“Corrine,” corrected Miss Bretton.
“No, Corry … ’tis so very familiar, and that is what we will be from now on.” Babs got to her feet. “To sleep … both of us. Tomorrow will be ever so exciting.”
“Babs … what about you … how is it you haven’t … you aren’t …”
“I am Lady Barbara Waverly. I am expected to marry … or rather, sell my name to the highest bidder, but I have this little dream about marrying for love. And I shall, as you shall, but in the mean time, a little rumor to open the lazy eyes of the haute ton is just what we need, do you see?”
“No … no I do not …”
“Well, Corry dear, you shall …” Babs giggled and left her newfound friend and cousin to her dreams.
Seven
BABS THOUGHT OF her new friendship with her cousin Corry as putting the lyric to the tune. They shared a kindred spiri
t, a sense of humor, and an appreciation of the ridiculous. She found that they were from the start able to view life from the same height, to turn to one another and laugh, or cry, and always see the other’s mind.
Babs knew she tended to do the outrageous, the bubbling, the naughty, and the impulsive, while Corrine would observe it all from her seemingly placid exterior and thoroughly enjoy herself. Babs also realized that her newfound friend wielded a gentle hand of control over her. Babs was no fool—she knew she needed a calming hand—and so did not mind in the least; in fact, she welcomed it.
Babs also did what she had promised she would. A word here, another there, never overstating, never doing more than hinting, and the rumor began, so that when she told Otto her cousin ‘had something of an inheritance’, it grew upon itself in their circle.
Thus it was that the rumor came back to her that the lovely Miss Corrine Bretton was not only one of the season’s new beauties, but she was an heiress!
And that was all that was needed.
Corrine’s dance card was constantly filled, and the two cousins fluttered throughout society most enjoyably.
Babs did not see very much of the Duke of Barrington that first week after their first dance together. She did, however, bump into him briefly on two occasions in the park. Their first accidental meeting allowed her to introduce him to her cousin. After the second of those meetings, she turned to Corry and sighed. “Is he not … the most handsome devil you have ever seen?”
“He is most certainly attractive … but in a dangerous sort of way,” Miss Bretton said thoughtfully. “Never say … you are genuinely interested in him?
“Interested? Oh Corry, more—much more. You see,” Babs confided, “I want him.”
“Babs!” Miss Bretton squealed her objection.
“Oh I know what that sounds like, but I can’t help it. I know it is quite impossible.” She sighed and said on a low note, “You know, it is most unfair that men may go about flirting and kissing and … and … all sorts of things with impunity, but we must wait till we are married …”
“Hush, you silly thing, before someone hears you.” Corry shook her head but could not repress a short laugh and a nod. “But you are quite right … and it leaves us in a precarious situation.”
“Yes, for we must marry in order to enjoy the …”—Babs twinkled—“pleasures of the flesh, and what if we don’t enjoy them … with the man we marry?”
“’Tis why so many married women have affairs … like Lady Caroline and Lord Byron … and so many others who have married for convenience and find satisfaction elsewhere. I suppose that is our lot in life.” Corry sighed sadly.
“Well, it shouldn’t be, and I for one don’t mean to abide by rules made by men for their own selfish gain.”
“You are quite right, but there is nothing we can do …”
“There is, and we should do it. Look at what that Godwin woman did … with her publication of A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. In her work she actually indicated the position of women in society, most notably describing marriage, as legal prostitution. What do you think of that?”
“Babs, Babs … your father would die of an apoplexy!” Corry laughed. “And I think that is coming it too strong, don’t you?”
Lady Barbara sighed. “Well, yes, but something must be done—if not, we risk being married off by our fathers to men we can’t abide.” She clucked her tongue. “And all this bother doesn’t really matter, because the man of my dreams—Lord Wildfire—doesn’t even really look at me.”
“Yet, I noticed that he is not adverse to your charms,” her cousin answered thoughtfully, and her hazel eyes twinkled. “And you certainly did exhibit them as best as you could, didn’t you?”
Her hand received a playful rap. “Horrid girl!” Babs laughed amiably. “And how could I do that with everyone in Hyde Park watching me speak with him?” She looked around and noted that it was the fashionable hour; it seemed all of London’s haute ton was out displaying themselves. She was heartily sick of it, and then with a flutter of her heart she noticed Lord Wildfire had just pulled up his black gelding to speak to another man on a gray.
“Look!” exclaimed Babs, exerting control over her fingers, which seemed to have a will of their own as they began to point. It took extreme effort to keep them at her side.