Would that be enough of a final answer for her cousin?
"Lady Muriel." Sir Samuel Pruitt, dressed in evening finery and knee breeches, an Almack's requirement, appeared at her side and bowed over her hand.
She stepped back in surprise at his sudden appearance and couldn't help but notice Constance's dour expression dissolve with the young man's arrival. Constance's countenance instantly transformed into one of delight.
A spark of recognition flickered in Sir Samuel's eyes. It would be impossible for him to ignore the blinding illumination of Constance's admiration.
"I do not believe we have had a proper introduction." The Baronet extended his right hand to receive Muriel's cousin's outstretched hand.
There would be no avoiding the inevitability of their acquaintance, so Muriel pushed forward. "Sir Samuel, my cousin Miss Constance Kimball."
"How do you do, Miss Kimball?" Sir Samuel replied in all that was proper.
Muriel continued the introduction with reservations. He might decline to claim her as friend after growing to know Constance. "Sir Samuel Pruitt."
"I am doing excessively well, Sir Samuel. Thank you for asking." By the glimmer in Constance's eyes and the transformed expression of Sir Samuel's, Muriel began to think she might be wrong.
Oh, no, this could not be. Surely Sir Samuel was merely being polite to return Constance's admiration; he could not truly be taken with her.
No...
That was when Muriel learned that, even after the shock she'd had earlier that evening, she could still be surprised.
The next morning, Muriel rose early, as she had every morning since arriving in Town, and was careful not to make any noise to alert the staff. Lydia had strict instructions not to enter the bedchamber until summoned. Muriel made it a point not to use the bellpull until just before noontime. Everyone thought Muriel spent the early-morning hours sleeping behind the doors of her peaceful bedchamber. Little did they know she spent those hours studying and completing the assignments given to her by Signore Biondi.
Pulling her wrapper tightly around her, Muriel parted the drapes only enough to allow sufficient illumination for her to read and write upon the small table situated near the window. In the time it took to take her pencil in hand and apply it to paper, Muriel's thoughts ran past the scene she had shared with Sherwin Lloyd the night before. She groaned inwardly, scolding herself for drifting off to contemplate what had happened, what should have happened, and what might have happened.
But what a waste of time to think of such things now.
Muriel needed to devise a way to increase the number of her lessons. It seemed unfair that she should spend so much time attending parties and tolerating the attentions of young men and so little time in the classroom.
She would, in time, find a way. The means by which this was to be done hadn't presented itself as of yet. Muriel bent her head to her paper, eager to complete her studies before returning to bed and "waking," the second time, for the day ahead.
Since Sherwin had left Almack's early the evening before, he was fortunate, for once, to have gotten a full night's sleep. He sat at the breakfast table holding History of Rome by Titus Livius in one hand and in the other a fork with a bit of gammon and egg from the plate before him.
"I'll have your spectacles now, if you please. It'll soon be time to depart for our morning calls." Lady Amhurst waited for her son to relinquish his most prized possession. "I had not realized you knew the Duke of Faraday's daughter."
"I made her acquaintance some years ago when I accompanied James to Faraday Hall." Sherwin lowered the book to the table and returned the fork, with a bite-sized piece of gammon, to his plate.
"Oh, yes. I do recall that summer. He traveled from Town to Essex after the Season had ended." Lady Amhurst stilled and gazed off somewhere past Sherwin. "James married that fall."
Sherwin had gone back to Eton and missed his brother's wedding. Gingerly, carefully, he removed his spectacles, prying each earpiece from either side of his head, folding the ends, and offered them to his mother.
Lady Amhurst took possession of his glasses. "You and Lady Muriel appeared ... familiar, and not entirely pleased to meet the other." His mother was watching him now. "What, exactly, transpired between the two of you?"
"Nothing of importance." He shrugged. "Just some childish larking about. You must remember I had only just turned thirteen when we met-still just a lad." Sherwin was determined to keep the truth from his mother. He knew she would not have approved of his correspondence with Muriel no matter his age.
