“What trade, Miss Perkins?” Mr. Jacobs prodded, joining in with a bit of a teasing note. “Cotton? Silks? I could use a connection in wine, if he does that.”
“Oh, stop teasing the poor creature!” Miss Fairchild giggled. “She will melt into the floor!”
“A tradesman’s daughter here?” Miss Smythe groaned dramatically. “I pray she has been taught correct manners.”
“As far as I can tell,” Will snapped, “she is the only one with manners present.” He looked around and attempting to effectively silence the rest.
For a moment, it seemed to work.
“For your information,” Sheffield murmured kindly, “Miss Perkins’ father is the most successful shipmaster in London with a stunning fleet under his care.”
“Yes, but can a fortune of fifteen thousand remove the stench of fish and trade?” Miss Sheffield inquired in a carefully mild tone.
Silence reigned over the table.
“Fifteen thousand, eh?” Mr. Jacobs mused aloud. “Not bad.”
“Not that it should matter,” Will said, still sounding severe despite someone whistling. “Apologize to her.”
“It’s not necessary,” Miss Perkins whispered, shaking her head.
Will gave her a hard look. “It is.”
“I should say so,” Lady Ashby insisted, rapping the table with her knuckles. “I will not have my companion treated so, and if any present wishes to be so very ill-mannered, they may leave my table forthwith.”
Now silence did reign across the room.
Lady Ashby grunted once. “As I thought,” she murmured as she speared a potato and bit into it for emphasis.
Miss Perkins still looked at her plate, the color in her cheeks heightened to an incredibly attractive degree, had she not been so perfectly mortified.
“They will apologize,” Will told her in the silence, daring the others to contradict him. “I will see that they do.”
Miss Perkins only shook her head. “No, thank you. I would rather forget the matter entirely.”
“Good girl, Miss Perkins,” Mr. Rhoades praised, looking as though he would clap her on the back as he might one of the men. “Excellent heart. Now, can we commence with our eating? I am famished.”
The others began to speak again, murmuring amongst themselves without the noted apology he had hoped for.
Sheffield engaged his aunt in conversation, and Miss Sheffield glared at Miss Perkins with some venom, which did not surprise him.
“I apologize, Miss Perkins,” Will said softly, choosing not to look at her as he buttered a roll. “That was entirely uncalled for.”
She turned towards him. “Why should you apologize for them, Mr. Debenham? You came to my defense, unnecessary though it was.”
“Unnecessary?” he repeated, looking at her fully now. “I would not have done so were it unnecessary. I’ll not have anyone malign a person sitting at the same table as I, and I’ll tolerate it even less if it is over something as trivial as the occupation of her father.”
Miss Perkins’ slight brows rose, her dark eyes widening. “Trivial? I think you will find that there are not many individuals who would call such a thing so. Trade is not at all the fashion.”
Will smiled at her, feeling quite natural that he do so. “Neither is the simple style of my cravat fashionable, but it does not stop me from wearing it thus.”
Her lips quirked, but a smile did not blossom. “I cannot find fault in your cravat.”
“And I cannot find fault in the circumstance of your birth,” he returned. “Nor from whence your fortune comes.”
“I think you must be a rarity among society,” she countered, her eyes narrowing in the slightest.
“He is,” Sheffield chimed in, keeping his voice down to avoid attracting the attention of those around them.
Will gave him a warning look. “This conversation does not need your input, Sheffield, thank you very much.”
Sheffield inclined his head and raised his glass in a very faint toast before sipping carefully.
“How did you come to be Lady Ashby’s companion?” Will asked Miss Perkins, grasping whatever he could to keep her talking to him.
Miss Perkins took a cautious bite of chicken and chewed before responding. “She is the cousin of my late mother,” she eventually murmured.
“Fortunate for you,” he replied before he could stop himself.
That sounded condescending, did it not? After scolding the entire room for bad behavior, he was now engaging in the same.
