Turning her cherished vision of wedding her childhood hero into reality. It was what she’d wanted for years now, wasn’t it?
If a certain virile, dark-haired, dark-eyed gentleman was currently distracting her from that vision, it was hardly alarming—he was, after all, handsome and charming. But like the Season she’d embarked upon, he was a temporary detour from the path of her life. The sugar icing on a delicious dessert, something to be enjoyed for the moment, but not the nourishing stuff that sustained one over the long years.
As she rode through the park gates, a rider on side-saddle in the distance waved at her. Recognising Lady Margaret, she waved back, her pulse kicking up a notch when she saw Dellamont on his black gelding beside his sister.
Might as well savour every bit of sweetness while the dessert lasted, she told herself, signalling her horse to a trot as she rode to meet them.
‘Lady Margaret, Lord Dellamont, so good to see you,’ she said as she reined in beside them.
‘Delighted to see you again,’ Dellamont replied, giving her a smile that set off an annoying little flutter in her belly.
Trying to quell the feeling, she turned her attention to his sister. ‘How was the call on the Almack’s patronesses, Lady Margaret? As gruelling as you had expected?’
‘Lady Cowper was frosty, Lady Jersey condescending, but Mama is so sweet and earnest and unassuming, they both gradually thawed. Towards her, of course, not towards me. I’m only a chit of no account who’s not even out yet.’
‘Mama’s just trying to establish the contacts you’ll need during next year’s presentation,’ Dellamont reminded his sister. ‘Something she will surely accomplish, as long as you’re not countering her efforts by being sulky or impertinent to the matrons whose approval will make or break your success.’
‘I was, as required, meek and monosyllabic.’
Dellamont laughed. ‘I wish I’d been a fly on the wall to observe it. I have a hard time imagining you maintaining a bashful demeanour for more than a few minutes without exploding from the strain.’
‘Fortunately, a proper call only lasts half an hour,’ Lady Margaret said. ‘I’m able to contain myself that long. How did you spend your afternoon, Miss Cranmore?’
‘I called on my father at his office. I haven’t had much time with him since all this began, and I have missed our afternoon teas.’
Lady Margaret shook her head wonderingly. ‘I still find it remarkable that you and your father have tea together and chat.’
‘I am very fortunate in his affection,’ Marcella said simply.
‘I wouldn’t know about that,’ Lady Margaret retorted. ‘Well, shall we have a good gallop before the park becomes too crowded?’
‘Absolutely,’ Marcella replied, eager to indulge in one of the few favourite pursuits the time-consuming constraints of the Season had left her.
‘Let’s be off, then,’ Dellamont said. ‘Race you to the bend, Maggie.’
‘As long as you don’t sulk when I beat you!’ his sister retorted, spurring her mount.
Laughing, Marcella set her mare to follow them, enjoying the gallop but not trying to best them, content to observe the brother and sister’s friendly competition. Though the unhappiness of the childhood Dellamont had described saddened her, she was cheered to know that he at least maintained a warm relationship with his mother and sister.
She truly hoped his eventual wife would make up for those grim, unhappy years. Surely he could find a society beauty with the wit and liveliness of his sister who would also have as much appreciation for Dellamont’s fine qualities as for the status she would enjoy as a countess.
She chuckled as the siblings reached the finish point neck and neck. Lady Margaret turned her mount towards Marcella when she reached them a moment later, calling out ‘I won, didn’t I!’
‘Well, I don’t know. It was a very close thing.’
‘You’d better tell her she’s the victor, else she will sulk,’ Dellamont said, his eyes merry as he teased his sister.
‘I will not sulk. Besides, I don’t have to. You know I beat you, even if it salves your masculine pride to pretend you did. It’s only fair that you get beaten upon occasion, for gentlemen hold all the advantages, don’t they, Miss Cranmore? My mare is still fast, but Fancy Lady is getting older. I thought being in London would offer a good opportunity to choose another mare to replace her, but Crispin informs me that females are not allowed in Tattersall’s. I very much resent that I don’t get to choose my own horse, when silly fops with more money than horse sense can inspect the offerings at their leisure.’