He pushed around the now-blurry bits of egg and gammon on his plate with his fork. Without his glasses he couldn't see much past the end of his nose clearly. It was his mother's idea that he not wear his spectacles in public. She claimed it would make him appear bookish, and no young lady would find that an admirable quality. Sherwin had reluctantly agreed with his mother. He'd agree to almost anything if it meant he could return to his studies.
"I thought her manners were appalling." As always, Lady Amhurst's complaint seemed excessive to his ears. "I'd expect better from the daughter of a duke."
He did not wish to give a name to the unpleasant emotion welling up inside him. No person should harbor such a feeling for another, much less a family member.
"You shall have these again after this afternoon's drive in the Park with Miss Holbrook." With a swish of her black bombazine skirts, Lady Amhurst looked the part of the harbinger of sorrow as well.
"Miss Holbrook," Sherwin repeated, doing his best to commit the name to memory. He would follow all the instructions from his mother to engage the young lady's affections.
"Pay attention, Sherwin, will you?" Lady Amhurst paced along the length of the breakfast room table as she spoke. "I have taken the liberty of sending Miss Holbrook white orchids in your name, if she should mention it."
"White orchids . . . ," Sherwin murmured to himself. His mother knew exactly what to do, and he allowed her to do what she thought was best. He had no interest in courting, much less marrying, anyone. It was best his mother did what was necessary.
"We shall pay a call upon Miss Ortone, Lady Sophie, and Miss Shrope this morning before calling on the Holbrooks, when the two of you will depart for Hyde Park"
Did he need to remember the destination of Hyde Park as well? It was not as if he needed to guide them there. His mother had employed a driver for their carriage to take them wherever they needed to go.
"Don't fret, I'll remind you before our arrival." Lady Amhurst waved her hand as if to tell him to disregard the information altogether. "Now remember, you must compliment Miss Holbrook on her toilette."
Did that mean her hair? Her dress? It was difficult for Sherwin to distinguish much beyond color and general shape, without his spectacles.
"Above all, Sherwin, you must compliment her." Lady Amhurst gestured with his folded wire-rimmed spectacles.
"Yes, Mother." He could certainly do that, and if he did not know what he meant, surely Miss Holbrook would.
"And you should engage her in conversation," his mother continued. "Ask her about herself."
Sherwin highly doubted Miss Holbrook would wish to converse on any topic he found interesting.
"A gel likes to know that a gentleman notices and appreciates the effort she's taken to look her best. It is hours of preparation in front of the glass." Lady Amhurst patted her hair with one hand, then smoothed her skirts as if to illus trate. "We're to attend the Shropes' ball tonight in honor of their daughter."
Sherwin's thoughts drifted to later that afternoon, when he would regain the possession of his spectacles. He could finish the page he'd been reading this morning, if not the entire chapter. Perhaps make it through half the book.
He would broach the topic of allowing him use of the carriage with his mother. There were a few out-of-the-way sights of interest he'd like to visit while in London. His mother might deny him again, but he felt fairly certain she would, in time, grant him his
request in order to gain his further cooperation.
"It may take some time, but we shall find one young lady we can mutually decide upon," Lady Amhurst concluded. "To be sure, you shall have a great many to select from. Oh, yes. Do you not know what they call you? The catch of the Season"
Sherwin pulled his gaze from his mother and directed it out the window. Nothing she said would make him care when it came to the choice of his bride.
It was nearly two o'clock in the afternoon before Muriel descended the staircase to the marbled foyer. She had spent several hours preparing for the day, choosing just the right carriage dress and having her hair styled.
"Look at all those lovely flowers!" she exclaimed now, to make it look as if their arrival mattered a great deal to her.
"Place them on the table, if you will," Aunt Penny instructed the footman who carried one small and two fairly large vases of flowers. "We can place them among the others after we've finished our breakfast."
Muriel had to make an enthusiastic show for Aunt Penny's benefit to maintain the illusion that what she wanted, more than anything in the world, was to attend the Season's festivities.
