The Bluestocking and the Dastardly, Intolerable Scoundrel

by Jenni James

  “She will not fathom having her own coming-out ball. Lady Lamb never had one, you see.”

  “Yes, I did know that.” Pantersby looked over at her. “But I cannot imagine she would wish to have one now. She is most certainly not a young miss fresh into her first Season.”

  “Aye, but that is exactly what she has been saying, Pantersby. She has never had a Season before.”

  “And you attempt to humiliate her by insisting on one?” the old butler asked.

  “Pantersby, please join us and help me talk this nodcock out of such a preposterous idea.”

  Compton grinned and then watched as though he were fascinated as Pantersby first poured them all tea and then joined them around the table, sitting in the chair nearest her. “You look completely dumbfounded, my lord. Is something on your mind?” she asked him.

  “As well he should be speechless,” answered Pantersby before he could reply. “I have told you for years now that it is not acceptable for me to be sitting here with you, and of course he is—”

  “Oh, heavens!” Lacey sighed, growing more frustrated with each passing moment. “Please do not start this again, and pass the sandwiches as well as a portion of cheese. I see Cook has outdone herself today.”

  “Very well, my lady,” Pantersby replied as he brought her a plate of all she asked for and then made one for himself.

  “You can stop looking like that,” Lacey said to Compton.

  That man blinked and shook his head slightly. “Pardon me. It is merely intriguing to watch you two interact as if you have been the best of friends for many years—or even family.”

  “Pantersby is my family. I have known him as long as I have known anyone. He was my tutor, and now retired, he answered my advertisement for a butler.” She flipped a linen napkin upon her lap. “When I declined, he basically refused to leave or allow any other riffraff to come to my door and apply for the position. Now he does not understand how I simply cannot see him as anything but my tutor, and why I insist on asking his advice and eating with him. For did we not, you and Chull, eat together a good many meals when I was a child? Besides, why would I wish to eat alone when someone as dear to me as a father is in the other room?”

  “Would you care for some sandwiches?” Pantersby asked, interrupting her. “It is useless to argue with Lady Lamb—she has made up her own mind. It is better to go along with her outlandish notions and eat. Honestly, these sandwiches are wonderful, and it would be a great pity if you went away hungry merely because Lady Lamb has chosen to be contrary to the rest of the world—at least, that is my opinion on the matter.”

  “I feel as though I have been completely bamboozled in a madhouse.” Compton chuckled. “And thank you, yes. I do not wish to forfeit myself nourishment for anything.”

  “Hear, hear! Very wise,” said the butler as he brushed aside a pile of invites and placed a heaping plate in front of the lord.

  After a few bites, Lacey leaned forward and asked, “Now tell me everything that is developing in that head of yours, for I fear I have not heard the last of this ‘Season’ nonsense.”

  Compton nodded as he finished one of his sandwiches and then applied a napkin to his lips. “I see these mounds of invites upon this table, and I know there is an equal amount that I have brought as well. It occurs to me that as an intelligent lady, you cannot profess to loathe something you do not even know.”

  “I fear I discern exactly where you are headed with such a statement,” she grumbled with a rueful grin.

  “Then you perhaps see how difficult it would be to argue against such flawless logic?”

  “There is nothing rational about proposing to go traipsing about amongst the elite, accepting such frivolous offers when you are well aware they are based off the need to be present so others can ascertain which of us is winning the bets.”

  “Very well. What if I propose another offer altogether?”

  “No. One of your schemes has been enough, thank you.”

  “Nay, listen. Let us attend, say, twenty of these events, and then in exchange, I will remove my bet from White’s, forfeiting the whole wager at once.”

  Pantersby smiled, and Compton pounced. “See? Even Pantersby thinks it a grand idea.”

  “I would never agree to attend ten such outings, let alone twenty,” she responded in scornful disgust.

  The butler laughed. “’Tis true, and the genuine motive for why I smiled. Though it does have a ring of fairness to it.”

