‘Indeed, not! I am sure knowing you better will only confirm my initial impressions of your excellence.’
Temper wasn’t sure how to assess Solsworth’s attentions. He seemed too young and idealistic to have ulterior designs on her person and perhaps too young to be seriously considering marriage. Even so, as a highly eligible parti of whom her father and society would approve, she should redouble her efforts to discourage him.
She was debating how best to do that when, as the dance ended, a matron in a large turban and an indignant expression stormed over to them.
‘Sidney!’ she cried. ‘I sent you over to dance with Miss Avery! Not with this...creature.’ Looking down her nose at Temper, the lady continued, ‘Mrs Spencer-Woods’s standards are certainly slipping, if she’s invited the likes of you. I may have to cut the connection.’
‘Mama, please!’ her partner protested, his face going scarlet.
After an initial shock at the suddenness of the attack, Temper schooled her face to a polite mask, inwardly kicking herself for having been caught off guard. After all, wasn’t this the sort of reception she had expected tonight?
‘I’ll pass along your disapproval to my sponsor, Lady Sayleford,’ she said in dulcet tones. ‘As we haven’t been introduced, I can’t bid you good evening, Mrs...’ She let the phrase trail off, watching the bloom of fury on the woman’s cheeks at her insulting neglect to address the mother of a titled man as ‘my lady’. ‘So I will simply say goodbye. Thank you for the dance, Lord Solsworth.’
Turning her back on them both, she walked back to Mrs Moorsby.
No need for any further worry about how to discourage Solsworth. His harridan of a mother would make sure in future that her precious son kept well away from the scarlet woman.
More shaken than she’d like to admit by the encounter, as she reached her party, she angled her face away from Giff’s searching gaze.
‘Was Lady Agremont unpleasant?’ he demanded.
‘Is that who she was? She didn’t bother with an introduction before dragging her son away from my contaminating presence.’
Giff muttered a curse. ‘Her husband, the Marquess of Agremont, is one of the highest sticklers in the Lords. I’m surprised her darling only son and heir had the courage to dance with you.’
‘Apparently he was so struck by my beauty, he was willing to risk his mother’s wrath.’ Temper laughed ruefully. ‘What an innocent! He seemed convinced my physical loveliness must be accompanied by beauty of character. I’m sure his mother is about to disabuse him of that misconception.’
‘She could have been more polite about reclaiming him,’ Mrs Moorsby said indignantly. ‘Even if she does disapprove of you—most unjustly, as she knows nothing about you beyond your name—she could have waited to convey her opinion until after her son escorted you off the floor.’
‘I suppose I’m lucky to have suffered only one unpleasant encounter thus far,’ Temper said, suddenly tired of the event. ‘All I want is to escape the Season with a whole skin and get on with doing what I want.’
As the dance floor emptied at the conclusion of the last set, the other ladies and gentleman who had been standing beside Mrs Moorsby began to drift back. After refusing the several gentlemen who petitioned her for the next dance, with Giff and Mrs Moorsby engaged in conversation by several of the bystanders, she glanced behind her. Confirming that the curtained windows created a quiet alcove where she might be alone with her own thoughts for a moment, she was about to slip back there when a hand at her sleeve stayed her retreat.
She recognised the person restraining her to be one of the young ladies she’d met earlier. A young lady who had, she realised, been an onlooker when Lady Agremont verbally assaulted her.
‘If you are not going to dance, would you like to chat?’ the girl asked.
And dig out all the gritty details about her public dressing-down? Her anger flaring, Temper snapped, ‘Miss Henley, isn’t it? Didn’t you just hear that I’m not a proper person to know? I wonder you dare approach me without your chaperon for protection!’
She immediately regretted her sharpness, for poor Miss Henley had done nothing to deserve her wrath. Before she could apologise, however, the girl laughed.
‘Oh, Mama never worries about me,’ Miss Henley said, appearing not the least bit upset by Temper’s rudeness. ‘She could hardly wait to perform all the introductions so she might go off on the arm of one of her gallants.’