"Sukey, come quickly!" Muriel called up the staircase. "You must see these lovely flowers!"
Susan descended the stairs in haste.
"Are they not beautiful?" Mrs. Wilbanks followed her daughter to the main floor.
"You must help me find Mr. Ambrose's tribute!" Muriel ran around to the far end of the room, making a fuss over finding his flowers. He was the latest young man whom she pretended to favor. There had to be someone, or two or three, for her to feign a slight affection for, else her family might begin to suspect her true agenda of studying Latin and the Classics.
"It seems you are especially taken with that young man," Aunt Penny replied in a knowing manner. She browsed the cards in search of Mr. Ambrose's name.
And that was exactly what Muriel wished her aunt to believe.
"I'm sure they are all for you, in any case." Susan inspected a bunch of violets tied with a white ribbon.
"What a shame that these other gentlemen haven't got a chance of catching your attention." Mrs. Wilbanks joined in the search. "Mr. Ambrose, is it? I thought it was Lord Peter you favored"
"The rest of those gentlemen are all wasting their time," Susan announced. "If only some of them would look my way.11
"I'm sure there are more than a few of these posies that belong to you!" Muriel scolded her friend. "Were you not at the Reading rout last night?"
"Well, yes, I was." Susan stilled and stared at Muriel, answering honestly.
"And did you not dance there?" Muriel continued. How could her friend not see herself for the kind, pretty, and most agreeable young lady she was?
"Yes, I did," Susan admitted.
"Were the gentlemen not attentive to you?" Muriel couldn't imagine any male not taking notice of her best friend.
"Why, yes, they were." The color of Susan's cheeks reddened into a deep blush.
"Then there is no reason why any of these could not be for you" Muriel nodded, indicating the collection of pale pink rosebuds. "You see, Sukey? There is no reason to think such lowering thoughts."
"Thank you, dear Muriel. I am glad you can see the right of it." Mrs. Wilbanks wrapped her arm around Muriel in appreciation. "Sukey cannot see how any young man would be interested in her, not while you are around."
"That is nonsense!" Aunt Penny agreed, and she directed her following comments to Susan. "You cannot think yourself in any way unworthy. Your kindness and manners are only second to your grace and beauty."
"You see there, Sukey? I am right!" Muriel chuckled at her friend's foolishness. "Now, let us see who has honored you by sending these nice tokens of their affection."
Susan and Muriel searched through the arrangements, identifying the recipient and the senders. Mr. Laurens, Lord Paulson, and Mr. Templeton were found to be a few of Susan's admirers.
"You will let us know if there is someone of particular interest, won't you?" Mrs. Wilbanks leaned between the two young ladies and whispered confidentially.
"Of course, Mother," Susan replied in a guarded manner. "I would never keep such information from you."
"Here they are!" Muriel fawned over the tulips in a tall vase. "Oh, he has outdone himself."
"Do not forget, you and Muriel are to drive in the Park with Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Stanley this afternoon," Aunt Penny reminded them.
"Yes, Mrs. Parker." Susan turned to Muriel to whisper, "I am sure I would not be going if Mr. Ambrose was not in need of a friend for Mr. Stanley."
"Don't be silly, Sukey. Mr. Stanley was quite entranced with you. Could you not tell by the way he watched you that night we met him?" Muriel did not need to pretend on Susan's behalf and merely spoke the truth. "He was rather smitten with the sound of your laughter, if I recall."
"Yes, he was." Susan smiled. "At least that's what he told me."
"Come along, Mrs. Wilbanks, I believe our coffee will grow cold if we dally any longer." Aunt Penny smiled at the young girls and urged Susan's mother down the corridor to the breakfast room.
Muriel beamed a smile so convincing, she nearly thought it genuine and held it until her aunt had well-departed.
Susan turned to address Muriel. "How long do you think you can keep imitating Charlotte?"
