Author's Note: Hey All!
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Enjoy and thanks again! xoxo
The Season is starting to gain momentum, so you know what that means dear readers, scandal can not be far behind…
The Covington Soirée was not only well attended, but also the perfect venue for scintillating tittle-tattle. The architect must have had a rake in his ear when creating Covington Terrace: secluded alcoves, shaded corners, easily accessed corridors leading to darkened, deserted parlors.
And speaking of…
…Four note-worthy guests went missing simultaneously: The hostess, Lady Georgina Covington (nee Sparks), Lt. Carter Baizen, Lady Blair Waldorf and the Duke of Bass. What combinations do you imagine?…
…While Lady Covington is only two years married to Earl Covington, she was spotted in obvious flirtation with a host of gentlemen including Lt. Baizen who is cutting his own swath through the young ladies this Season. And why ever not? He is starkly handsome in his red uniform and charming to boot. Even Lady Blair appeared charmed when she and the aforementioned gentleman were glimpsed conversing…
…While conjecture that Duke Bass is looking to take a lady to wife is still running rampant, the Duke himself seemed content to stick to the fringes tonight. It leaves this lady wondering-
Who else was loitering in the shadows?…
Society Pages 20 March 1817
The Covington Soirée was deemed an 'intimate affair', if one considered almost two hundred guests 'intimate'. However, in ton standard it was labeled as such.
The elegant townhouse was peculiar in manner with its inexplicable juts and recesses sprinkled throughout the circuit of rooms. The golden chandeliers were situated so the majority of the space was brightly illuminated, yet the niches and pillars were shrouded in intriguing dimness. Curved walls hid curiously placed hallways, while a veritable forest of potted plants and trees lent precious privacy and cover for hasty exits and entrances.
For all its eccentricities, the house was still grand and well appointed. It, in a way, reflected the nature of its owner. Earl Covington was a stern man of middling years. His face was one of ordinary patrician features, neither inspiring nor off putting. He was thickening around the waist line and his hair was a mixture of dirt brown and grey that was thinning on top.
His true love was not Lady Covington, as a more romantically minded person might assume, but his rare art collections. He had spent decades acquiring select pieces to accent his current holdings, each with a purpose and a place. Much in the same way he acquired his wife. Formerly Miss Georgina Sparks, Lady Covington had been carefully harvested from the crop of schoolroom misses. She had adequate beauty and astuteness, came from good blood and possessed a sizable dowry.
What she did not possess was a title, being the granddaughter of a viscount. So, at the age of nineteen, Georgina traded 'Miss' for 'Lady' and got a husband more than twice her age in the bargain. While some might pity the young woman, Georgina had gained what she wanted: a position, wealth and influence.
Earl Covington regarded his wife as if she were nothing more than one of his marble statues that resided on the mantle. Which was most amenable to Countess Covington who took his indifference as carte blanche to entertain a string of lovers. She also appeared to lack discernment, choosing variety over quality; from footmen and grooms to barons and dukes.
She favored playing games and manipulating her lovers more than the actual love play. Still, men swarmed to her bed, pulled in by her sexual confidence and experience.
With the party in full swing, Georgina swept around the assemblage respectfully acknowledging her guests. Her red satin and lace ball gown was one shade from garish and the décolletage a half inch from indecent.
Charles and Nate stood at the edge of the music room near a conveniently positioned nook watching the Countess in action. Her cat like gaze was locked sidelong on a potential conquest. Her intentions could not have been more obvious to her two onlookers if she had printed them in the morning paper.
"It is like watching a carriage accident, I want to look away but I can't." Nate observed with a shake of his head.
Charles nodded in affirmation, his lips twitching at Nate's phrasing.
"You've had her if I am not mistaken." Nate commented, still watching Georgina.
"One of the many mistakes I have racked up through the years." Charles responded before partaking of his brandy.
