now that the reward notices have been posted in London. I have the names of all the senders, in case one deserves the money, but I do not think so, from your description. A few have clasps roughly glued to the backs, trying to make them into brooches, but Olive says they are not right.”

“Olive?”

“I thought he would recognize the one you seek, because you sent him out looking.”

“I sent him to get rid of the nuisance. That twit would not recognize his own pecker, that is, his own beak.”

“Well, he does claim these are not alive, as if an hourglass could live and breathe. I thought he was saying they were not for Olive, not food, not shiny enough. Then he said they were not ours.”

The former Dead Letter knew the former gremlin was saying “not Ar’s.”

Ardeth picked up a little one of the collection, surprised at its lightness. The real one, for all its smallness, carried the weight of the world, or so it had always seemed. He put this one down.

“I appreciate your efforts, but they are not necessary. I would know if the thing were found. I would…feel differently, I think.”

Abracadabra again, Genie thought, her ebullience fading. “What shall I do with these? I’d think schools and hospitals would rather have clocks.”

“We could melt down the gold ones, I suppose, or return as many as we can, with a few coins. The ones sent as gifts to curry favor require mere thank-you notes. But leave them for now. We need to discuss the prince’s reception.”

“I would rather not go.”

“I know,” was all he said, lifting an hourglass that had colored glass beads embedded in its bottom and top. It
was garish enough for a bordello, if the wenches worked
by the hour.

Lord Ardeth was not asking, Genie knew, feeling more trapped by his turned back and silence. He’d done so much, given so much, and asked so little in return. Now he was letting her choose her own path, confident she would choose the right one. She’d rather catalog the timepieces.

She could let him go off on his own, Genie thought. Ardeth had managed well so far. According to Campbell, the earl had won membership to White’s men’s club, which he accepted, and invitations to Jackson’s boxing parlor, Manton’s shooting gallery, and Antonio’s fencing academy, all of which he refused. Genie wondered what he’d told the sporting gentlemen, for he’d told her he would not take up arms against a man, ever again, not even in play. The Corinthians ought to be glad Ardeth was not wielding fists or sword or pistol, for she’d wager he’d be a formidable opponent. As for White’s, Genie knew her husband did not care to gamble, and never drank to excess since she’d known him. Again, she wondered what the other men thought, if they were already calling him the Eccentric Earl. As sure as the sins he would not commit, he was different from the rest of them, yet seemed to command respect wherever he went.

Most likely the tulips would admire his style. They’d all soon be wearing long black capes like his despite the warm weather, and putting on dark, mysterious airs, which the women would adore. The hint of danger, the slight scent of smoke, his unspoken past—and his wealth—would make him an irresistible challenge for the women of the so-called polite world. They would be less than polite in their pursuit, married or not.

Maybe she better go to the celebration, Genie told herself.

She owed him the protection of her presence. Besides, the earl had not been brought up in English society and might not know all of its ways. That was what he’d asked of her, wasn’t it, her help in finding his place? His manners appeared perfect, now that he’d stopped eating with his fingers, courtly even, but what if he said something bizarre, like his muttering now about why anyone would keep a
memento mori
, a reminder of death. The hourglasses were only timing devices, for goodness’ sake, and he had asked for them.

Genie decided she ought to go with him, to stop him, if she could, from advertising his oddities. Heavens, what if he decided to take his pet crow, or put out all the fires in Carlton House? Or start one. “Very well, I will go.”

“Thank you,” he said, his rare smile returning.

Genie held up her hand. “But I will not dance. That would be too outrageous a flouting of the conventions.”

“How disappointing. I was looking forward to a real dance with my wife.”

Genie thought she might have liked that, too, despite her concerns, which was worrying in itself. Insanity must be contagious, like a putrid sore throat. Feeling any kind of attraction to Lord Ardeth now was bound to be more painful later.

“Prinny is known to adore crowds,” she told him, “so I doubt there will be room for dancing anyway. Besides, I hear he keeps his rooms too warm for any strenuous activity such as dancing. Ladies have been known to swoon from the heat.”

“Then I will be comfortable there. I do not understand
this English penchant for cold, damp rooms and unlit
fires.”

“It is summertime.”

“So what?”

Genie could not imagine Ardeth being uncomfortable anywhere. Wherever he was, he was in charge. Like now, when he was planning a dancing party of their own.

“We can hire an orchestra, serve champagne punch and those lobster patties that seem to be in fashion, and festoon the ballroom with silk swags and flowers.”

“Appearing in public is in poor enough taste as is. Entertaining on such a large scale so soon after my husb—that is, after Elgin’s death would be highly improper. No one would come anyway.”

“Good. I did not mean for us to invite anyone else to our ball but the two of us. Would you like that?”

