It took just under forty minutes to get dressed under Mary's hands, including dressing her hair. She wore a long sleeved gown paneled in the front in navy velvet and trimmed with braid. It was one of the new gowns hanging in the wardrobe altered to her size. Tempest had looked askance at Mary at the new additions and the maid had responded that Lady Islington had seen fit to give her some of her older gowns, though Tempest saw that they were all made to this Season's fashions and many had not been worn even once. They were well-made luxurious gowns in fine fabrics and Tempest saw that they could be worn for many years, since there were generous hems and extra fabric.
Albie was ensconced in the Blue Saloon, which room looked even more crowded with knickknacks than ever. He jumped to his feet as soon as she entered the room. They spoke simultaneously.
"I'm so glad you called here, Albie-"
"I'm glad to see that you're up and about! They said that-"
They both broke off. Albie gestured for her to speak.
"I beg your pardon in speaking so directly, but it's just not safe for you to be in London right now," she said urgently.
"Yes, I myself am at a loss to explain what happened that night."
"It's quite simple, really. Saintignon speaks, and the whole polite world jumps," she said bitterly. "Anyone associated with me is dragged down into the mire."
"I'm not afraid!" Albie declared boldly, striking his chest manfully.
"No, but do consider your family. Your sisters," Tempest urged. "What harm is there for you to return home until the scandal dies down?"
"I suppose… say, do you think you could return with me for a visit? It will do you no end of good for a visit to the country and my sisters have not seen you this age. The air here is putrid with sewage and so damp I do not wonder you have taken ill."
Albie went on to proudly regale her with descriptions of his estate and the manor house that she was only too happy to listen, given his lot was once extremely impoverished and his sisters doomed to seek employment.
"It sounds lovely, Albie," she said wistfully. "I should love to see it and your sisters as well."
"Then come. It shall only be for a few weeks and you can return to this place with a fresh perspective."
Tempest had no idea how she would tell Lady Islington, but the invitation sounded too good to refuse out of hand. To relax in the country with old friends with whom there was no burden to hide, to pretend. She felt her spirits lifting and resolved to stand up to Lady Islington in this matter no matter what.
Lady Islington, as expected, was disdainful of the prospect of Albert Kadenbury and dismissive of the invitation. "For hadn't you better to hang on to Saintignon while he is interested?"
Tempest tried to rein in her temper and spoke in a low voice. "I do not know why it is you feel Saintignon has honest intentions where I am concerned. He has never shown me the slightest interest in any public events and only started tormenting me and setting all of London upon me. It would be silly to hinge my entire season upon a few itinerant gestures, all of which were clearly only a whim."
She saw that her words were slowly convincing Lady Islington. "It is true that he's never shown the slightest interest in any young lady, except to torment her with social ruin," that lady was muttering.
Tempest pressed her advantage. "I am but from a simple gentry family. You must admit that it is most unlikely - nay, impossible, even, for someone of Saintignon's… caliber…to be truly interested in me." Tempest thought grimly that she had managed to speak truly, without revealing just what she meant by Saintignon's "caliber."
Lady Islington was nodding and frowning thoughtfully.
"Furthermore, Albert Kadenbury is from a good family and has recently made his fortune in India. Why...a visit to his estate is almost a declaration!" she lied.
"I suppose it's not the best offer I had in mind, though I did not think anything would come of your Season," Lady Islington said bluntly. "You speak truth. Aiming for Saintignon is shooting much too high. I suppose it does no harm for you to leave London for a few weeks, and his sisters will provide all the chaperoning you require. Very well, you have my permission."
"Thank you, Lady Islington," Tempest said quietly, not wanting overly effusive gratitude to put her off the idea. "I shall send off a note round to his residence at once."
A socially disappointed Lady Islington took herself out that afternoon on calls. Tempest sat down to write letters to her family, telling them of a chance meeting with Albert Kadenbury and her imminent visit to his country estate, properly chaperoned, of course.
She was almost finished with her letters when Holmes appeared to tell her she had a visitor. "Thank you, Holmes," she said, expecting Albie to have come in person rather than send a note.
"I'll send Mary in," he said, meaning the maid, and then bowed out of the room.
Tempest stood and almost knocked over the inkstand when Holmes announced Saintignon.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, backing up until she was hemmed in by the writing desk.
Saintignon was dressed, as usual, in customary blacks. Time and distance had diminished him in her memory, and she found that she had to look up and up to meet his eyes. His eyes were glittering and dark, with more life than the dull nemesis she had pictured in her mind. He seemed not only taller, but broader, bigger in the small confines of the room. Mary slipped in the room and sat in a chair by the door, affecting deafness.
