This outburst amused Letitia, who cried, "Now you are teasing again, Isobel. First you declare that any gentleman might have saved you, and now you are certain that only Lord Francis could have rescued you so comfortably. You are quite ridiculous."
"But Letty, I am not funning at all," answered Isobel, a surprised tone in her voice. "I did find it wonderful to have Lord Francis, and only he, present to come to my assistance. Any gentleman might have earned my gratitude under the circumstances, but I must admit that I find that the feelings which I harbor for his lordship are much warmer than I had previously imagined."
Letty was astonished only that Isobel would admit to her feelings, for she had for some time been sure that she had seldom seen a better suited pair than Lord Francis and Isobel. However, knowing her friend's opposition to marriage, she was anxious not to appear too eager to promote the match.
"I'm sure there are many young ladies in London this Season who harbor warm feelings for Lord Francis, with far less reason than you, Isobel," she said.
"Letty, you do not take me seriously. I feel a great confusion of my emotions. I have for so long had no interest in men or marriage, and now Lord Francis has me in a distempered freak. My studies do not set me all at sixes and sevens, why cannot I disregard Lord Francis, and confine myself to those interests which have served me so well thus far? Why must I be forever thinking of him? And now I fear that I will never be able to drive that wretched man out of my thoughts."
Isobel was beginning to sound fretful, and Letitia realized that Isobel's nerves were more severely disordered by the mishap in the park than her independent spirit would allow her to admit. So instead of pursuing the interesting topic of Isobel's sudden warmth for Lord Francis, she took the tisane away, and encouraged her friend to sleep. Nothing loath, Isobel curled into her feather bed, and soon Letitia had the felicity of realizing from her regular breathing that she slept.
Letitia continued to sit some minutes at her friend's side, considering the conversation she had just had with Isobel. She was surprised and pleased that Isobel had expressed a preference for Lord Francis, for Letitia could not but feel the two would make a delightful couple, but she had long feared that Isobel's stubbornness would stand in the way of a happy resolution of the matter. She hoped that Isobel's feelings towards Lord Francis would continue to be warm, and that a good night's sleep would not serve to restore that particular rigidity of purpose which Letitia had so often perceived in Isobel's character.
Determined to foster the romance, she repaired to the sitting room to write two notes; the first to their host for the evening, begging for forgiveness for their absence due to Miss Paley's unfortunate adventure in the Park, and the second, by far the more important, to Lord Francis. On the theory that Lord Francis, as a military man, would appreciate the need to strike when the enemy was at its most vulnerable, she thanked him for aiding her friend and encouraged him most energetically to call in Clarges Street on the following day.
Chapter 14
The following morning found Isobel feeling much hardier. She took the opportunity to loll about in bed for some minutes, but grew bored swiftly, and soon arose to dress, come downstairs, and consume a large breakfast.
"I am very happy to see that you have an appetite, my love," said Harriet. "For that is the surest sign of health. I vow, you have recovered very quickly; if such a thing were to happen to me I would be prostrate for a week at the very least! I don’t know how you can arise and move about, and I certainly hope that you will reconsider this ridiculous notion of driving yourself about; I cannot consider it to be wholly ladylike, although I know it is quite accepted, and surely you would be safer if you had the coachman take you out in the barouche..."
"I appreciate your fears for my well-being, Cousin," said Isobel. "But the accident was unusual and unlikely to be repeated. I was not at fault, and it would have happened as surely if I had been in a barouche driven by another. I hope I am not such a weakling as to allow this to frighten me away from a favorite pastime."
"I trust not, indeed," said Letitia. "From the description of the incident I received from Lord Francis, I would venture to say that you acted entirely appropriately, Isobel. Of course, you were fortunate to have such an able gentleman at hand to aid you."
Isobel colored slightly. "I realize I am greatly indebted to his lordship," she said somewhat stiffly. "I intend to write him a note this morning expressing my gratitude."
"That would be very proper," said Letitia approvingly.
