by Gayle Buck
“I am planning a dancing party this very Thursday to introduce some of the younger misses and gentlemen to the waltz. It was my thought that if they are properly taught the dance, then we shall not see it degenerate into a romp,” said Annette Lozanger. “If you do not mind it, I will be most happy to include Sarah and Margaret in the group.”
“A very good notion. Thank you, Annette. I shall inform Margaret and Sarah,” said Lady Alverley.
She did so on the afternoon in question. Margaret squealed in delight. “Oh, Grandmama! Thank you so much!”
Lady Alverley noticed that her eldest granddaughter did not exhibit the same excess of excitement as her sister. “And what of you, Sarah? Are you not as mad for the lessons as Margaret?”
“I have a black confession to make, ma’am,” said Sarah with a half-guilty expression. “I already know how to waltz.”
“No!” exclaimed Margaret, her eyes opening wide in astonishment.
Sarah laughed. “Well, yes, I do.”
“How could you know the waltz, Sarah? We scarcely went anywhere,” said Margaret.
“Do you recall Maggie Price’s brother?” asked Sarah. When her sister nodded, she turned to give an explanation to Lady Alverley and Miss Hanson. “Markham Price is the son of a neighbor of ours. He was on leave last year from the diplomatic corps, from a post in St. Petersburg, I believe. In any event, he taught both Maggie and myself to waltz.”
“You sly thing! You never said a word,” said Margaret reproachfully.
“No, I didn’t. It was great fun, but scarcely a dance that I wished to bring home to the schoolroom,” said Sarah, laughing.
“At least you retained some shred of sense!” said Lady Alverley austerely. “And what, pray, had Miss Price’s parents to say to their son’s decadent behavior?”
“Actually, it was Mrs. Price who played the pianoforte for us,” said Sarah. She saw the next question that was forming in Lady Alverley’s eyes and said hurriedly, “Papa never knew.”
“Absolutely scandalous!” said Lady Alverley.
“Quite, quite scandalous,” agreed Miss Hanson with a sniff.
“However much I may decry such lax supervision over your activities, Sarah, I admit that it proves fortuitous now,” said Lady Alverley. “Margaret, you may go to the waltzing party. I shall be making a few calls this afternoon and I can set you down.”
“Thank you, Grandmama!” Margaret threw her arms around Lady Alverley and kissed her.
“Really, Margaret! Such a want of proper conduct. Anyone walking in might think you little better than a hoyden,” said Lady Alverley reprovingly, but with the faintest of smiles.
An affection had grown up between Lady Alverley and Margaret that Sarah did not quite fully share in. Her ladyship had become fond of Sarah, too, but it was obvious that she did not engender the same depth of warmth in Lady Alverley that Margaret did.
Quite dispassionately, Sarah thought that the difference stemmed out of Margaret’s own kind, affectionate nature. Margaret’s emotions were so easily read and close to the surface, ready to bubble over at any time. It was difficult to hold Margaret at arm’s-length. She was like a friendly and active pup, always willing to leap into whatever situation that presented itself. In short, Margaret possessed a joie de vivre, while Sarah herself was more reserved.
“If you do not mind it, ma’am, I shall remain behind this afternoon. I thought that I would write to my father,” said Sarah.
Lady Alverley considered for a moment, then nodded. “Very well, Sarah. Pray do just as you wish. I have no particular agenda in mind today, after all. If anyone should call here, Marie shall be able to chaperone you.”
“I shall be delighted,” said Miss Hanson.
Within a few minutes, Lady Alverley and Margaret set off in her ladyship’s carriage for Annette Lozanger’s town house.
Sarah sat down at the secretary in the drawing room and penned a short letter to her father. She had developed the habit of writing a few lines each month about her own and Margaret’s activities and the people they had met, feeling that it was her duty to keep Sir Francis informed about their lives. Sarah had been surprised and pleased when Margaret had announced a few weeks before that she, too, had recently written to their father.
Of course, Sir Francis had yet to honor them with anything but a single, brief page. It almost made one wonder whether he was actually reading their letters. But Sarah cherished the hope that the housekeeper was seeing to it that all of the letters from his daughters were propped up just where Sir Francis would be most likely to see them, so that he would pick them up and read them.
