Decided, he kneed his gelding around and returned the way he’d come in a faster gait, though not so quick as to raise attention. Aubrey had neither the need nor the intention of running after the Whitfeld girl, not when he knew with reasonable certainty exactly where she would be that very evening. If she had more between her ears than fluff, she’d be happy to engage in conversation of the like not often found on the dance floor. And if she should not, he could dismiss her with confidence such that no one, neither Jasper nor Isabella, could question his efforts.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Their return to the Whitfeld town house passed in an uncomfortable silence. Barbara knew her impulsive action had been as rude as Sarah claimed, but she refused to say so aloud. Aubrey St. Vincent deserved what she’d done and worse. He deserved to be revealed as the snake he truly was for the protection of all young ladies taken in by his apparent demeanor.
He had spoiled her ride like he spoiled every event at which he made an appearance, and even brought conflict with her friend. Barbara would have been happy never to encounter him again in any forum, ballroom dance, or bridle path, though she had little hope of such a happening coming to be.
Her outfit reeked of horse, and her visage held none of the delight a horseback ride should have offered as she mounted the short steps to the house with Sarah trailing after. And now, instead of continuing their conversations of the ride, she had to look forward to changing and a quick wash in uncomfortable silence.
Their butler Mr. Simmons swung the door wide the moment she let the knocker meet its rest, as though he’d been waiting for them.
Barbara gave him a nod and swept toward the stairs, not waiting to let Sarah catch up.
The butler coughed once. “Lady Barbara.”
He paused until she turned, startled.
“Your father commands your presence in his study.”
Raising the thick skirt of her riding habit with both hands, she said, “Tell him I’ll be down as soon as I’ve changed. I’m not fit company.”
Sarah muttered something Barbara chose not to hear as she brushed past.
Barbara let her go, knowing Sarah needed to arrange a tub, but when she turned to follow, Simmons caught hold of her arm.
“He said immediately, my lady. I’m sure he can suffer your current state.”
Barbara stared at him, shocked both by the touch and his determination that she stand before her father in a dirty dress with the stench of a ride surrounding her.
He raised both hands and took a step back as though repelled by her gaze, an apology in his eyes. “He said for me to catch you the moment you returned, my lady, and gave no mention of letting you prepare yourself in advance of the meeting.”
Barbara let loose a long sigh. “Well then, I suppose I must go.” She once again gathered her skirts and marched toward her father’s study, head held high despite knowing she was not at her best. Perhaps he had yet another suitor awaiting her pleasure. At least this gentleman would see her exactly as she was and convention be damned.
Simmons reached the door before her only by breaking into an undignified stride and ducking in front of her. Barbara felt a momentary flash of pleasure followed with embarrassment. He’d only been following her father’s command and had not set out to make her unsettled.
The door swung wide before she could do more than regret her disheveled appearance. She might not appreciate how gentlemen seemed incapable of looking beyond the package, but that didn’t mean she wanted them to recoil from her with fingers pinched over their noses.
The sight that greeted her, though, held only one of the male persuasion: her father. Her mother graced the stately room with her presence as well, and from the Lady Whitfeld’s expression, she had not shared in her husband’s urgency.
“Come in,” Lord Whitfeld said with a measured tone reminding Barbara of when she’d been called to task as a young girl for her latest escapade.
She entered the space reluctantly and stood before his desk without attempting to take a seat until told to do so, a directive her father pointedly neglected as he stared at her in silence.
“Oh do let the girl sit down,” her mother burst out all of a sudden. “There’s no reason to make this any less pleasant than it already is.”
Barbara waited for her father to nod in silent agreement before taking her mother’s words for permission. Still, when she sat, it was to perch on the very edge of the chair, her back as rigid as the busk tucked into her corsets. Tension swept her every muscle until she ached from head to toe, but she kept her expression neutral. Her behavior at the morning meal had left much to be desired, but surely her mother would have taken on that scolding.
