Georgette Heyer - Powder and Patch

Cleone sat down, staring out of the window and biting her lips. “What!” cried Sir Maurice in liveliest horror, “Engaged to two men? Cleone!” The golden head was bowed. A great sob shook Cleone.

“But-good heavens, my dear! This is dreadful! How could such a thing have come to pass?”

“Of course it’s dreadful,” said her ladyship. “Think of the scandal when it is known. And that’ll be soon, I’ll wager. Brenderby will never keep such a piece of spice to himself.” As she spoke, one of her eyelids flickered. Sir Maurice smiled, unseen by Cleone. “You-forget, Aunt. I am going to-wed-Sir Deryk.” A shudder ran through her at the thought,

“But I don’t understand! Tell me how it happened, Cleone!” “Yes, tell him, Clo. Mayhap he can help you.”

“No one can help me,” said Cleone miserably. “I must bear the pain of my own folly. I

— oh, I have been so wicked!”

“Now, Cleone? Why? What happened?”

“I may as well tell you. It will be all over town by tonight-everyone will know me for a flirtatious, flighty woman. I-”

“You won’t have a shred of reputation left,” said her aunt maliciously. Cleone started.

“Rep-Oh, and I said-!” “Said what, my love?”

“Naught. I-I-oh, Sir Maurice, Sir Maurice, I am so unhappy!” Cleone burst into tears. Sir Maurice patted one heaving shoulder.

“There, there, Cleone! Tell me all about it!”

“It-it was at the ball last n-night. I-I-no, first James proposed-to me, and I said yes, but I didn’t mean it!”

“You said yes, but you didn’t mean it?”

“I didn’t hear what he said-I-I said yes because he worried so! And-and he knew I didn’t mean it, for he walked away. Then I-I-went with Sir Deryk to a room apart-” “Cleone!”

“Oh, I know, I know! It was terrible of me, but I was so upset-I-I hardly cared what I did!” “But why were you upset? Because James had proposed?”

“No-I-I-something-else-I can’t tell you! Anyway-Sir Deryk took me to this room, and-and taught me to-to dice-yes, I know it was horrid! And-and I lost my rose to him, and when he-was taking it, he broke the string of my locket, and he wouldn’t give it me, but said he must see what was inside, and I couldn’t let him! I couldn’t!”

“What was inside?” asked Sir Maurice.

“For heaven’s sake, don’t ask her that!” begged Lady Malmerstoke. “It sets her off into floods of tears!”

“Aunt, please! And-and so I played him-for it-and I lost and had to-to kiss him-for it. Don’t, don’t look at me! And then-and then he came-with James-and saw! What he must think of me! And I said that he-Oh, he must-”

“Who is ‘he?’” asked Sir Maurice innocently. He watched a tell-tale blush steal up under Cleone’s fingers.

“Mr-Mr Jettan-I-he-saw me kiss-Sir Deryk! Then-then-I think, to spare me-Sir Deryk said I was his betrothed wife. I could not say I was not, could I? It was too dreadful! And Phil-Mr Jettan congratulated us! But James suddenly said he was going to marry me because I had said yes to him-by mistake! Of course I said I was not, but he wouldn’t release me from my word, and nor would Sir Deryk! Then-then he-Ph-I mean Mr Jettan-just bowed and went away, but I could see what he-thought of-of me. Oh, what shall I do? Neither will let me go! I am betrothed to two gentlemen, and-oh what shall I do?” Sir Maurice took a pinch of snuff. A smile hovered about his mouth. He shut the box with a snap.

“It seems, my dear, that the situation calls for a third gentleman,” he said, and picked up his hat.

Cleone sprang to her feet.

“Oh-oh, what are you going to do?” she cried.

Sir Maurice walked to the door. “It needs a masterful hand to extricate you from your delicate position,” he said. “I go in search of such a hand.”

Cleone ran to him, clasping his arm.

“No, no, no! Oh, for heaven’s sake, Sir Maurice, stop!” He laid a hand over her clutching fingers. “My dear, do you want a scandal?” “No, oh no! But I must persuade James!” “And do you want to marry this Brenderby?” “I-am going to marry him.”

“Cleone, answer me! Do you want to marry him?” “I don’t want to marry anyone! I wish I were dead!”

“Well, child, you are not dead. I refuse to see you fall into Brenderby’s clutches, and I refuse to countenance the scandal that would arise if you rejected him. I am too old to serve you, but I know of one who is not.”

“Sir Maurice, I implore you, do not speak to him. You don’t understand! You-Oh, stop, stop!”

Sir Maurice had disengaged himself. He opened the door.

“You need not fear that the third gentleman will cause you any annoyance, my dear. I can vouch for his discretion.”

Cleone tried to hold him back.

“Sir Maurice, you don’t understand! You must not ask Ph-your son to-to-to help me! I-I didn’t tell you all! I-Oh, come back!”

