Lovers and Ladies

by Jo Beverley

  Deirdre reddened. “He is not horrible. He just doesn’t like these events.”

  “Then he shouldn’t have come.”

  “I talked him into it.” But Deirdre remembered that he hadn’t been reluctant at all.

  “Unwise to talk men into anything,” said Eunice. “A word from me, Deirdre, don’t think you can change a man. You have to take them as they are, and if you want Dunstable as he is, your wits have gone begging.” She rose and drifted onward, an image of matronly wisdom, though she was only twenty-one.

  Deirdre told herself that anyone would be cynical after two years of marriage to Lord Ostry, though in fact Eunice appeared to be happy with her choice.

  Of course Deirdre wanted Howard just as he was. She didn’t want to change him in any significant way. She’d just encourage him to do a little more exercise, to go out and about a little more. She’d ensure he visited the barber regularly, and that his coats came from a better tailor. Once they were married, there’d be time for him to explain his work, then when she understood it, she might be able to help with all that tedious figuring. Then there would be more time for other things…

  Deirdre hastily escaped her thoughts by joining Anna and the other young people. It was not really an escape. The talk was all of Everdon.

  “…so handsome,” sighed Jenny Durham. “I could have swooned when he smiled at me.”

  “He touched my hand,” said Anna, adding dramatically, “I felt it all the way to my heart!”

  Deirdre rolled her eyes at her friend, knowing Anna was exaggerating in fun. She tried not to acknowledge that she had felt that way in very truth.

  Jenny eyed Deirdre jealously. “Rumor says he’s courting you, Deirdre.”

  “You know rumor,” Deirdre responded. “Would you like more tea, Jenny?”

  “I think he is,” the girl persisted. Blond and pretty, she was used to being the local belle. She considered the homage of the eligible men hers by right. “I saw the way he was looking at you. Amazing really when…” Then she recalled her manners and did not say what she was thinking. “And I thought you were going to have to settle for that Dunstable man. Oh,” she said with embarrassment, for she was not actually a cruel girl. “Yes, please, I would like more tea.”

  Deirdre summoned a maid to bring it.

  Anna said, “It must be exciting to have such a man under your roof, Deirdre. He has such soulful eyes.”

  “Soulful,” scoffed Arthur Kealey. “Makes him sound like a dashed spaniel. I don’t know why you girls will go on so.”

  “I doubt he has a soul at all,” said Deirdre. “Be warned, Anna. It is his habit to flirt with any female who crosses his path. So guard yourself.”

  “If he pesters you, Anna,” said Arthur stoutly, “you can depend on me to take care of it.”

  Deirdre and Anna shared a look at this absurdity, but Deirdre could see Anna was rather touched. Such devotion made her a little sad, though she couldn’t think why.

  Mary Kingsley giggled. “I don’t mind if Everdon flirts with me.”

  “Mary,” said Deirdre. “I thought you were pledged to Captain Hawksworth.” How could she get them off this subject?

  “So I am,” said Mary unrepentantly, “but that doesn’t bar a little harmless flirtation.”

  “I doubt Lord Everdon is harmless,” said Deirdre darkly.

  Her three female companions leaned forward. “Do tell.”

  Deirdre had never been so glad of anything in her life as the sudden entrance of the other gentlemen. This appearance was rather speedy, and she suspected she had Everdon to thank. He gave her a knowing look and the trace of a wink. She noted that there seemed to be an invisible circle around Howard.

  For a moment Deirdre was reluctant to go over to Howard, to associate with him before the company. She conquered the cowardice and crossed the room to where he stood. He smiled slightly, but seemed abstracted.

  She couldn’t just stand there like a sentry, and so she began to talk cheerfully of a sequence of light topics. He made no response. Did he even hear her? She stopped abruptly, afraid he would make matters worse by telling her to stop chattering, too.

  He had done so before, she remembered. She had been making small talk as she’d been trained—for a silence is a terrible thing—and he’d said something like, “Do stop chattering so. I’m thinking.”

