“I should like,” Sarah was continuing, “to see Sinjin marry a gentle, accomplished, virtuous woman who can dismantle the walls of reserve he’s thrown up and dissolve the bitterness that makes him seem so unlike the warm, generous man I know him to be. Someone who will help him restore the home he loves and make him happy.” She smiled at Clarissa. “I’m counting on you to find just the right candidates to present to him.” A touch of sadness tinged her face. “’Tis all I can do for him now.”
Clarissa felt a flare of sympathy for them both. “I shall mount a campaign with anticipation. It will be amusing to see just which paragon your paragon chooses.”
“Paragon, stuff.” Sarah wrinkled her nose at Clarissa. “Let us go down. The gentlemen should have finished their port, and I don’t wish to give Englemere time to conjure up more reasons for me to stay home.”
Clarissa gathered up cloak and reticule. “You know I’m seldom late now.”
“Yes, you’ve much improved. If you are tardy, ’tis only because you wish to make a grand entrance.”
Clarissa grinned. “Good timing is essential.”
“Indeed.” Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Such as at Lord Alastair’s costume ball, after Miss Glover had whispered to ten or twenty of her most intimate friends that she would appear in a gown so remarkable as to cast ‘that conceited Miss Beaumont’ in the shade?”
Clarissa shrugged. “I would not have troubled to show her up, but when she issued a clear challenge—”
“You could not help but respond,” Sarah finished dryly. “So you let the ton speculate, then made a very late entrance in a simple white Grecian gown that so accentuated the excellence of your physical charms, poor overdressed Miss Glover was entirely routed.”
“She should have known better than to make me the target of her pique. I’d hardly exchanged a word with that precious Lord Mansfield she was so mad about.”
“Not before the incident. But afterwards—you must admit you deliberately set out to enslave the poor fellow.”
“Merely to complete Miss Glover’s lesson.”
“Perhaps. But the innocent suffered along with the guilty. You did lead Mansfield on, though you had not the slightest intention of accepting the offer your encouragement prompted him to make. I saw him shortly afterwards and he was devastated, Clare. You simply cannot play with a gentleman’s sentiments like that.”
“There now, we are back to scolding. Really, Sarah, I didn’t make the poor fool lose his heart, if such he did. For the most part, ’twas all posturing and vanity. Indeed, I’m not at all sure gentlemen have hearts to lose.”
Sarah stopped short, her gray eyes impaling Clarissa. “Sometimes, my dear friend, I wonder if you have one.”
Clarissa felt something like shame heat her cheeks. “Come, Sarah,” she coaxed, urgent need filling her to remove the disapproval from the face of the one true friend she possessed. “If I promise not to tamper with the heart of your friend Sinjin, will you cease chastising?”
A long, unsettling moment passed before Sarah replied. “Sometimes I think the best thing that could befall you would be for someone to tamper with yours. But,” she allowed, her face finally breaking into a smile, “enough scolding. My fondest wish is that someone or something may touch your fierce soul and direct that energy and courage into some productive channel.”
Clarissa released the breath she’d been holding in a chuckle. “You fancy turning me into a ‘gentle, accomplished, virtuous woman?’” She shook her head. “A hopeless wish, I’m afraid. But if doing so will return me to your good graces, I shall do my best to find just such a lady for your friend Colonel Sandiford.”
Vexation at being late and worry overlaying his original disinclination to attend the ball, several hours later Sinjin ran up the stairs of Lady Devonshire’s mansion. As he suspected, the receiving line had already broken up and he would be forced to wander through the overcrowded rooms searching for his hostess before he could join Englemere’s party.
“Damn and blast,” he muttered as he entered the airless ballroom. His mood inauspicious to making himself agreeable either to his hostess or the friends who awaited him, doing the pretty to the passel of society chits Englemere wished him to meet was, he decided on the spot, completely beyond him this evening. He would escape at the earliest possible moment.
Pausing at the edge of the teeming mass of dancing, strolling, and conversing guests, he scanned the crowd for a lady fitting the description of his hostess. The sharp edges of his high starched collar scratched at his freshly shaved chin as he turned his head. Fashion be damned, he thought irritably, running a chamois-clad finger under his ear and recalling with longing the moderate height of his braided uniform collar. After tonight he would throw these blasted neck cloths out and purchase something sensible.
