Free Maggie MacKeever by Sweet Vixen Page B

Tess had conceived a notion and acted on it without regarding the consequences. She had meant simply to hover in the background, to impose restraint if necessary, while Clio enjoyed her debut; now came the growing suspicion that the deception had been less than wise.
    Tess was not destined to long remain in the background. Not only had Clio already taken steps in her sister’s behalf; the duke, while Tess was thus preoccupied, had maneuvered her smack into the midst of the fashionable throng. Hyde Park at this hour was the gathering place of beauty and wealth; before Tess was aware of what was happening, she had been introduced to Lord Petersham, famous for the Cossack trousers and double-breasted coat named after him, and known for his expertise in all matters of fine teas and snuff; the Duchesses of Rutland and Argyll, among the most celebrated beauties of the day; the Ladies Cowper and Jersey, who after a whispered consultation promised vouchers for Almack’s; the eccentric Earl of Morton on his long-tailed gray. It is not to be imagined that these people, in smiling upon the Duke of Bellamy’s companion, were merely being kind: Lady Tess, on horseback, was in her element and so far forgot her loathsome limp that she positively glowed. In the riding field she felt no need to efface herself, to dress in a drab and unfashionable manner that drew no attention; and consequently wore a habit of deep blue, simply and superbly cut, black half boots and York tan gloves, and a small beaver riding hat from beneath which escaped countless silver blond curls. Unaware of the duke’s Machiavellian tendencies, and equally unaware that a woman of her supposed station would be totally overcome by mingling with such exalted personages, the countess laughed and spoke quite naturally with all and sundry, not even turning a hair when presented to the exquisite Beau Brummell, absolute arbiter elegantarium of fashionable society, who lingered so long in animated conversation that eyebrows rose and tongues wagged mightily about the Beautiful Unknown.
    “How Clio would have enjoyed this!” she breathed to Giles, who was clearly in a good humor. “What a great pity that she did not accompany us. It was for her, you know, that you should have procured those vouchers to Almack’s! It would hardly be the thing for me to attend.”
    “I had nothing to do with it.” The duke threaded his way among elegant carriages. “It might amuse you to view the stratagems undertaken by hopeful mamas with daughters in the Marriage Mart. You are honored, you know! I doubt few mere companions have set foot within those exclusive walls.” He turned his head to observe her, rather narrowly. “My sisters will see that Clio receives her voucher, never fear. You need not concern yourself.”
    Little did he know, thought Tess, and hoped that Clio would find among the town’s young bucks a parti who might inspire in her a fondness that lasted longer than a week. With luck, the parti might also be eligible! Recalling Clio’s past conquests, however, Tess had little faith in this. It was too much to ask, she supposed, that Clio should fall in love with a gentleman as thoughtful, and as eminently eligible, as her current escort. “Have you always,” he inquired, thus adding to his growing list of virtues a considerable acumen, “concerned yourself so with the girl?”
    “If only I had!” replied Tess absently. “Clio needs a firm hand.” She recalled herself. “Naturally, it is not my place to criticize!”
    “Naturally.” The duke was wry. “Do not distress yourself. It is obvious that Clio has been allowed to run wild.”
    Fortunately for Lady Tess, who was finding in herself little aptitude for deceit, a diversion presented itself at that moment in the form of Mr. Romeo Coates, who drove a kettledrum-shaped carriage drawn by white horses. Taking exception to the closely passing wheels, the countess’s mare reared up, thus presenting Tess with an