  “Fairness? Fairness?” Lacey could feel her temper rising. “That is the whole preposterous point of this—none of it was just. Not once has anything been impartial to me.” She looked at Compton. “Ever since you foolishly wagered against me, I have been biased against, and now I am supposed to be grateful that you would blackmail me into attending such disagreeable larks? Have you lost your wits? No, halt. Do not answer that. We can all evidently distinguish the answer.”

  “Lady Lamb, I beg your pardon. I had no idea my actions would take the turn they have.”

  “Of course you did not!” she fumed. “You certainly had no thought except for your own wounded pride from the moment you entered White’s.”

  “Actually, it was long before that. In fact, it was a good three days of nursing my shattered ego after you turned me down for the quadrille.”

  “As if I know how to dance the quadrille, where several dancers form lines and then dance in front of each other. Where one wrong step could potentially not only embarrass me in front of everyone there, or worse, throw the whole movement off! Nay, sir, I do not wish to dance the quadrille with anyone, least of all a monstrous scoundrel who immediately runs to White’s and gambles with my name.”

  “I see.” Compton stood up and bowed slightly. “I fear we will always come to heads over this. Forgive me. You are too heated to speak of such at the moment. Would you mind greatly if Pantersby took me to see the puppies and their mama?”

  Lacey blinked and then closed her mouth. “Of course. I am certain he would be most happy to show you into the kitchens.” She could not help one last jab. “Even though it has a large fire going to prepare dinner tonight, I am fairly positive it will be much cooler in that room than in here, of course. So you are best to run away now.”

  He nodded his head in acknowledgement and grinned. “I thought so as well.”

  Irksome man!

  CHAPTER TWELVE:

  Lacey remained in the library, looking over the infuriating invitations. They were merely sent to make a mockery of them both. It was outrageous to believe she would attend any such folly. Her mother did not raise her to have the Melbourne name bantered about in polite society.

  Eventually, Pantersby came back in the room, sat down on the chair he had most recently vacated, and nudged her elbow. “It would not be such a bad thing to at least try to make an appearance at a few, if not more of them.”

  She glanced into his exhausted eyes and decided now was not the time to release her frustrations on him. “How was Compton? Is he with the dogs now?”

  “Yes. Went straight to their box and immediately began to pet and jabber at them. I think he loves those pups.”

  Lacey took a deep breath and attempted to cool herself. “No doubt. They are adorable.” She then worried her lip and looked down at the table. The invites seemed to swim before her. “Am I being unreasonable to dismiss Lord Compton so easily?”

  “Unreasonable, no. Not after what you have already been subjected to.” He shifted in his seat. “However, had he been anyone else offering to take you around London, someone to guarantee you can discover your way through the throngs and mishaps and all, would you have taken them up on it?”

  “At my age? Certainly not.”

  “Lady Lamb, you are only twenty-five. You are in your prime. What Lord Compton says is correct—it is unfair to spurn something you have never allowed yourself to experience. I say, give the matter some thought. You have a reclusive companion here with Mrs. Crabtree—one who sleeps and read
s more than actually protects you, but mayhap she could be prevailed upon to go out and enjoy a bit of society.”

  She smiled at the thought of the fluttery Mrs. Crabtree being her chaperone at such grand events. Knowing the widowed woman, she would more than likely lap up every bit of it. It would do her a world of good to get out and partake of the life around her.

  She had written, answering the call of housekeeper, but Lacey did not have the heart to put such a demanding position upon her. After taking the elderly woman into her home, supplying her with tea, and slowly prying information from her, it did not take long to gather that this woman had once lived in a fine house. She was a poor distant relation of an earl, but after the lady she had been companion for died, she found herself homeless and without work. Lacey had hoped to do without a companion altogether, but did not have the heart to turn the sweet Mrs. Crabtree away. Therefore, without much ado, Lacey had a respectable companion should she ever need her, and Mrs. Crabtree had an easy board.

