"I must make sure that he is presented to Amabel. Come along; perhaps I can put her in his way after this dance."
Lord Francis brought his dance with Letitia to an end in front of where Isobel sat fuming at the overheard conversation, and restored her to her friend with a friendly smile.
"You are the most delightful partner I have had this evening, Lady Morgan," he said. "You do not so much dance as float."
"If you speak so to all your partners, Lord Francis, you will earn the reputation of being a sad flirt," said Letitia.
"I am in great earnest, ma'am," said Lord Francis. "And I do not compliment anyone's abilities unless I am sincere."
"Such flattery," said Letitia with a laugh. "You have earned your reputation, my lord."
"What reputation is that?" asked Lord Francis plaintively. "I defy you to find a single lady whose affections I have trifled with!"
Letitia greeted this statement with merriment and the conversation would have continued but for the arrival of her next partner to lead her out onto the floor. Lord Francis relinquished her with protestations of disappointment and then turned to Isobel.
"May I have the honor of dancing with you as well, Miss Paley? I have admired your prowess this evening."
"I fear that I am weary from my earlier exertions, Lord Francis," said Isobel coldly. "I believe I will sit this dance out."
"Then I will keep you company," he said, immediately seating himself next to her. At that moment her hapless partner returned with the requested glass of lemonade and Lord Francis neatly relieved him of it.
"Thank you so much for assisting Miss Paley," he said genially. "But I believe we can now dispense with your company."
Mr. Braithwaite looked offended. "Miss Paley requested that I bring her a lemonade—" he began, but Lord Francis waved one elegant hand.
"I’m afraid my old acquaintance with her requires that you must indulge us," he said. "Please forgive us if we seem unmannerly."
Mr. Braithwaite appeared as though he was about to become argumentative. "I don't see why you should be allowed to cut me out," he protested.
Isobel decided to put an end to this little comedy. While she was nervous about spending too much time under Society’s eye with Lord Francis, she had discovered Mr. Braithwaite was dull enough that the thought of his company was even less enticing. She extended him a friendly hand.
"Do please forgive Lord Francis," she said placatingly. "But we do indeed have much to discuss. If you would do us the courtesy of excusing me, I would be most grateful."
Mr. Braithwaite looked from Isobel to Lord Francis and seemed to decide that he would only look the fool if he continued to protest. He kissed Isobel’s hand with ill grace and departed, leaving a strong air of annoyance behind him.
"Your lemonade, Miss Paley," said Lord Francis, presenting it with a flourish. "I am sorry that you are feeling fatigued. You do not seem to be a lady who would be worn out by dancing."
"Perhaps it would be better if you sought the company of a young miss," she said sharply. "I am sure there are plenty of ladies here who would be only too delighted to oblige a gentleman so accomplished as you."
"I believe I have done my duty by that community this evening, Miss Paley," observed Lord Francis. "I now seek out a woman whose conversation consists of more than pleasant inanities."
"I am honored that you thought of me, Lord Francis," she said with asperity.
"I think of you quite often, Miss Paley," he responded calmly. "I have discovered that you are much admired in London for the quality of your conversation as well as your beauty."
"And with whom have you been discussing me, Lord Francis?" asked Isobel, an edge to her voice.
"Why, it is not I who broach the subject. I fear that the vast majority of the ton are greatly interested in my recuperation in your home and display an almost unseemly curiosity about the time I spent there."
"How ill-mannered of them," said Isobel.
"Indeed. I try my best to be discouraging. When people are particularly persistent, I am compelled to look at them through my quizzing glass," he said, suiting the action to the words and giving Isobel a haughty stare through his glass. His gaze was so severe that it elicited a reluctant laugh from his companion.
"I almost feel sorry for someone so inquisitive as to provoke such a response from you," she said. "If you were to look at me so, I would be quite shattered."
"You, Miss Paley? I believe that you have a great deal too much countenance to be put out by a mere gentleman with a quizzing glass," said Lord Francis.