Mercifully after a few moments he located the Duchess and was able to pay his addresses. Proceeding to his next mission, he surveyed the guests until he found a cluster of uniformed men among whom, he was relieved to discover as he edged closer, were two familiar Grenedier Guards.
“Milhouse, Allensby,” he called out.
“Colonel Lord Sandiford!” Captain Milhouse exclaimed. “Good evening to you, sir. But how plain you look!”
“We heard you were to sell out,” Lieutenant Allensby said. “With Boney holed up for good, ’tis just as well. There’ll be no decent fight now short of the Americas—and who wishes to venture to that godforsaken land? All red Indians and upstart Colonials.”
“Former colonials, I believe,” Sinjin corrected with a smile. “Could either of you present me to Lady Barbara Childress? I have a message to deliver.”
“From Alex Standish, I’ll wager,” Allensby said. “I thought sure he’d be here to toss his cap back in the ring with the contenders for the hand of the fair Lady Barbara.”
“Fair and wealthy,” Milhouse added. “An irresistible combination.”
His worry reviving, a frown creased Sinjin’s brow. “An unavoidable matter precluded his attending tonight. I promised to convey his regrets. If one of you gentlemen would be so good as to point out Lady Barbara?”
“Brave man, to confront her dragon of a mother,” Milhouse replied. “Countess subjects any buck venturing near her darling to a general’s inspection. Nothing but perfection will do for Lady Barbara, her mama told mine.”
“I hear she dismissed Upton on account of his squint, Norfolk wasn’t tall enough, and she thought Westminster’s countenance too red of hue,” Allensby said.
“Aye, so adept is she at finding defects in every suitor the girl may never marry,” Milhouse agreed. “But come along, Colonel, if you’re determined.”
As they inched their way across the room, a dusting of anger settled over Sinjin’s worry. Unless Lady Barbara’s papa were less bacon-brained than his wife, given what he’d just heard of the mother it appeared his war-injured lieutenant’s chances of obtaining the girl’s hand were slim. No wonder Alex was so uneasy.
His ready contempt for the ton in general resurfaced. Horse droppings, to judge a man by his height or the coloring of his complexion—or his wealth or birth, for that matter. Lud, he realized with a grin that lightened his irritation, he was turning into a flaming republican.
He sobered as he mulled how best to express Alex’s regrets. How did he make excuses that showed sufficient cause for his lieutenant’s absence without drawing attention to the physical limitations Alex hated to admit?
His face turned grimmer as he remembered their ill-fated ride this evening. Having dined at Alex’s club, they were headed down Piccadilly toward the Albany in a hubbub of pedestrians, carts, and carriages when Alex’s horse had suddenly shied violently to the right. With the muscles of his left knee still weak and his left hand useless, the lieutenant lost his balance and tumbled into the roadway, striking his head on a passing cart as he fell.
Summoning a physician over Alex’s protests, Sinjin hustled him back to his rooms. Fortunately the man ascertain
ed that, though bloody and painful, the lieutenant’s injuries were not serious. Only by obtaining Alex’s grudging admittance that he would attract far too much unwelcome attention by attending the ball with his head swathed in bandages had Sinjin convinced him to remain resting in his rooms. And by swearing to personally convey Alex’s regrets to Lady Barbara.
“Over there,” Milhouse’s voice in his ear recalled him, “that pretty chit in green. Which reminds me, a party of us are leaving soon for the green room at Covent Garden. Allensby’s negotiating for the company of a delectable little actress. Be happy to have you join us.”
An actress from the green room—now there was a thought. A woman whose artifice was honest. A pity actresses did not amass fortunes, else he might seriously consider wedding one.
He had no blunt for enticing a mistress, but anything was better than remaining at this curst ball. “I should like that,” he replied. “Shall I meet you there?”
“Capital. Must warn you, old man, once I make the introductions I’m going to bolt. Not in the petticoat line myself, and I’ve no wish to be snubbed by the old tartar.”
They approached a pretty petite brunette encircled by a court of suitors. “You’re in luck,” Milhouse commented as they edged in. “The dragon’s nowhere in evidence.”
