Having taken the earliest opportunity to grasp hold of her hand, Sir Arthur Levenshulme had lost no time in raising it reverently to his lips, pressing fervent kisses upon the tips of her gloved fingers. Following which effusive gesture, he had tucked the hand firmly into the crook of his arm and, refusing to relinquish his prize, had then taken it upon himself to guide its owner amongst the throng, thus ensuring that all the most illustrious guests should be given ample opportunity to become acquainted with her.
To Richard, however, who, along with Helena’s cousin Lottie, had been following in their wake for some time, it seemed that the general was making rather too much of a habit of stroking and patting the captive hand on his arm and, as the earl’s indignation increased, it began to occur to him that Helena, too, might well be finding her escort’s attentions equally excessive. And, since it seemed to him that she was, in all probability, feeling somewhat overawed at finding herself in such exalted company, it was not long before he came to the conclusion that the poor girl might well be feeling far too timorous to attempt to extricate herself, lest such action should precipitate an unpleasant scene. No sooner had this likelihood presented itself to the earl than it was followed by a fierce desire to drag the elderly officer out on to the terrace and wipe the beatific smirk off his face.
The sheer unexpectedness of this violent sensation caused a start of dismay to run through him and, in an effort to distract his mind from these disquieting thoughts, he cast around the room for some sort of diversion. To his relief, he caught sight of his cousin Charles entering the room with both Fairfax and Braithwaite in train and, hurriedly delivering Lottie into the care of a nearby archdeacon and his good-natured wife, he made his way across the room to greet his three allies.
‘Lucky dog!’ whistled Standish, when Helena was pointed out to him. But then, having registered the growing enthusiasm with which she was being received within his grandmother’s circle, he laughingly suggested that, in view of their earlier conversation, his cousin would do well to set about establishing some sort of prior claim on the girl without further delay, since the magnetic power of such combined wealth and beauty would, without doubt, find the heiress besieged by offers before he had time to turn around.
‘Added to which,’ he then observed, ‘it would seem that having your name attached to Miss Wheatley’s for the next month or so will do your cause no harm at all.’
Since the bulk of his attention was still focused on Helena, Richard merely grunted in reply. However, suddenly mindful of the promise he had given his grandmother, he excused himself and, making his way purposefully through the throng presently gathered about Helena, he placed a proprietorial hand on her elbow and declared, in as light-hearted a tone as he could muster, ‘Come now, Sir Arthur, you have monopolised Miss Wheatley for quite long enough now. Time for one of us younger fellows to be given a look-in, wouldn’t you say?’
If the general was at all offended, he certainly chose not to show it. Surrendering his far from unwilling captive, he raised her fingers to his lips once more, saying, ‘Much obliged to you, ma’am. Might have known that it wouldn’t be long before one of these young whippersnappers came along and stole you from me!’ Then, flicking a mischievous grin in Richard’s direction, he cautioned him, ‘See that you take proper care of this little jewel, young-feller-me-lad, or you could have me to answer to!’
‘Pistols at dawn, I’ve no doubt!’ responded the earl, with the briefest of smiles then, taking Helena’s arm, he steered her to the side of the room, murmuring, ‘I really must apologise for not coming to your rescue more promptly.’
‘My rescue?’ Helena stared up at him in astonishment. ‘I am afraid I fail to follow your lordship.’
‘Well, I dare say you were beginning to feel as if you had been thrown to the wolves!’
‘Thrown to the wolves! How do you mean?’
He gestured impatiently. ‘Sir Arthur—it seemed to me that you might be finding it difficult to excuse yourself, so I judged that you would be glad of a reprieve.’
Helena shook her head reproachfully. ‘Then your judgement is clearly at fault, my lord,’ she replied. ‘I felt no need to “excuse” myself, as you put it. As far as I was concerned, Sir Arthur was all that he should have been and—unless I have mistaken the matter—being on his arm did seem to be giving me a great deal of added consequence which, I was given to understand, was the object of this evening’s assembly.’
‘Not entirely,’ retaliated Richard, slightly taken aback that what he had deemed to be a gesture of chivalry was being construed as some sort of interference. ‘The agreement was meant to be mutually beneficial, surely? Whilst launching you into society was, certainly, part of the bargain, this evening’s major objective—from my grandmother’s point of view, at least—was intended to help furnish rumours of a possible—future announcement—between the two of us. I fail to see in what way your spending the entire evening in the company of any mountebank who cares to attach himself to you—!’
At Helena’s sharp intake of breath, he broke off abruptly. ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said stiffly. ‘That was indefensible—and not at all what I intended.’
A small frown appeared on Helena’s brow. ‘Then I should like to know precisely what it was that you did intend, my lord!’
Unfortunately, whatever sentiment it was that Richard had meant to convey was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Lottie Daniels who, her face pink with excitement, was tugging urgently at her cousin’s arm and craving her instant attention.
‘Oh, Nell!’ she burst out. ‘Look who I have come upon—you will scarce believe it!’
