First Season / Bride to Be

by Jane Ashford

  “Georgina, what are you doing?” Her ladyship’s sharp gaze took in the morning dress, the book, the box of chocolates, and her lips turned down.

  “I was just going to change!” The girl almost ran past her and out of the room.

  Lady Goring sighed heavily, then moved toward Hanford. “Good evening. I see you have met my niece.”

  “Yes. A very intelligent girl. I fear I startled her when I came in.”

  “No doubt she thought it was me. Sit down, please.” They sat. “Georgina and I do not agree on a number of things.” She noticed a lone chocolate, which had rolled under an armchair, and bent to pick it up. “Why will the wretched girl persist in eating candy? I am losing all patience with her! Can she not see that…” Remembering her company, she stopped.

  “I daresay chocolates are what she has learned to love,” replied Hanford, feeling some obscure kinship with Georgina Goring.

  Lady Goring stared at him, and he felt a little sorry for his comment. “Anabel has told me that you are an extremely perceptive counselor. You have helped her with the children more than once, I know. It is for Georgina’s own sake that I wish her to keep away from chocolates and the like. She will be much happier in London if she does.”

  He nodded. “It probably seems a criticism, however.”

  “What am I to do?” wailed his hostess. “I cannot manage Georgina, and here is Anabel mad after a notorious rake. I had no idea when I asked her to visit that—”

  “Norbury?” he snapped.

  Once again aware that she had said too much, Lady Goring bit her lip. “I don’t know what it is about you, but I am letting slip things I would not say to anyone else. Yes, Norbury is not the sort of man any mother would approve.”

  “And she is ‘mad after him’?”

  Something in his tone made Lady Goring look up sharply. What she saw in Hanford’s face narrowed her eyes. “I exaggerate. Anabel is merely intrigued.”

  “As yet.” Her words had filled him with a disappointment so sharp that he had difficulty breathing normally. It would be unbearable if he were to lose Anabel in this way, to such a man.

  “I daresay it is a passing whim. She was never exposed to town life, and she is finding it interesting.”

  “Interesting!” The tone was so bitter that Lady Goring’s suspicion turned to certainty. She cataloged Hanford with care. From what she had seen, he was just the man for her daughter.

  The door opened again, and Anabel came in. She was wearing a soft blue evening dress tonight that emphasized the size and color of her eyes. Her brown hair was dressed in a knot at the top of her head, with curls falling over her ears, where tiny sapphires sparkled. She came forward holding out her hand with undisguised pleasure. “Christopher. How good to see you again. You were away such an age.”

  He took it, feeling his throat tighten, and bowed slightly. “It seemed long to be away from my friends,” he agreed.

  “Oh, I’m sure you were having far too fine a time to think of us.” She laughed. “Was it splendid?” She gazed up at him, her eyes shining with open happiness and affection. It really was wonderful to see him again, she realized. She had missed him more than she knew.

  The others, watching her closely, felt varying degrees of satisfaction. Lady Goring was confirmed in her resolve, and Hanford felt stirrings of hope, though the image of Sir Charles Norbury lingered in the back of his mind. “My journey was pleasant, but I did indeed think of you. In fact, I have some things for the children I would like to bring.”

  “Presents. You spoil them so, Christopher.” Anabel spoke teasingly, knowing that it wasn’t true. He had been an unimpeachable substitute father since Ralph’s death. They smiled at each other warmly over this old joke.

  The group settled on the sofa and armchairs. “Are the children in bed?” asked Hanford. “I hoped to see them again.”

  “Yes.” Anabel threw a mischievous glance at her mother, who grimaced. “They had an active day, and we sent them off early.”

  “Active!” Lady Goring’s tone spoke volumes, and Anabel laughed.

  “You invited them, Mama.”

  “Yes, dear, and I love them all. But I had forgotten how wearing young children can be. I am happy to have them here and also happy when it is time for them to go to bed.” Her comical grimace made them all laugh, and Georgina Goring entered the room to general merriment.

  The footman was right behind her, announcing dinner, and they went into the dining room in very good humor.

  It was the most enjoyable meal Anabel could remember in London. Her mother and Georgina did not quarrel at all. Once, it appeared they might begin, but Christopher somehow smoothed over the contretemps and turned the conversation with an amusing anecdote. They talked of the Continent, Lady Goring reminiscing movingly, and then, surprisingly, of novels. Georgina became almost animated. By the time they went back to the drawing room for coffee, Hanford seemed as much an old family friend to the Gorings as to Anabel. Lady Goring was amazed by the ease with which he adapted to them, and very much bucked up by his charm and endearing smile. Anabel seemed to glow in his presence as her mother had not seen her do in years. As for Georgina, she simply thought Christopher Hanford the most wonderful man she had ever met, perhaps surpassing even her beloved father.

  When they had drunk their coffee and the footman had come in twice to put fresh logs on the fire, Lady Goring rose to her feet. “Georgina,” she said, “I have something to show you in my room.”

  The girl looked surprised, then concerned. “Just now?”

  “Yes, dear, come along.” Lady Goring tried to convey with a look her desire to let Anabel and Hanford have a little private talk, but Georgina was oblivious.