  Nevertheless, to attend balls? Could she actually do such a thing and endure? Lacey closed her eyes and thought back to that young girl who had so many fanciful ideas and dreams. She was astonished she could remember each and every detail of when her coming-out gown arrived a week before the ball. The dizzying excitement as she carried the box up to her room and then the calming reverence as she laid it upon her bed and stared at that box a full ten minutes, imagining the glories inside. She had purposely not called anyone to help her dress and had locked the door. The last thing she desired was for her mother to tell her she could not try on the gown, or any other such trivial nonsense.

  Each breath of anticipation revolved around vivid daydreams of the young men and women who would see her arrayed in such splendor as she floated through dance after dance. Her eager hands had shaken as she lovingly touched the paper-covered box and then finally released the twine.

  As the lid came off, she carefully peeled back even more paper and held her breath as she pulled out the beautiful gown of light cream silk with its white overlay of intricate lace detailing and seed pearls embroidered throughout. It was by far the most striking and expensive dress she had ever owned. The modiste was gracious enough to include a few matching pearl and lace ribbon baubles to adorn her hair.

  Very, very gently, she put the dress on and then walked over to the looking glass. She beheld a glorious princess attending her first-ever ball, and her young heart beat in fervent anticipation. How she could be fortunate enough to have the world align so perfectly to allow her these splendors, she would never know. Yet, Lacey could guarantee there was no other seventeen-year-old in all of London who was happier than she was then.

  Her brows furrowed in thought as she came back to the present. “Pantersby, I am going to my room for a moment. Can you please catch Lord Compton before he leaves and see that he meets me in the green drawing room? I may wish to speak to him again.”

  Pantersby looked at her quizzically, but thankfully did not comment as she made her way out of the library and up the stairs to her chambers. Lacey hastily fetched a chair and brought it to the wardrobe. She remembered glancing at a box from her bed, there upon the very top of the thing, behind its fancy carving, and not having a recollection of what it was. The maid clearly had it placed up high to be out of sight. Could it be?

  Upon the chair, on tiptoe, Lacey reached her hands above her head and found the parcel. Cautiously, she brought it over the carving and down toward her, stepping off the chair as she did so. There it was. The box her coming-out gown had arrived in. Gingerly, she brought it over to the bed, half imagining the gown to be long gone by now, and gasped when she opened it to find her very same dress tucked inside.

  Oh, my goodness! It was even more exquisite, and shimmered more elegantly, than she recalled. And it still had the dainty hair baubles as well. In an absurd show of silliness, Lacey swiftly removed her plain muslin gown and slid the cool lace-overlaid cream silk on. Then with great caution, she headed toward the very same mirror as when she was younger and stood transfixed.

  There before her was a graceful lady, no longer the lighthearted child she once was, but a fully developed woman, whose unfashionable curves and lines were showcased extremely well in the gown. Much more so than the girl of seventeen had once appreciated. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks reddened becomingly, and as she brought her hair down and then tucked back up again to allow soft red curls to frame her face, she beheld a delicate angel.

  My! How was it that she had seen the same face her whole life and never truly saw the loveliness that she was? Not that it signified—beauty was something someone was gifted with. It held no significance anywhere else except for the exceedingly vain. True character meant and always would mean the most to her.

  Pantersby knocked upon her door, snapping her out of her reverie, as he called through it. “Lady Lamb, Lord Compton is awaiting you in the green drawing room.”

  She hesitated a moment before she answered, “Uh . . . thank you, Pantersby.” And bravely opened the door.

  The old man’s eyes shown mistily as he met hers, and they—neither of them—spoke for a thoughtfully long minute.

  Was this not the stupidest thing she had ever done? The folly of a wishful moment. Though she did not speak the words out loud, he answered them.