Oblivious to the protests of the gentlemen he shouldered aside, Milhouse pushed his way to the center and bowed to the girl. “Lady Barbara, may I have the honor of presenting Lord Sandiford, lately Colonel in the Tenth Hussars. Colonel, Lady Barbara Childress.” With a wink at Sinjin and another bow to the lady, Milhouse slipped away.
“Tenth Hussars?” Lady Barbara exclaimed as Sinjin bent to kiss the hand she offered. “Are you the colonel of whom my friend Lieutenant Standish has spoken so highly? Then I am indeed delighted to make your acquaintance.”
“I was privileged to command Lieutenant Standish’s unit, my lady. A brave and skillful officer with whom I was proud to serve.”
The lady blushed. “I am not at all surprised to hear it. But…does he not accompany you this evening? I have not seen him, and he promised—that is, Lady Devonshire’s ball being so notable, I was quite sure he would attend.”
“Would you stroll with me, my lady?” Sinjin bent closer and lowered his voice. “I bear a message from him.”
Lady Barbara glanced about nervously—looking for her mama, Sinjin surmised. It appeared the lady herself stood in awe of her parent—a fact that did not augur well for Alex. “I should be delighted, Colonel.”
To her credit, Sinjin noted, Lady Barbara seemed totally unmoved by the cries of reproach uttered by the rest of her court as he led her off.
“What is it, Colonel?” she asked as soon as they were out of earshot. “He is not ill?”
“No, my lady. But he did suffer a trifling…accident. Nothing grave, I assure you,” he added as the lady gasped. “Took a fall while riding, as we all do from time to time, and put a neat cut over his eye. As he didn’t wish to alarm or,” he added, thinking of her mother, “embarrass you by appearing tonight tricked out in sticking-plaster, he asked me to convey to you his deep disappointment, and beg your leave to call tomorrow.”
“You are sure he was not…truly injured?” the lady asked, her face anxious despite his reassurances. “You are not making light of it? Please, I must know the truth.”
“He will be wholly well by morning, I promise you,” Sinjin replied, in spite of himself touched by Lady Barbara’s concern. It appeared his lieutenant’s affections might be reciprocated. But if the family opposed the lovers, would this fragile-looking damsel have the strength of mind to persevere?
Alex would, God help him. Though since Waterloo Sinjin had not conversed with his Maker with quite the regularity he ought, he now uttered a swift prayer that the fine, brave lad he’d led would not get his heart broken.
“Thank Heaven,” the lady sighed. “I am relieved he took no serious harm. The evening will be sadly flat without him, though. Please tell him I shall expect him tomorrow and no excuses! You will…see him again tonight?”
“Of course, ma’am. I must deliver your message.”
“Good. It’s silly of me, perhaps, with him safely back in England, but still I…worry. I own I was not easy when he claimed he could not endure residing with his mama and all his sisters and insisted on taking rooms.”
Sinjin could well imagine his lieutenant eager to escape the cosseting of his mama and sisters. He also imagined Alex would find the solicitude of this particular lady much more pleasing. “Truly, he is in no danger. You may rest easy, Lady Barbara.”
“Thank you, Colonel. For coming tonight—and for all you have done for him. I shall never forget it.”
From the corner of his eye Sinjin spotted an imposing dame with a headdress of ostrich plumes bearing down on them. By her rich display of jewels and disapproving air he concluded she must be the Countess of Wetherford, Lady Barbara’s mother. Given the crowded room, it appeared Sinjin would not be able to shepherd the daughter back to her suitors quickly enough to escape.
His doom was sealed when the girl herself noticed the woman’s approach. “M-Mama,” she faltered.
Her mother sniffed, setting the plumes in her headdress quivering. “What do you mean, child, wandering off with this stranger?” She subjected Sinjin to a glacial glare, as if he were a hair she’d just discovered in her blancmange.
Lady Barbara gave her mother an apologetic smile. “Hardly a stranger, Mama. May I make known to you Colonel Lord Sandiford, formerly of the Tenth Hussars.”
The countess’s sharp eyes assessed him. “Sandiford, is it? Son of the late James Allen Sandiford?”
