“Perhaps you should have the punch,” Titherington teased. She did have the punch, she thought, and realized belatedly that it was considered a woman’s drink.
“Wretch,” Faith wheezed.
“I hope to have a long chat with you,” Oscar said as they circled the room.
“Me? About what?” Faith asked. She did relish a long chat with Titherington, but perhaps now was not the time.
“Your cousin.”
“My cousin?” Faith repeated. She was not going to talk to the gentleman about her cousin; not when she found him so interesting herself.
“Are you a parrot? Yes. Miss Hope. Do put in a good word for me if you would with her brother.”
Faith hesitated, unsure how she might influence Isaac. “I am not sure I can do that,” she replied. More to the point how could she correct Titherington? Faith was sure she was the one he meant to ask to court; not Hope. Did she want to court Titherington? Tonight was not the time for such questions.
“Oh, I know. You really don’t know me as of yet,” Oscar continued. “But I am an upstanding gentleman of the community.”
“Truly? Upstanding?” Faith said, with a quirk of her eyebrow. She knew better than that, although she belatedly thought that her cousin, new to the town, would probably not be aware of his reputation.
For a moment Oscar could see the relation between Emerson and his cousin. Miss Baggington had a similar expression and inflection in her voice.
“Yes. I have been known to gad about a bit, but I am truly trying to reform for my grandfather’s sake, and now, with my best friend married, I have no one to gad about with.” He took a second brandy and had a generous swig while Mr. Emerson looked on with censure.
“Come now,” Oscar demanded. “It is a well-known and long-standing tradition that when gentlemen go to fetch drinks for ladies they have a drink themselves, sometimes two before returning. If we return too soon we shall be damaging the reputations of gentlemen everywhere.”
“I thought you were reformed,” Mr. Emerson said.
“And I thought you a man.”
Emerson opened his mouth to say something, but instead finished his glass with a grimace and turned on his heel, apparently to search out the baron himself.
Oscar sighed, downed his drink and followed the man. He did not want to be on the outs with any of the Baggingtons or their relations. He wanted to court Miss Baggington, and if that meant making friends with the strange little man, he would do so.
“Wait, Emerson,” Oscar called as he caught sight of the baron. “Do not be cross with me. I will introduce you to Baron Torsford.”
Faith paused and located the baron, finally free of a large gaggle of guests. Apparently, Titherington saw him too.
“Edgar! I have found him,” Oscar called quickly outpacing Emerson. Faith lengthened her stride to keep pace.
“Oh just the thing!” the baron said. “I do not know how we missed introductions,” he continued, thrusting out his hand to greet Emerson. “Nettlefold is not that big of a town. I thought I knew everyone.”
Faith realized that touching the baron’s hand brought no jolt of excitement to her breast.
“I have only visited my cousins here,” Faith said, explaining that she was not often in Nettlefold.
“Are you staying with the Baggingtons, then?” Oscar inquired.
Faith startled and floundered for a moment. He could not inquire about Emerson at Mortel Manor.
“No. I have let a cottage,” she replied.
“A cottage?” Oscar repeated. “I am staying at Middle-Nett cottage.” He thought the Baggington’s lane had only had the one cottage, the one he was staying in, but perhaps Lord Mortel had another.
“Yes,” Emerson said. “It allows me privacy to write.”
“Ah yes, your writing,” the baron said. “Quite refreshing.”
“Speaking of refreshing,” Titherington said lifting the glasses in his hands. “I shall deliver these to the ladies and see if I can manage the waltz with Miss Hope.”
Emerson made a move to speak, but Titherington interrupted. “And don’t forget, Sir, you promised to put in a good word for me with her brother.”
“I made no such promise,” Emerson called after him, but Titherington had already turned away.
13
Oscar made his way to the Baggingtons, but he paused because Mary-Elizabeth was hovering nearby. He looked for another gentleman he could send the lady’s way. Hope was speaking with Lady Torsford about the reputation of the Baggington family, and Oscar noted that Caroline was leading the conversation back to his own virtues.
