Lady Faith Takes a Leap

by Maggi Andersen

  “I’ve never actually—”

  “Are you and your parents to attend the grand ball here on Saturday evening?”

  Faith nodded, doubting Rosamond required an answer. She had launched into a description of her new gown, which she would wear to the ball, fashioned in the latest style. “I like the waistline lower, do not you? I hope this ball doesn’t prove to be dull. Tunbridge Wells is so frightfully countrified. I’d much rather live in London.”

  “Most of London visits here at one time or another,” Faith ventured. “And the air is much fresher.”

  “You prefer Tunbridge Wells to London? You must be of a quieter nature than I.”

  Faith had begun to feel superfluous in this one-sided conversation. “I don’t believe I—”

  “I wonder if you would help me, Lady Faith.”

  “If I can.”

  “Persuade Lord Vaughn to come to the ball.”

  “He is not likely to do what I tell him,” Faith said.

  “I’m sure he will. Your sister Honor has married into the family. And can you then endeavor to send him to me?”

  “I am not sure—” Faith gave up. Rosamond was confident of her charms and used to getting what she wanted. But she seemed nervous. Was she madly in love with Vaughn? It was hard to tell. She was mercurial by nature and seemed always to be involved in an intrigue. Faith doubted she would take no for an answer. “If I can.”

  “Good.” Rosamond tugged at her sleeve. “Look. My uncle seems taken with the dowager. Perhaps we’ll all be connected to the Brandreths in one way or another.”

  Faith managed a weak smile. “I think I will try the waters.”

  “If only more men had been invited today. Really, what a total waste of a day!”

  “I expected Mr. Sefton to come,” Faith said. “I hope he has not met with an accident.”

  “Oh well, Mr. Sefton’s company will brighten the outing I suppose.” Irritated, Rosamond shrugged her shoulders.

  It was impossible to guess Rosamond’s true wishes. But Faith had to admit that Vaughn’s presence would enliven the afternoon, as would Mr. Sefton’s, she added with a guilty intake of breath.

  “Are you taking the waters, Faith?” The dowager’s cheeks were rosy. Faith wondered if the water had produced it, or the attentions of the elegant Lord Whitworth.

  Faith took the dipper from the servant in the white apron and frilly cap. The reddish-colored water smelt and indeed tasted strongly of minerals. She swallowed the bitter brew and tried not to cough.

  When they’d all partaken, even Rosamond at her mother’s insistence, they planned next to take afternoon tea at the coffee house. Mr. Sefton rushed to meet them.

  “I do apologize for my tardiness, Lady Brandreth, Lady Montrose….” He greeted each with an earnest bow. “An upturned dogcart on the road held up the carriage for a good twenty minutes!” His gaze settled on Faith. “I do hope I’m forgiven.”

  “Of course you’re forgiven,” Lady Brandreth said brusquely. “But please let us go and have our tea. After that spring water, I feel an urgent need of it.”

  The party left the spring and walked along the colonnaded walkway. Faith’s gaze settled on a man walking ahead of them. His fair hair beneath his hat and the way he strolled along, swinging his cane, was familiar. She tensed. It was Mr. Warne! She thought he’d left Tunbridge Wells. Had business brought him back again?

  Mr. Sefton offered her his arm while inquiring how she’d found the waters. She watched Mr. Warne disappear into a shop. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Sefton, I was distracted for a moment. I thought I saw someone I knew. The waters were so unpalatable they surely must be good for one.”

  Later, having enjoyed refreshments, the small party returned to their waiting carriages. Lady Rosamond gave Faith a final persuasive reminder of her request while Lord Whitworth took Lady Brandreth’s hand and held it to his lips for rather a long time.

  In the carriage, the dowager’s cheeks were still tinged with pink. The trip home continued in dreamy silence, leaving Faith free to contemplate Mr. Sefton. Unlike Vaughn’s, Sefton’s gaze had never warmed with wicked humor. He had, in fact, displayed very little humor at all. Sefton never said anything inappropriate that would discomfit her. Nor did he challenge her. He was solicitous, without being too humble, and courteous, and the interest he displayed in her never went beyond the bounds of propriety. Solid was a word that came to mind to describe Mr. Sefton. Honor’s words came back to her.

