by Gloria Gay
“Miss Cecilia Sentenell, daughter of Sir Geoffrey and Lady Sentenell of Brintelway Hall in Nottingham.”
“Miss Sentenell, said the earl, “a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
He then asked Cecilia if she was enjoying the London season, commenting on the fact that he had seen her once or twice in Hyde Park.
“Is this your first season in London, Miss Sentenell?”
“Yes.” Cecilia was uncomfortably aware that Lord Arandale had spoken only briefly with the other girls while with her she was lingering an extended time. She could feel the girls’ jealous eyes on her as she spoke to Arandale.
“You must be anxious to take in the sights,” said Arandale, “such as the Tower and the Kew Gardens?”
“Yes, my lord, I am,” Cecilia answered briefly. She normally would have expanded at such male attention, but she was anxious that he should move on. Her voice was subdued in contrast to the other girls, whose voices on speaking to Arandale had been extremely high and nervous.
Arandale noted that she was very composed before him, something that had not happened to him before on being introduced to a debutante.
“Is there a particular place you look forward to visiting?” he asked, while Countess Lieven stood by his side, in silence. And she looked, thought Cecilia with chagrin, like she would like to choke Cecilia, blaming her for attracting more of Arandale’s time than she deserved. But Cecilia could do nothing but wait until Arandale decided on his own to leave her side.
“Perhaps I may be fortunate enough to escort you to some of these sights soon,” he said, unbelievably, so that even the countess turned sharply to stare at him.
Finally, Arandale finished with the introductions, and Cecilia was left to wonder why she had been singled out thus, when there were girls in the room of higher rank and certainly prettier than she was.
Cecilia always sold herself short as far as looks were concerned. She was an extremely attractive girl, whose assets were hidden under inadequate clothes, inadequate hairstyles and little town bronze. Even now, she was wearing a ball gown that she had worn many times before, at the assembly dances back home, for it would be at least another week before she would be able to wear the new clothes they had ordered for her in London.
She remembered the filmy new ball gown she had chosen from the plates of La Belle Assemble and she felt a surge of joy to think that she would soon be wearing the pale aquamarine silk gown to the next ball. That color, against her eyes, had brought out the blue in her eyes and deepened them.
But ball gowns were not the only thing that interested Cecilia. She read constantly and loved to talk politics with her father.
Cecilia glanced around at the other girls, admiring a gown here a hairdo there.
She wondered what these girls would think if they found out she could handle a sword and a pistol as well as any man. The thought made her smile to herself and just at that moment she looked up and saw that the Earl of Arandale was glancing at her from a short distance away. She quickly turned away.
* * *
Cecilia’s London season was extremely enjoyable save for the thought of Lord Arandale that cast a shadow on her plans.
Cecilia had become aware that Arandale, in fact, had begun to court her. Cecilia could not fathom the reason for the earl choosing her for his attentions and tried hard to be as far away from him as possible at balls and soirees. Yet Arandale seem to always find her and to come by for either a dance or a chat.
It was at a rout given by Lady Castlereigh that Cecilia, squeezed against a wall by the packed throng, thought to find Hedra and Lady Rolande to ask them if they could leave. Yet she realized how difficult it would be since Lady Rolande and Hedra were always among the last to leave at dances and balls. They would surely not want to leave the rout half an hour after they had arrived.
Of all the social occasions, Cecilia liked the rout the least of all. The hostess would not consider her party a success unless it had been described in newspaper bulletins as “a sad squeeze.” Invariably, three times more people than the place would hold would be invited, to create the greatly coveted “sad squeeze” description. Refreshments were rare and hard to come by while the overabundance of guests stepped on each other's toes, breathed down each other's necks and were so noisy it gave one the feeling of being inside a chicken coop.
“Miss Sentenell,” said a voice behind her, “you look like you need rescuing.”
Cecilia glanced around at Lord Arandale and saw that he had two glasses of lemonade.
“I heard there was a breeze in the terrace,” he added, and Cecilia, who was feeling her throat parched, was grateful for the lemonade. She saw with interest how Lord Arandale parted the crowd for her to squeeze through. When they reached the terrace, they found it just as packed but at least there was air to be had there. They found a corner that was a little less crowded and Arandale, placing his lemonade glass on the balustrade, took Cecilia's glass as well and put it by his.
“I saw your companions, Lady Rolande and Miss Gamine at the front hall,” he said. “I believe it will take you at least half an hour to work your way to them.”
“I wonder they invite so many people when it makes everyone unable to move,” said Cecilia.
“I hate to think what would happen if there was a stampede,” said Arandale. “A few dozen would be trampled.”
“And it could happen,” said Cecilia, “because Countess Delvene's rout starts in half an hour.”
“And are you to attend?”
“I really don't want to but I believe Lady Rolande made plans to attend, “replied Cecilia, “and you, my lord?”
“I will be unable to, as I am meeting RubI'm.”
Lord Arandale had suddenly remembered that he had an appointment with Ruby in half an hour exactly, to attend a private party at Vauxhall. His fractured reply made him appear as if he was trying to hide something and he turned away from Cecilia.