“Mr. Titherington has been inundated with rumor, much like yourself,” she said.
“Lady Torsford, you cannot believe the man is a gentleman,” Hope said. Clearly, she believed that Mr. Titherington had earned his reputation.
The comment stung, but he had doubts that Miss Hope was as outraged as she seemed to be. After all, the lady had kissed him back.
“I believe he is a kind man at heart. My own husband was a bit rough around the edges,” Caroline admitted, “but the love of a good woman can change a man.”
Miss Hope did not contradict Lady Torsford. Mary-Elizabeth had accepted a dance with the man he sent to her, and Oscar returned with the punch. He gave one cup to Lady Torsford and Hope took the other, smiling softly over the glass.
“Where have you left my cousin?” she asked sweetly.
“With the baron.” He gestured across the room to where Emerson lay in deep conversation with Torsford. “I do hope that you will save me that dance,” he asked.
“Two dances?” she said with a raised eyebrow, “And you wish the waltz? There will be talk.”
“Then you will dance the waltz with me?” he teased, already expecting her to agree.
“I have not said so. I told you; you must speak with Isaac.” Oscar searched the ballroom briefly for the man and found Mortel on the other side of the room, his head bent towards a petite dark-haired woman, he assumed was Miss Teresa Crauford. It did not look like the man wanted to be disturbed.
“Walk with me, then?” he asked. “Allow me the pleasure of your company that we should better know each other.”
Caroline gave her a brief nod. Oscar would have to remember to bring Lady Torsford a gift, perhaps one of Emerson’s books, as thanks for her help in convincing Miss Hope to be seen with him in polite company.
“Very well,” she said and he tucked her arm in the crook of his elbow. They walked around the edge of the dance floor and out a back door to a small balcony. He wanted a bit of privacy. In any case, the room was unaccountably warm with the crush of people. The cool air would be welcome, and he tired of this game. In public, Miss Baggington seemed an entirely different woman. He was sure once he got her alone the willful woman he had met on the lane would reappear.
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded.
“I have been dying for a moment alone with you, Miss Baggington,” he said, continuing out of doors with her in tow.
Once outside, he turned to the lady and immediately pulled her into his arms. He fully expected her to melt against him as she had done on the road.
“How dare you!” she exclaimed in a heated whisper and jerked away.
“If you are…” he began and she slapped his face smartly.
He was utterly confused. He understood her coolness in company, but no one was here to see them. A storm was brewing and the air felt heavy with it; other couples had already ventured indoors. Previously, she had said she would not have discourse with him until they were introduced. Now they were introduced, and she was more distant. She had told him he must approach her brother the viscount, and then had hurried them onto the dance floor when there was an opportune moment with the man. On the road he had been certain that he was not alone in his fondness for her, but now he was not sure. They had enjoyed each other’s company as they walked. He was convinced of it, but now, she was incensed. Never had he recei
ved such mixed signals from a woman.
Oscar let the stinging of his cheek sink through him. “You are the most contrary woman I have ever met,” he said slowly.
“Contrary? Because I do not wish to be mauled?” she said raising her nose in the air. “You forget yourself, Sir. I barely know you. Lady Caroline spoke for you, but I see she is mistaken. You are a cad and a rake, just as the rumors tell. We are hardly introduced, and you think to take liberties. For shame, Sir.”
“Hardly know me?” he repeated in disbelief.
The lady would not even admit to having met him. He could not fathom it. A chance meeting was not an unforgivable sin, and he was not so much the reprobate that he should be shunned. Had his kiss in the lane so upset her? Finally he puzzled it out. The number of times people had said the youngest Baggington daughters were a pair, and rarely separated. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he dredged up the thought that the youngest of the Baggington girls were a set of twins. Suddenly, it all made sense and he had been played for a fool.
