Wine was poured, and Theo took a thankful sip, returning the nodded greeting of her dinner partner. Who, wonder of wonders, turned out to be Lord Sayle.
After a few moments of silence, he murmured, ‘I won’t bite, you know.’
Theo started, then laughed. ‘Excuse me, I didn’t mean to be uncivil. I suppose I look as awkward as I feel,’ she admitted—before remembering that candour was not a virtue prized by society.
Her dinner partner didn’t seem offended. ‘You look lovely, as I’m sure you know.’
‘Oh, d-dear,’ she stammered, colouring. ‘I really wasn’t trolling for a compliment.’
‘That’s not at all what I thought. But I’m very happy to give one so well deserved. You’re Miss Branwell, aren’t you? Lady Coghlane’s niece?’
‘Yes. And you’re Lord Sayle, Lady Staunton’s nephew.’
‘Yes. Now that we’ve sorted out the family, what shall we discuss?’
How best to safely answer that? ‘Why not tell me about your estate?’ she answered cautiously.
‘Let’s not talk about something so ordinary!’ He must have read alarm on her face, for he smiled. ‘I shouldn’t tease you. My aunt told me you’ve only recently come to England, having lived your entire life abroad, first in India, then following the drum with your father in Spain, Portugal, and Belgium. Also that he fell at Waterloo. My sincere condolences.’
The reminder brought a sharp pang of loss, no matter how many times it was mentioned. ‘Thank you. I understand you’ve recently lost your wife as well. My sincere sympathies.’
He nodded, his expression turning sad. ‘It was...very distressing. But one soldiers on, as I’m sure you know.’
‘Yes,’ she affirmed, liking him the better for this plain evidence of how fond he’d been of his wife.
Though it was nothing to her attachment to Marshall—or he wouldn’t be in London looking for a replacement, a mere year after her death.
‘Tell me more about your life,’ he was saying. ‘It’s been so much more exciting than mine.’
Dangerous territory, she thought. Struggling for some socially appropriate opening, she finally shrugged. ‘My aunt would say there’s little about it fit to discuss at a dinner party. I’ve recently settled at a manor in Suffolk, and have never visited Kent. I understand you raise horses. Won’t you tell me about your estate?’
Tacitly accepting her reticence, he nodded. ‘Horses, yes. But more cattle and crops.’
‘Some of the land at the estate bordering my house has been much neglected, and the owner is now anxious to improve it.’ Maybe she could learn something of use to Dom.
Dom. A sudden yearning for him filled her, so strong it almost made her dizzy. How she wished she were back at Bildenstone, riding through the meadows with him! How immensely different, the ease and comfort she felt with him, compared to the stiff awkwardness of this dinner party!
Since her searing conversation with Lady Hazlett, she’d deliberately kept herself from thinking about him—and the fact that her marriage would put an end to the friendship between them for good.
Which, of course, was for the best.
She was only uncomfortable because she was not yet well acquainted with this man, she told herself stoutly. Once she got to know Lord Sayle better, it would be easier.
She hoped.
In any event, he seemed pleasant enough as he obligingly described his home and acreage, requiring her only to add that polite nod at intervals.
‘I understand you have three children,’ she said when, inevitably, he fell silent and looked to her for a conversational contribution.
‘Yes. My eldest son is preparing to leave for Eton. I shall sorely miss him, but alas, it’s time. My lovely daughter I trust I shall not have to part from any time soon, since I spoil her so thoroughly no suitor will have her,’ he admitted with a laugh. ‘My younger son is just out of short coats. Rascals all, but I dote on them.’
‘I have a little boy, too, that I’ve cared for since his birth,’ she inserted. If keeping Charles were going to dissuade a prospective suitor, she might as well find out immediately.
‘So my aunt told me,’ he replied. ‘I think it very noble of you, to insist on supporting the poor orphan, even after your father’s death. Infamous that his father’s family refused to recognise him!’
Theo smiled fondly. ‘Had Lord Wareton ever visited Charles, he would not have been able to turn him away. Since I’m completely attached to him, I’m very glad his grandfather never made the effort.’
