take the shine out of the ladies at the assembly. Some vestigial atom of feminine competitiveness urged Lady Raleigh to enliven her own evening toilette. Her usual outfit for winter do’s was a well-aged blue silk gown. There wasn’t time to have a new gown constructed, but she would wear the Raleigh diamonds. The local assembly generally merited no more than her pearls.
When she went after Aubrey to get the diamonds out of the family safe, she found him in his study, going over his account books.
“You always wear the pearls,” he reminded her.
“Usually, but tonight I shall wear the family heirlooms.”
“They’re not family heirlooms. Not entailed,” Sir Aubrey pointed out brusquely.
“They were passed down from your mama, and Pamela shall wear them when she marries Nigel. They are family heirlooms, whether they are entailed or not.”
“Wear your pearls,” Aubrey said. “I don’t see why you must ape the manners of an actress.”
Lady Raleigh was much impressed by this streak of common sense from her lord and master. “You’re quite right, Aubrey. There is some insidious evil in having a woman like that under the roof. I was being drawn into the snare without realizing it. I shall read a few chapters from my Bible before dinner. And by the by, I arranged to have Breslau keep an eye on Nigel. He’ll not be visiting that harpy downstairs, and neither shall Breslau,” she added contentedly.
She was happy to see how this pleased her husband. Shows of affection had been rare nearly to the point of nonexistence between them for a decade, but she placed her hand on his now and squeezed gently. Aubrey returned the pressure. She would leave the door between their adjoining bedrooms open tonight. A man had his needs, and it was best to fill them when an evil woman was amongst them, however unpleasant it might be. Lady Raleigh spared no exertion in her quest for salvation for her and hers.
“I keep the pearls in my jewelry box, so I shan’t bother you any longer.” She glanced at his account books, and at the frown that furrowed his brow. “We haven’t outrun the grocer, have we, Aubrey?”
“No, no, but I shall put off mending the stalls till the spring. I like to keep a little beforehand with the world.”
In Lady Raleigh’s opinion, the stables ate up more than their share of the family income. “That might be best.” She smiled, and finally left.
The Lord did indeed work in strange ways, His wonders to perform. Who would have thought a visit from an actress would open up Aubrey’s eyes to the folly of human vanity? Perhaps Nigel’s work with the creature would bring him to a proper appreciation of Pamela. He would be better served if he had a good wife with him in wicked London. Twenty-two was old enough for a man to marry. And poor Pamela must be growing impatient.
Chapter Four
Pamela Comstock stood at the mirror examining her hair. At home, the upstairs maid did it for her. She didn’t have a personal maid, or want one. Neither did she want one of Lady Raleigh’s servants twisting her curls into some style of yesteryear. Her hair was her crowning glory. A rich mane of chestnut waves tumbled to her shoulders and gleamed in the lamplight. She always wore it tightly pinned in Nigel’s presence, but on this visit she would risk wearing it in a more becoming style. Nigel would be fully occupied with Fleur, and there was no reason the other gentlemen at the assembly should take her for a dowd.
Her mind roamed to Breslau, and she regretted once more not having brought her new rose gown with her. She was far from considering him a possible husband, but an eligible gentleman who honors a lady with a flirtation merits a good gown, especially when he is accustomed to London toilettes.
She tilted her head this way and that, assessing her face. Her eyes were all right. Her mouth was too small and her cheeks were pale. She pinched her cheeks till they burned, and stretched her lips in an
Learning to Kill: Stories