Tall, angular, with a long, plain face and nondescript brown hair done in ringlets, Miss Henley had no claims to beauty. But her merry laugh and friendly smile made Temper even more ashamed of her sharpness, while the girl’s unexpected comment made her curious to know more.
‘Your mama sees no need to protect you?’
‘Not really. As she never tires of reminding me, I’m neither pretty enough to tempt a rake, nor rich enough to tempt a fortune hunter.’
Miss Henley’s tone was matter of fact, stating the truth as she saw it with no hint of self-pity. Inherently honest herself, Temper wouldn’t offer her false protests about her loveliness. But she could admire such a level-headed acceptance of reality.
‘How delightful to meet someone who dares to speak the truth, without recourse to flattery or false modesty. Your mama does not value you as she ought.’
Miss Henley chuckled again. ‘No, she doesn’t. But to be fair, we are chalk and cheese. She’s a Beauty, as was my older sister, who thrilled her by making a brilliant match with a duke’s youngest son. Whereas she despairs of finding even an acceptable match for me. Although I have to admit, it is amusing, watching the gentlemen try to walk the fine line between being attentive enough to be polite without according me enough attention to raise expectations.’
Easily able to visualise such exchanges, Temper had to smile. ‘You are very plain spoken.’
‘Yes, one of my many faults. Despite my lack of looks and modest dowry, I’m very choosy, you see, and Papa, though he ignores me most of the time, is not such a bully as to force me into a union I don’t want. Since I have a small inheritance from an aunt, he’ll not be saddled with my upkeep, should I fail to marry.’
‘What a blessing to have independent means! I, too, have enough to live on that I need not marry.’
‘But you’re so lovely! I’m sure you could have any gentleman you fancied.’
Temper grimaced. ‘I don’t fancy one. I’d much rather remain single and pursue my own interests.’
‘How fascinating! Won’t you tell me more? I should love to know how you’ve acquired a dubious reputation before you were even out. And about your famous mama, of course. Oh, forgive me!’ she added, clapping a hand to her mouth. ‘My mother would say I am being vulgarly intrusive! If it seems so, I do apologise—but I am curious. My life is very dull, you see. I’ve never been anywhere or done anything interesting.’
‘No apologies necessary. You are very forthright—but I like that,’ Temper said, her positive first impression of Miss Henley reinforced. ‘I’d love to talk at length—but it’s far too busy here.’ Out of the corner of her eye she could see Giff, having bid goodbye to the lady who’d been occupying him, glancing around for her. Several of her previously dismissed swains were also sidling closer, probably to renew their requests for a dance. ‘Do you ride?’
‘I do, but tomorrow I promised Mama to wait until the Promenade Hour.’ Miss Henley made a face. ‘It will mean being restricted to a trot at best, but at least I won’t have to sit with her in the barouche. She claims going to the Park is supposed to be for me to display myself to potential beaux, but it’s really Mama who loves stopping to chat with friends, or to take some favoured gentlemen up in her carriage. But if you rode with me—and shooed away the gentlemen who would certainly beg to accompany you—we might manage a good coze without anyone interrupting us.’
‘Yes, let’s do that,’ Temper said.
Miss Henley smiled. ‘Mama will scold at first, saying that I will show to disadvantage beside an Incomparable like you, but I will counter by telling her that as an Incomparable inevitably gathers an admiring crowd around her, I will have an opportunity to impress the gentlemen waiting to claim your attention. Unlikely, of course, but that view of it will content her.’
‘You really are the most complete hand!’ Temper said with a laugh. ‘Do you manage everyone around you so deftly?’
Miss Henley shrugged. ‘As a female, one must learn how to manoeuvre people with subtlety. It’s the only way to get to do what you want.’
‘Perhaps you can teach me some of your tricks! Until tomorrow, then!’
The girls exchanged curtsies, Miss Henley pressing Temper’s hand before slipping past her. As she turned back towards the ballroom, Temper discovered that Giff’s progress towards her had been arrested by Miss Avery.