‘You know your groom would do the evaluating, even if you were permitted to attend,’ Dellamont countered. ‘The prohibition on females at Tattersall’s is intended to protect them from the coarse language they would overhear from the grooms, trainers and stable hands assembled to tend the horses.’
‘And from the gentlemen looking to purchase those horses?’ his sister added tartly.
‘Them, too,’ Dellamont admitted with a laugh.
‘Are you allowed a say in the purchase of your mount, Miss Cranmore?’ Lady Margaret asked. ‘Your mare is very fine.’
‘Yes, she’s a delight. And yes, I was present when she was purchased. There are often horse fairs on market days in the country. All the local people, men, women and children, are free to attend.’
‘How lucky you are! As for the language at Tattersall’s, it’s not as if anyone who rides isn’t around the stables often enough to overhear salty language—inadvertently, of course,’ Lady Margaret added after a speaking glance from her brother. ‘It’s hardly likely that my “innocent ears” would be sullied.’
‘Perhaps you should listen less intently when you’re in the stables,’ her brother suggested.
Making a face at him, she said, ‘How I wish I could see all the horses on offer for myself.’ Her gaze turning mischievous, she continued, ‘Maybe I should visit your rooms and borrow a gentleman’s rig, so I might sneak into Tattersall’s unobserved.’
Dellamont cast his eyes skywards. ‘Heaven forfend! Promise me you won’t do anything of the sort, brat. Should anyone catch you out dressed as a boy, your reputation would be ruined before you’d even been presented.’
Lady Margaret sighed. ‘It’s all so ridiculous, what a female must do to preserve her reputation. If I weren’t so anxious to make an advantageous match next year so I can escape Montwell Glen, I’d be tempted to chance it. Though I will be sorry to abandon Mama after I’m wed. With me gone and you avoiding the place, she’ll have no one to protect her.’
Marcella’s heart ached not just for a girl so eager to leave her childhood home, she seemed willing to marry almost anyone with suitable wealth, but also for the mother both siblings evidently loved dearly. ‘Once you are married, as mistress of a household of your own, you shall be able to invite your mother for long visits.’
Brightening, Lady Margaret said, ‘Yes, I will, won’t I? I must marry someone with a town house in London, so I can have Mama stay with me for the Season every year. She would love that, wouldn’t she, Crispin? It would serve Papa right to rusticate in the country by himself. He’d have to find another object for his tantrums—hopefully not you!’
Pained again at this further indication of family discord, Marcella could think of nothing to say. Looking embarrassed by his sister’s frank disclosures, Dellamont said, ‘Enough about Montwell Glen. Shall we make a slow circuit of the park and cool down the horses?’
‘Please do, but I’ll need to leave you,’ Marcella said. ‘I want to stop at Hatchard’s this morning, and if I am to present myself on time for Lady Arlsley’s at-home this afternoon, I shall have to go there now.’
‘What are you seeking at Hatchard’s?’ Dellamont asked. ‘The latest novel?’
‘I do so love the Minerva Press novels,’ Lady Margaret said. ‘Such e
vil villains and dashing heroes! Do you have favourites, Miss Cranmore?’
‘At the risk of sounding very dull, I’ve never read any,’ Marcella admitted. ‘I stop by Hatchard’s periodically to check if there are new scientific reprints available. They generally carry them, when smaller bookshops don’t.’ Laughing at the expression of distaste crossing Lady Margaret’s face, she continued, ‘I’m afraid I prefer tomes about mathematics and botany by female authors to scandalous novels.’
Lady Margaret’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Females have written about such things?’
‘Not many,’ Marcella replied. ‘Women are rarely allowed to receive enough education to qualify them to write scholarly reports. Which is why the few who have are my heroines. Imagine, being able to pursue a vocation other than marriage! Few manage it now, but some day I hope that women will be able to follow their interests wherever they lead.’