  She hadn’t taken offense, for it seemed a reasonable request. She had found it something of a relief to be with someone without the need to talk, and she’d learned how to judge whether he was receptive to conversation or not.

  But this was a different kind of occasion. Even her father acknowledged that one could not retreat into a private world when in company. Oh dear, what was she to do? She glanced over at Lord Everdon, but he was engaged in lively conversation.

  Her silence finally seemed to penetrate Howard’s thoughts. “What’s the matter, Deirdre? Are you giving me funny looks, too? I suppose it’s because of that old biddy. But really, she was going on and on about her cats. I have no interest in cats. I was devising what could be a most interesting development on Müller’s mechanism. You see, if one were to consider…But you wouldn’t understand.”

  No, Deirdre didn’t understand, and about far more than geometry. “Howard,” she said firmly, “Miss Norbrooke would consider it rude to leave you alone. It is polite at a dinner to talk to the people on both sides.”

  “I know that,” he said brusquely. “But I can’t be expected to abandon a significant insight for a discussion on fleas.” Then Howard smiled, that quirky, boyish smile that tugged at her heart. “Was I very rude? Should I go and apologize? I could claim to have a toothache.”

  “Oh yes,” Deirdre said in relief. “I’m sure that would be appreciated.”

  She watched surreptitiously as he went over and bowed to the frosty Misses Norbrooke. In moments the generous ladies were fluttering about him, doubtless offering their patent remedies. Word spread, and Lord Harby gruffly ordered a glass of brandy and ordered Howard to swill it around his mouth well before swallowing. Having followed orders, Howard announced that he was now free of pain, and thanked everyone for their kindness.

  The company was now restored to happiness.

  Except Deirdre. She thought it all terribly underhand.

  Everdon appeared at her side. “A piece of advice,” he murmured, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Always check their teeth before you buy.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with his teeth,” she snapped, before catching herself. “Oh, go away. This is all your fault.”

  “Now, how do you work that out, light of my life?”

  Deirdre glowered at him.

  He shook his head. “Next part of the course—accepting compliments. Anyone would think you’d never received any before.”

  “I haven’t. Except about my embroidery, of course. Though few people really appreciate…And my horsemanship…I…don’t deserve—” She bit off that statement.

  “At least you realize how absurd that is. You truly are the light of my life—for the moment, at least. I rise each day with enthusiasm, wondering what new wonders it will bring, and they all stem from you.”

  Deirdre grasped one phrase. “For the moment?”

  “But of course. This can only be a fleeting paradise, alas. You are going to marry the man with the bad teeth. Mine are excellent.” He stretched his lips in an exaggerated grin.

  Deirdre cast a harried look around. “Do stop it!”

  “Ah, I hear new arrivals. We will shortly progress to the dancing. I claim the first set.”

  Deirdre had little choice but to accept.

  The dancing did not start for some time, for the new guests had to be welcomed and greeted by all, and gossip had to be exchanged. Within the hour, however, the music began and two sets were formed.

  Deirdre was surprised to see Howard partnering Anna. Doubtless Lady Harby had dragooned him into it, for they were a little short of men, but she was surprised he had al
lowed himself to be dragooned.

  He must be on his best behavior for her sake. That warmed her heart.

  He was in the other set, so she could not watch him closely, but he appeared to dance quite well.

  Everdon, as she knew, danced superbly, and she found the same magic occurring as had happened at the Ashby soirée—she danced well, too. She knew she was capable of it, but generally in public she felt so awkward that she became stiff and clumsy. She knew it was because deep inside she felt so plain as to be almost a figure of fun. Look how surprised Jenny Durham was that a man like Everdon would even consider her as a bride.

  With surprise, Deirdre realized that the burden of being plain had been absent for days. This evening as she dressed, she had not once looked at herself in the mirror and wished her nose were more delicate, or her lips better defined. True, she had been fretting about Howard, but there was more to it than that.