He continued to frown at her for a moment longer until even her mother fought the need to fidget. Then, with so little warning Barbara jumped in surprise, he said, “Your mother and I have discussed your behavior toward those come seeking your hand. You’ve become nothing less than a frivolous chit trifling with the hearts and lives of the men who seek you out. Not only that, but you seem to have little consideration for the others in this year’s marriage mart who suffer from having so many pulled from the scene as they hold out for your answer.”
Barbara’s face heated at this evidence she’d succeeded so well in her wish to meet with Aubrey’s unkind assessment. She had attempted to turn some of her suitors to other girls, though with little success, but it measured poorly against her harsh words in quitting the breakfast table just this morning. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you,” she said, her tone soft.
Her father raised one hand. If anything, his frown cut deeper into his serious visage. “It is too late for pretty words, Barbara. I never expected you’d so abuse our trust and that of your suitors when I agreed to let you choose your own match. I hold to my word despite my statement at breakfast, but I’ll not be the master of your willful torment.”
She half rose to protest then fell back on the seat, aware nothing she could offer would improve the situation. When she’d extracted that promise, she’d had her sights firmly set on Aubrey, and every intention of concocting the necessary plan to claim him for her own. How many times had they told her to mend her unruly ways, to act within the constraints of society? Sarah had said as much only recently.
Barbara had brought their condemnation on her head, and nothing would change the past. She could only meekly accept their chastising now and show with her actions how she’d learned from the experience.
“Would that you’d shown such restraint earlier,” her mother murmured.
Something in her mother’s tone brought Barbara’s attention to fix on her father rather than her own shortcomings. Again, he gave her only silence in return, a silence heavy with disappointment, but holding more.
Lady Whitfeld launched to her feet. “Just tell her. I fear my heart can take this tension no longer.”
He spared his wife a glance, grimaced, then rested his face on steepled fingers for a moment. “Your mother and I have decided you lack the maturity for coming out, though we’d had high hopes at the beginning of your season. Your maid has been set about the task of packing up your things. You will be sent to the country to live at the Ferrier holdings until such time as reports of your behavior show you’ve grown up enough to return.”
Barbara stared at her father in shock. Whatever she’d expected, this had never entered her thoughts.
“You’re sending me away?” For all she’d struggled with the conventions, and had her heart crushed by unthinking words, she’d kept away from scandal. Just what would the gossips make of her vanishing without warning? Her reputation would suffer worse than if she cantered through Hyde Park, knocking pedestrians left and right.
Her mother came to her side and caught hold of one of Barbara’s hands. “It’s not forever, my dear. And you’ll be able to finish out your season should my brother’s reports please.”
She jerked her hand free. “And what of those suitors you hold in such regard?” Her questi
on was directed not at her mother but at the man surely behind this decision.
Lord Whitfeld had the grace to look uncomfortable, but when he spoke, not a hint of it showed in the sonorous tones. “They’ll turn their attention elsewhere, I suspect. Especially when I will be unable to give them a day upon which you’ll return. Should any hold steadfast, maybe that will offer you the distinction you seem to find so lacking.”
Barbara turned to her mother. “They’ll think me compromised. You know they will.”
Where she’d expected support from the woman who had always counseled her to stay within expectations, Lady Whitfeld offered only a sad smile and quick shake of her head. “That you’d think to the gossips first, and not the suffering of those partial to you, shows this action—though dramatic—the right and only course. I’ve made mistakes before in managing a season, but I’ll not let you ruin both your future and that of those you trifle with. Your cousins, Charlotte especially, are more than capable of teaching you the value of hard work and life itself, something you seem to have forgotten in the flash and glitter of the town existence. It’s not all pretty dresses and flowery words. There are people behind each conversation, a fact you neglect when you dangle hope so broadly only to laugh as they come to blows.”
“I never laughed.” The sour mutter offered little to support her case when she could not protest the majority. She’d done as she had to condemn a man who had never bothered to speak with her. But what of those who had sought her attention, time, and even her hand? Them she’d seen as little more than pawns in her game to show Aubrey just how she would appear had she been the girl he’d thought her to be.
“Go on with you now,” her mother said. “Sarah will need your help if you are to begin your journey before nightfall. You’ve enjoyed your time in the country in the past. It will not be so horrible.”
