The Marriage Wager. Candace Camp
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speak. Then she moved forward with alacrity, saying, “Yes, I would like that very much, thank you.”
She remembered to cast a look at her aunt for permission, though Constance knew that she would have gone with Lady Haughston even if Aunt Blanche had forbidden it. Fortunately, her aunt only nodded somewhat dazedly at her, and Constance moved forward to join the other woman.
Linking her arm through Constance’s, Francesca began to stroll around the edge of the enormous room, chatting casually.
“I vow, one can scarcely find someone one knows in the crush. ’Tis well nigh impossible to meet anyone,” Lady Haughston commented.
Constance smiled at the other woman in response. She was still too startled by Lady Haughston’s interest in her to relax, and she could think of nothing to say, even the most commonplace of comments. She could not imagine what one of the lights of London Society could want from her. She was neither proud enough nor foolish enough to think that Francesca had singled her out because she had realized with a brief glance that Constance was worthy of her friendship.
“Is this your first Season?” Francesca went on.
“Yes, my lady. My father was quite ill when it came time for me to make my come-out,” Constance explained. “He passed away a few years later.”
“Ah, I see.” Constance stole a quick glance at her companion. There was a shrewd look in Lady Haughston’s eyes that told her that she understood far more than Constance had said. That she could envision the slow passage of time spent caring for her father, the days of boredom and sadness, interspersed with the rush of hard work and turmoil when his disease took a bad turn.
“I am sorry for your loss,” Lady Haughston said kindly. After a moment, she added, “And so now you live with your aunt and uncle? And she is sponsoring you. That is kind of her.”
Constance felt the heat of a blush rising in her cheeks. She could scarcely deny the words, for it would seem ungrateful, but to agree that her aunt acted out of kindness was more than she could do. She said merely, “Yes. Well, her daughters are that age now, and so…”
“I am sure you are a great help to her,” Lady Haughston replied obliquely.
Constance glanced at her again and had to smile. Lady Haughston was no fool; she understood quite well why Aunt Blanche had brought Constance along, not for Constance’s benefit, but for her own. Though Constance wondered what Lady Haughston was up to, she could not help but like her. There was a warmth in her that was all-too-frequently missing in the denizens of the Ton.
“Still,” Lady Haughston went on, “you must take time to enjoy your visit to London, as well.”
“I have visited some of the museums,” Constance replied. “I quite enjoyed it.”
“Did you? Well, that is very well and good, I’m sure, but I was thinking more along the lines of, oh, say, shopping.”
“Shopping?” Constance repeated, more at sea in this conversation than ever. “For what, my lady?”
“Oh, I never limit myself to one thing,” Lady Haughston replied, her lips quirking up into a smile that gave her the faint look of a self-satisfied feline. “That would be far too dull. I always set out with the idea of exploring whatever is out there. Perhaps you would like to accompany me tomorrow.”
Constance looked at her in astonishment. “I beg your pardon?”
“On a shopping expedition,” the other woman said, a chuckle escaping her. “You must not look at me so. I promise you, it will not be horrifying.”
“I—I’m sorry.” Constance felt herself blushing again. “You must think me a dolt. It is simply that your kind offer was unexpected. Indeed, I would like very much to go with you—though I fear I should forewarn you, I am a poor shopper.”
“No need to worry,” Lady Haughston replied, her eyes twinkling. “I can assure you that I am expert enough at it for both of us.”
Constance could not keep from smiling at the other woman. Whatever was going on, the prospect of a day away from her aunt and cousins was delightful. And she was much too human not to feel a certain low satisfaction at the thought of the look on her aunt’s face when she learned how Constance had been singled out by one of the most well-known and aristocratic women in London.
“Then it is settled,” Lady Haughston went on. “I shall call on you tomorrow, say around one, and we shall make a day of it.”
“You are very kind.”
Again that smile flashed, and Francesca took her leave, pressing Constance’s hand in farewell before she walked away. Constance watched her go, her mind still humming. She could not imagine why Lady Haughston was so interested in her, but she suspected that it would prove entertaining to find out.
She turned and looked over to where she had been standing with her aunt and uncle. She could not even see them through the crowd of people. It occurred to her that her aunt would not know precisely when she had parted from Lady Haughston. Perhaps she could spend a little more time away without encountering any censure from Aunt Blanche.
Constance glanced around her and spied a doorway opening into a hall. She slipped through it and made her way around the people who had drifted out of the crowded great hall and stood about in small clumps, talking. No one paid her any mind as she walked along the hallway—an advantage, she supposed, of her plain style.
Another, smaller corridor took her past a set of double doors that stood partly open. She saw that it was a library. A smile touched her lips, and she stepped inside. It was a grand library, with bookshelves up to the ceiling filling all four walls except for the space occupied by windows. With a sigh of pure pleasure, she gave herself up to looking at the rows and rows of books.
Her father had been a scholarly man, far more inclined to keep his nose in books of this sort than in the books of accounts for his estate. Their library at home had been crammed full of volumes of every description, but that room had been much smaller than this one and could not have held a third of the books here.
She strolled over to the shelves on the opposite wall and was reading through the titles when she heard the clatter of hurrying footsteps in the marble-tiled hallway outside. A moment later a man burst into the room, looking harried. He checked for an instant when his eyes fell upon Constance, who was standing watching him in surprise.
He laid his forefinger against his lips in a gesture of silence, then slipped behind the door, out of sight.
CHAPTER TWO
CONSTANCE BLINKED IN surprise, not sure what to make of this peculiar entrance. She hesitated, then started toward the open doorway. There was the sound of short, quick steps in the hallway, and Constance came to a halt as a woman now appeared in the doorway.
The new visitor was short and square, a startling vision in a puce overdress of sheer voile above a satin rose gown. Neither the material nor the fashionable color suited the woman’s middle-aged body. And the heavy frown she wore did nothing to improve her looks.
She glared somewhat accusingly at Constance and barked, “Have you seen the Viscount?”
“Here? In the library?” Constance raised her eyebrows in a skeptical way.
The other woman looked uncertain. “It does seem unlikely.” She glanced back into the hallway and then into the library. “But I am positive I saw Leighton come this way.”
“There was a man running down the hall only a moment ago,” Constance lied cheerfully. “He probably turned into the main corridor.”
The woman’s gaze sharpened. “Headed for the smoking room, I’ll warrant.”
She turned and bustled away in pursuit of her quarry.
When the sound of her footsteps had receded, the man emerged from behind the door, pushing it halfway closed, and let out an exaggerated sigh of