‘A woman offered a choice other than marriage or penury? What an appealing notion!’ Lady Margaret said. ‘Though I’m not sure I’d want to delve into mathematics to secure the opportunity.’
Marcella laughed. ‘Continue to enjoy your novels and leave the mathematics to odd ducks like me.’
‘Maggie, will your groom’s escort home be sufficient? If Miss Cranmore doesn’t mind, I’d like to accompany her to Hatchard’s. I’d be curious to learn more about the authors she is seeking.’
‘I’m sure I could find my way back to Portman Square even without Jamison’s help,’ Lady Margaret said. Giving her brother and Marcella a coy glance, she said, ‘By all means, accompany Miss Cranmore to Hatchard’s—and discover what an educated female can achieve.’
Dellamont smiled. ‘So I shall, brat.’
‘Can you ride tomorrow, Crispin?’ his sister asked.
‘Probably not. There are some meetings about a proposed Parliamentary offering I want to attend.’
‘Very well. But I suspect it’s more to avoid being beaten by me again than a desire for information that prevents you,’ she said saucily. ‘I hope to see you, though, Miss Cranmore.’
‘Unless the weather is bad, I shall probably ride,’ Marcella confirmed.
‘Shall we head to Hatchard’s, Miss Cranmore?’ Dellamont asked.
‘With pleasure,’ she replied.
* * *
With Marcella’s groom riding behind them as chaperon, they parted with Lady Margaret and her escort and proceeded out of the park towards Piccadilly. ‘Did you see your engineer when you had tea with your father yesterday?’ Dellamont asked.
‘Yes. Though Mr Gilling didn’t join us, we shared a few words before I left.’
‘And?’ He raised his eyebrows in enquiry.
She blew out a sigh. ‘He admitted he’d been surprised to learn I was making my debut—meaning that he was shocked to suddenly realise I am old enough to wed.’ Recalling the conversation, she flushed. ‘I was actually brazen enough to tell him when I did marry, I hoped my husband would be an engineer...someone I knew well and valued.’
‘Bold indeed! What did he say to that?’
‘Well, he didn’t run in the other direction. I think he’ll finally consider the possibility, once he full accepts the fact that I’ve grown up. We’ve been dear friends for ever, after all. But I don’t know. He did say he was confident that my hopes to marry the sort of man I wanted would be realised. But I couldn’t tell if he meant that remark in a general way, or was referring to possibly making me an offer himself.’
‘If he’s at least thinking in that direction, then enduring the Season will have been worth it, don’t you think? Bravo!’
‘Don’t be celebrating my nuptials yet! Having you call at Papa’s office once I leave society might help continue to move his thoughts in that direction, if he’s not progressed there on his own.’
‘Delighted to offer my assistance. But I’d not wish to move his thoughts along too quickly. After all, he may prefer to have his wife remain at home and stay out of the office, even while your father is still working. Which would make it difficult, if not impossible, for us to maintain a friendship.’
Once she married, remaining friends with a man who was neither a relation nor a member of her own society would probably prove impossible in any event, she thought with a trace of sadness. But then, she wasn’t married yet and didn’t intend to be for some time.
Which gave Austin time to realise she’d grown up enough to become his wife, and herself a chance to continue her friendship with Dellamont.
She’d not think about how bereft she might feel when she had to bid the Viscount a final goodbye.
‘Well, I shall not yet consider the dispiriting possibility that my spouse might bar me from working with Papa. Which is why, while I’m eager to get Mr Gilling thinking of me as a woman grown, I don’t really want him to make me a declaration any time soon.’
Dellamont shook his head. ‘You might not be able to have it both ways, you know. Once your engineer realises he wants the woman you’ve become, he may not want to delay wedding you.’
‘I’ll worry about that later. For now, I need to gird myself to suffer through a bit more of the Season.’
‘How much longer do you intend to keep at it?’
‘Lady Arlsley has already accepted invitations for entertainments for the next two weeks, so that long at least. Perhaps not much longer than that. Would that be long enough for your purposes?’