‘You enjoy children, then.’
Was she being tested? ‘Yes. Travelling with the army, there were always some running about. My father and I became attached to several, particularly the son of Father’s sergeant-major. Jemmie foraged for us, watched out for Papa’s horses, and generally made himself useful.’ A prospective suitor needed to know about Charles, but it was probably best not to fully reveal her connection to the other orphans just yet.
‘It shows broadness of character, to appreciate even children of that class.’
Theo had to keep herself from stiffening. He was, after all, repeating what most of his peers would say. Only someone like Dominic Ransleigh, who’d been with army, could understand what these children had been through and how dear they were to her.
How was she to safeguard them, though, if her eventual husband wanted her to have nothing further to do with them?
Her chest tightened and for a moment, it was difficult to breathe. One problem at a time, she told herself. First, she needed to find prospects who’d accept Charles. Whatever happened afterward, she’d make sure her other charges were protected.
Lord Sayle seemed to have cleared that first hurdle.
Smiling determinedly, she prodded him for more details about his land and children, which he willingly supplied. Respecting her reticence, he made no further enquiries about her own upbringing and circumstances.
Unlike herself, who’d stuck her nose immediately into Dominic Ransleigh’s affairs.
He’d not slapped her down for it. Would Lord Sayle, were she to let her true ‘colonel’s daughter’ nature show?
She suppressed a sigh. If matters between them progressed, she’d find that out in due time.
Conversation became more general, several other ladies vying to secure Sayle’s attention—one of them, a dazzling blonde with a scandalously low décolletage, giving her an angry glance for having monopolised it thus far.
So it begins, navigating the ton’s fields of fire, Theo realised ruefully.
* * *
When, some hours later, she met her aunt to gather their cloaks and depart, she had to admit dinner had not been as dismal as she’d feared.
As soon as they were enclosed within the privacy of their carriage, Aunt Amelia said, ‘What did you think of Lord Sayle? He seemed quite attentive.’
‘He was...pleasant. When asked, he told me about his estate and fields and his children, just as you assured me. I promise you, though he asked, I evaded giving any details about my own upbringing and experiences, so I don’t think I shocked him.’
‘Thank heavens for that!’ Lady Coghlane said with a chuckle. ‘I believe you made quite a favourable impression.’
‘How could you tell? We talked for a time, it’s true, but before long his attention was claimed—almost forcibly—by other ladies, especially the blonde on his right.’
‘Lady Serena—Mrs Maxwell,’ her aunt said with a sniff. ‘Thinks she’s entitled to the admiration of any gentleman within sight of her lovely face or dulcet voice.’
Theo grinned at her tone. ‘Not a favourite of yours.’
‘No. She’s a shameless flirt, who may or may not be collecting lovers while her poor husband languishes in the country. But having already provided him with the requi
site heir and two more, he lets her go her own way.’
To be married and yet alone...that would be worse than losing Marshall, she thought. ‘Sad.’
‘Perhaps, but not uncommon. Few couples find what you and Marshall shared. I’m pleased you liked Sayle, and even more pleased he liked you, but he’s hardly the only champion! I’ve planned a little tête-à-tête with a friend tomorrow, to examine other possibilities. But you won yourself one suitor tonight, which is useful in making other gentlemen more attentive.’
‘What makes you so sure? We hardly spoke after the beginning of dinner, and Lady Serena hung on his arm all during tea, once the gentlemen rejoined us.’
‘Perhaps, but though his attention might be drawn away by that annoying Lady Serena or someone else, his gaze always turned back to you.’
Her aunt’s words brought to mind the man to whom her gaze always returned. Dom.
A frisson of desire and longing rippled through her. Damnation, that prudence and propriety had forced her to forgo tasting in full measure the bountiful passion that always simmered between them.
Then, as she recalled Lord Sayle’s kissing her hand as he bid her goodbye, the observation struck her.
Not once around him had she felt that heated anticipation in the pit of the stomach she felt always when she was near Dominic Ransleigh.