“What, hold a grand fete for you and me?”

“You in your prettiest gown, me trying to remember the steps. The musicians behind a screen so they cannot see my blunders or stare at my beautiful wife.”

“Who is breeding, in case you have forgotten.”

“And more beautiful for it.”

She tsked at him, rather than let him see her pleasure in his compliments. “A private ball would be a silly waste.” And the most romantic thing she had ever imagined. She could almost feel his arms about her, drifting to the music, with the sweet scent of roses in the air and no one to spout propriety. Then they could go upstairs—when he’d remember his oath of abstinence. “A total waste. Surely you have better things to do with your time and money.”

He turned six of the hourglasses upside down, one after the other, to let the sands run out. “I am not sure anymore.”

“Well, I am. I have much to do before the prince’s reception. For one thing, I cannot go until I pay a duty call I have been putting off.”

“I did not take you for a shirker or a coward.”

“Sometimes avoiding unpleasantness is easier than facing it head-on. I owe my former mother-in-law the courtesy of a visit before I enter society. She never liked me, and she will disapprove even more of my hasty marriage, with good cause.”

“You did what you had to do to survive.”

“She would prefer that I had perished rather than cause another scandal, and will certainly tell me so. I brought home some things of Elgin’s she might like to have, though, his sword and pistol, a pocket watch that might have been a gift from his father.”

“Do you think she’d believe Macklin owned one of these hourglasses? You could tuck it in with his scabbard.”

Genie ignored his efforts at lightening her mood. “I was hoping she would not be in town, but I had one of the footmen make inquiries.” She sighed. “Lady Cormack is here, likely well aware of my return to England.”

“You could send the trappings.”

“Now that would be cowardly. Elgin’s mother deserves an explanation of our marriage. The nature of his death will be harder to explain.”

“Being run through by a jealous husband on the eve of battle? No mother wants to hear that. Lie.”

“You are telling me to lie? You, who believes honor is everything?”

“Kindness is something, too.”

She nodded. “I will ask if I might call on her tomorrow.”

It was Ardeth’s turn to cluck his tongue. “She is, what, a dowager baroness? When are you going to realize your place in this world? You are a countess, Lady Ardeth. If you wish to visit, you do. Otherwise, you ask her to call on you.”

“That would be rude and arrogant.”

“But effective. How can she berate you in your own home, with your new husband at your side? That would be ruder still.”

“I thank you for the offer to stand beside me, but this is my duty. There is no need for both of us to suffer the lady’s rancor.”

He smiled, but without humor. “Do you really think I would let some nasty old beldam upset you?”

Heavens, with that look he might turn the woman into a pillar of salt, or have her be struck by lightning. “I have to handle this on my own.”

“No, you truly do not. You are married now.”

She was married before, and managed everything from finding rooms to fending off inebriated young officers who thought she was Elgin’s sister and thus fair game.

Genie compromised. She sent her former mother-in-law a note inviting the older woman for tea tomorrow, if it was convenient, or to name a time for Genie to call on her if not. She was half hoping Lady Cormack would not reply at all.

Or that her personal prestidigitator could make the baroness disappear altogether.

Chapter Eight

Lady Cormack arrived promptly that afternoon. She arrived so promptly that Genie was not ready. She directed her maid to tell the footman to ask the butler to show her mother-in-law into the best parlor. That was how things were done in the great houses of Mayfair, instead of yelling down the stairwell, which would have been easier but quite common. The toplofty butler would have been shocked.

Genie was being rude anyway, she knew, keeping the woman waiting, but there was no help for it. She had been sick to her stomach, and still had butterflies after Ardeth’s merry waltz. Then she wanted to dress perfectly, not like the frightened girl in a hand-me-down gown at her wedding.

She wore black. All of her new clothes were in dark colors. At least no one could say she was dressing like a fast woman, no matter how fast her remarriage had occurred. She wore her pearls as her only ornament other than the gold wedding band, with her braided hair tucked neatly under a black lace cap, except for a few red-gold strands allowed to curl down her shoulder. The gown itself was stylish without being dashing. The high waist concealed enough; the neckline revealed enough. She wore a black lace fichu at the low collar, again for propriety, and a fringed black shawl, because the short puffed sleeves left her feeling too undressed, too vulnerable to criticism, no matter their modishness.

Genie might have worn black, but Lady Cormack wore Black. From head to toe, fingertip to fat fingertip, she was a wide, walking coal heap with lumps to match. Her gown was high-necked and long-sleeved. Her gloves were black lace; her necklace was black jet beads. The only items not black on the woman were her hair, an improbable blond for her age, and her flabby cheeks, probably rosy from her weight and her wait. When Genie arrived, she had been eating bonbons, while inspecting the furnishings of the room and fuming.