Perhaps he was well on his way to tarnishing his perfect image after all.
“Indeed,” Miss Perkins said without any malice or shame, apparently not taking offense. “She agreed to take charge of me after I completed my education and sponsor me in Society in exchange for my being companion to her.”
Now that was a surprising arrangement. It would raise Miss Perkins from her current level as a near-servant, though certainly a genteel one, and give her a vast amount of opportunity. With a fortune of fifteen thousand pounds to her name, she would be a very attractive candidate for anyone.
Beyond being so very obviously attractive to the eye.
Companions were not technically servants, really. Companions came from all stations and were respected, as a general rule.
“And are you pleased for the opportunity to go out in society?” he ventured to ask.
“No, not at all,” she said at once, making him laugh and drawing Miss Sheffield’s critical gaze.
“Truly?”
Miss Perkins nodded once. “Truly, Mr. Debenham. Apart from the opportunity to see my friends from Miss Bell’s, I care very little for Society at all, or going out in it. But I must engage, I suppose, in order to secure my future.”
Will wasn’t sure he’d ever heard anything more delightful. A woman of her beauty who had as little interest in the workings of the public as he did, and valued social interaction with as much contempt?
He could have proposed now, but he thought that might have been a bit rash and unwise.
He was not that far removed from being a gentleman. Not yet.
“I think you are also a rarity in society, Miss Perkins,” Will admitted with a raw earnestness he did not usually reveal.
Miss Perkins looked at him with surprising openness. “I’m not in society, Mr. Debenham.”
“Nor am I, to be sure,” he told her, smiling with ease. “But you soon will be. And that, you can be sure, will change everything.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” she muttered, her eyes casting over to the glaring Miss Sheffield.
Will sipped his dinner beverage slowly, a satisfied weight settling on his shoulders.
He couldn’t have said anything better.
Chapter 5
The rain was a comfort to Caroline, and it always had been, which meant she had the comfort often. As a child, she loved nothing more to walk out in it, but now she was no longer permitted to do so. Bearing it from the windows, where it is a poor prospect indeed, was not nearly the same thing, but the sound was comforting.
She could have used some comfort at the present.
Somehow, Caroline seemed to become an embarrassment to Lady Ashby in a very short amount of time, despite her hard work and training, and her previous satisfaction with her. Miss Sheffield had taken great pains to remind her ladyship of certain flaws and failings that Caroline possessed.
She could not say for certain that it was maliciously done, but days upon days of correction was very tedious, and now Lady Ashby fretted about her more than ever. Now looming over Caroline’s head was the worry that Lady Ashby’s niece could eventually convince her that it was a poor choice to sponsor Caroline in exchange for companionship, and then what would she do?
Everything in the last few days had been geared towards preparing Caroline for the Season in truth, including her being fitted for three new gowns, all for everyday use, as well as some very fine gowns indeed. Caroline thought those quite extravagant, but as she wa
s to be seen in her ladyship’s company, it made perfect sense. She could hardly be seen with a simpleton dressed as a common dock girl, though it had been some time since Caroline had been one of those.
These new gowns, however, were somehow both sensible and fine, functional, practical, even comfortable, yet higher quality than Caroline could ever have wished for, and they suited her surprisingly well. The increase in her correction and instruction, however…
“Miss Perkins, do come away from the windows and sit at tea with us.”
Caroline turned with a polite smile to Mrs. Mayfield, their hostess for the afternoon, and did as she bid, joining her and her daughter, Kate, as they sat together. Lady Ashby was more comfortably situated across the room with some other fine ladies, and Miss Sheffield mingled with her friends somewhere or other.
They were never without the ladies, it seemed, and they dined with them at Ashby House several times a week. Whenever they would go out, Miss Dawson, Miss Fairchild, and Miss Smythe were present in their company. Miss Dawson was kind enough, and Caroline could see her growing fond enough of the woman if she were permitted to know her at all.
Miss Sheffield seemed determined to prevent any sort of lasting association between her friends and Caroline.