Before long the ladies repaired to the morning room, where Harriet took up her sewing and Letitia pretended to read while she watched Isobel attempt to write to Lord Francis. To her amusement, she saw that Isobel apparently found the task quite vexing. Any number of starts were made, but each appeared to be unsatisfactory, and very soon a small pile of crumpled paper accumulated on the desk by her elbow. She was just putting pen to paper once more when Pierce appeared in the door.
"Lord Francis Wheaton," he announced, and stood aside to let that gentleman enter. His lordship paused a moment, allowing the ladies an opportunity to view his handsome figure clad in ivory pantaloons and a topcoat of darkest burgundy, his Hessians shining like mirrors, and then swept them all a bow.
"I am very glad to see that your adventure of yesterday has not impaired your health, Miss Paley," he said. "Though, to be truthful, I did not doubt but that you would be in good spirits today."
"I thank you for your faith in me, Lord Francis," said Isobel, rising hastily and sweeping the discarded notes into the desk, after which she firmly closed it. "And I also thank you for your gallantry yesterday. I fear the outcome would have been much less desirable if you had not been present."
"I am certain that many another could have provided the same help, but I must admit to being glad that I had to opportunity to be of service to you," said Lord Francis.
Isobel hesitated. She was a bit embarrassed to recall the feelings she had expressed to Letitia the afternoon before, particularly as, now that she was faced with Lord Francis, she felt no diminution of them.
"Perhaps another gentleman would have been able to help with that situation, Lord Francis, but few would have shown the particular sensibility of feeling which made me so comfortable afterwards," said Isobel, somewhat stiffly. She mentally took herself to task for the awkwardness of her speech. Really, it was as though she were a mere child newly out.
Letitia surveyed the pair with a smile, and turned to Harriet, who was also viewing them with a knowing eye.
"Harriet, were you not going to discuss with Cook the menu for dinner tomorrow evening?" Letitia said. "Pray, let us do that now, for I have some ideas I particularly wish to share with her."
Harriet seemed only momentarily startled, and then a smile sprang to her lips. "Why of course, Letitia, that would be the very thing, and unless we speak with Cook now I may easily forget altogether. I am such a scatterbrain, as I am sure you are all aware, though I do try to collect my thoughts and of course..." Letitia swept out of the room with a murmured apology, carrying the chattering Harriet with her. Isobel and Lord Francis were left surveying each other in the middle of the room.
Isobel made a note to take Letty firmly to task for so basely abandoning her, and then turned to Lord Francis with a polite smile.
"It seems that Letty and Harriet have housekeeping tasks to take care of," she said. "Will you not be seated, Lord Francis?
"Thank you," he replied, suiting the act to the words. "I wanted you to know that I have sought out the man who caused the accident yesterday and have had strong words with him. Although he was rather sulky, I believe I was able to make him understand not only the stupidity, but also the dangerous nature, of his actions." A stern look came over his face as he considered Mr. Braithwaite’s iniquities.
"Almost I pity him, if you looked at him as severely as you are looking at me now," said Isobel.
Lord Francis broke into a smile and waved his hand gracefully. "Am I frow
ning?" he inquired. "I am afraid that I take horsemanship quite seriously, and do not like to see either animals or people endangered. Particularly when the person in danger is someone I have come to respect as highly as I do you, Miss Paley."
Isobel blinked at this, opened her mouth to respond, and then hastily turned the subject. "I think that I will very soon feel myself again, Lord Francis. The accident was not of my making, and I performed respectably. I expect that before the week is out I will be driving in the Park again."
"I hope so," said Lord Francis. "You look very dashing when you do, and it would be a shame if Society were to be deprived of the sight."
"However, next time I will endeavor to remain away from irresponsible gentlemen," said Isobel.
"A very good notion, Miss Paley. You would do better to seek the company of older and more respectable gentlemen, such as myself," said Lord Francis gravely.
"Oh no, Lord Francis, you are still much too young to be considered respectable," said Isobel firmly.