  “A man doesn’t have to be brilliant or terribly exciting to be wonderful.”

  Mr. Sefton would be a good family man, reliable, firm enough with their children, without being overbearing. She sighed and gazed out the window.

  “Was that sigh for Mr. Sefton?” Lady Brandreth suddenly focused clear, assessing eyes on Faith.

  Under that sharp gaze, Faith could be nothing but honest. “I wish I knew if he was right for me, Lady Brandreth.”

  “You must be very sure, my dear. This is your whole life. And in one fell swoop, you may crush all of your ambitions.”

  “I don’t believe I am ambitious, Lady Brandreth.”

  “You are, in essence, a quite single-minded young lady,” Lady Brandreth said with a fond smile. “You need to be very honest with yourself, Faith, before events overtake you.”

  ****

  Disheartened, Vaughn rode back to Brandreth Park. The farm he’d inspected was too hilly for horses, and the one he’d considered perfect now had an interested purchaser. What good would the property have been to him anyway when Chaloner was like an unmovable rock? How could he convince his brother? Chaloner would never understand. He’d always had everyone’s respect without lifting a finger. A perfectly proper eldest son, responsible, reliable, and a damn stuffed shirt! Vaughn’s hand tightened on the reins, and his horse broke from its smooth canter.

  If Chaloner’s life hadn’t gone as perfectly as planned, he might be more understanding. Vaughn groaned and settled his horse. He did not wish his brother ill, and if he was fair, Chaloner’s life wasn’t so wonderful. Lavinia would do nothing without his sanction, although she wasn’t above complaining if things didn’t suit her. When was the last time Vaughn had heard him give a good belly laugh?

  Up ahead a lone rider rode a short distance behind a vehicle. Discovering the vehicle to be the Baxendale’s curricle, Vaughn rode up to get a look at the rider, in case he had some evil intent. The well-dressed, fair-haired man nodded politely as Vaughn rode past.

  Faith sat alone in the curricle, the Baxendale coachman, James, at the reins. She smiled at Vaughn and raised a gloved hand.

  Vaughn raised his hat and continued to ride alongside. The rider behind them dropped back and disappeared out of sight after Vaughn and the curricle turned a bend in the road. The woods hadn’t seen a highwayman for years, but Vaughn decided to escort the carriage safely to Highland Manor just to be sure.

  When they drew up at the gates, Faith raised her pretty face to Vaughn from beneath her hat. “Thank you for seeing me safely home. Why did you?”

  “A man I didn’t recognize rode behind you. One can’t be too careful.”

  She frowned. “A stranger?”

  “He may well be a respected member of the community. I wouldn’t know being absent for so long, and people do move around more these days.” He thought of the Londoner who was eyeing off the property he wished to buy.

  Her eyes clouded with unease. “What did he look like?”

  “Merely a well-dressed fellow going about his business,” Vaughn said, not wishing to alarm her further. “No one to concern you.”

  “But you still felt it necessary to come out of your way?”

  “I was in the mood for a ride.”

  “I doubt that. But thank you.” Faith smiled. “Are you attending the ball in Tunbridge Wells on Saturday evening?”

  “I wasn’t planning to. Why?”

  “There are some who might like to see you there.”

  “Would one of them b
e you, Lady Faith?”

  “I was thinking of several ladies.”

  “You shall have Mr. Sefton dancing attendance, I gather.”

  “Mr. Sefton plans to be present,” Faith said somewhat stiffly. “Perhaps we shall see you.”

  “Perhaps you will.”

  Faith nodded. “Drive on, James.”

  Vaughn watched the curricle trundle away down the drive. He removed his hat, raked his hair, and turned his horse for home. At the mention of Sefton’s name, the sense of intimacy, which had been building to a point where he sensed Faith might care for him a little, vanished. Well, Sefton fitted the bill far better than he in all respects, he thought bitterly.

  Chapter Nine

  The next day, Faith returned from one of her long rambles through the wood to find Mr. Sefton had called in her absence.

  “Mr. Sefton was in with Father for an hour and then left again,” Charity said. She could say no more for their father had appeared at the door of the morning room.