"Perhaps," responded Isobel, "but if I were the sort of person who would be so impertinent as to question you on your stay in an unmarried woman's house, I should be the more easily put in my place."
"I am sure that soon other matters will occupy the attention of the ton, and we shall be left in peace," said Lord Francis.
"If you continue to seek me out in public, Lord Francis, the tongues will doubtless continue to wag," countered Isobel.
"I will not allow the ill-nature of others to deprive me of your company, Miss Paley," said Lord Francis with mock drama. "I defy Society to keep me from your side!"
Isobel laughed. "You are ridiculous, sir," she said, but she found her mood lightening. For some reason, she was beginning to feel considerably happier with her surroundings.
"Will you not dance with me, Miss Paley, now that you have rested?" asked Lord Francis.
"I cannot, Lord Francis. I am engaged for all the dances this evening, I fear," said Isobel. "You should come to Almack's earlier in the evening."
"Behold me quite crushed. Cannot you do as Lady Morgan did, and give precedence to an old friend?"
"As an unmarried woman, that would show a quite unattractive preference, Lord Francis. I believe we wish to discourage the tales of gossips, not give them more grist for their mill," said Isobel repressively.
"I will do better in the future, Miss Paley, and arrive early at all entertainments so as to be sure of being on your dance card," said Lord Francis.
"I see my partner approaches," said Isobel, watching a determined young man thread his way towards them through the crowd. His bright blue coat and yellow knee breeches looked quite ridiculous as he stood next to Lord Francis, who was clad with elegant simplicity. "I thank you for your company, sir," she said.
Lord Francis took her hand and pressed a kiss to it. "I relinquish you with great reluctance," he said. "I will be certain to call on you soon."
Across the room Horace Worth observed this exchange with surprise.
"I say, Freddy, does Francis seem to be paying a great deal of attention to Miss Paley?" asked Mr. Worth of his friend, Sir Robert Marley.
Sir Robert turned his eyes away from the blushing damsel he had been ogling. "What?" he asked. "Do you think he has a tendre for her?"
"Well, he certainly seems to be singling her out to a remarkable extent," said Mr. Worth. "Though when I asked him about her earlier he professed nothing but disinterested admiration."
"Mere politeness, no doubt," said Sir Robert. "Spent a good deal of time in her house this spring; wouldn't do to ignore her."
"But he's doing more than the pretty," objected Mr. Worth. "He seems to be alarmingly interested in her."
"Well, she's a beautiful girl," observed Sir Robert. "With a very handsome portion as well. Lots of fellows have been interested in her."
"And look what's come of it!" said Mr. Worth. "I tell you what, Freddy, I'll lay you a monkey he offers for her by the end of the Season."
"Done!" said Sir Robert. "Francis wouldn't be such a gudgeon as to offer for her! Why the whole world knows she won't marry. He has more sense than that."
"What's more," said Mr. Worth, "I'll bet you she accepts him!"
"No, no, I can't do that," objected Sir Robert. "You must be foxed, Horace. Miss Paley won't marry Francis; you're a fool."
Mr. Worth considered this. "Devilish smooth-tongued devil, Francis Wheaton," he said. "
If anyone could bring it off, he could."
"Well, if you want to throw your money away, I'll take it," said Sir Robert. The two gentlemen stood and surveyed the room. "Devilish flat, Horace," he said. "Tell you what, let's go to Watier's. I have a mind to take some money off you tonight, as well as when Miss Paley turns Wheaton down."
Miss Paley took it upon herself to dance with great energy for the rest of the evening. It would not do to let Lord Francis think that she was not enjoying herself. Her high spirits were apparently unnoticed by his lordship, however, for he danced twice with Miss Amabel Corning, and then retired to the card room, where he spent the rest of the evening playing whist with Miss Harriet, who was delighted to have such a handsome and accomplished player for her partner. By the time the ladies had returned to their coach and were being conveyed back to Clarges Street, they were all ready to admit their fatigue.
"It has been too long since I have danced so much," said Letitia, with a sigh. "I cannot believe what an evening I had. Lord Francis is a delightful partner; he is so very graceful."