Cecilia realized instantly that his confusion stemmed from the fact that he had almost blurted out his mistress' name.
She turned away from him in disgust.
“I'm going to try to find Lady Rolande and Miss Gamine now, my lord,” said Cecilia in a cold voice, and added, “Thank you for your assistance.”
Cecilia fought her way through the throng with resolution, her wish to be as far away from Lord Arandale as possible, making her forceful. If he can part the crowd like the Red Sea, she thought, so can I.
Lord Arandale saw Cecilia move away quickly from him after bowing curtly and shrugged. Miss Sentenell, he thought with amusement, had a lot to learn about polite society. Apparently she had guessed who he almost mentioned and took exception to it.
He had been with that Brighton set too long, thought Arandale, to make him forget one did not mention the names of lightskirts to young debutantes.
He recalled the tint of Cecilia's eyes, an unusual turquoise hue and the high breasts and small waist. He wondered how those breasts would feel in his hands. He felt a sudden stirring in his loins. Startled at himself, he shook the image of her from his mind. He would soon have in his arms the luscious form of Ruby De Langeliers, and the “governess” disapproval written all over Miss Sentenell's eyes well forgotten.
But Lord Arandale, in the company of his mistress later on that night, and in the velvet invitation that were the dark paths of Vauxhall Gardens, was distracted. He realized with puzzlement that his evening had been shot to the devil by Miss Sentenell's disapproving look. How to account for it? He asked himself this a dozen times. Finally, he asked Lord Epson to take Ruby home because he was feeling unwell and took off.
The following morning, after his usual ride in the Park on Fargo, he visited Ruby de Langeliers and broke off his relationship with her, cursing himself on the way back from the lady's house.
He could not fool himself on the reason he had broken off with Ruby. Cecilia's turquoise eyes burned brightly before him–like the eyes of a governess. A governess witch,
he told himself with a laugh.
* * *
Why Arandale popped up wherever she went was a mystery to Cecilia and irritating to Hedra, who would have loved seeing the earl interested in her instead. But no matter how much Hedra tried to catch the earl’s attention, Arandale invariably looked beyond her if Cecilia was standing behind her and ignored her if she was behind Cecilia, after the barest nod in her direction.
Hedra, of course, blamed Cecilia for this, accusing her of hogging the earl’s attention in a pushy way.
Cecilia put up with Hedra only for her father’s sake. Lady Rolande had promised her father a visit with the physician who had prescribed the medicine for her father’s rheumatoid pains and made his life a little more bearable. She could not lose sight of this.
Cecilia would have put up with a whole lot more if it meant that her father was more comfortable. Besides, Lady Rolande and Hedra were to move into their own leased townhouse as soon as Lady Rolande’s funds were released. Cecilia did not know exactly where these funds were to be released from nor did she ask. Other people’s business was of no interest to her.
CHAPTER 4
Lord Arandale gazed at his uncle and narrowed his cool gray eyes.
“Let me guess, Uncle, you have come for two reasons. One, to wish me a happy birthday, and two, to remind me—as if I needed reminding—of the promise I made Papa at his deathbed.”
“Ah-harrumph!” Lord Kelly cleared his throat with great fanfare while he searched in his mind for an appropriate rejoinder.
He was always at a disadvantage when in the company of his high stickler of a nephew, even though he had been his guardian until he had come of age.
Justin had been self-possessed even at a tender age and had needed little guidance. His father, in contrast to his son’s glowing health, had taken to his bed during the last ten years before his death, and even before that had been a frail being at best. Lord Arandale took more after his Amazon of a mother whose exploits on the saddle had been brought to untimely end by a fall from a horse.
“Ah—well—indeed, happy birthday, my son. Thirty finally, eh?”
“The dreaded age has arrived, and the promise of matrimony before the year’s end stares us in the face. But never fear, Uncle, the matter is well at hand. Even as we speak Sir Geoffrey Sentenell must be writing his acceptance to my proposal for his daughter’s hand.”
“Sir Geoffrey Sentenell? Do I know him?” pondered Lord Kelly, who knew almost everyone in the ton, from the Prince on down. He eased his portly frame back into the chair and settling his ample chin on the intricate cascade his valet had arranged his cravat in waited patiently for his nephew to make his revelation concerning Sir Geoffrey.
“Baronet Sentenell,” answered Arandale. “He seldom comes to London. He could well have been a country squire for all the town bronze he possesses. Lady Sentenell died three years back. The daughter, though, seems not as countrified as her father. She is an attractive girl of about nineteen that I have come to know well in the past few weeks. I was introduced to her at the opening ball at Almack’s and have since seen her on many occasions at other functions. I have come to admire the way she carries herself in society and her values.”
“I see,” said Lord Kelly, “This young lady—”
“Cecilia Sentenell.”
“Yes—ah—this young lady is the one you have chosen as your future wife, nephew?”
“Yes.”
“And you say you know her well?” Lord Kelly wondered why it was that only now he was being made aware of the young lady, when he had seen Arandale at least a dozen times since the beginning of the season.
