A Fine Caprice - A Regency Romance (5 page)

Deep in thought, he made his way to his sister Charlotte’s house in St James Square and found the lady in her drawing room, deep in pattern books and material swatches, her two daughters Henrietta and Camille on either side of her. A more sensitive soul would have found the picture of the mother – still attractive, despite t
he fact that she was in her mid
thirties – ensconced on a sofa between two charmingly pretty young ladies to be delightful. Cass, unnatural cynic that he was, only saw three rather avaricious females who regarded him in the same light as a bank. They drew on his pockets with monotonous regularity.
Charlotte
was the eldest of the Merridew siblings by five years and as such, rather had the advantage of the authority that seemed to be the right of any first born. The fact that there were three others – one of which was the heir to the estate – did not dint that authority in the least.

Charlotte took in the arrival of her brother with an abstracted smile, holding up two pieces
of material. ‘What do you think? Ceru
lean blue sarcenet or the cloth
e
of gold?’

‘The sarcenet,’ her brother said
, dropping into a chair, ‘the other is probably bought by the ounce.’

‘Idiot. Although Henrietta does look delightful in blue…’

‘But Mama,’ Camille protested, ‘the gold simply
gleams
.’

At
almost
sixteen, the youngest Miss Howe was taking a particular interest in her older sister’s emergence into Society. When her own turn came the following year she would be
au faux
i
n all aspects of spending money.

‘She’ll look like a Christmas present,’ Cass observed dispassionately. ‘Nobody but light o’ loves ever wears clothe of gold.’

‘Nonsense,’ his sister retorted. ‘Only look at Sally Jersey. She wo
re it last week to the Erskine
ball.’

‘My point exactly.’

‘Don’t be horrid. And don’t use those kinds of terms around the girls. I don’t know how many times I have told you.’

‘So many times my poor brain refuses to take it in,’ her brother returned laconically. ‘I daresay they hear worse around the place.’

‘I’m very sure they don’t,’ Charlotte retorted tartly. ‘What brings you here, anyway? Not that I’m not delighted to see you, of course,’ she added, mindful of the fact that she had been leaning rather heavily on
her brother’s charity for the past few months, ‘but the dressmaker will be here soon. She’s going to make some adjustments to several
of
Henrietta’s gowns.’

‘Been eating too many sweetmeats again, have you?’ Cass arched an eyebrow at his niece who flushed.

‘No! That is to say -’

‘She has,’ Camille smirked, ‘she can’t resist them.’

‘Well at least I don’t flirt with the footmen,’ her loving sister began, which drew a gasp from the youngest Miss Howe.

‘You just take that back!’

‘I will not. It’s perfectly true.’

‘Girls!’ her mother said in that especial tone of voice mothers seemed to be able to produce especially for their offspring. Cass and Charlotte had a mother who could do precisely the same thing. Perhaps, Cass mused, it was inherited, much like property or an unfortunate nose. ‘That is quite enough of that, thank you. Young ladies do not say such things.’

‘But -’ Henrietta protested, only to be pulled up short.

‘No buts. I understand that your Uncle Cassius can be very provoking but we must ignore that kind of behavior.’

Cass shook his head in, wondering how it always came down to being
his
fault. It had been exactly the same when he and Lottie were children. ‘Well you can demonize me in full measure after I tell you this bit of news. I won’t be here on Friday so you’re sorry husb
and will have to run the show at
Half Moon Street.’

His sister paused, turning the full force of her clear blue eyes on him. The intensity of her gaze had been turned up to maximum effect. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Friday.
Your ball.
You can still use the townhouse but I must go down to Dorset.’

‘To Dorset?’ she repeated, making it sound like he was embarking on a journey to darkest Africa. ‘What on earth for?’

‘Uncle Abel
’s estate.
You do know he died?’

‘Of course I know.’ She didn’t add the obvious, which was that she did not care. She had not
liked
the man either.

‘Well I need to deal with some matters there.’

‘You can deal with them on Saturday. I cannot imagine what could be so pressing that you would miss your niece’s most important social event.’

‘They’re all important. You said the same thing about her presentation.’

‘That
was
important. She was presented to the Prince Regent.’

Cass gave Henrietta a sympathetic glance. ‘Ghastly, isn’t he?’

Despite her lingering resentment at her uncle for inferring that she had gained weight, Henrietta’s lips quivered. ‘He is, rather.’

‘He is the future king of England,’ her mother said repressively.

‘And God help us all when that happens,’ Cass sat up in his seat and prepared to take his leave. He knew what would happen next. As Charlotte considered – with a certain amount of animosity, it must be admitted – that her brother had drawing power, any event that he was hosting must necessarily be successful, if only because he avoided entertaining. Rightly or wrongly she thought that her daughter’s ‘coming out’ ball, that is, the first real event the Howes were presiding over for the Season
, should be stellar
. Of course by rights, Henry Howe should be hosting the affair but, while a perfectly amiable fellow in almost every way, he had an unfortunate tendency to get drunk around ten in the morning and stay that way for the rest of the day. Usually this could be accommodated fairly comfortably into
his wife’s
busy schedule but sometimes she found it very inconvenient. She had been determined that her brother should stand by her side when the guests arrived at his impressive establishment
. Naturally Henry would be there, on her other side, but he would not have to be relied upon for hosting duties.

‘Cass,’ she started, frowning a little.

‘Lottie, don’t worry. You are perfectly capable of doing this,’ he said softly. ‘And if you like, I’ll have a word with Henry. Would you like?’

