A Christmas Gambol by Joan Smith

Author:Joan Smith [Smith, Joan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1996-10-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

When a minor crisis arose at Whitehall that afternoon, Brougham called a meeting of the Whig shadow cabinet. After Montaigne’s dereliction that morning, he didn’t feel he could miss it. He wrote a note apologizing to Cicely and postponing the trip to Bond Street until the next day. She was relieved to receive it. The sky was overcast, and between riding out with Gresham in the morning and the rout in the evening, she hadn’t left herself any time to work on the pantomime.

What she had in mind was a comical piece in which the hero was against Christmas, and his dame contrived all the usual decorations, food, and festivities by a series of pretexts and excuses that became more ludicrous as the piece progressed. This allowed for musical numbers by the carolers and a bit of comedy by the mummers. It would end with the usual Christmas dinner in a fully decorated dining room, with the hero, played by a lady, assuring his dame that Christmas was all humbug. They had had a perfectly fine day without all that stuff and nonsense.

Once Cicely began work, the thing fairly wrote itself. She had a rough copy by five o’clock. Another day or two to polish it and add some more jokes, and she could give it to Mr. Palin in plenty of time for rehearsals on Monday. She was in buoyant spirits for the rout party that evening.

The Fairlys were also in good spirits, anticipating another performance as invalid and nurse. When his wife was courting him, as she was on the evening of Lady Radcliffe’s rout party, Fairly paid little heed to other ladies. Had the rout occurred during one of their tiffs, he would have been enchanted with Cicely’s appearance.

She wore her chestnut locks drawn to one side, tethered with a white rosebud. Curls bounced saucily against her shoulder. The peach-colored gown of Italian crape with the silver net overskirt, which she borrowed from her hostess, looked quite ravishing on her. With Anne’s small string of diamonds to add the final touch of glitter, Cicely was all the crack.

Fairly scarcely glanced at her, but when Lord Montaigne arrived, he looked across the room at the apparition, came to a dead stop, and stared in blatant admiration tinged with astonishment.

“Don’t look like that!” Cicely scowled, when he advanced to make his bow. “I know I look abandoned, but all of Meg’s gowns are like this.”

“Strange, they never looked like this on Meg,” he murmured.

“Sissie has done us proud, has she not, Monty?” Meg said. “I shan’t blush to sponsor her into Society.”

“I shall blush like a blue pig!” Sissie said, glancing unhappily at the fulsome expanse of bosom above her gown.

“If you could contrive to be less conscious of your—er, bodice,” Montaigne said, caught between a frown and a grin, “then others will not be so aware of it. Remember Lady Godiva.”

“I expect you’re right. Once I am among other seminude ladies, I shan’t feel so exposed.”

They had a glass of sherry and were off to Lady Radcliffe’s.

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