* * *
The next afternoon, Theo returned to her aunt’s house, refreshed after a long walk in Hyde Park with Charles and Constancia. There’d been ducks to feed on the Serpentine, a vendor selling meat pasties, and some beautiful high-stepping bays being exercised by a groom. Trotting back to the waiting carriage after the excursion, her son declared London not so bad a place after all.
After seeing him to his room, Theo returned to her own chamber. She’d just tidied her windblown hair when the butler came up to inform her that Lady Coghlane would like the pleasure of Theo’s company for tea.
Knowing her aunt had conferred with a friend earlier that day, Theo returned the expected acceptance and walked to her aunt’s sitting room, a sense of dread in her belly.
‘Come in, my dear,’ her aunt called, her smile brightening as she took in Theo’s new gown in Prussian blue, done up with frogged fasteners, à la Hussar. ‘Very fetching! Marston has done good work—although we must also visit the modiste tomorrow and let you choose some fashionable gowns of your own!’
‘I do like the military style of this one. Although, if the evening gown I wore last night is an example of what’s “fashionable”, I’m going to go about feeling like I’ve joined the demi-monde!’
‘Nonsense! Lady Serena’s gown was lower in the bust than yours by a good two inches. But I didn’t ask you here to discuss gowns, but something more important.’
‘More important than gowns? Isn’t that statement a sacrilege?’
‘Almost,’ her aunt agreed with a chuckle. ‘But discussing your prospects is more important.’
Theo’s humour evaporated instantly. Annoyed at the response, she told herself that since marriage was inevitable, she might as well begin looking on it more optimistically.
Think of the prize. A whole childhood’s worth of time to walk in the park, skip stones, eat meat pasties and watch high-stepping horses with her son.
‘Very well,’ she said with determined cheerfulness. ‘What do your spies report?’
‘I called on an old friend from our come-out days, Sally Jersey. She’s one of the patronesses of Almack’s, very well connected, and knows everyone. She’d already heard about your appearance at Jane’s dinner, and confirmed that Lord Sayle is definitely interested.’
‘Really, Aunt, how could she possibly know?’
‘Oh, a comment to a friend at his club, overheard by a servant, who mentioned it to one of hers—she has her little informants all over town. Anyway, I think we can include him on the list.’
‘There’s a list?’
‘Of course. I’d already begun compiling one, but wanted to get Sally’s opinion.’
Theo shook her head. ‘Sounds like preparation for a military campaign.’
‘It is a campaign, of a sort. Finding the proper marriage partner always is, for a girl of your station.’
‘No one just falls in love?’ she asked, only half in jest.
Her aunt looked up, sympathy in her eyes. ‘It does happen—but why not carefully cultivate the prospects, so if you do fall in love, the gentleman in question is suitable?’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ Theo admitted. Not just anyone would do—she needed a husband with the same power and standing in the polite world as Lord Hazlett, if she hoped to keep Charles out of the hands of his grandparents. ‘Very well, who’s on the list?’
‘Two widowers, Mr James Lloyd, very wealthy and well connected—his father was the Duke of Ingleston’s youngest son. Lord Terrington, another baron with extensive property and a large motherless family, and Jeremy Carleton. He’s not much older than you, an amusing rattle always welcome in company, much sought after for his charm and wit, but always evasive of marriage.’
‘So why would he be interested in me?’
‘All the loveliest, most accomplished girls have been paraded before him—and he’s shown not a bit of interest. When she twigged him about his elusiveness, Sally said he replied that all the girls were beautiful, sang and played delightfully—and were as boringly similar as if produced by the same sausage press. Sally thinks he’d be intrigued by someone different and unexpected.’
‘I’m certainly that,’ Theo said ruefully. ‘Though if rather ungraciously comparing young ladies, who were doing their best to be pleasant company, to ground meat is a comment typical of his wit, we might end up at daggers drawn.’
‘He probably said it to amuse Sally, that being the sort of naughty comment she likes.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t,’ Theo said flatly.
