“Mama, he does not take me seriously!”
“Well, who wants a serious wife? At least until you are married, and then you may convince him of what you will. There will be plenty of time.”
Maria regarded her with appalled fascination. “You don’t feel we should know each other’s characters before we marry?”
“No. These things all work out in the end. Look at your sisters. Look at Gervaise.”
“Mama, Frances may have loved Torridon, but they knew each other so little they almost ruined their marriage! You never wanted Serena to marry Tamar, or Gervaise to marry Eleanor. They are happy because they didn’t follow the so-called rules!”
A hint of color seeped into her mother’s cheeks. “Sometimes I am wrong. But I am talking here about your reputation, Maria, and about such matters, I am always correct. As far as Underwood is concerned, I want you only to leave the door open to greater regard that may or may not lead to marriage. The end of the season is time enough to consider such matters. For now, the most important thing for all of us is how you conduct yourself.”
“Yes, Mama,” Maria said, thoroughly crushed.
Her mother hesitated, then gave her a quick, unexpected kiss on the cheek. “You may enjoy yourself, of course. For the most part, you are very prettily behaved. But this business at Wickenden has set my nerves on edge. Come, let us go down.”
Chapter Seven
As was usual for such events, Gervaise opened the ball by dancing with Mrs. Winslow the squire’s wife, while the squire danced with Eleanor. Maria stood up with Lord Underwood. She was in fact, grateful that he had asked, for it proved to anyone who cared to look that he did not believe any rumors circulating from Wickenden via Mrs. Davenly.
As she danced, smiling and making polite conversation whenever they came together, she glimpsed her younger sisters in the gallery. They were skulking expertly behind the orchestra, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn’t looking. And no one, after admiring the floral decorations of the balustrades, was likely to pay much attention to movement above them.
“Thank you for asking me,” she said sincerely to Lord Underwood as he walked back with her to her mother after their dance.
“Gossip can be uncomfortable as well as unkind,” he said, surprising her with his understanding.
She glanced at him uncertainly.
“Are you going to confide in me what actually happened?”
“Nothing,” she replied. “I thought the terrace was deserted and went to cool my headache, only it turned out Mr. Beauchamp was there, too. If Mrs. Davenly hadn’t been looking out of her window, we would have quietly avoided each other.”
“I thought it would be something like that. Society is odious in its delight of missteps and scandals.”
“So I think,” Maria said with enthusiasm. “My sister Serena was once sent home to rusticate simply for dancing three times with an old friend. She hadn’t been counting.”
“One probably should count if dancing with Lord Daxton,” Underwood murmured, proving he knew the gossip even if he ignored it. “Did the punishment weigh with Lady Serena?”
“Not much. She married Tamar.”
Lord Underwood let out a laugh. “You do amuse me, Lady Maria.”
“I know,” Maria said.
Since they had arrived back at her seat beside her mother, he did not reply to that, merely bowed to them both, exchanged a few words about the charming nature of the ball, and strolled away.
“Well?” her mother demanded.
“He asked me what happened at Wickenden. I think he was being kind, dancing with me.”
Her mother nodded with satisfaction, but since Genevra Winslow rushed up at that point to renew their old friendship, private discussion came mercifully to an end.
“You are so lucky to be having your season already,” Genevra told her. “Is it terribly exciting?”
“Not as much as I thought it would be,” Maria told her honestly. “One gets almost tired of dancing and driving in the park and endless dress-fittings.”
“Oh, poor you,” Genevra said so dryly that Maria laughed.
“Yes, I know I should be more grateful, but it seems to all be aimed at catching a husband, and I have no interest in that.”
“Really?” Genevra asked, searching her face for signs of jest. “But there is not much choice of husband in Blackhaven.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Maria gestured subtly with one hand to the throngs in the ballroom.
“The spring ball is different,” Genevra said with a sophisticated air that made Maria’s lips twitch. Genevra’s eyes laughed back. “Very well, I might just try and cut you out with Lord Underwood, for he is most handsome, is he not?”