Unaccountably annoyed, Temper absently accepted the offer of the first man to reach her and walked with him on to the dance floor, her gaze straying back to Giff and his persistent admirer.
She was too far away to hear their conversation, but after a few moments’ chat, shaking his head and smiling, Giff bowed—an obvious dismissal. Temper saw an expression of pique cross the young lady’s face before she smiled as well and gave her hand to a different gentleman.
Though she hadn’t any right to be, Temper felt...pleased that Giff had politely turned away the girl’s efforts to lure him into a dance. She would want dear Giff to find a companionable wife and there was something about Miss Avery she just couldn’t like.
If he were going to do her the favour of watching out for her, she ought to reciprocate by actually evaluating the eligible ladies for him, as she’d flippantly offered, thinning out from those who tried to attach him any she felt would not make him an admirable partner.
Going through the steps with her current partner, a callow young man too shy to talk, allowed Temper to look back across the ballroom to where Newell stood beside Mrs Moorsby. She suppressed a little niggle of regret that Giff—who’d turned out to be an excellent partner—hadn’t invited her to take the floor with him again this evening.
Of course, he’d been practically coerced into doing so the first time by Lady Sayleford. And it was best that she not put herself so tantalisingly close to him—a fact that unexpectedly disturbing carriage ride had revealed.
Having accompanied her brother and Giff numerous times over the years, she’d taken the seat beside him without a thought—and immediately known it to be a mistake. Unable to think of a way to ask Lady Sayleford to alter the arrangement without the request appearing very odd, she’d suffered through—the sensual tension between them, she thought ruefully, unfortunately mutual.
Dancing with him had been just as fraught, though, thank heavens, the first dance had not been a waltz. It was dizzying enough just walking out on to the floor with her hand on his arm, feeling the tingle of connection all the way up to her shoulder when he clasped her hand to turn her through the figures of the dance. To have his arm around her waist, her hand on his shoulder as the waltz required, so close she could feel the heat emanating from his body, catch the faint scent of his shaving soap... A wave of warmth rippled through her at the thought.
So much for her optimistic hopes that whatever strange effect he was having on her would diminish with time...or become easier to ignore. How, in the space of a few short months, had he changed from her brother’s best friend, who’d bedevilled, teased—and encouraged—her since she was in short skirts, into this dynamic individual whose physical presence now seemed to cast some sort of spell over her, making her want to draw close to him?
A spell more difficult to resist because this was Giff, a friend she’d known for years, one of the few men she trusted implicitly.
She was beginning to understand why, denied intimacy with her father, her mother had been drawn by another man’s physical appeal. But though she might be tempted, she didn’t have the protection against misfortune of a married woman, whose child from another liaison might be covered up as long as her spouse, knowingly or not, accepted the child. As Temper’s father had.
Nor could she allow herself just a taste of passion with Giff. However willingly she might lure him, if he considered that he’d compromised her, honourable Giff would insist on marriage. With her brother being his best friend, even something as simple as a kiss might be enough to make him feel obligated to offer for her.
And marrying him would mean disaster. As friends, she and Giff had always worked together well, but as a wife, she would destroy him—his career and his peace. She might, given the attraction between them, manage more than just that simple kiss. But even with Giff, attempting something more intimate would risk having the ugly memories surge up and over the barrier she’d constructed to contain them.
Besides, if she were to wed him, she would have to reveal the truth of what had happened that summer afternoon so many years ago. Almost as awful as the event itself would be watching Giff’s expression change from shock, to disgust, to revulsion as she confessed it. The idea of telling him the whole, and thereby forfeiting for ever his respect and friendship, was unthinkable.
No, she couldn’t risk it.
Acting upon the edgy, unwanted, but impossible-to-ignore attraction between them was simply impossible, she concluded with a sigh. No matter how difficult she was finding it to recapture the uncomplicated friendship they used to share.
Chapter Eight
A few hours later, Gifford escorted his ladies into the carriage for the ride home. Mrs Moorsby, clearly unused to late evenings, soon nodded off in her corner. This time, Temper sat across from him, occupying the seat beside her chaperon left vacant by Lady Sayleford’s early departure, leaving Giff mercifully alone on the backward-facing bench.