Sinjin bowed, realizing wryly this battleaxe had just branded him a fortune hunter. “I have that honor.”
The countess dismissed his lineage with a wave. “A pleasure, I’m sure. Come along, Barbara. Your papa has a partner to present to you.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” the hapless young lady managed before her mother bore her away.
Alex must be besotted indeed to wish to ally himself to that family, Sinjin reflected as he set off to find Lord Englemere’s party. A few minutes’ polite chat and he would thankfully depart.
He spotted Sarah first, so serenely lovely in a gown of gold cloth that, for a moment, his breath caught. Then Englemere came to take her arm, bending his dark head to kiss her cheek. In his evening dress of midnight black, the marquess was a perfect foil for her pale blond beauty, his kiss in this most public assembly an unfashionable mark of devotion. The ache tightened Sinjin’s chest again, and gritting his teeth, he damped it down.
Then Sarah spied him. “Sinjin! We’d about given up!”
He walked over to kiss her hand. “Sorry I’m late. My lieutenant, Alexander Standish, met with a bit of an accident. I had to attend him, then convince him to remain in his rooms, an even larger task, since there’s a young lady here he particularly wanted to see.”
“Clarissa was borne off by her admirers long ago,” Englemere said. “Let me find Sarah a chair and I’ll take you to hunt for her.”
The tireless Sarah sitting? The idea amused him until he noticed she was looking unusually pale. “Are you ill?” he asked in some alarm.
“Just fatigued—’tis nothing. I agreed to let Nicholas convey me home once he’s found Clarissa. You’ll remember her, I expect. She’s much too beautiful to forget.”
Sinjin vaguely recalled a tall girl with hair of auburn, skin of cream and all over diamonds. Possessing a flashy beauty not at all to his taste, he’d paid her small attention. “No doubt,” he returned noncommittally.
They reached a less crowded anteroom and found Sarah a sofa. “Would you stay with her, Colonel?” Englemere asked. “It may take me a few moments to locate Clarissa.”
“I’d be delighted,” Sinjin replied, surprised at Englemere’s entrusting Sarah to him—and not sure he truly welcomed this opportunity for a tête-à-tête.
“Nicholas, I’m not about to faint
,” Sarah protested.
“Perhaps not, my dear, but these rooms are altogether too hot. The sooner we get you home, the better.” He brushed her cheek with his fingers. “I shall return as soon as possible.”
“Alexander Standish—is he not the Earl of Worth’s son?” Sarah asked as Sinjin drew up a chair.
“Yes,” he replied, relieved she’d chosen so prosaic a topic. “He joined the Tenth just before Waterloo.”
“And was badly wounded, was he not? He’d been courting Lady Barbara Childress. She was most anxious when she learned he was injured.”
“He’s courting her again, though given the crowd of suitors I saw, I’m not sanguine about his chances.”
“The countess,” Sarah said and rolled her eyes. “Still, they are of equal birth and wealth, both possessed of unexceptional character. There can be no true impediment, if they desire it enough.”
Had fortune not mattered, such small obstacle as a parent’s objection would not have stopped us, he thought, and knew by her expression Sarah was thinking the same.
“Which reminds me,” she said, glancing away, “there was one other matter I wanted to speak to you about.”
He groaned. “Such a preface usually means I’m about to be scolded. I didn’t think I’d been in London long enough to incur your displeasure.”
She shook her head. “’Twas not in London. Sinjin, how could you have stopped writing to your mama? I know you blame her in part for…what happened between us, but fate and time were equally at fault. Despite your differences, she does love you. When months passed after you returned to your regiment and she did not hear from you, she grew quite desperate for news.” Sarah smiled faintly. “Desperate enough to visit me.”
He looked up sharply. “She visited you?” he echoed. For his mother to have sought out a girl of whom she’d always been jealous, whose marriage to her son she’d been instrumental in preventing, was a major concession.
He shifted uncomfortably. “’Twas bad of me, I admit, but I…was at a very low point then. I simply could not bring myself to write her. But I did send notes to my solicitor—with instructions on how to handle the bills,” he couldn’t help the acrid note that crept into his tone. “I always instructed him to pass my regards on to Mama.”
The Proper Wife Page 5