  As she joined arms with Everdon and spun around, her eyes met his, and he smiled as if he knew. “‘But oh, she dances such a way/No sun upon an Easter day/Is half so fine a sight.’”

  Then she was off dizzily into the arms of Sir Crosby.

  As soon as the dance was over, Howard was at her side. “If I must dance, it will be with you, Deirdre. You dance surprisingly well.”

  She was thrilled that he’d noticed, but said, “Only one dance, though. Then you must partner the other ladies and make a good showing. I think you made a favorable impression on Father.”

  “He shows some sense for a farmer.”

  “A farmer?” she echoed.

  “That appears to be his only occupation, so he is a farmer. He did show an interest in my work, but I could wish people appreciated knowledge in other than practical terms. If there were any justice, rich men would sponsor mathematics and science rather than useless painting and sculpture.”

  “Are not a great many people investing in the sciences and engineering?”

  “In the hope of profit,” he sneered. “They never get their noses out of the trough.”

  This was too much. He was as bitter as Lady Durham. “Really, Howard!” Deirdre exclaimed.

  He started. She realized she simply did not speak to him that way. For a moment he looked angry, but then his boyish smile appeared. “Are you going to be cross with me, too?” he asked plaintively. “I thought you were different. I thought I could speak the truth with you, and not have to play silly games…”

  The music started again, and Deirdre was saved from the need to reply, but not from the need to think. Was it her duty to listen to everything without debate, or was he being unreasonable? Of course he wasn’t. She wouldn’t want him to pretend with her.

  As they took their places in the set, she smiled lovingly at him.

  He smiled back and said, “It’s a pity you aren’t taller, for we don’t suit very well as partners. I don’t suppose you will grow now, though.”

  For some reason, Deirdre couldn’t capture the lightness and ease she had found with Everdon, though he was almost as tall as Howard. Somehow her arm always seemed to be stretched, or their steps did not quite match. And yet Howard wasn’t a bad dancer.

  “You need more practice,” he said at one point, and she had to agree.

  When the dance was over, she slipped away, making an excuse of having broken a slipper ribbon, but in fact prey to a great weight of misery. She couldn’t understand how everything was going so wrong.

  In her room she wiped away some tears and bathed her eyes with cool water. All she needed was red, puffy eyes to add to her catalog of poor features.

  She looked at herself in the long mirror and saw the creature she had known all her life—thin, flat-chested, with a long face, too large a nose, formless lips, and dull hair. Her elegant pink gown did not make matters worse, but no gown could make matters better.

  Sometimes with Everdon she felt different—not beautiful, but attractive, charming, clever. It was just a foolish game he played, and she the fool to be taken in by it.

  She turned away from the depressing vision.

  As to her misery, it was her foolishness to have encouraged Howard to come to such an event. He might have made no protest, but she knew he had only come to please her. She had to accept that he would never move with ease through social waters, but such occasions would play little part in their married life. Their evenings would be spent at home, she working on new styles of embroidery, he working on his whatever-it-was geometry…

  Deirdre had a sudden disturbing thought.

  She had always considered Howard’s intense application to his work as being part of this stage of his life, while he was working on whatever it was that would make him famous. But Eunice had a way of being right about things, and she must have more knowledge of men than Deirdre. What if Howard actually liked his present way of life—imperfect eggs excepted—and wanted it to continue forever?

  For fifty years or so…

  Deirdre hastily changed her slippers and returned to the party, where music and chatter would block out her thoughts. As soon as she walked through the door of the impromptu ballroom, her hands were seized by Everdon. “There you are. We are to give a demonstration of the waltz.”

  “What? But I’ve never danced it in public.”

  “Never?” he said. “Oh, poor Cinderella. But surely you know the steps.”

  He was pulling her farther into the room. She resisted. “Yes, Mama made me learn…but I only ever danced with Monsieur Decateur.”

  “Good enough. Ready?”

  She was in his arms. The music started before she had a chance to think, never mind make a serious objection. She fell into a panic with no idea what to do.