"And a skillful whist player as well," said Miss Harriet. "Jane Woodley was positively jealous at the pretty compliments he paid me. So handsome and distinguished a gentleman he is, why, I cannot remember an evening I have enjoyed so much!"
"A dreadful flirt, that is what Lord Francis is," said Isobel rather sharply. "I daresay every woman he spent time with tonight fancied herself honored, but there were too many of them for there to be any real value in his attentions."
Letitia and Harriet exchanged a quick glance.
"That is unkind, Isobel," said Letitia. "I am sure Lord Francis did not flirt more than is proper, and indeed, less than many another gentleman there this evening."
"I am sorry, Letitia. I have a headache that is making me positively ill-natured," said Isobel. "I will allow Lord Francis to be a very proper gentleman."
Upon returning to Clarges Street Isobel fled upstairs, pleading the need to lie down immediately. She found it difficult to embrace Orpheus that night, for he seemed disconcertingly real, and endowed with golden hair, piercing grey eyes, and a magnificent physique. In fact, Lord Francis absolutely haunted her dreams, to her considerable vexation.
Chapter 12
The next day dawned gray and rainy, and when Isobel descended to the breakfast table she found Letitia and Harriet lamenting the weather, which ruined their plans to spend the afternoon at a balloon ascension.
"It is very hard," said Letitia, "for I had so looked forward to the excursion. Still, it cannot be helped. I shall seize the opportunity to write to some friends whom I have sadly neglected."
"What an excellent notion," said Harriet. "Perhaps I will emulate you, or I may begin stitching the slippers I have meant to send to Cousin Andrew for some time and which I have slighted sadly. We have become dreadful gadabouts, so perhaps this weather is a positive blessing."
"Perhaps it is," said Isobel, a smile in her eyes. "I plan to make a visit to the British Museum to view the Frieze of Bassae. It has been recently acquired, and I have been meaning to go see it, but we are so seldom unoccupied. I am eager to view such a fine example of Greek art."
"Isobel, I think you are pleased that it is raining and our expedition has been called off," said Letitia accusingly. "You would greatly prefer to spend the day viewing art rather than a balloon."
Isobel's eyes danced. "How can you?" she said with mock reproach. "I assure you that I am desolate that I must find my pleasures indoors."
Letitia laughed. "Go view your frieze, then. I am sure you will have a delightful afternoon."
Isobel smiled and departed, stopping only to collect her maid, who was anticipating with pleasure a prolonged escape from polishing and fetching, and the leisure to peruse an exciting piece of penny fiction. Thus, both young ladies, however different their stations, were well satisfied with their program for the day.
Lord Francis Wheaton was likewise disappointed in the weather that afternoon, for he had planned to view a fight a few miles from London. This program naturally had to be abandoned due to the inclement nature of the weather, and he instead elected to pay a visit in Clarges Street. If he was disappointed on being shown upstairs to discover that only Harriet and Letitia occupied the sitting room he was too polite to show it.
"Isobel has gone out," responded Letitia to Lord Francis' inquiry, made only after he had politely conversed on various other topics with the two ladies.
"That tiresome frieze," added Harriet. "I am sure that if I have heard her mention it once, I have heard it a thousand times. How very glad I am to be at home with this stitchery, rather than watching Isobel speculate on precisely why it was that the Greeks chose to proportion something or other in that exact way." She shuddered, producing a laugh from Letitia.
"Harriet, you mustn't say so. I am sure that Isobel would not intentionally subject you to tedium."
"Oh, certainly not, for she is the most considerate person imaginable. It is simply that she is transported beyond words by those grubby bits of stone, I am sure that I cannot understand it, but then I recall that my brother could converse for hours about the pleasures of angling, and what he found amusing about waiting for fish which were not to be found to swim up to his line, I do not know, and besides, he contracted a fatal inflammation of the lungs from being outside on a day much like this, attempting to catch a fish."