Not that it mattered.
“I understand,” Mrs. Mayfield was saying with some kindness, “that you are acquainted with Miss Penelope Foster. We have just recently made her acquaintance and find her to be such a delightful young woman. Kate was so very impressed.”
Caroline nodded at the mention of her friend. “Yes, Miss Foster and I were at school together. We became great friends, and she is truly a wonderful person.”
“And to be the ward of such a fine duke!” Mrs. Mayfield shook her head in disbelief. “She is well set up, is she not?”
The mention of the duke made Caroline’s smile tighten, and she forced her tone not to alter as she replied, “Most well set up.”
She would not go into the strain that having such a guardian had caused poor Penelope, and, having not had time to see her friend as yet, she could not know how that relationship had turned out. Or if it had.
“Did she seem well?” Caroline found herself asking. “Did she look well?”
“Have you not happened to see her?” Kate Mayfield inquired, somehow not sounding simpering in the question. “Poor thing, you must miss her dreadfully! She looked well, I think, would not you say so, Mama?”
“I would indeed.” Mrs. Mayfield gave a very sage nod at this. Then she smiled and reached out to cover Caroline’s hand. “It means so very much, dear, that you would indulge me in coming today. Lady Ashby assured me that you would be a comfortable friend for my Kate here. The two of you are nearly of an age, and being so much in the country, our connections in London are scant at best.”
Caroline smiled in return and looked at the dark-haired young woman beside her mother. “It is no trouble. I know very few people myself and being Lady Ashby’s companion has given me purpose that puts me far more at ease than the idea of participating in the Season does.”
Miss Mayfield shuddered for effect. “Our first ball was such a disaster, Miss Perkins. I could barely get a single word of conversation out, and I only danced twice. I cannot begin to think how I shall go on if that is the beginning.”
“I will let you in on a secret,” Caroline murmured, leaning close. “I have never danced with a man at all. The dance instructor at Miss Bell’s was a woman, and I only ever danced with classmates.”
“No!” Miss Mayfield’s eyes went round. “But what will you do when you attend your first ball?”
Caroline was about to declare her intention to hide along a wall when another person made themselves known to the group with a flounce of an overtrimmed skirt.
“Miss Perkins,” Miss Sheffield snapped, putting one hand on her hip. “Have you seen to my aunt’s comfort? Or is she meant to call out when she finds herself in need?”
It was unfathomable that Miss Sheffield should be so bold as to scold Caroline before their hostess about such a thing when the invitation for this tea had been specifically for Caroline, and not herself. But it was not in Caroline’s nature to give any sort of retort in defense, nor to remind Miss Sheffield of that detail.
Somehow, Caroline managed a polite smile and turned to Mrs. and Miss Mayfield with an apology. “Will you both excuse me while I see to Lady Ashby?”
“Of course,” they replied as one.
Miss Sheffield came to stand beside Caroline’s chair, and it was clear she intended to take her place when Caroline rose.
Shy Miss Mayfield would not thank her for that.
“And then, perhaps, Miss Mayfield,” Caroline added quickly, “we might take a turn together? I understand you have an excellent orangery.”
Miss Mayfield brightened and began to nod when Miss Sheffield tittered. “Oh, no, I cannot see how that would be wise. What if my aunt should need you, Miss Perkins, and you were to be so far away? You are her companion, are you not?”
Miss Mayfield looked mortified and Caroline felt her own cheeks heat. “Yes, Miss Sheffield,” she murmured. “Perhaps simply a turn about the room, then.”
She glanced at Miss Mayfield, who smiled a little and nodded.
Miss Sheffield appeared rather smug as Caroline rose, but then put a hand on Caroline’s arm. “I hope you do not think me severe, Miss Perkins. I am only anxious for my aunt, you understand. She is so very dear.”
The words were sincere enough, but Caroline had never seen any particular warmth or energy where her aunt is concerned. Truly, Lady Ashby seemed to bore and irritate Miss Sheffield more than anything else.