"She must have been…" Nate paused, gesturing in the air to summon the appropriate term, "…a handful."
Charles snorted, "A shovelful more the like."
Nate grinned as he asked, "Did it end cordially?"
"Nothing with Georgina ever ends cordially."
The remark drew a chuckle from the Marquess before he quaffed a mouthful of his own libation. He watched Charles, noting that his friend's interest kept straying to the front foyer every few seconds.
"Looking for someone?" Nate asked nonchalantly.
Charles turn to his attention from the door to his comrade and looked his askance.
"Tough not to notice old chap, you seem preoccupied with new arrivals. I was just wondering who warrants your consideration these days."
"A lady." Charles responded with laconic apathy.
"That certainly narrows the field. A new amour or something of the more respectable variety?"
"Hopefully both." The duke rejoined with an irritatingly enigmatic smile.
Nate gave a wry smile in return, "Happy hunting to you then." He clapped Charles on the shoulder and then walked away to mingle.
Charles fully focused on the crowd of visitors, not needing to give half an ear to Nate any longer. His expression, outwardly bland, hid his impatient anticipation.
She was attending tonight.
His sources had assured him that her mother had accepted the Covington's invitation over a week ago.
Charles had to force himself to remain relaxed while his body complained of excess energy, not to mention pent up sexual frustration.
He supposed he could have eased his ache with one of the ladies who dispatched him scented letters with elegant feminine entreaties for his company. Or more conveniently with a choice piece from one of the high class brothels that knew him by name. He most likely should have done. But his Lady Blair induced malady had not dissipated a whit. He still wanted her, only her, with an unrestrained ferocity.
Unexpectedly, an inquisitive female hand roamed from his shoulder, down his spine to the small of his back. Apprehension slithered in its wake.
"Good eve, Your Grace." The female purred.
"Lady Covington." Charles intoned, grasping her wanton hand before it could continue its quest.
"Is it simply me or are the pickings slim tonight? I was hoping for a more enticing buffet." She surveyed the room, especially the males, in a sweep before looking up at him through her lashes.
Charles nearly agreed and included her in that company. But his eyes strayed to the foyer and she appeared, delightfully sheathed in rose satin. She was elegant without thought, showcasing her beauty delicately, subtly. Georgina, by contrast, appeared a Covet Garden trollop.
The countess followed Charles's gaze, "Oh really, Charles. I did not peg you a man with a predilection for the starry eyed variety."
She paused for his response. When it appeared that none was forthcoming, she continued, "Sure, she has that wholesome, untarnished appeal. Although, an innocent like her would have trouble keeping apace with your appetites." Her hand strayed to the back on his thigh, slowly moving around to the front.
Charles, once again, drew her appendage from his person then threw her a warning glance.
"We had our come out together." She persisted without missing a beat, "A spoiled and materialistic simpleton was always my understanding."
"You must have gotten on well then." Charles remarked.
The glower she bestowed upon him was black, promising retribution. Yet, before she could offer him a incisive retort, the Duke turned from her.
"Perhaps you could find a stable boy to entertain you tonight if you are finding the upper crust so lackluster." He threw over his shoulder as he strode away.
Georgina stood with her fists clenched in impotent fury with her eyes burning into his retreating back. Almost instantly, she relaxed. Her eyes flickered to the brunette in the entry, a very untrustworthy smile forming on her rouged lips.
Blair walked into the soirée with her mask firmly in place. Her movements were confident, her deportment impeccable. Even if on the inside she was a bundle of nerves. She scrutinized the company with cool respectfulness, nodding to those with whom she had an association as she passed.
This was an arena she was born to and trained for, like any lady of quality she had skill and preparation to resource at will.
Her inner demeanor was hardly so sanguine.
Would he be here?
Did she want him to be?
Yes and Yes.
Pitiful! She had just seen him this morning and then received his extravagant floral displays this afternoon. While she privately adored them, publicly she was better off claiming impassivity. He needn't be informed of her delight.