“You are not the lady I met upon the lane,” he said with certainty. “You are her twin sister.”
“You thought I was Faith?” Hope asked momentarily confused, but then her eyes narrowed. “Do not pretend not to know me, Sir. You have called me Miss Hope,” she said.
“I did not know your sister’s name,” he admitted sheepishly. Faith, Oscar thought. His bold Miss Baggington was named Faith.
Miss Hope’s face clouded with righteous anger. “You thought to embrace a woman, without even knowing her name?” She hissed, furious on both her own and her sister’s behalf. Clearly she was certain Oscar was a liar as well as a cad. Though she was obviously not the lady he met on the road, Oscar was disavowed to have any of the Baggingtons angry with him. The possibility of a welcome reception by the Baggington family was quickly evaporating, and he did not know how to rectify the situation.
“What sort of lady do you think Faith is that she would react any differently than I?” Hope questioned. “Contrary to rumor, we are not baggage,” she turned smartly on her heel with the intention to return to the ball, but he caught her arm.
“Unhand me,” she fumed.
Oscar let go of her holding up his hands as if in defense. “Please. I made a mistake.”
She looked at him as if he were some offal that had stained her shoe.
He added the Baggington sisters in his head. He had met the elder two, but that left not two, but three younger sisters.
It came to his attention that he wanted to dance, not with Miss Hope, but with her sister, and Miss Faith appeared to be absent, or at least difficult to find. He now knew, each time they met this evening he had spoken not to the twin he wished to see, but her sister. Blast, this meant that he was still not introduced to the lady in question.
“You are a twin,” he said. “One of a pair. But I have not seen your sister all evening. Where is she?” He hoped that, perhaps, he could still get an introduction to Miss Faith and that she would explain.
The lady did not answer. All her indignation melted in an instant. She looked as though she were suddenly caught in a trap and had no idea what to do.
Oscar continued to speak softly in a calming voice. “I do not wish to uncover whatever charade you are playing; nor do I care to know what it is about. I only hoped to dance with your sister this night and I do not seem to be able to find her. She is not here, is she?”
The woman still did not answer and he resisted the urge to shake her, but she was already beyond upset with him. He did not wish to make matters worse. Then, a horrid thought came to him. “Your sister is not in any danger is she?”
Hope shook her head.
“Is she ill?”
Hope seemed to consider for a moment before nodding.
“She did not attend tonight’s gathering?” he persisted just to be sure he understood. “Tell me the truth.”
“Faith did not come,” Hope said softly. “She is not herself tonight.”
“But then, why did you not just say so at the beginning? Why all of this playacting?”
Miss Hope did not answer right away. She bit her lip.
“Faith did not want to tell Isaac.” She turned her dark eyes on him, and he thought how similar the twins were, and yet how different. Faith would have argued back with him, or with Isaac. He was sure, but Hope shuffled anxiously. “Isaac said that we must work to overcome the rumors which plague our name, and he hopes that we find husbands, of course …”
Oscar nodded absently. Now that his error had been revealed the lady before him held little interest. Hope was still quite becoming, the same as her sister down to her last dark curl, but she was missing that spark of verve which drew him. Since Faith was not present, the ball lacked appeal. He had hoped to waltz with her, but now that plan was dashed.
“Faith is not convinced,” Hope continued.
Oscar sharply turned back to the lady.
“Your sister does not wish a husband?”
“Faith is a free spirit,” Hope replied by way of explanation.
That she is, he thought. Oscar smiled and turned to return to the ballroom. When Hope meant to follow him, he stopped her. “We should not return to the ballroom together if we are to avoid gossip. I shall return from this door, and you follow after a moment or two. I would suggest you use the opposite door.” He nodded to the other door and she frowned, clearly thinking the man had stolen such moments before.
Still, she nodded her assent. “Thank you,” she said begrudgingly, and then in a rush, a moment later, “You shall not tell Isaac?”