‘My mother has already assured me I can abandon society whenever I want. Not that she isn’t thoroughly enjoying this rare chance to stay in London, but she doesn’t want me to hang on just for her.’ He looked over at her. ‘She also doesn’t want me to continue my attentions to you long enough for your reputation—or your heart—to be damaged when they cease. I didn’t tell her about our bargain, of course, but I did tell her we understood each other well enough that there was no possibility of that happening. We...do have that understanding, don’t we?’
If Dellamont had developed any warmer feelings for her, he would have confessed them just now, Marcella thought. Illogically unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed that he hadn’t, she said stoutly, ‘Of course. We entered this bargain both knowing what we wanted, and an attachment beyond friendship was never part of that. Nothing has happened to change that agreement—except, perhaps, my gratitude for your protection from Lord Hoddleston. And my growing appreciation for your talent as a musician and a horseman.’
He smiled—in relief at knowing she wasn’t developing a tendre for him? ‘As my appreciation for your talents increases. So, when do we meet next?’
‘We should probably allow a few days to pass before you seek me out at another ball or rout, where all of society can watch and speculate about your attentions.’
He nodded. ‘Maintain that “discreet interval”.’
‘Yes. That said, if you wish to call tomorrow afternoon and walk in the garden, I think that would be good strategy. Lady Arlsley is already pushing for an attachment, so it will not cause any more speculation on her part, and there will be at most a handful of her friends present. Enough to spread gossip that will encourage your father, but not enough to lead to widespread expectations that you are close to a declaration.’
‘You are getting a rather deft feel for all this,’ he said wryly.
‘It’s like a well-choreographed dance,’ Marcella said. ‘Advance, retreat, attract notice, discreetly withdraw, so as to slowly progress only as far and as fast as one wishes.’
By now, they’d arrived at the bookstore in Piccadilly. ‘Thank you for escorting me,’ Marcella said. ‘It was helpful to be able to plan strategy, something we can’t do when surrounded by a bevy of interested listeners.’
‘Yes. So we continue. For another two weeks, at least.’
She nodded. ‘Two weeks more. Then we’ll see where we are. Shall we go in?’
After Del
lamont helped her dismount, she turned to the groom with a smile. ‘You’ll walk the horses, won’t you, Thompson? He’s very patient,’ she told Dellamont, ‘having accompanied me on this errand several times before.’
‘Of course, miss. I can manage three horses, no problems.’
‘There will be an extra coin for a tankard of ale tonight,’ she promised. ‘Very well, my lord. Are you ready to be instructed?’
He offered his arm, and she took it. ‘Miss Cranmore, I’m ready to have you instruct me...in whatever you most enjoy,’ he murmured as he walked her through the door.
A shiver rippling over her skin at the double entendre, Marcella swallowed hard. She could just imagine some of the pleasures in which he could instruct her... Jerking her thoughts back from imagining his kiss, she said, ‘We’ll confine your education today to learning more about female savants.’
Smiling, he said, ‘Lead on.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Still smiling faintly, Crispin followed Miss Cranmore into the bookstore. So they were to search out tomes on mathematics and astronomy written by females. He’d been as surprised as his sister to learn such women existed, and genuinely curious to know more about them.
If the son of land-owning aristocracy could involve himself in new, radically different pursuits from most of his class, why shouldn’t females have more options?
With Miss Cranmore’s enthusiasm for engineering design, he could appreciate how such learned women would be her heroines. Not one whose aspirations were limited to catching a suitable husband and raising a family, his Miss Cranmore.
Many men disdained women of intelligence. Society disparaged them as ‘bluestockings’. But from the first, he’d found that Marcella Cranmore’s lively intellect and mathematical abilities made her more, rather than less attractive to him. That the lithe, curvaceous body with its speaking eyes and tempting lips also housed a keen mind piqued both his interest and his desire.
He was delighted at the opportunity to accompany her to the bookstore—to extend his time in her enchanting presence and learn more about what fascinated her.
Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Page 36