“He is generally considered so, and you would not be cutting me out.”
Genevra’s gaze continued to rove before she said, “That one. He looks a little different and yet a perfect gentleman, so handsome despite the spectacles. Or is it because of the spectacles?”
Maria’s stomach tightened with an ill-natured twinge of jealousy. “Mr. Hanson,” she said. “Braithwaite’s secretary. Sadly, he is already engaged.”
He was standing quite close by, talking to Bernard Muir, but as if he sensed their scrutiny, he glanced over and saw their attention on him. Another word to Bernard, and both of them moved toward her and Genevra.
After greeting Bernard, she left him to tease Genevra and stood to move a little apart with Hanson.
“Have you seen him yet?” Michael murmured.
“Not yet. The girls are watching, too, from the gallery.”
“A family tradition, I apprehend.”
“Lady Maria!” exclaimed a red-coated officer at that moment. “What a pleasure. May I beg your hand for the waltz?”
It was Captain Grantham, an officer well-known to her family and twice injured on the Peninsula. Maria rather liked him, but as soon as he spoke, she glanced at Michael, suddenly hoping that he would claim the dance, since he had been talking to her first. However, Michael merely bowed, smiled, and walked away.
“Of course, you may,” she told Grantham, hiding her pique.
While remembering to keep looking out for Gideon, it was still pleasant to dance with Captain Grantham, who was both an excellent dancer and good company.
“I hear you will be off again to join Wellington at Brussels,” Maria said.
“They need some old soldiers to stiffen all the second battalions that have seen no action at all. So, we’re all off.”
“When do you leave?”
“No orders yet, but we expect to hear next week, or the one after. We can’t leave it much longer if we hope to be ready to meet Bonaparte in June.”
Over his shoulder, she saw her sisters walking around the gallery. Alice caught her eye and looked downward. Maria followed her gaze and saw Gideon at last with Lieutenant Green. The two began to move around the outside of the ballroom, and the girls moved with him. Alice carried a glass.
Maria’s breath caught on laughter, and she hastily returned her attention to Captain Grantham. “We’ll look forward to your return, safe and sound.”
“And victorious,” he added with a grin.
“That goes without saying.”
Despite the light-hearted banter, it came to her suddenly that she might never see him again, nor any of the officers and men she had been used to encountering around town for as long as she could remember. They spoke of it as if it were a game, a sport, but people died. Or were horribly injured. The knowledge from the back of her mind forced its way to the front so fast, she felt dizzy.
“You will take care?” she said anxiously.
His eyes softened as though he were unexpectedly touched. “Of course. We are trained for it, you know. And we’ll be back before the end of summer.”
*
Michael was rapidly building his knowledge of Lieutenant Gideon Heath. From discreet inquiries in Blackhaven and a few overheard comments, he had formed the pic
ture of a young man he hadn’t expected to care for and didn’t. Although a younger son from a struggling family, the uniform he wore seemed to bring him a sense of entitlement. No one seemed to dislike him, for he was good enough company, so long as he didn’t overdo the bottle, which he was inclined to. But neither did he appear to be anyone’s great friend. He wasn’t a great officer, either, being inclined to laziness, but neither was he in danger of being cashiered.
By chance, Lady Tamar introduced him to Mr. Bernard Muir who, he remembered, was Heath’s friend who had supplied the elopement vehicle, although had apparently arrived with it to talk Maria out of the folly.
Muir was an amiable young man who tried to persuade him into a game of cards.
“I don’t play,” Michael returned.
“What, never?” Bernard asked astonished.
“Never for money,” Michael clarified.
“I shouldn’t either. I usually win more than I lose, but it can leave a man short at the end of the quarter. What did Serena say it is you do for Braithwaite?”
“Research, writing, whatever he needs.”