Mystified, Helena turned to see what, amongst this huge company of strangers, could possibly be causing Lottie such delight. However, as soon as her eyes came into contact with the laughing gaze of the stockily built, sandy-haired young man who stood beside her cousin, Helena was equally overjoyed to behold the familiar face and, holding out both hands in glad welcome, she cried, ‘Doctor Redfern! Quite the last person I should have expected to see in this gathering!’
Grinning widely, the young man reached out, grasped her hands in his own and exclaimed, ‘As I yourself, dear lady! We had scarcely entered the room when I caught sight of Miss Daniels, who insisted upon bringing us to you directly!’
Markfield had no difficulty in recognising the newcomer as one of his late cousin Simon’s ex-university friends. The Redfern family had, at one time, owned quite a sizeable property not far from the Standish estate and, as his grandmother had recently informed him, it would appear that Thomas Redfern was fast becoming acknowledged as one of the capital’s more sought-after physicians.
‘Good to see you again, Redfern,’ he said, thrusting out his hand. ‘You are well, I trust?’
The physician returned the earl’s salute, saying, ‘Dreadfully sorry to hear about Simon, old chap—we seemed to lose touch after my unit was sent out to Portugal.’ Then, his face brightening, he added, ‘But what an amazing turn of events! To think that my Miss Wheatley should turn out to be the daughter of her ladyship’s godchild!’
‘You have known the family for some time then, I take it?’ enquired Richard, who was finding himself unaccountably irritated at the other man’s somewhat possessive terminology.
‘Indeed I have,’ affirmed Redfern and, having observed that Helena and Lottie were now in animated conversation with his sister, Jenny, who had accompanied him, he took hold of the earl’s arm and edged them both out of earshot.
‘I was with the medical unit that brought Miss Wheatley’s brother back to England,’ he confided. ‘In point of fact, I owe the family a great deal.’
‘How so?’ asked Richard, his curiosity roused.
‘It is Giles Wheatley that I have to thank for my present success,’ replied the physician quietly. ‘At the time of his son’s illness, I was merely a junior surgeon in the Army Medical Corps, but when my father died, leaving both my mother and sister dependent on me, circumstances ob
liged me to resign my commission and take up an appointment at St George’s Hospital. When young Wheatley was moved back home to allow him end his days with his family, his dear mother was most insistent that I should continue with my treatment of her son. Subsequently, not only did Mr Wheatley seek out a suitable property in which to set me up in my own practice, but he also advanced me the necessary wherewithal to help get it off the ground. Needless to say, both Jenny and I count ourselves fortunate to number the Wheatleys among our dearest friends.’
Pausing, he shot a frowning glance in Helena’s direction, adding, ‘Although, I have to say that to meet up with Miss Wheatley at such a prestigious gathering comes as something of a surprise to me, especially since it was only a few days ago that I was called to attend her father. I find it rather odd that neither she nor Miss Daniels thought to mention their relationship with your family to either Jenny or myself.’
Although the earl was not at all surprised to learn that Helena had refrained from broadcasting her recent involvement with his family, since it was clear that she was hoping that any association with him would prove to be as short lived as her previous ill-fated ventures, Redfern’s rather proprietorial attitude in regard to her activities irritated him somewhat.
Although it was a great temptation to him to ask the doctor why he should consider it his right to be informed of his patient’s daughter’s movements, in the event Richard merely nodded and uttered an inconsequential reply. He then moved to pay his respects to Redfern’s sister, with whom he had also been acquainted in his youth.
Jenny Redfern, who was several years her brother’s junior, was a vibrant young woman, with thick dark hair and expressive brown eyes. Not a beauty, by the usual standards, but with her quick mind and infectious sense of humour, she was highly popular within her own circle of friends. Her association with the Wheatley family had begun at, more or less, the same time as her brother’s, starting with the odd supper invitation and gradually developing into more frequent contact between the two families. That Redfern would take over as the Wheatley family’s physician had been a foregone conclusion and, although Mrs Wheatley’s illness and subsequent death had brought about the diminishment of the family’s social activities, both of the Redferns had continued to be regular and welcome visitors to the house in Cadogan Place ever since. Her own father’s death having brought about a distinct lessening of the Redfern family’s circumstances, Jenny was very well acquainted with hardship and, no sooner had her brother begun to make his mark, she had determined to do what she could to help other unfortunates who, through no fault of their own, had found their ways of life similarly shattered. Hence her involvement in the Wesleyan Chapel soup-kitchen project.
Dipping Richard a curtsy, she extended her hand with a smile. ‘I dare say you will scarce remember me, your lordship. I was still in the schoolroom when you and your cousins used to visit us at Bagworth.’
‘Nonsense!’ retorted Richard, with a quick grin. ‘I remember you perfectly well—hair forever escaping from its pins and always into some scrape or other!’
‘No change there, then,’ laughed Redfern.
Wrinkling her nose at him, Jenny pointed out that he was a fine one to talk since, even though they had arrived some twenty minutes earlier, they had still not yet made their presence known to their hostess.
