An Evening at Almack's

by Sally Britton

  “And you only now thought to tell me?” An involuntary grin, doubtless full of mischief, spread across her face. “Do not keep me waiting!”

  “They did have a wager to see if Deverell could procure vouchers to Almack’s for you, but he did not, and so I wonder how this will affect their game?”

  “Is that all? I am glad I was able to oblige their expectations!” Rua said, amused, before losing herself deep in thought for a moment as she contemplated. The devilment was still in her, and she could not back away from good sport. “Besides losing the wager, I would dearly love to repay his kind offices,” she remarked wryly.

  “How? You could refuse to dance with him, I suppose, but that might be disastrous to your reputation, and you could dance with no one else all evening!”

  “That is to suppose he will ask me. Very likely he will not attend, now that he has lost.”

  “Oh, but that was part of the wager, too. They have to dance with five wallflowers, including myself.”

  “You are hardly a wallflower!” Rua objected.

  “No, but I think my brother wished to see me become a success, which happens when much sought-after gentlemen pay marked attention to one.”

  “I suppose that is a brother’s distorted way of being helpful. I could see mine thinking some such rot. How bored they must be to come up with such ridiculous notions!”

  “I think we should make it impossible for them to dance with us,” Caro suggested. She seemed to be taking an equal enjoyment in the mischief as Rua was.

  “How may we do that? It is not easy to refuse a gentleman which is the only way I can see to do as you said.”

  “Why, by being so dashing that we will not be available. Word has already spread, and you will not lack for partners.”

  Rua shook her head.

  “I cannot wait to waltz! I was finally approved to do so,” Caro said dreamily, beginning to perform some of the steps around the room.

  “They allow the waltz here?”

  “Yes, for some time now. But you may not dance it until one of the patronesses gives you permission.”

  “These patronesses seem to have all the power in Society.”

  “Along with some of the fashionable gentlemen, like Lord Deverell and formerly Beau Brummell, yes. It is ridiculous, but it is the way things are done. People come in and out of fashion at their whim, it seems.”

  “No fewer than three people have now seen fit to warn me not to waltz! The dance was thought scandalous in Bagsby, so I have not had the opportunity.”

  “You do not know how to waltz?” Caro asked, eyes wide with astonishment.

  Rua shook her head again. “I know, I am devilish underbred,” she added.

  Caro’s face lit up. “Perhaps that is how you may refuse Lord Deverell! I have never seen him bother with any other dance. If you do not know how to waltz and you have not been given permission, then you may refuse him.”

  “I should still like to know how to perform it, all the same,” Rua replied, feeling the wicked gleam of naughtiness even if she could not see it.

  “Perhaps Mama would play the pianoforte, and I can teach you.”

  “Would you do so, please? I will still be able to refuse Lord Deverell in good conscience because I will not have been given permission.”

  “True enough! Let us go and find Mama, then, and see if she will oblige us.”

  The ladies hurried down the hallway to Lady Sutherland’s chambers.

  “You are familiar with the other dances, are you not?” Caro asked suddenly, her brow puckered with the afterthought.

  “Of course I am! What do you take me for, a provincial?”

  Chapter Four

  “It looks like you owe me a monkey,” Sutherland said with a smug gleam in his eyes as he sat down in the chair next to Dev, who had just settled back comfortably with a glass of cognac in Sutherland’s study.

  “Pray tell,” Dev said, feeling bored. “The Season has only just begun. How can I have already lost the wager?”

  “Because my aunt Emily sent vouchers to Miss Postlethwaite on her own accord, by Jove! Had it from my mother’s mouth just this morning!”

  Dev paused before speaking, ignoring the little sensation of regret he felt within. “Surely this does not mean I lose because someone beat the fox to the chicken?”

  Sutherland frowned. “Perhaps not. Deuce take it, this quite ruins the wager!”

  “I would not go that far. I am more amused this Season than I ever remember being before.”