When she had finished, Sarah gave the letter to a footman to be posted. Then she went upstairs to retrieve her most recent acquisition from Hatchard’s bookshop in Piccadilly. She had discovered that the front drawing room had better light than either the library or the sitting room and she had begun to take her books downstairs.
Margaret liked nothing better than curling up with either La Belle Assemble or The Lady’s Magazine, but Sarah’s reading tastes were broader. When she had discovered the bookshop, she had made a habit of stopping in to browse and to select a few titles.
Miss Hanson looked up from her embroidery when Sarah reentered the drawing room. She saw the volume and shook her head. Though sympathetic to Sarah’s craving for something more to read than the latest on dits and hints on fashion, Miss Hanson had very mixed feelings about some of Sarah’s purchases.
“Be very careful, my dear Sarah. You mustn’t get the reputation for being a bluestocking. Reading a romance or two cannot hurt you, but if it became widely known that you liked such things as Plutarch’s History, it would quite shock some of your friends,” said Miss Hanson. “Believe me, there are any number of gentlemen who would think less of you for displaying an unwelcome academic bent.”
“I shall be circumspect, I promise you,” said Sarah, as she opened the heavy volume. She quickly found her place, which she had saved with a velvet marker. “If anyone comes to call, I shall hide Plutarch under the cushions.”
“Surely an ignoble necessity for such a weighty gentleman,” said Miss Hanson, and chuckled at her own joke.
Sarah laughed and agreed.
A half hour passed with unusual quiet. Neither Miss Hanson nor Sarah minded. It was so rare to have a slice of peace. Miss Hanson began to hum softly. Sarah glanced over the top of her book at her companion, and smiled, before turning her attention back to the page.
There came a knock on the door, swiftly followed by the butler’s entrance. “Lord Eustace.”
Exchanging a quick look with Miss Hanson, whose expression was horrified, Sarah swept the thick volume under a pillow. She looked up to meet Lord Eustace’s gaze. A half-guilty smile entered her hazel eyes. “My lord, what an unexpected pleasure.”
He walked over to bow over her extended hand, then turned politely to take Miss Hanson’s trembling hand for a brief instant. “I trust not an unpleasant one?”
Miss Hanson tittered. “Why, what a thing to say, my lord! I was just remarking to Miss Sommers that we were too quiet. Your visit is well-timed, indeed!”
Lord Eustace inclined his head to Miss Hanson, acknowledging her profuse welcome. “I am honored by the compliment, ma’am.” He turned and sat down beside Sarah on the settee, shifting the pillows away. As he did so, his fingers came in contact with the hardbound cover of the book and he drew it out of hiding. Glancing curiously at the title, Lord Eustace’s brows rose in surprise. “Plutarch’s History? Who has a penchant for such weighty reading?”
* * *
Chapter 15
Miss Hanson made a distressed sound and shielded her eyes behind one hand.
Sarah cast an apologetic glance at her. “I’m afraid that it is mine, my lord,” she confessed. A challenging gleam came into her eyes. “I hope that this discovery does not give you a disgust of me.”
A stifled moan escaped Miss Hanson’s lips and she peeped from between her fingers to
observe his lordship’s reaction.
“On the contrary.” Lord Eustace was amused. He said with a smile, “I often enjoy the classics. Have you read Euripides or Cato, Miss Sommers?”
“I have dipped into Cato, my lord, but my father once told me that the Greek playwright was a bit shocking and that he did not recommend those works to me,” said Sarah.
“Quite right. Euripides’s plays are considered fast even in our day,” said Lord Eustace. He regarded her curiously. “You have an unusual parent, Miss Sommers. It is rare that females are allowed such a liberal education. What is his name?”
“My father is Sir Francis Sommers. Perhaps you have had occasion to read some of his work,” said Sarah tentatively.
Lord Eustace’s face lit up with recognition. “Sir Francis Sommers! Of course I have read his work. I should have guessed your relationship by the name, but it never occurred to me that you and your sister were the daughters of one of the eminent scholars of our times.”