“I have been in her company on many occasions and danced with her not a few,” said Arandale, “and I can assure you that from my observations she is everything I desire my wife to be.”
“You have already proposed matrimony to her?” asked Lord Kelly, wondering if he had missed part of the conversation.
“I have been courting her. I asked her father not to state it to her at the beginning. I just wanted him to be aware that my intentions were honorable. He agreed with me that Cecilia should not be informed that it was officially a courtship, but for other reasons.”
“What were the reasons?” Lord Kelly leaned over, extremely interested.
“Sir Geoffrey said that his daughter had a mind of her own, that if she was told she was being courted by someone not of her choice she might take exception.”
“And did you give her to understand you were courting her, eventually?”
“Only a stupid girl would have not imagined I was courting her, after a while.”
“And she did not seem averse to it?”
“Would any girl?” But Arandale suddenly realized that Cecilia Sentenell never actually sought his company. In fact, he would have made a bet at White's and won hands down, that at any ball, every single debutante would have given anything to dance with him–except Cecilia Sentenell. This thought gave him an inward and very unpleasant jolt, because he had just suddenly realized something that he had never given a thought to before.
“No, of course not,” Lord Kelly was saying, and as Arandale had lost the trail of the conversation he asked him what he saying.
“I agreed with you that any girl would be honored. But I am curious, she is aware that your intentions were to propose?”
“She must have been aware, surely, Uncle Harding. I have written a letter to the father for audience to present my suit. I detailed my reasons for my request of a meeting with him that it was for the express purpose of presenting my offer of marriage to his daughter for his consideration, after an appropriate courtship, of course.”
“And you are certain of her compliance?”
“Certain? I do not take your meaning, sir,” said Arandale, and Lord Kelly saw a tightening of the jaw in Arandale.
“Uncle Harding,” added Arandale in a tone of exasperation, “I have written to the father with the request. I cannot imagine we need to consult the girl in the matter. I’m expecting his consent to the betrothal at any moment this morning. Once this happens, proposing to her will be a mere formality. It is the settlement papers that interest me more.”
“You have spoken with the young lady, then?”
“Spoken with her?”
“Made your feelings known to her—I mean—she knows of your intention?”
“I have spoken to her on several social occasions, yes,” answered Arandale impatiently, “but not as you say, to make my feelings known to her. You must know me well enough by now, Uncle, to be aware that my feelings are my own.”
But Arandale felt an unpleasant shiver of apprehension go through his body as he realized, also for the first time, that he had gone directly to her father with his proposal becauseunconsciouslyhe had been afraid Cecilia Sentenell would reject him outright. He was certain her father would not. In fact, he was absolutely convinced her father would never dream of rejecting his proposal of marriage.
“In any case,” he added a little on the defensive, “whatever do feelings have to do with this affair? This is a marriage contractan important step both for her as it is for me. I do not take such an important step without carefully examining all its ramifications.”
“How is it that you met this girl?” asked his uncle. “What was it about her that struck you as someone who would be the ideal you desired in a wife, and where did you meet for the first time?”
“The meeting was not spontaneous, Uncle Harding, if that's what you're hoping for,” said Arandale. “I planned it carefully.”
“Planned it?” asked Lord Kelly.
“Let me explain, before your face turns more of a beet color than is healthy, Uncle. When I saw that the time for keeping my marriage promise to Father was approaching, I had a meeting with Tandy,” he said, referring to his solicitor,”
“With Tandy?” asked Lord Kelly, “whatever for?”
“Because I didn't want to go into the season amid the bevy of debutant
es and have to do the research myself, when Tandy can do it much better and leave me free to do my own business.”
What business, thought Lord Kelly, forcing himself not to frown, gambling and whoring?
“Tandy selected a family to my own specifications and has investigated it thoroughly. I asked him to find me a lady of noble birth, pleasing but not overly attractive and more used to country than London ways. I also wanted her family to be of high moral character. Those are the requirements I have for a wife and for her family.”
“And this family?”
“Has fitted all the requirements,” finished Arandale. “You can rest easy on that respect, Uncle. As for the rest of my requirements, I want my wife to be a lady that will not disturb my life in any way, for I don’t intend to change my habits to conform to hers.
“You are well aware of how our society tolerates behavior in ladies of high birth that is often scandalous, so long as they are discreet, Uncle Harding, are you not?”
“And in men of high birth, also,” said his uncle.
“But the behavior matters more in the women than it does in the men, are you not in agreement?”
“Unfortunately so,” said his uncle, “intolerance in such male behavior would be just as salutary. A great majority of the men of noble birth give abominable examples to their sons.”
He stopped himself, for continuing in this vein would surely get him in trouble. Arandale belonged to one of the prominent Brighton sets, and a more debauched set Lord Kelly had yet to see. They spent their nights in a drunken stupor within a vicious circle of gambling and womanizing. Seldom did any of them join humanity before two in the afternoon, and then it was only to attend a Venetian breakfast where liquor was more abundant than tea, or to prepare for the theater or the opera and then on to routs or balls that lasted the night.