  “Ah! That is the way the wind blows, eh? You had better beware or you will end up leg-shackled!”

  “I have no intention of ending up in any such case, you may rest assured,” he said imperturbably. “I have already danced attendance on her rather enough, I would say.”

  Sutherland looked sceptical. “I suppose you may see if you can waltz with her this week at Almack’s since the vouchers are moot. I should be surprised if they allow her to do so when she is new in Town. I must say I rather like her pluck. Might dance with her myself,” he answered.

  Dev scowled at his friend’s words. He rather liked Miss Postlethwaite’s pluck as well and had already intended to claim one of her dances, regardless of the consequences. For some disturbing reason he could not lay a finger on, he felt invested in her future. He sat up straight.

  “What precisely did you tell your mother?”

  Sutherland looked guilty. “As little as possible, but she knows about the vouchers and the dances with wallflowers.”

  “You betrayed all?”

  “I tried to prevaricate.” He held his hands up. “You know how it is when a mother is determined to discover something.”

  “Was she angry?”

  “She gave me a look that made me feel as though I was back in short coats, but then she relented. How could she be angry when I secured five dances for my sister?”

  “Will she tell your sister and Miss Postlethwaite?”

  “Oh, I asked her to keep her own counsel. I am not certain Caro would appreciate knowing I had arranged her partners for her.”

  “No, the effort would be quite unappreciated,” Dev agreed, wondering how much of his suspicions to disclose to his friend.

  “She will take it as her due, of course, and never know her brothers conspired to help. I must say, I cannot wait to see how Miss Postlethwaite takes.”

  “I suspect we have grossly underestimated the young country lass. I suspect she is playing us for the fools that we are.”

  “Why would you suspect such?” Sutherland seemed taken aback.

  “Because, my friend, she occasionally forgets to play her part. If she fails to make a good match, she has a future on the stage!”

  “If that is the case, I think I like her the more for it! She is a game one if she would risk her reputation to dress up in that old garb merely to thwart our wager!”

  Dev paused to consider. “Indeed. She must have overheard us speaking that first day.”

  “Well, what do we do now if the game is up?”

  “I suspect we should be en garde.”

  “You think they mean to try to roast us?”

  “Of a surety.”

  “But how? What could they possibly do to us?”

  “They are no fools . . . best not to underestimate them. If they have been on to us from the beginning, I suspect they will do something unexpected—something clever. I do not think either of them to be spiteful.” That circumstance, in itself, was refreshingly novel and unlike most ladies of his acquaintance, he reflected in some surprise.

  “Should we change tack?”

  “Not yet. I rather want to see what they have planned.”

  “What should we tell Tindal?”

  “Nothing, I think. We shall go to Almack’s and dance as we had intended. Perhaps I am mistaken.”

  “You never cease to astonish me, Dev.”

  “I rather surprise myself at times,” he conceded.

  Sutherland frowned. �
�What do you mean to do after Almack’s? You have paid marked attention to the girl, and it has not gone unnoticed by the tabbies.”

  “I do not think I will need to do anything. If my suspicions are correct then she will have no need of me.” The thought chafed somewhat. Dev rose to take his leave, and as he was being handed his hat and greatcoat, he overheard music coming from the drawing room. “A waltz, I do believe,” he remarked.

  “Mother is playing the pianoforte so Caro can teach Miss Postlethwaite the dance.”

  Dev knew he should continue out of the door and not look back. Curiosity got the better of him, however. He held a finger to his lips, and Sutherland nodded. They walked to the ballroom but could not, of course, open the door and gawk.

  “Psst. This way.” Sutherland motioned for Dev to follow him, and they went through a maze of servants’ corridors and doors until they were on the other side of the house and hidden behind a screen where the musicians normally sat to play for parties.

  “If you were a good brother you would offer to dance with them,” Dev chided in a whisper.

  “Why do I think you mean for me to partner my sister and not the lovely Miss Postlethwaite?” Sutherland retorted.