  “Please come to my study, Faith.”

  In his study, her father motioned for her to sit. “Mr. Sefton has asked for your hand, Faith.” With a pleased smile, he sat behind his desk, confirming her fears. “You will, of course, accept him.”

  Faith opened her mouth and struggled to answer under his hopeful gaze.

  “He was sorry to have missed you. Where were you, girl?”

  “I went for a walk.”

  “You wander off far too often these days. But never mind that now. I believe I know far more about the harsh world we live in than a green girl. I must insist that you do accept him. His father is a baron, but a very wealthy one. Sefton is in line for the title. He has shown himself to be a worthy suitor. You could do no better.”

  “No, Father.”

  He tapped the tops of his fingers together. “What do you mean no?” he asked, his voice rising a notch.

  “I mean he is a nice gentleman.”

  “Good. Wear your prettiest dress tonight.”

  On the way to the ball, Faith imagined a man she saw from the carriage window, riding his horse along the lane, resembled Mr. Warne. It was ridiculous; she’d be finding him under the cabbage roses in the gardens next.

  They entered the Tunbridge Wells ballroom, the warm air alight with a hundred candles. She searched the crowd and found Vaughn, in dark evening clothes, standing beside his mother, Chaloner, and Lavinia. Vaughn’s gaze met Faith’s with a cool nod then he turned to where Mr. Sefton stood with friends. Faith drew in a deep breath as her dreams evaporated into the pungent, smoky air.

  She helped her mother settle on a chair, but her thoughts were on Vaughn, riding beside the carriage, escorting her home the previous day. Unnecessary perhaps, for the rider behind them had posed no threat, but that did not lessen Vaughn’s act of gallantry. He always made her feel safe, and she wondered why that was.

  Mr. Sefton asked her to dance the polka. They took their place on the dance floor, where Rosamond, partnered by her uncle, nodded at Faith with a telling glance. Annoyance swelled in Faith’s chest, and she chewed her bottom lip, fed up with being the subject of unreasonable demands. She wished she could be as honest as young Freddie. Then she would tell everyone to go to the devil.

  As the music began, Faith struggled to banish her unhappy mood, but Mr. Sefton was not helping. She searched his face for the passion and warmth she expected from a man about to ask her to be his wife. He was pale and silent. He danced awkwardly and failed to meet her gaze.

  Through the steps of the dance, she caught sight of Vaughn as he wandered around the fringes of the dance floor in conversation with other men.

  The music died away. “It’s quite close, isn’t it?” Mr. Sefton murmured as he offered her his arm. His forehead looked damp, and there was a sheen of perspiration on his upper lip.

  “Pardon me, Mr. Sefton, you’re not ill?” Faith was concerned for him.

  “No, no, Lady Faith.” Mr. Sefton tugged at his cravat with a weak smile. “I am quite well, thank you.”

  After he returned her to her mother, he hurried away through the throng.

  Her mother smiled at her. “Well? Has Sefton asked you yet?”

  “No, he said nothing. He seemed troubled.”

  Her mother stared after him. “Why would he be troubled? The man just asked your father for your hand.”

  “Perhaps it’s the airless room.”

  “It is humid tonight. I’m sure he will return for the next dance.”

  Faith stood. “I promised to pass on a message to Lord Vaughn from Lady Rosamond.”

  Her mother’s eyes widened. “Why?”

  “Rosamond wishes to speak with him. She has asked me to assist her.”

  “My goodness me, can’t that young woman manage her own affairs?”

  “I shall be but a moment.”

  “Very well, but please return before they call the next dance.” She looked around wildly. “Mr. Sefton might….”

  But Mr. Sefton had disappeared.

  ****

  “Byerly Turk,” Harold Borthwick said.

  “Eh?” Vaughn turned from watching Faith to try to fathom the gist of his friend’s conversation.

  “Are you interested in breeding Byerly Turks?” Borthwick repeated patiently.

  “I like the Arabian Turk breed, with some reservations,” Vaughn said, wondering how he could have been distracted from such an interesting topic. “I refer to the studbook for the best mix of pedigrees. But I also plan to be innovative, stray from usual practices and mix different bloodlines. I believe I have years to refine my ideas. I intend to breed a Darby winner.”