“Is he, indeed?” asked Sarah on a note of surprise. “I knew that Papa’s work had been well-received, but I had no notion that he was held in such high esteem.”
Lord Eustace smiled. “He obviously kept himself very close. Perhaps he did not wish to appear the braggart in your eyes.”
“I think it far more likely that he forgot to say anything to us,” said Sarah dryly. “Papa is quite absent-minded about practical things, you see. He is always thinking about his books. He is a bit of a recluse, actually.”
“I should like to meet Sir Francis one day. I am an admirer of his work, just as I am an admirer of his daughters,” said Lord Eustace.
Sarah shook her head. “You are complimentary indeed, my lord. However, I suspect from what you have already said that neither my sister nor I can hold a candle to our respected parent in your eyes.”
Lord Eustace laughed again. “I protest the slur to my character, ma’am. I see that I must prove my devotion. Therefore, I shall reveal to you now that I have called in hopes of persuading you and your sister to go riding with me this afternoon.”
“I would be delighted, Lord Eustace. However, my sister is unavailable. She has gone to join friends for a dancing lesson,” said Sarah.
“A dancing lesson?” asked Lord Eustace. He looked both surprised and skeptical. “How is this? Miss Margaret has always appeared to advantage on the dance floor.”
“But she does not yet know how to waltz, my lord,” said Sarah, twinkling up at him. “And now that we have both been given permission to waltz, Margaret doesn’t wish to appear behind.”
“I understand, of course. The waltz has swept the town from one end to the other. I have never seen anything like it. And did you not wish to join the other young ladies, Miss Sommers?” asked Lord Eustace.
“It is very lowering, but I must confess that I learned the waltz before I ever came to London,” said Sarah, casting down her gaze.
Lord Eustace laughed. “You are beforehand of the fashion, I perceive! I hope that you save a waltz for me, Miss Sommers, when next I see you during a function. I would like to take a turn with you about the floor.”
Sarah smiled at him. Her heart thumped. “I shall certainly do so, my lord.”
Lord Eustace rose to his feet. He cast a glance at the mantel clock. “I have left my horses standing, so I hope that you will excuse me. I shall return about a quarter to five, if that is agreeable, Miss Sommers.”
“Quite, my lord,” said Sarah, giving her hand to him again.
Lord Eustace took his leave of her and of Miss Hanson before exiting the drawing room.
Miss Hanson looked over at Sarah. “My dear, you handled that very well.”
“I scarce know what you mean. Miss Hanson,” said Sarah, retrieving her book.
“It is a coup to have elicited a promise from Lord Eustace for the waltz, as well you know. I shall inform Lady Alverley of it when she comes in. Her ladyship will be most gratified, I assure you,” said Miss Hanson.
She smiled at Sarah’s level stare. “You do not like me to extol your conquest! Very well! I shall say nothing more. I shall go up to rest a bit before dinner.”
Miss Hanson gathered up her embroidery and rose to her feet. Before leaving the room, she paused to say, “You will naturally take a groom with you this afternoon.”
“Of course,” agreed Sarah.
Though Sarah tried to focus on the book in her hands, she found it difficult to rekindle her interest in it when all she could think about was the coming ride with Lord Eustace. She glanced up at the clock. It was terrible of her, but she really hoped that Lady Alverley and Margaret would not return before the time appointed for her ride with Lord Eustace. Sarah acknowledged to herself that she wanted to ride just with Lord Eustace, not share the time with her sister.
“I am horrid, truly horrid,” she said aloud. Snapping the book closed, Sarah got up and left the drawing room. She was going to go upstairs and change into her habit at once. And hopefully she would be gone before Margaret returned.
It happened just as Sarah had guiltily hoped. She and Lord Eustace went riding together in the park, unaccompanied except by a respectable groom, who kept a discreet distance between himself and the two riders. It was a very pleasant hour. They saw several personages known to both of them, but almost by tacit agreement Lord Eustace and Sarah kept from becoming joined with any other party.