Inclining her head at her dozing chaperon, Temper said softly, ‘Her first ton evening might have been a bit too stimulating, but I think she enjoyed it.’
‘I’m sure she did. How did you find your first ton evening?’
‘Not as dull as I feared. And Lady Sayleford did her work well. Aside from that one unpleasant encounter, I was treated kindly.’
‘I’m glad.’ Recalling the outraged Lady Agremont, he laughed shortly. ‘The Marquess’s wife is likely to have an unpleasant encounter of her own, once my godmother hears how she treated you.’
Temper smiled ruefully. ‘You’re probably right. I can almost feel for Lady Agremont.’
Trying to keep his voice casual, he continued, ‘You never lacked for partners. Did you meet anyone of particular interest?’
She laughed shortly. ‘Most were attentive, but forgettable. Lord Solsworth was the most bedazzled, although I expect his disapproving mother will make short work of that infatuation.’
Giff hesitated. Temper hadn’t mentioned the man who was his chief worry. Choosing his words with care, he continued, ‘What did you think of Lord Theo? I hope you didn’t find him too charming, for I have to warn you, he’s a rogue through and through. I wouldn’t have you...taken in.’
The smile that comment produced was not reassuring. ‘Ah, Lord Theo. You need not worry about him, Giff. He’s no more interested in marriage than I am. And if it comes to seduction, I’ve told him I shoot straight.’
Giff stared, not sure at first that he’d heard her correctly, then had to laugh. ‘Did you indeed? Did he believe you?’
She chuckled. ‘I think so. Or at least, he gave the warning enough credence that I don’t think he will put it to the test.’
‘That would be a blessing.’
‘So might his friendship be—if his continuing attentions solidify my reputation as a “fast” female no prudent man would consider marrying. I’ll be spared the attentions of honourable men and, relying on you to chase away the dishonourable, I may be able to convince Papa to end this farce of
a Season sooner rather than later. And I find Lord Theo...interesting.’
‘That kind of interest could lead to compromise!’
‘Oh, I don’t think he’d try to take me against my will.’ She grinned. ‘I have it on his own authority that he abhors the idea of coercion. Not that I would mind being compromised by him, since neither of us has any desire to marry. A small scandal might help me end this waste of a Season more quickly.’
‘That might suit you, but what about a scandal’s effect on Lady Sayleford and Mrs Moorsby?’
‘Maybe a very small one?’ She sighed. ‘Though I don’t want to appear proper and conformable, neither do I wish to repay the kindness of Mrs Moorsby, Lady Sayleford—and your own—by embarrassing all of you. I will try to avoid scandal—but I won’t be surprised if it finds me.’
‘I shall have to work harder at my job, to make sure it does not,’ he said emphatically.
‘Dear Giff, still trying to protect me,’ she said, the warmth of her smile causing a curious tightness in his chest. ‘And what a thankless task! I apologise again for catching you up in my battles.’
‘I don’t mind, truly. I’m as eager as Gregory to see you settled and happy.’
She gave him a grim smile. ‘Then you’ll have to choose between “settled” and “happy”, because I could not be both. Enough! I survived my first evening with only one minor incident and met a potential friend in the engaging Miss Henley, with whom I shall ride tomorrow. During the Promenade Hour, unfortunately, but she has promised to accompany her mother then.’
‘Miss...Henley?’ he repeated, trying—and failing—to attach a face to the name.
Temper gave him a deprecating glance. ‘She’s not a Beauty, so men overlook her and her mother doesn’t value her. Despite all that, she seems to have turned into an interesting and independent young lady. I’d like to know her better.’
He sighed. ‘Tomorrow, during the Promenade Hour? I suppose I can be free to accompany you.’
‘I don’t mean to ruin your afternoon!’ she protested. ‘Surely I will be safe enough, riding in the Park amid a throng of the ton, with a groom and Mrs Moorsby to accompany me.’
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