Oscar looked at her earnest face. “I shall not,” he said, but in his heart he knew he should reveal their secret. What trouble might they get into without a gentleman’s care? He had told his share of lies, but he had a strange pang of worry for Faith. Which was silly; she would be home safe.
He looked at Miss Hope, so like her sister and yet so different. Miss Faith held a fire in her that had no equal. He thought of the passion of their kiss on the road, and he felt a flush of desire, but it was more than that. For the first time in his life, he was considering a wife instead of a paramour. He shook the thought from his head, but he could not deceive the earnest woman before him.
“I would not betray you, or your sister.” Oscar said sincerely.
Hope raised an eyebrow at him, unconvinced.
“I know you do not think it, but I have a fondness for your sister, and I believe she has some feeling for me as well.”
“You wish to court her?” Hope asked, and Oscar knew it was so. Faith Baggington had intrigued him as no other.
“I do,” he said and then he disappeared through the doorway.
14
The Baron Torsford conversed with Faith as if they were old friends and she found herself relaxing into the role of Arthur Emerson.
“Titherington and I were talking about your tale earlier,” The baron said. “It is quite the thing.”
“Have you read it, Baron Torsford?” Faith asked surprised. She hoped her face did not color, but apparently, if it did, neither of the men noticed with the false sideburns covering her cheeks.
“Oh yes. Dreadfully presumptuous of us, I know,” Torsford said. “Reading without your permission, but I am sure you had the play printed for distribution did you not?”
“Of course,” Faith said. “I would like to gift you a copy for your kind assistance in getting the printed matter to me.”
“Certainly,” Torsford said. “My pleasure. I did wonder is The Pirate Prince based on the infamous pirate Barbarossa?”
“Only his good points,” Faith said, and the baron laughed.
“Did he have any good points?” the baron asked.
Faith laughed with him this time. “Oh yes, but the story includes the persona of both Hayreddin Barbarossa and the exiled Ottoman Prince Oruc, plus quite a bit from my own imagination, of course. It is a fiction.”
“I must say, I truly enjoyed the scene on the ship
when Cassondra disarmed the Prince. Unlikely, but hilarious.”
Faith contented herself with nodding her thanks for the compliment. She would not debate whether a woman could disarm a man. Faith would have asked about her books, then, but the baron continued.
It is obvious that you are quite the student of history. You have captured the Ottoman culture and the war is … well,” the baron took a sip of his drink. “The war is quite authentic.” He then, asked Emerson’s opinion of the current war with France, and the French corsairs who were little better than pirates themselves.
Faith was momentarily gobsmacked. It never occurred to her that a gentleman would ask her opinion about anything, much less the war. Still, she had overheard much talk of the particulars discussed between her brothers. With a feeling of pride, she told the baron her opinion on the state of things and he agreed, nodding his head and swearing. “Bloody French bastards.”
Faith tried not to start at the strong language.
They discussed her thoughts about Napoleon and the raiders that plagued the British Navy, and Faith realized that she and the baron agreed on many topics. It was a novel experience for her thoughts and opinions to be so validated.
“What you need, Emerson, is for your work to have exposure. Titherington spoke of Mr. Maddox. Do you know the man?”
“I have heard of him,” Faith said. “I have not met him.”
“Ah, right then. Titherington can introduce you. He’s quite the man in London to speak with if you want to see these works performed.”
“Performed?” Faith repeated as if she were in a daze.
“Yes, man, of course, you will want to see them on the stage. Your Miss Cassondra is quite the minx,” he said laughing. “As if a gentlewoman would ever act with such aplomb. Why the things she thinks of!”
“Women can think, my lord,” Faith said, stopping the laughter. She worried that she may have slipped up with her comment, but the baron just smiled and shook his head.
The Lady to Match a Rogue: Faith (The Baggington Sisters Book 4) Page 12