  “Can we not do it tomorrow?” Georgina had been having a wonderful time; she did not want it to end.

  “No, dear.” The older woman moved toward the door, beckoning.

  Georgina’s brow puckered resentfully.

  “Come along.”

  She looked for support, but the others were talking. Sullen again, she rose and followed her aunt slowly from the room.

  Anabel looked up in surprise when the door shut. “Where are they going?”

  Hanford, who had seen and been humorously grateful for Lady Goring’s maneuvers, shrugged.

  “Well, it is fortunate. We can have a comfortable talk.” Anabel smiled at him, and his heart turned over.

  “Yes. You are enjoying London?”

  “I am. I did not think I would at first, but I am beginning to realize that I had shut myself away too much.”

  This sounded ominous. “What made you decide to come up for the season?”

  She smiled again. “Mama. Need you ask? I was feeling very flat at home, and she leaped at the chance.”

  “Flat?”

  “Yes. I do not know how it is, but this summer seemed horridly dull.”

  Hanford hoped again. He had been away for the whole summer. “The children must be enjoying themselves. There are so many new things to see.”

  “They enjoyed Astley’s,” she answered with a grimace. “I must thank you again for taking them there. I hadn’t thought of it, nor did Mama, of course. They have not been overly pleased with London until now. Your promises of future treats altered their view somewhat.”

  “My father first brought me to town when I was about Nick’s age and showed me all the sights. I remember the trip vividly to this day.”

  Anabel held out a hand and, when he took it, squeezed his. “Thank you, Christopher. I can always count on you. I don’t know what we have done to deserve such a friend.”

  He almost spoke then. He had opened his mouth to tell her what she had done when Anabel continued, “I was too taken up with my own pleasure to provide for theirs. Have you ridden in the park at the fashionable hour, Christopher? I have never seen such a spectacle.”
>
  The image of Norbury rose before him. He dropped her hand and sat back. “I’m told it is amazing.”

  “So many human types. And Sir Charles knew them all, of course, and could tell me their histories. I don’t know when I have laughed so much.”

  “You like this Norbury?” He hadn’t meant to mention him, but the question slipped out.

  “I have never met anyone like him. He is…” Anabel tried to formulate an opinion while Christopher watched her narrowly. She had had a fine time on their drive the previous day. It had been a bit strained at first. Sir Charles had seemed annoyed, perhaps at having been kept waiting. But when they had begun talking, Anabel had again felt that nervous excitement he had aroused when they met. Sir Charles was certainly intelligent as well as handsome. His sketches of fashionable London had been hilarious, and it was obvious to Anabel that he was held in high esteem. Many people had greeted them, and others had looked and commented. She had been very conscious of her position beside one of the most elegant men in town. “…interesting,” she finished, a bit lamely.

  “I see.”

  She looked up, surprised at the dryness of his tone. “You do not like him?”

  “I? I have hardly spoken one word to him.”

  “I know, but…Mama has the absurd notion that he is not… Oh, never mind, Christopher. As if I could not take care of myself by this time.” Anabel laughed, her glance encouraging him to join her. But Hanford, convinced that she was far from able to take care of herself, remained serious, his lips turned down. After a moment Anabel’s smile faded. She was puzzled. Christopher had always been the first to savor a good joke. Surveying him, she saw worry in his face. His bright blue eyes were shadowed. What was wrong? Knowing his love of the country, she thought that he might be missing his home. “When do you return to Hertfordshire?” she asked. “You will find everything much the same there, though Mrs. Petty has managed to wrest the Poor Committee from old Mrs. Duncan at last.”

  This made him smile a little. “Has she indeed? But I am not certain I shall go down at once.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “I am thinking of staying in town for part of the season.” His eyes gauged her reaction to this.

  “You, Christopher? I cannot imagine you here.”

  This stung. “Some would have said that of you only a few months ago.”

  Anabel smiled. “That’s true. But do you mean to join the season and make the rounds of parties and all that? You dislike parties so.”

  “No doubt the London festivities are more amusing than those in the country.” His tone was a little clipped. He was angry at the implied comparison with Sir Charles, who was perfectly at home in town.

  Anabel eyed him curiously. “Well, I can only marvel at this change. I have heard you swear you would never be caught in London during the season.”

  “Perhaps I have changed my mind.” He was very annoyed with her now. Could any woman really be so blind? She was here, so he would stay, however much he disliked parties. Surely the connection was obvious?

  Light seemed to dawn on Anabel. “I have it! How foolish I was not to see it at once.”

  He looked at her.

  “You have decided to marry at last, and you have come to town to find a wife.” She laughed up at him.

  This was too much. He merely stared at the floor, lips set.