  “Viscountess Melbourne, my littlest Miss Lacey Lamb, if I could have but one wish for you, it would be that my lady would wear this gown and prove she is every bit as worthy to hold her title as the rest of the Ton.” He broke all rules and clutched her hands to his chest, his eyes swimming. “My dear, you look so much like your cherished mother, and it is time society remembers you both.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

  Compton stood up as Lady Lamb entered the room in her very plain brown dress and was surprised to perceive a slight air of change about her.

  “Forgive me for keeping you waiting,” she said as she approached him, both hands out.

  He clasped her hands and stood stunned for a moment. “It was nothing. Pantersby said you wished to speak to me?” Compton had learned long ago never to assume what a lady was thinking or how she was about to react during any situation. To do so would lead his thoughts on a merry chase, and it would all come to naught when she actually spoke. Therefore, Compton had been enjoying himself quite easily, pondering over the great improvement in the puppies for the quarter of an hour it took for Lady Lamb to join him.

  She was all smiles as she sat back down and asked him to sit as well, her whole countenance assuming a refreshing quality he had never recognized in her before. And then she spoke, and entirely flummoxed him.

  “You were correct. I do not know why I have become such an old gudgeon of late, but I certainly wanted to beg your pardon and confess that I have had a change of heart. After thinking it through for some minutes, I acknowledge, though still cautious, that there is a new eagerness that abides within me. Lord Compton, I fear I would like to attend some of the events that have been presented to us both. Mind you, I do not believe my attitudes of society will change, only that I have never partaken in this sort of adventure, and I have a mind to do so now.” Then she smiled. That smile could slay the hearts of a thousand men, if she only but knew it. However, her ease and naturalness were her charm.

  The effortlessness of merely being, and knowing her own purpose and direction—she wore those incredible attributes well, and many a man, or lord, would be foolish indeed not to see the power her artlessness could have over them.

  “I am all astonishment, my dear. In fact, I had quite resigned my fate to go through some of these galas on my own, with only my friends’ merriment and jests at my failed attempts to woo you, as my companions.”

  “They will all speak of us.”

  “Of course, but we will not care a jot.”

  “We will not?”

  “No. Indeed, though they will be whispering behind their fans, we will be holding our heads high and laughing at the lot of them.”

  �
��Good gracious. Why would we ever do that?”

  He leaned forward. “Because,” he whispered, despite Pantersby’s frown at such familiarity, “we will know the truth.”

  Lady Lamb mimicked him and leaned forward too, their faces merely inches apart. “And what is that?” she whispered back.

  His mouth formed his most dashing grin as his gaze caught her twinkling eyes. “Why, that we have formed a truce, and neither of us could give one fig about the wagers.”

  She stared at him blankly, and then recognition dawned. “Of course. They are all expecting us to be fighting horrendously or wooing each other, are they not?”

  “Precisely. And when we are doing neither, except perhaps enjoying their antics to see who has the most outrageous rumor about, we shall giggle about them quite justly.”

  “But it is wise to appear to be in each other’s company? Would it not be best if we did not speak at all?”

  “After I have been seen coming to and from your house more than once? I do not think it signifies whether we are speaking together or not.”

  Her grin matched his, and she chuckled. “Very well. I will be present at five of the same occasions that you deem worthy enough to attend.”

  “I thought I said twenty such events.”

  “Twenty? No. I would go mad if I had to prance about at twenty soirees. It would certainly drive me to an early grave.”

  He shook his head, but replied, “Then let us come to a compromise. Shall we make it ten, then? You cannot truly say you have lived through a Season unless you essentially attend enough gatherings to make it seem real.”

  “Very well. I shall attend eight, though I refuse to budge past that number.”

  There was nothing he wished to do more than kiss the smirk off the delectable minx’s countenance. Compton cleared his throat and put his hand out. “Done. We shall appear at eight gatherings together, and you, my dear, despite the lack of a coming-out ball, shall have your very first Season.”