‘Good heavens, you are right!’ exclaimed Redfern, hurriedly taking hold of his sister’s arm and turning to go. ‘We must away and rectify that error at once!’ But then, just as he was about to lead his sister off to find the countess, he paused and, flashing a quick grin at Helena, he said, ‘Perhaps, with your permission, we may return and join you for supper?’
The sight of Helena’s delighted smile and eager nod of agreement brought a pensive frown to the earl’s brow. All at once, it occurred to him that Miss Wheatley’s long-term acquaintance with the family’s physician might well have developed into a far more meaningful relationship. No sooner had this uncomfortable thought entered his head when, hard on its heels, came the equally disquieting notion that, perhaps, the real truth behind Helena’s reluctance to comply with her father’s wishes was that she had already given her heart to another!
Unfortunately, the sudden arrival of his friends, all demanding that he present them to Helena and her cousin without further ado, afforded him no further opportunity to dwell on these somewhat unsettling conjectures.
Chapter Eight
Even though it had seemed that, had it not been for Lottie’s untimely interruption, Markfield might well have been about to apologise for his inexplicable outburst, his earlier criticism of her conduct had badly dented Helena’s self-assurance. Having had more than enough time to ponder over his words, however, she could not help but feel morally bound to concede that—despite the fact that his insufferably high-handed attitude had been totally unwarranted—it was more than possible that there was some grain of truth in his accusations. It came to her as something of a shock to realise that she had allowed the unanticipated novelty of finding herself the recipient of so much praise and admiration in one evening to affect her judgement, an unpardonable state of affairs for which she was now beginning to feel deeply ashamed.
The unexpected arrival of the two Redferns, coupled with the subsequent interchanges within the group, had, unfortunately, made any further discourse between herself and the earl well nigh impossible. And indeed, having observed his rather enigmatic expression during her animated conversations with the doctor and his sister, it had not been long before she had begun to wonder whether she might have made the most terrible mistake in allowing herself to become this deeply involved with the Standish family. Not only had her peaceful, settled existence been turned upside-down, but she had, in addition, been almost on the brink of committing the most grievous error of actually starting to admire the man—whose motives, she had to keep reminding herself, were no purer than those of her previous suitors!
Nevertheless, no sooner had the earl’s friends joined the group, than the pall of gloominess that had been threatening to envelop her swiftly evaporated, for she very quickly discovered that it was impossible to take exception to these highly amiable young men. Thus it was that, in no time at all, Fairfax, who was well known amongst his peers for his light-hearted, throw-away brand of humour, had both Helena and her cousin chuckling away at his rather comical observations regarding one or two of the more starchy-looking individuals present.
Richard, watching, was unable to avoid a sharp pang of envy at the apparent ease with which everyone but himself, it would seem, could bring such a glowing smile to Helena’s face. And, as he recalled the inexcusable allegations he had flung at her earlier in the evening, a shudder of revulsion ran down his spine. What the devil could have got into him to challenge her in such a way was past understanding.
Hearing the pensive sigh that had emanated from his cousin’s lips, Standish, who was standing close by and, mistakenly believing that he was aware of its cause, murmured, ‘Cheer up, old chap! Everything looks to be going swimmingly. Haven’t heard a word said against the girl all evening. Rumours of your possible attachment to her are already beginning to circulate. You just sit it out for a few weeks and—who knows—with a good harvest, you may yet come about!’
His cousin’s oblique reference to the earl’s ongoing difficulties regarding his growing debts swiftly returned Richard’s thoughts to the problems that had kept his mind so fully occupied earlier.
‘God willing!’ he returned gruffly and would have said more, had not the sight of his grandmother, making her way purposefully towards the group, jolted his mind back to his current predicament.
‘Ah, here you are, Richard!’ beamed the dowager, as soon as she had reached his side. Then, lifting her hand, she beckoned Helena over to join them. ‘It would appear that we have achieved something of a success this evening, my dear,’ she told her, a self-satisfied smile on her face. ‘Naturally, we must make every effort to build upon that. Lord Ledburn has
been kind enough to offer us the use of his box at Covent Garden for tomorrow evening’s performance and, since I have been given to understand that Prinny himself will be in attendance, it is infinitely possible that if I can but manage to attract his attention, he may do us the honour of inviting us to join him!’
‘The Prince Regent!’ Her eyes now wide with apprehension, Helena stared at the countess in dismay. ‘You cannot possibly mean to introduce me to his Royal Highness!’
Her ladyship raised one imperious eyebrow. ‘But, of course,’ she replied calmly. ‘To be seen just once in the Royal box will give you far more countenance than you could hope to gain from even a dozen routs and assemblies.’
‘I had not thought to find myself mixing with the Royal set,’ faltered Helena, shooting Richard a beseeching look. ‘I am not sure that I would know how to proceed.’
‘Nonsense, child! You will do absolutely splendidly!’ retorted Lady Isobel as, with a purposeful flick of her fan, she summoned one of her ageing gallants to come and escort her to the supper room, recommending that Markfield make a push to hurry his party into doing likewise, ‘Lest the best of all those highly priced refreshments disappear before any of you have the opportunity to sample them!’
A Marriageable Miss Page 9