  “Is that it, Christopher?” She sounded both surprised and not completely pleased. “I was only funning.” His continuing silence daunted her. Could this really be his reason? She had never pictured Christopher marrying, though of course nothing would be more natural, she realized. He ought to marry. But when she tried to imagine it, to think what sort of woman would be best, Anabel felt a sudden, unaccountable rush of annoyance. She tried to explain it to herself. Christopher might have informed her of his plans. They were, after all, old friends. And how would the children feel at the intrusion of a stranger into their familiar circle? They would not understand, particularly when Christopher began to desert them for his own prospective family. He might have prepared her for this, so that she could prepare them. But it was all of a piece. He had gone abroad with hardly more than a word, and now he meant to alter their old, comfortable relationship in the same way. It was really unkind. Her surge of emotion satisfactorily explained, Anabel raised her head and met his eyes, her softer blue ones hot.

  Hanford, who had been watching her expression shift, was cautiously elated. She had not at all liked the notion of his marrying, he saw. Well then, perhaps he would let her consider it further. She might even discover that her feelings for him were not simple friendship and that she herself wished to fill the position of his wife. Accordingly, he merely shrugged in response to her questioning look.

  Anabel was outraged. She had confidently expected a laughing denial and she felt cheated and deceived. Christopher had never said one word about marriage through the years of their friendship. Clearly, she was not really in his confidence; he had no respect for her opinion at all. Anabel rose. “It is late.”

  “I beg your pardon. I shall take my leave of you, then.” Hanford had some trouble controlling a smile. He was very pleased with her reaction.

  Chin high, she held out her hand. “I daresay we shall see you at some of the season’s events.”

  “No doubt,” he agreed amiably.

  “I hope you do not find them tedious after all.”

  “Anabel, I think that extremely unlikely.” Now he did smile, and she, interpreting it as anticipation of the courting ritual, pulled away her hand and stepped back. Hanford left the room with a jaunty salute and a lingering smile.

  Five

  As a result of this conversation, Christopher Hanford paid a rather early morning call the following day, to a small but very elegant town house in Regent Street. Mrs. Amelia Lanforth appeared astonished when he followed the butler into her drawing room. “Christopher? Are you still in London? I was sure you would be safely in Hertfordshire by this time, tramping about your muddy fields.”

  “I have decided to stay in town for a while, Amelia.”

  She gaped at him. The two were remarkably alike, both just above medium size with ruddy blond hair and bright blue eyes, but Mrs. Lanforth’s tresses were fashionably curled à la Méduse, and her pink muslin morning gown had obviously come from one of the most skillful London modistes. “Is something wrong?”

  “No.”

  “It must be. You needn’t spare me, Christopher. Is it Aunt Seraphina? She wasn’t at all well the last time I called, but—”

  “Nothing is wrong. Can I not spend a few weeks in town without arousing this astonishment?”

  She looked at him again. “No, you cannot. You have not voluntarily visited London for more than two nights since you were twelve years old, Christopher. Come to that, you have never called on me more than once in a visit since we settled here. And you have repeatedly told me how silly I was to enjoy town life. What is wrong?”

  Hanford gazed down at his sister with a wry smile. She was, of course, perfectly right. And if he wanted her help, he was going to have to provide some explanations. He and Amelia had disagreed on a number of things during their lives. From a very early age he had devoted himself to the estate and country amusements, whereas she had counted the moments until her London debut. She had reveled in her first season and married a man who habitually came up for that period, returning home only for occasional holidays and to be with their mother for the births of Amelia’s two children. After the older Hanfords died, she ceased these visits, and she and Christopher now saw each other only a day or two each year, when he was in town. Yet strong bonds of affection remained between them despite this separation. Their disagreements had never been acrimonious; indeed, they almost enjoyed arguing their divergent points of view. Christopher had no doubt his sister would do as he asked, after she had twitted him over his change
of heart. His expression became more wry. “I want to be a man of fashion, Amelia. Will you oversee the transformation?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You’re bamming me!”

  “Word of honor.”

  “But…but…”

  Her amazement was so comical that he laughed.

  “Christopher! You have nothing but contempt for ‘men of fashion,’ even poor Lanforth, who is far from a pink of the ton. What has suddenly changed your mind?” Before he could reply, her blue eyes sharpened. “A woman, I suppose.”

  He looked down.

  “I had received the impression that you were interested only in your neighbor, Lady…oh. She is in London this season, is she not?”

  “Have you met her at last?”

  “No, but I remember hearing that Lady Goring has her daughter with her. This is your reason, then?” Her eyes had started to dance.

  Sheepishly Hanford admitted it. “She is much taken with town ways and…”

  “And town beaux, I suppose. Oh, Christopher, I could not have hoped for such a perfect revenge if I had planned it for years. You see where your country stubbornness has brought you.” She was laughing almost too hard to speak.

  “To throw myself on your tender mercies,” he agreed. “I am in your hands, Amelia. Will you help me?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” She thought of something. “But you must do as I say, Christopher. No contemptuous sputterings.”

  He sighed but nodded.

  “What fun I shall have!” She walked slowly around him, as if making notes.

  “I have rather given Anabel the impression that I am hunting for a wife,” he added.

  “As you are. Oh, you mean among the debs?” Amelia’s delighted smile returned. “How devious of you, Christopher. This may be easier than I thought. You have the instincts of a tulip already.” As he grimaced she continued. “First, you must get rid of that coat. You should never wear olive drab, with your coloring. It is cut well enough, but…”