"Alack," said Lord Francis. "Well, if I am not of an age to be considered a grey-beard, then I must be young enough to be a dance partner. May I solicit you for the waltz at the Perchingham ball next week?"
"I am honored, sir," said Isobel, ignoring the leap her heart took at his asking. The waltz was still considered by the very highest sticklers to be vastly improper, as the woman was held so close to the man, but Isobel found herself looking forward to experiencing it with Lord Francis.
"It is I who am honored," said Lord Francis. "I have had some opportunities this year to observe your skills as a dancer and thus I eagerly await this opportunity."
"It is the least I can do for the man who came so gallantly to my aid," said Isobel.
"That was also my pleasure, and not to be considered any further," insisted Lord Francis. "Your own skill contributed greatly to the favorable outcome, and that must not be forgotten. Please do not think of it again."
Isobel was so pleased by this speech that she was able to relax, and when Harriet and Letitia returned some few minutes later, the two were conversing quite merrily on the topic of the next evening’s soiree. Lord Francis stayed long enough to secure Letitia’s hand for the quadrille at the approaching ball, and then departed, saying he was looking forward to the next week’s proceedings.
Chapter 15
It was agreed by all the ton that the Earl of Perchingham’s ball was likely to be the crowning event of the Season. The Countess was launching a young and attractive daughter, who, while not a great beauty, was generally accounted to be charming in addition to being well-dressed and well-dowered. Isobel and Letitia were looking forward to the occasion, and when they joined Harriet in the drawing room to wait for their carriage to be brought around, they were Snow White and Rose Red indeed. Letitia wore a dazzling silver dress, open over the front of a white petticoat which was embroidered all over with silver and caught with deep blue flowers, each winking with a brilliant in its center. The daring silver fabric could never have been worn by a young miss, but the whole had the effect of making Letty appear to be an innocent maiden floating in an incandescent cloud. Her blonde curls tumbled seemingly artlessly about a silver and blue headdress of ribands threaded through her hair and she wore a strand of pearls about her swanlike throat.
In contrast, Isobel was garbed in a deep carnelian gown. It derived its elegance from its cut of masterful simplicity. Made of a heavy silk charmeuse, it clung to Isobel’s curves lovingly, with no need of vulgarly dampened petticoats to hint at the charms beneath. The hem and bodice were heavily embroidered with gold and the dress itself sported tiny embroidered hummingbird motifs which shone as she moved. Heavily worked gold and rubies, inherited from her mother, ornamented Isobel's slender neck and wrists, and she wore golden roses in her glossy curls to show off its auburn glints.
Their party rumbled through the streets in Isobel’s carriage and waited for the opportunity to disgorge its occupants at Perchingham House. It required quite forty‑five minutes for Isobel and Letitia to make their way up the wide stairs into the ballroom, but they were well entertained in reviewing the others crowding the entrance.
Once within, Isobel and Letitia were both instantly claimed by dance partners, and their cards were soon filled with names. Lord Francis Wheaton had engaged Isobel for a waltz and supper, and she was looking forward to it, for though his lordship had amply demonstrated that he danced charmingly at various other gatherings, he had not previously solicited a waltz from her. In fact, Isobel found herself looking forward so much to her dance with Lord Francis, that she had difficulty paying attention to the country dances, and conversed with her partners with less than her usual sparkling wit.
She was fanning herself vigorously, cheeks flushed and eyes glowing, and awaiting the delivery of a glass of lemonade by her previous partner, when Lord Francis appeared before her, making an exquisite leg. He was dressed with great propriety and elegance in a coat which whispered of Weston’s restrained hand, and his neck cloth, tied in the difficult Mathematical, was a masterwork of snowy perfection. A ruby glittered in its glacial folds, mirroring her own jewels. The orchestra struck up the strains of the waltz, Lord Francis presented his arm to her with a delightful smile, and Isobel forgot the hapless Viscount Farngoth who was threading his way toward her bearing her requested lemonade. Lord Francis swept her into the dance, and she was lost in a world of sound and light, color and rhythm, as they moved in harmony with the music.