‘I suspect he’d soon figure that out, and accommodate his wit to your tastes.’
‘Then I’d have to wonder whether he possessed any strong convictions of his own.’
Lady Coghlane raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ll certainly charm him if he prefers ladies being difficult.’
Theo blew out a sigh. ‘I’m sorry, Aunt Amelia. I shall try to be more accommodating, and look for the positives in each proposed match. So, how do we begin the campaign? Ask them all to dinner and parade me around, like a horse at Tattersall’s?’
‘Since I know you’re only funning, I’ll not dignify that with a reply. Sally is giving a musicale tomorrow evening, and they should all be present—no one turns down an invitation from Lady Jersey! Having heard how unusual you are, I suspect she’s as eager to meet you—and see how the gentlemen react to you—as I am for you to meet the gentlemen.’
‘Wonderful,’ Theo muttered. ‘Now I get to perform under the eye of one of the most discriminating arbiters of the ton. Even in Portugal, everyone had heard of Lady Jersey.’
‘Just be yourself, child. She will enjoy your natural wit. We’ll have Marston prepare another gown for the musicale, but in the morning, we must definitely call on the modiste. After Sally’s party, I expect you’ll be engaged for some entertainment every night.’
Theo tried not to shudder at the prospect of spending every evening for the foreseeable future being trailed through the ton like a fat minnow on a hook until some acceptable gentleman bit. But Aunt Amelia was doing everything she could to assist her, and much as she yearned to flee back to Thornfield Place and don her well-worn habit, she should be grateful. ‘Thank you, Aunt Amelia. My responses may not have reflected it, but I appreciate all your help.’
Lady Coghlane’s gaze softened. ‘I know it’s hard for you, leaving your familiar world for one so foreign to you. I’ll try to make entering this one as easy as I can.’
‘I know you will,’ T
heo said, tears pricking at her eyes.
Her aunt patted her hand. ‘Don’t worry, child. I promise, you’ll feel more confident once we get you properly outfitted and gowned.’
The awful vista rose before her of being measured and probed and pinned, then having to look at fabric and trimming and lace until her eyes glazed over. Reminding herself this was all for Charles, Theo swallowed hard and said, ‘The dressmaker, tomorrow morning, whenever you are ready.’
She was sipping the last of her tea when the butler came in. ‘A gentleman has called, Lady Coghlane. I told him it wasn’t your usual day to receive visitors, but he insisted I inform you of his presence.’
Aunt Amelia turned to her with a triumphant expression. ‘See! It begins already.’ Looking back at the butler, she said, ‘Which impatient gentleman has called, Foster?’
‘Mr Dominic Ransleigh, my lady.’
Theo gasped, and Aunt Amelia gave her a significant look.
His doubtful gaze going from his mistress to her guest, the butler said, ‘I hope I was correct in admitting him.’
‘Yes, indeed, Foster,’ Lady Coghlane said. ‘The gentleman is Miss Branwell’s neighbour in Suffolk. Tell him we’ll join him directly.’
Chapter Seventeen
Impatient to see Miss Branwell, Dom paced the drawing room. Knowing it was impossible for his still-recovering body to ride as far as London, he’d been forced to hire post chaises, and the longer the trip dragged on, the more concerned and anxious he became. When the last hired carriage cracked a bow, delaying his arrival for hours, he’d been ready to grind his teeth in frustration. He’d finally reached London the previous night, far too late to call.
During the interminable journey, he’d had plenty of time to ponder the conundrum of Miss Branwell’s unexpected decision to marry and consider what he might do about it. Though he’d not planned on taking so giant a step this soon, he had been toying for some time with the idea of courting her in earnest.
She was lovely, intelligent, unusual, and would never bore him. She’d infused him with a desire to do something important and exhibited total confidence that he would find such a calling—at a time when his own confidence in the future had been at a low ebb. It was thanks in large part to her avid interest in Bildenstone and her probing questions about the land and the estate that he’d started driving out, leading him to the idea of establishing a draught-horse-breeding operation.
The Rake to Reveal Her Page 18