“Ah, a clever cove.” Muir grinned. “You’d probably fleece me, then. I’ll play you for buttons one day but can’t do that here.”
“You live in Blackhaven?”
“I do, though I may go to London with my sister. I feel the need to do something other than spend my brother-in-law’s allowance.”
Michael nodded his understanding. Above Bernard’s head, two girls were emerging surreptitiously from behind the orchestra. Lady Alice Conway, what looked like a glass of lemonade in her hand, glanced down and caught his eye. Then she nodded below in the direction of a group of officers who seemed to have just arrived. One of them looked very like the man whose appearance in High Street had upset Maria.
“That’s Gideon Heath, isn’t it?” Michael said to his companion. “Don’t suppose you’d care to introduce me?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” Muir said bluntly. “Don’t care for the fellow.”
“Really? You don’t seem the sort of a man to take unreasonable dislikes.”
“I’m not,” Bernard muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “Used to enjoy a few larks with him, if you must know, but we had a disagreement.”
“He must be quite unreasonable then,” Michael remarked, considering Muir’s amiability.
“I don’t mind unreasonable. Don’t like paltry.”
“I see.” Michael regarded him curiously. He was clearly not going to give details. “I heard a rumor he was dangerous.”
Muir curled his lip. “Only if your back is turned or you’re wet behind the ears. You might want to watch yourself, then.”
“Interesting.” Sensing observation, he glanced to his left, and saw Maria with another young and lively lady.
Muir grinned at them and began to walk toward them, so Michael used the excuse to go, too. He wanted to be sure Maria was not lapsing into the sort of anxiety that saw her gouging holes in her palms. At least she was wearing gloves.
She also seemed to be enjoying herself, reuniting with old friends, and if there was a hint of nervousness about her, that seemed to be part of her character. He did not even get the chance to warn her about Heath’s presence, for another officer appeared from nowhere, presuming on old acquaintance, and asked her to dance.
It was a waltz, and Michael was suddenly aware of the urge to dance it with her. What would it be like to hold such a graceful, delicate creature in his arms? To turn and sway to the music, to have her full attention for something other than the troubles in her life?
Feeling her gaze upon him, he smiled and bowed, stepping back out of their way. Nevertheless, even as he strolled around the room, keeping Heath under observation, he could not resist a glance toward the dance floor.
Maria waltzed as exquisitely as he’d imagined, her attention all given to her dashing partner. He jerked his gaze back to Heath. For the first time ever, he felt disloyal to Judith.
*
Returned to her mother’s “court”, Maria found herself seated by Mrs. Gayle, Lord Underwood’s sister.
“How beautifully you waltz,” Mrs. Gayle greeted her.
“Do I?” Maria asked, startled. “If so, the praise is due to my governess and my dancing master!”
“Modesty becomes us all,” Mrs. Gayle said dryly. “But let you and I be plain with each other. You are very young, and I did not expect to like you, but I do.”
“Thank you,” Maria said faintly.
Mrs. Gayle laughed and patted Maria’s wrist with her fan. “We shall get along famously. You are innocent as a lamb, I can see that. Yet, you must know my brother is very taken with you.”
“If you say so.”
Mrs. Gayle’s fan shot open. “I do. It will be an excellent match, and I shall enjoy being your sister, showing you how to go on in society so that you are a credit to my brother.”
Since Underwood was a mere baron, and Maria the daughter and sister of earls, this seemed a trifle presumptuous on many grounds.
“I believe I was brought up a lady,” Maria said. “However, you much mistake the matter. There is no match.”
“Ah, I see we are to be missish after all.”
“Not in the slightest,” Maria said pleasantly. “Lord Sylvester,” she called, seizing on Tamar’s youngest brother with relief. “Are you acquainted with Mrs. Gayle? She and her husband, who is a member of parliament, are staying with us for a few days. Ma’am, Lord Sylvester Gaunt—Lord Tamar’s brother, you know.”