  “Step back,” he said, and smiled at her with a carefree confidence in himself and her that would have made flying possible.

  She stepped back and began to recall the moves, aided by his firm direction. They spun and swayed, alone together among others. She gazed into his eyes because then she could forget everything else—what she was doing, what people were thinking…

  His eyes shone with approval. “I knew it. You waltz like a flower in the breeze.”

  She tried to remember her insight in her bedroom—that she was plain and awkward, and always would be. “That’s because I’m so thin,” she said.

  “No, it’s because you are lit from within. Smile for me, light of my life.”

  Deirdre smiled.

  It was at that moment that Mark Juan Carlos Renfrew, Earl of Everdon, commonly known as Don Juan, decided he had to marry Deirdre Stowe. He’d felt the notion hovering for days, but had hoped it would fade, for he foresaw that it would bring him great trouble.

  Now, however, the joy in her face would allow no escape. He knew, without doubt, that no other man would make her glow, especially not Howard Dunstable.

  She would be quietly miserable with her mathematician, even if she never realized it. If she didn’t marry Dunstable, she would almost certainly live her life as a quietly miserable spinster. Without someone to encourage her, she would cease twirling on the top of hills, or lying to look at invisible stars, or dancing the waltz like an apple blossom in the breeze.

  Yes, he would have to marry her. The question was, how to bring her to agree.

  Everdon knew it would be fatal to press her at this point. He didn’t doubt that if he employed the full range of his arts, he could befuddle her, or even seduce her, but it would not solve his problem. If he inveigled her into bed, he could carry her to the altar on a wave of guilt, but he didn’t care to contemplate the married life that would follow. Deirdre would not soon forgive that kind of scheming.

  No, in the end she would have to see Dunstable for what he was, which would be easier to bring about at Everdon Park.

  Their waltz ended to enthusiastic applause. Everdon focused one of his most powerful smiles on Deirdre and kissed both her hands with all the artistry at his command. He registered her flustered blush with satisfaction, then handed her without demur to
young Kealey, who was most anxious to try the dance.

  After a quick assessment, he bowed before Anna Treese, whom he judged to be the sort of girl who acted like a giggling ninny but who in fact had a very sensible head on her shoulders. Besides, he’d seen the looks she flashed at Arthur Kealey. Though the young man might not realize it, his fate was sealed.

  She was not naturally a good dancer, but by the time the music stopped, she was beginning to get the idea.

  “Goodness, Lord Everdon,” said Anna, fanning herself. “That is not nearly as easy as you and Deirdre made it appear. I am not sure I care for it, either. It seems quite strange to have a man holding one so.”

  “I think in time ladies will become accustomed, Miss Treese. It is also the case that your feelings may change with your partner.”

  She endorsed his earlier assessment by flashing him a very shrewd look. “I suppose that could be true.”

  He gently took her fan and plied it for her. “The waltz offers delightful opportunities for flirtation.”

  “Really?” she said, with a teasing look. “But you hardly spoke to Deirdre, my lord.”

  “But then, I am hardly at the flirtation stage with Lady Deirdre, am I?”

  “Perhaps you should be.”

  He raised a brow. “You mistake me, Miss Treese. Deirdre and I are beyond that.”

  She was not put out, but smiled. “Good.”

  Arthur Kealey appeared jealously at their side, and Everdon put the fan into his hands. The young man looked at it blankly. Anna bit her lip on a smile, and chose to look demure. Everdon left them to sort it out for themselves and went off to ask Mary Kingsley for a dance.

  When it was over, Anna came over to him. “Deirdre’s not here,” she said.

  He looked around and realized she was right.

  “And nor is Dunstable,” she added.

  “Any idea where they might be?”

  “No, but I did mention to him how strange it was that Deirdre dances beautifully with you, and badly with him. And how she smiles at you in a way quite differently to the way she smiles at him…”

  “Miss Treese, what are you up to?”

  She unfurled her fan and plied it gently. “Just repaying you, my lord, for teaching Arthur a thing or two.”