A quick gallop down a grassy verge lent color to Sarah’s face and put laughter into her eyes. “Marvelous!” she exclaimed as she rode up beside her companion. “I have needed to have the cobwebs blown out of my head.”
Lord Eustace looked at her, his eyes gleaming in appreciation. “You are remarkably beautiful today, Miss Sommers.”
Sarah’s eyes widened in startlement, before she colored up. She looked away in sudden shyness. “Thank you, my lord.”
He gestured to the beds of flowers that were in bloom. The air was filled with their scent “It is a beautiful time of year, is it not?”
Sarah was glad of the change in conversation. She needed a moment to recover her countenance. She was flustered and absurdly happy. Lord Eustace had not before paid her such a forthright compliment. “Yes, yes. Quite beautiful.”
Lord Eustace turned his horse and began walking it back the way they had come. Sarah followed his lead and paced her mare to match his horse. Lord Eustace glanced at her, a slight frown on his face. “It occurs to me, Miss Sommers, that we have not often spent time together. We are generally surrounded by other people.”
“That is true, my lord,” said Sarah tranquilly. She wondered what he was thinking, but he did not elaborate. A companionable silence fell as their horses sedately crossed the park toward the gate.
“I have enjoyed your company, Miss Sommers,” said Lord Eustace abruptly.
Sarah was astonished. She looked over at him. “Why, thank you, my lord. I have enjoyed the ride, also.”
“It is more than that. You and I have many tastes in common and similar intellects. I cannot recall ever becoming bored in your company. In short, Miss Sommers, I have grown to recognize that your friendship means much to me,” said Lord Eustace.
Sarah looked across her horse’s twitching ears. “I am honored, my lord,” she said, speaking past the constriction in her throat. She didn’t know whether she should laugh or cry. On the one hand, it was wonderful to receive such a compliment from someone like Lord Eustace; on the other hand, she very much wished that he felt something warmer for her than mere friendship.
As they turned out of the park, Sarah heard her name called. She turned her head, pulling up her horse. Lord Mittenger was waving to her from his carriage, which he had stopped.
“Here is Lord Mittenger, my lord,” said Sarah, regarding the baron’s appearance with relief. The distraction was welcome to her.
“Yes, so I see,” said Lord Eustace shortly.
Sarah walked her horse over to the baron’s carriage. “Well met, my lord!” she said, holding out her hand t
o him.
Lord Mittenger made a short bow over her fingers, clasping her hand only briefly before he acknowledged Lord Eustace’s presence. “Lord Eustace, your obedient servant.”
Lord Eustace nodded. “Mittenger.”
Lord Mittenger turned back to Sarah. His dark eyes held a warmth of expression. “My dear Miss Sommers, how fortunate it is that I have run into you this afternoon. I would like permission to call on you tomorrow, if I may.”
“But of course, Lord Mittenger,” said Sarah with a faintly surprised inflection in her voice. His lordship had often called to visit or to take tea with them. Surely he had grown used to his welcome by now, and she said as much. “You are always a welcome visitor, my lord.”
“I had hoped that you would say so, dear ma’am,” said Lord Mittenger, a smile lighting his features. “I shall call on you tomorrow then, perhaps at one o’clock?”
“I shall look forward to it, my lord,” said Sarah. She backed her horse as Lord Mittenger shook out his reins and with a flourish continued on into the park.
“You are on a familiar footing with Lord Mittenger,” commented Lord Eustace.
Sarah glanced at her companion swiftly, her ears having detected a slightly censorious note in his voice. “Why, yes. Lord Mittenger is one of our oldest friends here in London,” she said.
“I see,” said Lord Eustace. His expression slightly bored, he introduced another topic and they did not mention the encounter with Lord Mittenger again. Lord Eustace saw Sarah to the steps of Alverley House, where the groom helped her to dismount and took her horse. Lord Eustace declined Sarah’s invitation to come in for refreshments. “No doubt I shall see you at the soiree later this evening?” he asked, smiling down at her.
Sarah returned the smile. Her hazel eyes sparkled. “Of course, my lord. We are never home on any given evening. I am sure that you must have noticed that by now.”