  “I’d like to see the stud when you’ve set the business up.”

  “And so you shall. I first must find the right property.”

  To Vaughn’s surprise, Faith was crossing the ballroom toward him. When she curtsied before them, Borthwick murmured a greeting then discreetly slipped away.

  “You look well this evening, Lady Faith.” Vaughn’s appreciative gaze roamed from her décolletage on display in the low-cut lavender gown to the pink flowers in her hair. “Will you save a dance for me?”

  “Of course,” Faith said. “But there’s someone who wishes to speak with you.”

  “Oh. And who would that be?”

  “Lady Rosamond Montrose.”

  He smiled down at her. “Are you matchmaking?”

  She laughed. “You don’t need my help. It’s just that I promised her.”

  After Faith left him, curiosity drove Vaughn to seek Rosamond where she sat with her mother. When he appeared before them, Lady Montrose nodded at him coolly. “My lord, I expected you to accompany your mother on our sojourn to take the waters.” She moved her thin shoulders with a meaningful glance at her daughter.

  “I was indeed sorry when business called me away, Lady Montrose.”

  There was a gleam in Rosamond’s eyes. What was she plotting? “Would you grant me the next dance, Lady Rosamond?”

  “I shall be delighted, my lord.”

  When a waltz was called, Vaughn swept Rosamond around the floor. “May I be of service, Lady Rosamond?”

  She nodded, a conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes. “Mother wishes us to marry, my lord. She has her heart set on joining the Brandreth family, and she is seldom thwarted.”

  Vaughn’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a frank admission.”

  “You need not worry; I only wish to use you to mislead my mother.”

  Vaughn was momentarily speechless. “I beg your pardon?”

  She smiled. “No sane woman would be reluctant to marry you, my lord, but I am in love. My mother disapproves of the man. If you could show some interest in me, it would distract my mother and allow him and me to make plans. I am not asking for months, perhaps not even weeks. It won’t be necessary for you and me to become engaged, but merely for you to declare an interest for a time. Would you consider it?”

  “That’s inherently dishonest, Lady Rosamond. Will you
tell me why your mother dislikes this man? Is he a suitable husband for you?”

  “I have no doubt of it.”

  “I don’t understand. You shall have to tell me all of it, or I must refuse.”

  “Dr. Fellowes is my mother’s surgeon. William is to inherit from an elderly relative. When that happens, I believe my mother will be persuadable. However, we have little time. He has won a position at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital as assistant surgeon. He is soon to return to London.”

  Vaughn gave an incredulous laugh. “What if this Dr. Fellowes is after your mother’s money and connections? He may wish to improve his lot in life. Are you so certain he loves you?”

  “Am I not loveable?” She gave a coy smile. “William is an honorable man; I have had to persuade him. I’m good at persuasion.”

  Vaughn could see she was. “Sometimes what you wish for is not really what you need, Lady Rosamond.”

  Rosamond’s expression turned bleak. “I know what I need, my lord. It coincides perfectly with what I want.”

  “You wish me to encourage you to turn your back on everything you know because of a youthful passion. What happens when the passion fades?”

  “What we feel for each other will never fade,” Rosamond said. “Do you believe there can be one true love in your life, my lord?”

  Vaughn paused, impressed by her passionate response. Perhaps she was right in some cases. “Inheritance or no, this doctor is not a suitable partner for you, and your mother will never agree.”

  “Dr. Fellowes’ father was a wealthy merchant, and William is a wonderful surgeon who will be lauded in London in time.” She gazed imploringly into his eyes. “I want to share his life and am desperate. I beg you to help me. It cannot be so bad to court me for a short time, can it?”

  “You’re asking me to be party to a deceit.”

  “No one need ever know.”

  “But I will know, and I dislike secrets.” Heaven knew he had enough of them already.

  “A very small secret. I shall not involve you in our plans.”

  Vaughn raised an eyebrow. Rosamond saw only what she wanted to see and was a foolish young woman. But was he in a position to offer advice? She needed a dose of cold reality as to what her life would be when she left her cozy existence for one far more perilous.