  “Your sister does lead rather well,” Dev reflected as he watched the pair with a gleam of amusement.

  “I think I agree with you and thus will not be goaded into furthering your chances of getting Miss Postlethwaite to dance a waltz with you at Almack’s. What is to stop you from asking her now, if you partner her?”

  “Nothing at all, my friend. You have found me out.”

  Sutherland’s gaze turned mischievous. “We may rescue them if you will partner Caro.”

  They watched Lady Caroline teaching Miss Postlethwaite the steps to the waltz, and Dev had to admit to himself that the young lady from Yorkshire was quite charming. She was an elegant dancer, and it piqued him a little to know that she had played him for a mutton-head. He had meant her no real harm, after all. She was a worthy opponent, and he was shocked to discover he looked forward to the next round.

  ***

  “One, two, three; one, two, three . . .” Rua was counting to herself, trying to mind her steps to this new, elegant dance. Caro had been a very patient teacher.

  “Rua, do you see what I see?”

  “All I can see is your neck; a very graceful neck it is too, but if I look elsewhere, I will be ruining your slippers.”

  “Then, I beg you, do not look, but I see Gareth and Deverell spying on us from the musicians’ gallery.”

  “Why ever would they do that?”

  “Do you think they suspect us of retaliation? I am sure they do not know I overheard my brother telling Mama.”

  “More than likely, they want to see whether or not I will embarrass them if they offer to partner me,” Rua retorted.

  “Shall I call them out of hiding?” Caro asked.

  “I suppose this ruins my plan to say I cannot waltz.” Rua pouted.

  “Unfortunately, I do think they have seen enough to surmise you are quite competent. Why did they not simply walk in through the ballroom doors if they wanted to watch?”

  “They mean mischief. Yet should we let them know we see them? It is quite beneath the dignity of a grown man to do such a thing.” Her lips began to quiver, and she could not contain her mirth. She burst out laughing and missed several steps.

  “What is it, my dears?” Lady Sutherland noticed the mishap and stopped playing.

  “We were trying to decide what was so interesting in the musician’s gallery? Good afternoon, Lord Deverell. Gareth.”

  “Oh, how lovely! Now you may both have partners,” Lady Sutherland exclaimed, not seeming to realize the oddity of their positions.

  “Walters had asked me to look at something up here. I am afraid we must be going—to an appointment, you must know. Good afternoon, ladies.” Sutherland bowed and tried to make a hasty exit, but his mother was not to be deterred.

  “Come down here. I do not wish to strain my neck or my voice in order to speak to you. There is no reason you cannot assist Miss Postlethwaite with the waltz to ensure she is ready for her first Town ball.”

  By the time the men had descended to join them, neither gentleman looked the least bit repentant at being caught red-handed, and the devil had taken over Rua’s tongue again.

  “Actually, my lady, I am feeling a little shy. I do not think I am yet ready to dance with anyone else. My upbringing was rather strict, I admit, and perhaps I will grow accustomed to the dance once I see others perform it.”

  Lady Sutherland seemed to be bereft of speech, and Lord Deverell flicked a piece of imaginary lint from his coat.

  “Perhaps you could show her one time since she has never seen it performed,” the lady finally suggested.

  “An excellent idea, to be sure,” Sutherland agreed. “Dev, would you care to partner Caro?”

  “I think I would prefer to watch first, myself, if Lady Caroline does not mind. Perhaps I can convince Miss Postlethwaite to overcome her reservations and join us.”

  “You are too kind, my lord,” she demurred, and went to sit in one of the chairs lining the dance floor. She did not miss the scathing look of reproach Lord Sutherland cast his friend and could not but wonder what it meant.

  Lady Sutherland began to play a waltz, and the brother and sister performed it beautifully, twirling around the floor in perfect harmony. Rua could not imagine any of her brothers doing such a dance, but reflected sadly she had spent very little time with them at formal parties.

  “Have you never been to a dance?” Lord Deverell asked her.