The Baron excused himself and Eleanor waved him off with a fond smile as he joined a group of his cronies. Mother and daughter made their way to a cluster of chaise lounges and settees occupied by Grande Dames. Blair made her curtsies and exchanged pleasantries with the ladies, who in all truth, ran the ton. After an appropriate interval, Blair very correctly bid them release her to the festivities. The ladies gave their permission with nods and half smiles.
A group of young misses and their admirers signaled for her to join them. She entered their circle and very naturally became its center. The girls were younger than she, a year or two. They looked to her to carry the bulk of the dialogue.
Blair had been something of a ringleader after her come out. Her cleverness and instinctive commanding nature had secured her that position. Having Serena, a diamond of the first water, by her side had only more thoroughly cinched her standing with the youthful crowd. Now however, she was on her own.
Serena had not written to Blair in over a fortnight. Normally, this would have worried Blair to no end. But, her cousin had explained that she, her mother and Eric were traveling to Scotland to visit friends before returning to London.
Another young woman, not likely more than seventeen, insinuated herself into their group, flirting shamelessly with all the bucks gathered. Blair took an immediate dislike to her. The girl had no tact and she dressed to attract a gentleman's eye. Her low cut bodice proclaimed her bid for notice. Blair thought her rather gauche and unrefined.
Then, she said the words that sealed her fate.
"I was led to believe that Miss Van Der Woodsen had to go to Scotland for the season… for a few months at any rate." the unfortunate attention seeker whispered.
All around her, the others read the insinuation loud and clear: Serena was enceinte.
Blair saw red.
"Miss-, I do apologize, I do not recall your name." Blair interrupted with a sugar sweet voice.
"Miss Carr," The girl informed her, "Miss Rachel Carr."
"Delighted, I'm sure." Blair's smile matched her tone which she found nearly sickening pleasant, "'Tis your first season, is it not?
Miss Carr grinned in return, "Oh, indeed, I am new to the rounds and I reside for most of the year with my parents in Gloucestershire."
"Are you fond of the country?" She questioned further, coaxing the girl with an interested expression.
"Yes, indeed I do."
"That is a true relief for you." Blair replied cryptically as girl's smile turned inquiring. "I could not help but overhear Miss Carr. Are you acquainted with Lady Serena?" Blair's voice turned as cold as winter's frost.
Miss Carr looked around the circle, searching frantically for a rationale behind the sudden palpable tension, "No, Miss-"
She was swiftly cut off "Lady." Blair informed, "Lady Blair Waldorf. You were saying?"
"Uh… No, my lady, I cannot claim an acquaintance with Lady Serena." Miss Carr seemed to finally sense the spectrum of her peril and hung her head sheepishly.
The rest of the group had quieted to the point of eerie silence, hanging on every word to repeat to those regrettably not in attendance or within earshot.
"How odd." Blair stated with an air of mock befuddlement, "Then pray tell, how you came by this knowledge of my beloved cousin."
The girl was quickly turning ashen and swallowed against the lump in her throat with an perceptible gulp. "W-well… Uh… One c-can never remember the t-true source of such things." She predicated, stammering all the while.
Blair's smile deepened to one of utterly false understanding, "Indeed my dear, gossip assuredly takes on a life all its own."
Miss Carr let out a breath of relief, premature relief though it turned out to be.
"Why I daresay the ton grasps on to rumor like a drowning man to driftwood," Blair's expression turned thoughtful as she tapped one of her gloved fingers on her chin.
"Let us say, for argument's sake only of course, that I told someone that I met a newly presented girl who was inventing stories about a lady I hold very dear to me." Blair's voice hardened, unable to leash the violent emotions.
"A lady whose beauty and circumstances make her an easy mark for such specious lies. And the only purpose of this girl's claims was to further the conversation and afford her some consequence, no matter how little. I wonder what would become of this girl if I disclosed that."