"As long as I need." Muriel felt quite satisfied, and the expression on her face must have told as much. "I am rather good at it, if I do say so myself."
"I hate to agree with you, but you do quite a good imitation. I do not understand how Mrs. Parker can believe your playacting, however."
"It is because I am very good at it. Now, the gentlemen will soon arrive, and we must be ready." Muriel stepped away from the flowers. "Let us retrieve our bonnets. I'd hate Mr. Ambrose to think I did not spend hours agonizing over which he preferred."
"Do you really think he's concerned over that?"
"I believe he is at least as concerned as I am." Muriel opted for the simple straw hat with a riband matching her jonquil dress. "Isn't that always what a proper gentleman's first compliment is to a lady?"
"What a delightful bonnet!" Sherwin handed Miss Holbrook up into the barouche and did his best to appear impressed. It was as close as he could manage to his mother's instructions. "It is quite fetching, indeed."
Lady Amhurst had remained with Miss Holbrook's mother at their residence, and the driver departed with his passengers, the young miss and Sherwin, for Hyde Park.
"Do you really like my bonnet?" Miss Holbrook turned her head to and fro, allowing Sherwin to enjoy an unobstructed view of her headdress. "It is quite fetching, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is very ... original." He studied the ornamentation through his quizzing glass and could honestly say he'd never seen wheat stalks and ribbon used as bonnet trimming before.
The stalks, complete with whole grains, wrapped around the crown, across the wide brim. She might have thought it was a stylish design, but Sherwin had the distinct notion that harvesting might be in order.
"I quite enjoy remaking my headdresses," she began her discourse. What followed were various methods and materials one could employ.
As exhilarating as Miss Holbrook's dialogue had been upon the subject of hats, Sherwin had shifted in his seat until he nearly faced completely away from his companion. His attention had drifted toward the oncoming traffic. Although he sat some distance away, the occupants in the approaching carriage caught his attention.
It took some time before it occurred to him that he was staring at Muriel ... Lady Muriel Worth from last night, facing him in a coach. She'd been laughing at first, but all mirth had faded once she'd met his gaze and recognized him.
Since she made no move to respond, he could not, and at this point would not, address her in any fashion. Muriel broke eye contact and moved her gaze away, fixing upon some point ahead in the distance. He followed her example and did the same.
A prolonged silence followed. There seemed t
o be not a hoofbeat, nor a bird chirping, nor a whisper heard.
"Was that not Lady Muriel?" Miss Holbrook finally broke the quiet.
"I suppose it might have been." Sherwin straightened in his seat and tightened his grip on his walking stick. "By her reaction, or lack thereof, I believe social etiquette does not allow me to acknowledge her publicly."
"I imagine she might treat the gentleman she's out driving with in a similar manner within a day or two," Miss Holbrook lowered her voice to confide in him.
"Why would you say that?" This was the first thing she'd said that had interested him.
"You did not see her bonnet?" Miss Holbrook did not sound as if she cared for it.
Muriel's hat was the least of his concerns. Sherwin would have to confess, if only to himself, that after initially sighting her, he had focused on the two gentlemen seated next to and across from her.
"That was a hat that said, `It matches my outfit and nothing more. You, sir, are not worth the effort of decoration.'"
"Excuse me?" Had Sherwin heard Miss Holbrook correctly? Muriel did not care for her gentlemen company? And her sentiments were clearly stated by the style of her bonnet? Sherwin did, indeed, have much to learn.
"Oh, no. She does not truly care for that man. Mark my words," Miss Holbrook confirmed, and she added a nod of her head for good measure.
Sherwin raised his quizzing glass in earnest, tilted his head back, taking in the entire vision of his companion in all her hat glory, and wondered if her supposition could possibly be true.
"I don't recall that bird on your-" He motioned to his own tall beaver to indicate its position. "It's quite lifelike, I think."
It moved at the exact moment Miss Holbrook cried out in alarm, "Bird? I don't have a bird on my hat!"
A Grand Deception Page 3