The door closed behind Sir Maurice,

“A very prompt, wise man,” commented Lady Malmerstoke. “Now I am to be baulked of the scandal. Hey-dey!”

Cleone paced to and fro.

“I can’t face him! I can’t? I can’t! What must he think of me? What must he think? Aunt, you don’t know all!”

“Oh, yes, I do,” retorted her ladyship.

“No, no, you do not! Philip asked me to marry him-and-I refused! I-I told him-I would not marry a man with a tarnished reputation! I-I said that-and worse! I accused him of trifling and-and-oh, it’s too awful that he should have been the one to see! How he must

scorn me. Oh, Aunt, Aunt, can’t you say something?”

“Ay, one thing. That you will have to be very humble to Master Philip. At least, he was never betrothed twice in one night.”

Cleone collapsed on to the couch.

“I’ll not see him! I-oh, I must go home at once! I must, I must! Everything is all my fault! I ought never to have-sent him away! And now-and now he despises me!” “Who says so?”

“I-how could he do else? Don’t-don’t you realise how dreadful I have been? And-and his face-when-when he-heard everything! He’ll never never believe-the truth!” “What matters it?” asked my lady carelessly. “Since you do not love him-” “Oh, I do, I do, I do!” wept Cleone.

François admitted Sir Maurice. His round face was perturbed. It cleared somewhat at the sight of Sir Maurice.

“Ah, m’sieur, entrez donc! M’sieur Philippe, he is like one mad!-He rage, he go up and down the room like a caged beast! It is a woman, without doubt it is a woman! I have known it depuis longtemps! Something terrible has happened! M’sieur is hors de lui-meme!” Sir Maurice laughed.

“Poor François! I go to reassure m’sieur.” “Ah, if m’sieur can do that!”

“I can-most effectively. Where is he?” François pointed to the library door.

Philip literally pounced on his father.

“Well? You have seen her? Is she in love with Brenderby? Is she to wed him? What did she tell you?”

Sir Maurice pushed him away.

“You are the second distracted lover who has clutched me today. Have done.” Philip danced with impatience.

“But speak, Father! Speak it!”

Sir Maurice sat down leisurely and crossed his legs.

“At the present moment Cleone is betrothed. Very much so,” he added, chuckling. “I am about to put the whole matter into your hands.”

“My hands? She wants my help?”

“Not at all. She is insistent that you shall not be appealed to. In fact, she was almost frantic when I suggested it.”

“Then does she not want to marry Brenderby?” “Certainly not. But she will do so if you fail to intervene.” Philip flung out his hands.

“But tell me, sir! What happened last night?”

“Sit down and be quiet,” said Sir Maurice severely. “I am on the point of telling you.” Philip obeyed meekly.

“And don’t interrupt.” Sir Maurice proceeded to relate all that he had heard from Cleone … “And she was so upset that she went with Brenderby, not caring what happened. That is the whole story,” he ended.

“Upset? But-was she upset-because I had offered and been rejected?” “Presumably. Now she is so hopelessly compromised that she daren’t face you.” Philip sank his head into his hands and gave way to a long peal of laughter. “Sacré nom de Dieu, the tables are turned, indeed. Oh, Clo, Clo, you wicked little hussy! And what was in that locket?”

“That you will have to ask her yourself,” answered Sir Maurice. Philip jumped up.

“And I shall. Mordieu, never did I dream of such a solution to my difficulties!”

“Perhaps she still will not have you, Philip,” warned Sir Maurice. Philip flung back his head.

“Thunder of God, she will have me now if I have to force her to the altar! Ciel, you have taken a load off my mind, sir! I thought she cared for Brenderby! She smiled on him so consistently. And now for ce cher Brenderby! I am going to enjoy myself.” “Remember, Philip! No breath of scandal!”

“Am I so clumsy? Not a whisper shall there be! François, François! My hat, my cloak, my boots, and my sword!”

Sir Deryk’s valet came to him, bowing. “There is a gentleman below who desires speech with you, sir.”

“Oh? Who is he?” “Mr Philip Jettan, sir.”

Sir Deryk raised his eyebrows.

“Jettan? What can he want with me? Ay, I’ll come.” He rose and went languidly downstairs. “This is an unexpected honour, Jettan! Come in!” He led Philip into a large room. “Is it a mere friendly visit?”

“Anything but that,” said Philip. “I have come to tell you that you will not be able to wed Mistress Cleone Charteris.”

“Oh?” Brenderby laughed. “Why do you say that?” “Because,” Philip smiled a little, “I am going to wed her myself.” “You? Oh, Gad, you make the third!”

“And there is, as you know, luck in odd numbers. Are you satisfied?” “Satisfied? Damme, no! The girl’s lovely! I’ve a mind to her.” “Even though I tell you that she desires to be released?” “Even though she told it to me herself!”