She paused for effect before adding, "You do like the country, didn't you say?"
The girl looked ready to throw herself at her tormentor's feet and beg for mercy.
Blair gave her no quarter, staring at her with icy disdain.
"I could not have bettered the sentiment if I tried." A smooth male voice granted, "Lt. Carter Baizen at your service, my lady."
He bowed deeply and offered his arm, "If I might be so bold to request that you accompany me about the room?"
Never one to turn down a proper dramatic exit, Blair threaded her arm through his and let him lead her away. The ladies looked positively green with envy that Lt. Baizen had given her his arm. The gentlemen looked at her with admiration and interest. Miss Carr did her best to slip away with the tatters of her dignity trailing behind her.
"Thank you." Blair stated to her escort as they walked from the group, "I do not believe I could have held my temper any longer."
The lieutenant looked vastly entertained by her confession, "That was you with your temper intact?"
"Undeniably. I am amazed I did not cause her physical harm." She divulged with a hint of regret. She looked ready to go back and finish the girl off.
"Your restraint was must admirable." He complimented on a chuckle.
She grinned in response and couldn't help but add, "You'll turn my head with such praise, sir."
Lt. Baizen looked at her with laughing eyes, but became more serious when he said, "Honestly though, that chit was out of line. She deserved a set-down."
Then, with his smile back in evidence, he continued, "Which you graciously provided."
Blair blushed at his words, her lips lifting at the corners. She tried to recall what she knew of this man as they ambled through a portrait gallery.
"Your are son of Baron Griffen, are you not?"
He nodded in affirmation, "Son but not heir. For I am a lowly third son." He confirmed with amused modesty.
She looked around at the portraits on the wall, all members of the Covington line no doubt, "Have you been fighting on the continent?"
"I am currently on leave, but yes. I bought a commission and joined the 71st." He said as they continued on to a drawing room filled with Chinese pottery.
She halted them beside an lovely Ming vase and turned to face him, "Is the military to your liking?"
He thought for a moment, apparently considering the idea for the first time, "Not in the stricter sense, but as a third son-"
"A lowly third son?" She interjected with a smirk.
"Right you are," He allowed, flashing his gleaming white teeth, "And as a lowly third son few options are available. And at the time fighting Boney seemed a more fitting occupation than the clergy."
"Probably more perilous as well."
"A debatable point, depending on the congregation."
Blair laughed at his easy charisma and droll tongue. He cut a dashing figure in his regulation red not to mention his strikingly blue eyes.
They resumed their promenade, pausing to admire more of the extensive finery displayed by their host. The conversation was warm, simple and entertaining, just like her attendant.
"An attractive couple, wouldn't you say?" Georgina whispered in Charles' ear as he visually stalked the pair in question.
"And what do you know of it?" He asked, slanting an accusatory stare toward her.
Lady Covington laid a hand against her half bared breast in a gesture of innocence, "I? What would make you think that I would have anything to do with it?"
"Because you and mischief are well acquainted." He replied straightforwardly.
Georgina tried her best to look affronted, but a flattered expression peeked through, "I am hostess here and I believe that putting the word in the ear of a guest is my duty. Come now, Your Grace." She admonished, tapping his forearm with her gold embossed fan.
Charles clenched his jaw and fought down his ire, "Exactly which word did you put in Baizen's ear?"
"Two actually: double dowry."
"And Baizen?"
Georgina flipped open her fan and hid her grin behind it in a practiced motion, "He appeared quite keen to get to know her more intimately."
Charles scowled forcefully, grabbing her fan wielding wrist in a painful vice, "Leave it alone, Georgina, or you will find yourself in possession of yet another enemy."
Georgina broke free when he loosened his hold, "Enemies I can handle, they are far less inconvenient than friends."
She made to leave, but revolved to confront him again, "Besides, you are not afraid of a little healthy competition, are you?"