Isobel noticed little but the pleasure of effortlessly following Lord Francis as they twirled around the floor, finding his strong arms wonderfully comfortable, and they danced in the silence of those who have no need to speak. As the strains of the waltz began to draw to a close, Lord Francis subtly traversed the ballroom to the long windows, their heavy crimson draperies open to allow the night breezes to cool the crowded room. He swept her past a servant, coming to a halt in a swirl of her carnelian gown, but paused only to spirit two glasses of champagne from the footman’s tray, handing Isobel one before clasping her hand and leading her out onto the terrace.
Isobel laughed delightedly. "You dance famously, my lord. I vow no other man in London could have maneuvered so elegantly. No doubt it was a tactic you learned in the ballrooms of Lisbon from the great Wellington himself."
"It is true that Wellington’s social graces are nearly as highly developed as his military capabilities, and that staff officers are required to squire any number of young ladies. However, I flatter myself that I was uniquely inspired by you, Miss Paley."
"And what purpose do balls serve if not to inspire us to creating a more musical and harmonious life?" Isobel paused, glancing at the starry night sky. "Yes, life is full of graceless moments, we need dancing to provide us with an ideal of harmony."
"Upon my word, Miss Paley, you certainly invest a great deal of meaning in a dance," observed Lord Francis.
"If one does not, surely there is little justification for the amount of effort that goes into it?" she inquired.
"The pure pleasure of the dance is justification enough, ma'am," observed Lord Francis. "And to waltz with you is no effort at all."
Isobel fanned herself with energy, for she felt unaccountably warm. "I am honored that my small skills find favor with you, sir. But a man as experienced as you are in the ballroom need not worry that his partner would be unable to keep pace."
"Why, I do not think that is so," observed his lordship. "I find that most partners do not suit my manner of dancing at all. Either they are not light enough on their feet, or they do not respond quickly enough to my actions, or they simply have no feeling for the music to which we dance."
"Then it must be necessary for you to choose your partners with great care," said Isobel.
"Indeed it is," was the rejoinder. "I will not waltz with someone if I cannot feel that particular sympathy of movement. I have done no waltzing this Season, Miss Paley."
"I suppose then I should feel honored that you deign to waltz w
ith me, my lord," said Isobel.
"On the contrary, I am the one honored," was the graceful reply. Lord Francis bowed to her.
The moonlight made the silk of her dress shine and her golden ornaments gleam with a soft fire. Lord Francis looked into Isobel's perfect face and he caught his breath, leaning towards her. Isobel stood transfixed, one part of her knowing that it was unwise to encourage him, and another longing to feel the touch of his lips again. Longing won, and as his warm, firm mouth touched hers, she felt herself wishing for more, and stood on tiptoe to press her mouth more firmly against his. Lord Francis took her encouragement seriously, and stepped forward, putting an arm behind her back and sliding one foot between hers. Isobel felt his warm hand on her ribs, and his firm thigh against hers, and when her bosom touched his broad chest, she was astonished by the sudden tightness she felt in her breasts and the bolt of heat that shot through her abdomen. Making a tiny noise in the back of her throat, she raised her hands to his shoulders and urged him closer, at the same time parting her lips, remembering their kiss in the library at Kitswold. Lord Francis deepened the kiss, teasing her gently with his tongue. She made a sound of disappointment when he raised his lips from hers, but when he proceeded to rain kisses on her shoulders and neck, it turned to a sigh of satisfaction. His hand slid up her side and very gently cupped her breast under the crimson silk.
"Oh!" she said softly.
"Do you like that?" murmured Lord Francis. Not waiting for her reply, he lowered his lips to hers again in a fierce kiss that threatened to rob her of breath. His thumb very slowly moved over the delicate material to touch her nipple, and it sprang instantly to life.
A Lady of Passion: Isobel's After Dark Regency Romance Page 11