Left with no alternative, Caroline nodded and went to Lady Ashby, who needed nothing, praised her kindness, and encouraged her confidence with Miss Mayfield. Lady Ashby then proceeded to praise her niece for the thoughtfulness of sending Caroline over, and complimented her dress, hair, talents, and everything else she could to the ladies about her.
Caroline barely manage to avoid rolling her eyes, and excused herself to return to Miss Mayfield, who was only too eager to take that turn about the room with her.
One turn quickly became several, though neither spoke much.
“Gracious, how she watches us so,” Miss Mayfield finally murmured, indicating Miss Sheffield delicately.
Caroline glanced over and exhaled very softly at the glower to be found there. “Think nothing of it,” she told the girl. “Miss Sheffield does not approve of me. She sees a companion rather as a governess, or a nursemaid. Any social engagement with fine people on my part is met with such looks.”
“What would she do if I called upon you?” Miss Mayfield tightened her hold on Caroline’s arm. “My mother and I, I mean. Would Lady Ashby permit it?”
“Lady Ashby would,” Caroline assured her. “She wishes me to make good connections. The request would have to come from you, I think. With her niece to hand, I would think it only too easy for her to be convinced that I am somehow behaving above my station.”
“Oh, dear,” Miss Mayfield whimpered. “That sounds a trifle intimidating.”
Caroline took pity on the girl and rubbed her arm. “I am sure your mother knows the way of it. Lord knows, I do not.”
That made Miss Mayfield laugh, and Caroline smiled at the sound, hoping against hope that here, at last, she might have found a friend in London.
* * *
Miss Perkins was not dancing.
To be fair, it was a small party, not a ball, and there were only six or seven couples dancing at all.
But such a vision of beauty should not know the feeling of a chair when any dancing was at hand.
Not that Will was dancing either, but he did not dance.
Did Miss Perkins dance? She must, for were not all young ladies instructed in such things? Did not all young ladies find it to be a most enjoyable entertainment?
Perhaps she did not. Perhaps she was one of the rare few who found little pleasure
in it. He would only find her more perfect for it, but if she did happen to love dancing and was only lacking in partners, he would defy all established precepts and dance with her as many times as would be politely acceptable.
If not several times beyond the politely acceptable.
It would make him less of a gentleman, and that would be reason enough to do it.
He’d seen her a few times since that first dinner at Ashby House but hadn’t had opportunity for private conversation. Miss Sheffield saw to that, and the rest of the inane Sheffield friends either did not notice her machinations or did not care. They entertained their friends so often, Will wondered if they ever truly left, or if the lot of them stayed over in the guest rooms.
Mr. Gates had a begun to take particular notice of Miss Perkins, which tended to grate on Will’s nerves. But his attention seemed rather as one might look at a butterfly through a glass. He discovered, at some occasion that Will had not been present at, that Miss Perkins had some skill with riddles and puzzles. He had begun a challenge with her, and it seemed he had yet to stump her, which gave him great delight.
Will grew more and more proud of Miss Perkins with every puzzle she solved, least of all because she took absolutely no notice of Gates and only seemed mildly irritated by his constant quizzing. He knew that Miss Perkins observed his attention on her, how he watched every exchange, but she gave no indication as to how she felt one way or another. He saw neither approval nor disapproval in her gaze, and ever her expression was composed.
The only hint of distress or consternation he had ever witnessed when her accent, cultivated and practiced as it was, faded and a more natural and easier accent made itself known. Only hints, and never enough to declare her common, but Will, for one, wished to hear Miss Perkins’ natural accent, just as it was.
Even if it were the roughest, most common accent in all London, he would love it.
There was nothing common about Miss Perkins.
Nothing at all.
“Deb!”
Will bit back a groan, turning towards the approaching Miss Sheffield, knowing what she would ask. “Miss Sheffield.”
The Beauty Page 5