What help will she be if Saintignon suffers another of his demonic fits again? she thought in helpless fury, cursing Holmes for showing him in, cursing herself for not even looking at the proffered card.
"Naturally I have come to see how you fared in your…illness," he said in his deep voice, the ironic timbre of which made her jump.
"Thank you. As you can see, I am recovered," she replied stiffly. Far be it from her to present any weakness, weakness that he might use against her.
"Good," he said loftily, "as it advances my own agenda. I am come to invite you to a house party at the Hall."
Despite her first initial response to reject everything immediately, she found herself asking out of curiosity, "What hall?"
He raised his eyebrows in haughty disbelief. "What hall? The Hall, my dear girl. There is only one place in all of England that one need not ask, what hall."
Belatedly, the conversation at the rout where she first glimpsed the Horsemen came to her.
"It will commence in two weeks' time and will last for a little over a fortnight. Naturally, I shall personally see to your conveyance-"
"I thank you for your invitation, but I'm afraid I have other plans," she said stiffly. It furthermore was not in her plans to provide entertainment to his friends!
He broke off. "I beg your pardon?"
"Thank you for including me in such... noble festivities, but I have already bespoken my time," she said.
" 'Bespoken your time'? Speak plainly!" he ordered harshly.
"Very well, if you insist," she said, lips tightening. "I have already received an invitation to a house party in Lowesbrough, and I have already accepted."
"In Lowesbrough? What in the devil's name is in Lowesbrough?"
She pursed her lips down. He might be lord over all he surveyed, but he wasn't her master.
When he realized that she was not about to respond, his voice gentled. "I suppose I have not given you enough inducement, have I?" he said with a charming smile. Or else it would have been charming to everyone else. It left her unmoved except so far as to note that his teeth were in extremely good condition, being straight and white, with not a one missing. She thought idly that it was perhaps the first time she had ever seen him smile without having first pounded on someone.
"May I?" he asked, gesturing to a chair next to the settee.
Tempest was unwilling to even grant him that much nicety. Not offering a seat immediately was a social gaffe in the extreme, but she had intended to rout him as quickly as possible.
Reluctantly, she stepped back and sat. He sat.
"The Hall has been in the family since 1503, when it was commissioned by the then Earl of Saintignon to replace Castle Saintignon, which was sadly outdated and expensive to upkeep as well as falling off the cliffs. I believe you will find the Hall to possess all modern conveniences, as it has been painstakingly updated throughout the years. Being in the Midlands also has other compensations, chief among them the temperate climes."
Tempest stared at him without expression. Was it now de rigeur to boast of one's residence to strangers? They would be here for quite a while then, considering she had been inside his London residence and it had indeed been awe-inspiring.
He raised his eyebrows at her. "Your answer?" he asked.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Of course now you will have changed your mind about Lowesbrough when a far more enticing holiday is offered," he said, smiling confidently.
Tempest blinked. And blinked again. Then she stood. He stood as well, the two of them facing off like adversaries.
"I'm sorry, but I haven't changed my mind, and I shan't change my mind no matter how many amenities your home has to offer. I gave my word and I'm going to Lowesbrough."
His lips flattened and his brows drew down in a frown that was equal parts annoyed and mystified. Still he made no move to leave.
She cast her eyes around him to look at the housemaid, but she was asleep in her chair, head tilted back. Still, Tempest lowered her voice. "Hasn't the game gone on long enough, Lord Talleyrand?" she asked, raising her eyes to meet his steadily.
"Game?"
"Your red ribbon, setting all of London on me like a pack of hound dogs, kidnapping me, another red ribbon to my friend. Surely you cannot lack entertainment so badly."
His face had reddened at her list and he dropped his gaze, for all like a child caught with his hand in the biscuit tin. "It's not a game," he denied.
"No," she agreed. It's only my life, she thought.
"I…" he started to say, and then he flushed further and fidgeted. "That is, please do reconsider my invitation," he said before bowing abruptly and writing the room.
It was an odd visit, she reflected later. What chances had she that it was a genuine invitation? Would she have taken the chance if she had not already promised Albie?
No, she decided. She had already made the mistake of trusting Elsa Arenberg, who had then very cunningly tried to destroy her reputation once again. It wasn't in her to trust another one of those aristocrats who ran in the same circles.
She would go to Lowesbrough as planned and regain her momentum.
Then she would return to London with a vengeance!