Sylvester, looking surprised but willing, swerved toward them. His reputation was hardly the sweetest, and in the past, he had certainly done his best to live up to it. Mrs. Gayle could not have known he was rather a changed man since his marriage to Catherine Winslow, for he still carried with him something the same aura of recklessness and danger as Dax. And he lacked the smooth edges of Dax’s gentlemanly upbringing.
Seeing that her mother was engaged in conversation with her friends, Maria took the opportunity to slip away. Lord Tamar, on the dance floor, clearly saw her bid for freedom and winked at her. Maria smiled back and went on her way.
She eventually caught sight of Gideon, prowling the ballroom close to where her mother sat, as though he were looking for her. She kept walking. She wanted to know if Mr. Hanson had had the opportunity yet to speak to him, to hand over the money she was prepared to pay until a more permanent solution could be found. But she could see no sign of him.
She paused for a few minutes to join her sisters and Gillie Wickenden, who were enjoying reminiscences of past, spring balls.
“This will be the first you have actually enjoyed from this level,” Lady Wickenden observed.
Maria cast a glance at the gallery, where Alice and Helen were once more merely blurs behind the orchestra. “Sometimes, it seems you have more freedom to move up there.”
“But you can’t really dance,” Serena observed. “At least, not with gentlemen.”
As she responded, Maria again saw Gideon walking toward her. There was a little more purpose in his step, so she guessed he had seen her. She left her sisters with a word of excuse and moved on, aware that he was probably trying to frighten her into escaping the ballroom, and therefore giving him the opportunity to catch her alone. But she was neither so silly nor so frightened.
On the other hand, she had no objection to leading him around the ballroom, making him weave in and out of various groups of people, even dancers. For devilment, she led him straight toward Lord Torridon, who would assuredly have him kicked out if he noticed him anywhere near Maria, and then veered to the right at the last moment to speak to Catherine Gaunt. From there, as the music ended and the dancers flooded outward, she slipped through the throng behind a group of tall men and helped herself to a glass of lemonade from the table.
“All well, James?” she asked the footman in charge of the table.
“Busy, my lady, but yes, all well.”
She smiled and sipped her
drink, turning to decide which direction to go next. And came face to face with Gideon.
His eyes gleamed with mockery and triumph. “Lady Maria, at last. What a delightful surprise.”
Had there really been a time when her heart had beat with passion for this paltry little man? Well, her heart still beat too hard, as it always did at confrontations, but at this moment, she was conscious only of revulsion.
A patch of his hair was damp and stuck up slightly. Almost as though something sticky had spilled on it, and he had tried to brush it out.
Laughter caught in her throat as she mentally raised a glass to her little sisters. Clearly, they had indeed poured lemonade on his head.
“Sir,” she managed breathlessly, and stepped aside to pass him.
His eyes flickered, as though confused by the mirth she couldn’t quite hide. But he moved subtly, just enough to make it impossible for her to pass between the table and his person without touching him.
Behind her, James was talking to another servant. Other gentlemen were picking up drinks for themselves and their ladies. Gideon imagined she was powerless.
“Excuse me,” she said clearly and looked straight into his eyes. He seemed to have decided her smile was pleasure, at least meant to placate him. For, despite the few heads turned in their direction, his own smile broadened.
“Of course,” he said gaily. To her astonishment, his hand closed around her glass, plucking if from her grasp and setting it back on the table. “Our waltz is about to begin.”
Her eyes narrowed. Every nerve in her urged her to push him aside like an importunate dog and ignore him, but damn him, he had defeated her. To refuse an invitation to dance was considered ill-mannered, and to do so to a young officer beneath her in social rank, would add snobbishness to the crime. No one would doubt he had asked and been accepted, and while she had never been more tempted in her life to behave badly, to do so here and now would bring just the sort of attention she needed to avoid.
She could not shout, This man is trying to extort money from me! Not without implicating herself and her family in a distasteful scandal.
The Wicked Sister Page 7