  “A few simple country ones, my lord, that is all. I am but a vicar’s daughter and was brought up with strict notions of propriety. ‘One must set the example for one’s flock,’ my father always used to say.”

  “The waltz being the pathway to Hell, I assume? How tedious!”

  “You delight in mocking me!” she rejoined.

  “You make it so delightful, how can I resist? Then you refuse to dance, and I find it quite irresistible not to make it my new purpose to persuade you to do so.”

  “When I have most emphatically stated that I do not wish to? How ungentlemanly!”

  “What can be your objection? Watch Sutherland and Lady Caroline. If brother and sister may perform it, how can it be scandalous?”

  She took a few moments to watch the dance and quite had to bite her tongue to keep from accepting his offer. She wanted nothing more than to float about the ballroom in the arms of a dashing partner, but she was also a fierce competitor. Searching for objections, she was finding little to cavil at.

  “His hand is on her waist!” she exclaimed in mock astonishment.

  Deverell’s face lit up, and he made a sound resembling a laugh. It quite transformed him.

  “Yes, but they are standing a proper distance apart,” he finally countered.

  Before Rua could find anything else to object to, Lord Deverell had taken her hand and was pulling her to her feet.

  “My lord!” she reprimanded.

  “There are only a few measures left. It will not harm you,” he said as he placed that scandalous hand on her waist and began to twirl her about the room. She said nothing, for she was minding her steps and trying to think of her next move. The warmth of his hand and his musky, masculine scent were driving her to distraction. Curse him for always being one step ahead!

  “What I would not give to know what is going through your mind,” he said. “You dance quite well, but it is customary to exchange a few niceties with one’s partner.”

  “Even when one has nothing nice to say?”

  “Even then,” he agreed jovially.

  She dared to look up for a moment, ready to issue a scathing set-down, only to catch his eyes laughing at her.

  It was really too much to be borne! What clever trick could she ever play on him when he was up to every rig? Rua was certain even her father, rest his soul, would agree Deverell needed to b
e brought to heel . . . yet how?

  “I do not think I have ever been so properly snubbed,” he mused as though it pleased him.

  “I beg your pardon? I was not attending.”

  “Precisely! If I cannot charm you even in this dance, I am utterly unmanned!”

  “Is that what Londoners consider charming?” Rua was fighting to keep a straight face, and had to think of her dear departed parents in order to do so.

  He released her from the dance and bowed. “I beg you will forgive the impertinence to your person!”

  Rua was wondering if she had indeed gone too far this time, except he did not look in the least offended.

  “Will you allow me a chance to make it up to you?” he asked, surprising her instead.

  Now what was he about? “There is nothing to forgive, my lord. I beg you will forgive my old-fashioned ways.”

  “Perhaps the Tower? A museum? Vauxhall Gardens?” he suggested.

  Her mind was awhirl with possibilities. “Well, now, I was a-wantin’ to see a play, my lord.”

  “Taming of the Shrew, perhaps?”

  “I believe that to be Much Ado About Nothing!” she retorted.

  Chapter Five

  It was several days before Dev again saw the intriguing country miss who had begun to occupy more of his thoughts than was natural. He had purposefully avoided going to places where he might come across her, so concerned was he at the effect she was having on him. Never before had he been susceptible to the baser emotion which he considered infatuation to be, so he had spent the past few days trying to ascertain precisely what it was about this unlikely woman which was capturing and maintaining his interest.

  Having already determined that when the stakes were a person’s welfare, wagering was no longer amusing, he wasted no more energy on something he could not undo. However, the manner in which he would resolve the dilemma wherein he found himself entangled was constantly occupying his thoughts. His friends would be shocked to know how far his contemplations had taken him, and would have lost exorbitant sums had that been the subject of a wager.

  Exercise was his preferred remedy for maudlin thoughts, which rarely afflicted one with such an indifferent nature as he, so he took himself for a ride early that morning, certain not to encounter the cause of his discomfort.