"Angling is a sport whose charms I believe only the devotee can truly comprehend, Miss Walcott," interrupted Lord Francis smoothly. "I fear that I am one of them, so I must therefore look with sympathy upon Miss Paley's transports over antiquities," he said, neatly bringing the conversation back to his topic of interest. "Where is this famous frieze of hers to be found?"
"Why, it is at the British Museum," answered Letitia. "I recall having read in the Times about the great interest it has aroused. I fear that we cannot expect Isobel to return any time soon, however, since I believe she took her sketch book with her and expressed an interest in reproducing the work of the Greek masters."
Lord Francis remained a few moments more, bringing his call to a close after the proper interval, and leaving Letitia and Harriet exchanging knowing glances. He then set off towards the British Museum. Here was an excellent opportunity to learn a bit more about a side of Miss Paley that he had some inkling of, but which she was at pains to conceal. A well-born lady who chose to view Greek antiquities out of interest rather than because it was the fashionable thing to do must be viewed as unusual.
It did not take Lord Francis long to hunt out the object of his interest. There were quite a number of people engaged in viewing the frieze, most of them not persons of fashion. Isobel was striking amongst them with her auburn curls, air of elegance, and very modish gown. She sat with her sketchbook before the frieze, which had been reassembled for the curious to view. When Lord Francis appeared, she was intent on correctly transcribing the figure of Artemis in her chariot, drawn by stags, and his lordship thus had the leisure to view her for some minutes before he approached her. Her hand moved rapidly but with great precision across the page, producing images he could tell were of the finest craftsmanship. Her green eyes were intent on her work, and she showed no sign of awareness that a crowd swirled around the carvings; her attention was completely captured by the work of the long-dead artisans. Lord Francis surveyed the picture she presented with pleasure.
"Miss Paley," he drawled. "What a pleasant surprise to find so much modern beauty diverting itself among that of the ancients."
Isobel jumped and squeaked, but composed herself rapidly. "What a very pretty compliment, Lord Francis," she said. "But I fear that examination of these sculptures can only emphasize the many respects in which my looks diverge from the classical ideal."
"As to that, I think that however much the classical profile may be admired, Miss Paley, we should none of us find it excessively appealing should it be presented to us at Almack's. I find an English freshness such as yours far more charming."
<
br /> Isobel made no reply to this, wondering what Lord Francis was at with his compliments, and Lord Francis stretched out a lazy hand and picked up her sketchbook, glancing through it with a connoisseur’s eye. "You are an artist, Miss Paley," he observed. "Your sketches of the frieze are remarkably true to the original. Your talent for drawing goes far beyond that which any fashionable young lady must possess."
"I would not call myself an artist; perhaps a draftsman with a fair eye would be a more honest description," she replied lightly, reflecting internally on how very far beyond what was fashionable her interest in the frieze went. "But I have a feeling for this, which calls forth my best efforts, and I am flattered by your approval."
"I must always approve of the activities of a lady so accomplished as you, Miss Paley," said Lord Francis with a bow. "How came you to be visiting alone? Could you not convince Miss Walcott or Lady Morgan to join you?"
Isobel chuckled at that. "Oh no, how could I impose my excessive interest in what Harriet would surely apostrophize as a lot of dirty rocks on my friends? I never invite poor Harriet to come on my historical expeditions."
"To be fair, she used the expression 'grubby bits of stone,' I believe," responded Lord Francis. "But it sounds as though you often frequent such places as this, Miss Paley. Surely that is not the occupation of a lady of fashion."
Isobel bit her lip; she had not intended to speak so freely to Lord Francis, but his easy good humor had betrayed her into revealing her thoughts. She reverted to a previous remark rather than answer him.
"I do not come here alone, Lord Francis, you see here is my maid, who I know will not cavil no matter how long I choose to idle here with my sketch book."
She glanced at him from under her lashes, wondering if she had diverted his attention, and it seemed as though she had, for he abandoned the topic of her unusual interest in antiquities, and instead turned to the frieze itself.
A Lady of Passion: Isobel's After Dark Regency Romance Page 9