She hesitated for a moment, her hands fluttering as they smoothed the damask of her morning gown. ‘It wouldn’t do any good.’

‘It might. Leave him to me.’

She sighed and Cass felt an unexpected surge of affection for his sister. Charlotte was overbearing, argumentative and could be singularly difficult but she had managed very well, all things considered. He secretly admired the way she ran her household, never allowing her husband’s complete lack of usefulness to stand in the way of what she considered her social obligations. Not for herself, but her daughters. It was the reason she, of all people, could persuade him to do what he did not care to do.

‘Is he at home?’ Cass enquired, rising to his feet.

‘I believe he is in the library.’

Cass nodded. Coming forward, he bent to kiss all three of the Howe females. ‘I’ll make it up to you. If you like, you can have a house party at Tipplehorn.’
Tipplehorn was the family’s country estate in Sussex.

Charlotte’s face lit up immediately. ‘With you in residence?’

‘Yes.
As long as it does not exceed four days.
Any longer than that and I may possibly expire from boredom.’

His sister exhaled
in rapturous anticipation
. ‘
Everybody
would wish to be invited.’

‘And you may decide who those everybodys are,’ he assured her.

She clasped her hands together. ‘Thank you Cass.’

‘I won’t say it’s a pleasure, but I will do my level best to smile through the pain.’

Having done what he could to get out of trouble with his sibling, Cass sought out his brother
-
in
-
law who was indeed in the library. He wasn’t pouring over any educational tomes, however, but a glass of
claret. His secretary
,
Brockley sat beside him, dutifully explaining matters pertaining to the day to day business of a gentleman. Henry wasn’t listening but then, Brockley had long since given up all hope that he would.

‘Hello Henry.’

Henry gave him a smile.
The good looks that had secured
him Charlotte Merridew’s hand in marriage were still evident
but his love of all things alcoholic had turned those looks to a soft, seedy shadow of their former self. His tall frame was paunchy, his light brown hair rather wispy and the dark brown eyes seemed permanently vague.
His saving grace in excess was t
hat he was an amiable drunk who, even at his most inebriated, was a fond husband and doting father. Looking up at Cass’ greeting, he
waved his glass in his brother-in-law’s general direction. ‘Cass, old fellow! Join me?’

‘Thank you, but no.’
Cass gave the long suffering Brockley a smile. He had enormous respect for Henry’s secretary, if only because he had the patience of Job. Thanks to Henry’s rather vague ideas on estate management, the two men knew each other rather well and Adam Brockley returned the smile.

‘Why not?’ Henry demanded. ‘It’s past luncheon. Isn’t it?’

‘It is. But claret is still a little heavy for me at this hour.’

‘Really? Well I suppose I could chase up some Madeira.’ And he looked around him vaguely, as if there might be a bottle lurking about nearby.

‘I don’t want anything more than to talk with you.’ Cass sat in a chair opposite. ‘It’s about the ball on Friday.’

‘The ball on Friday?’ Henry repeated cautiously. He may or may not remember a ball but experience had taught him to approach
all
such statements cautiously until the penny dropped in his foggy memory. Such tactics saved him from more frequent remonstrances with his dear wife.

‘Yes, Henry. Henrietta’s coming out thing at Half Moon Street. I was supposed to be hosting it?’

‘And a damn fine offer it was, too,’ Henry said gratefully. ‘You’ll be just the ticket.’

‘Be that as it may, I cannot host it. I have to go away on urgent business which means that you will have to step up to the mark, my dear fellow.’

Henry looked at him a little owlishly. ‘Am I to understand that you want
me
to host the dashed party?’

‘Exactly so.’

‘But I’m not dreadfully good at such things.’

‘No man is good at such things, save our dear Prince of Wales. But we suffer through it. Henrietta is your daughter and you are going to push her off from her mother’s skirts in style. On Friday evening you will be standing by your wife’s side greeting innumerable people you can barely remember, or don’t particularly want to speak to. It will pain you to do so but you will do it because you love Charlotte and Henrietta and they will be mortified if you fail them,’ Cass paused, eyeing his brother-in-law thoughtfully. Henry looked a little green about the gills. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying, Henry?’

‘Of course I do. You want me to stand about for half the night and make a complete idiot of myself,’ Henry said, his earlier good humor entirely shattered. ‘I can’t do it. People are… are ghastly.’

‘In that we are more or less in agreement. But as Charlotte does not call upon your services all that often, you are going to do this for her and you are going to do it well. Yes?’

Grey
eyes met brown eyes and Henry grimaced. ‘Yes,’ he muttered with considerable ill grace.

‘To this end,’ Cass continued on cheerfully, ‘you will
not
take any kind of beverage but tea or coffee with your breakfast
on Friday morning
.’

‘I say, steady on,’ Henry protested, taking a nervous gulp of claret. ‘What say I stick to something light? Madeira. That’s barely wine at all.’

‘Tea or coffee,’ Cass repeated firmly. ‘You may have your first drink at two and it will be Madeira. Two hours later you may have another and an hour before the party you may have something stronger. One glass.’

Henry blanched. ‘I don’t think I can do
that
-’

‘Brockley?’ Cass said softly.

‘Yes, my lord?’ The secretary had been listening to this interchange with considerable interest.

‘I require your assistance. Can you undertake
the task of ensuring
Lord Howe sticks to his proscribed schedule on Friday?’

Brockley nodded thoughtfully. ‘I believe so.
I will lock up all supplies of alcohol in the house.
’

‘I say, wait up. That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?
’ Henry protested. ‘What about
my
feelings on the subject?’