“Do not soften this for her, my dear. She earned her punishment and must suffer it if she’s to learn the error of her ways.” He turned his sharp gaze on Barbara. “The carriage will leave when I say it will, and if you have nothing to wear once you get to your uncle’s holdings, I’m sure your cousins can dress you in their cast-offs. It would serve you well. You are our only daughter, and it would seem we’ve pandered to your wishes too often for you to learn the value of those around you. Now get from my sight. I have nothing more to say to you.”
Her father’s condemnation weighed heavier than any other as Barbara obeyed his command. He’d been the one to encourage her in unconventional pursuits, to answer her questions when she sought to explore unwomanly concepts, and to give her books from the shelves where more than light novels rested. She’d given no thought to how her behavior would reflect on her parents when reacting to Aubrey’s assessment. Nor had she considered how her actions would affect the suitors she dismissed as shallow. In pretending frivolity, she’d discovered the true depths of her own character.
Barbara returned to her room deep in thought to find it overrun with the chaos of packing.
Sarah came to her then, their argument forgotten as she put her arms around Barbara for comfort. “It’s not as bad as it seems,” she said. “You’ll see. This will all turn out for the best.”
Though Barbara doubted that statement, she had nothing better to offer. At least time in the country meant freedom from the ever-confining rules of London society, though she suspected she’d be taking them along with her, measured in her father’s harsh tones.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Aubrey arrived at the ball in a strange state of anticipation. Whether he’d been too hasty in his dismissal of Lady Barbara, or had grown desperate for something to break the monotony, the encounter in the park had forced itself to the front of his thoughts all day.
“You’re in a jolly mood this evening, brother,” Isabella said as they stepped from the carriage. “I thought the moment Mother could stay on her feet you’d be off on gentlemanly pursuits. Could it be you’ve finally found one to pique your interest?”
“Oh, do not tease him so,” their mother said as Aubrey took the place of the footman to hand her down. “You wouldn’t want to chance scaring the boy off. I’d half despaired of him ever settling his interest on one of the female persuasion for all his love of poetry and talk of the ideal mate.”
Aubrey looked from one to the other of them and lifted both arms to their service. “So it’s tease or speak not at all? These are the choices you consider?”
Isabella pinched his arm where hers lay entwined. “Don’t you try to distract me. I’ll ferret out who brought the spark into your eyes, just you wait.”
He clicked his tongue. “Should you put half that much energy into finding a match of your own, I’d no longer have to take you to assemblies such as these.”
She jerked her arm free, but when he sought to apologize, she said, “You had every opportunity to cry off this night.” Her tone showed she had not taken offense. “I ask only why the change.”
“Perhaps your pretty words the other night have swayed me. I intend to introduce you to the lady who has caught your favor.”
Her brow furrowed as she sought his meaning, then Isabella shook her head. “You can’t mean to vie with the crowd for Lady Barbara.”
Aubrey swept an awkward bow, his other arm still secured by his mother. “I seek only to please my sister and make the introduction.” She had no need to know the lady in question had made her feelings clear, nor how he intended to find the source for such a strong response.
Experience gained through observing his friend Jasper had revealed marked aversion often enough a sign of strong feelings in the other direction. Whether he wanted to pursue such interests or not, his curiosity, and good manners, demanded some resolution to his apparent crime. Surely neither Jasper nor Isabella had spread his comments, and he’d had no direct contact with Lady Barbara before that moment in the park.
If he found the source of her disdain as frivolous as he’d once considered the woman, he wished well to whichever of her suitors she chose. He only hoped the gentleman in question was ready to suffer a shrew in his bed, as a woman who held such inconsequential grudges must turn out to be one.
If, on the other hand, her cause seemed just, he’d seek to repair the insult and hope to find his efforts rewarded by an acquaintance less bland than the rest of those introduced with the season.
His mother slapped him with her fan. “You look besotted already so don’t think to trick your mother with words of how good a brother you are. Let us sally forth and meet the original who managed to shake your convictions about every debutante on offer.”
Aubrey would have trailed in their wake if not for the firm grips on each of his arms. How could he hope to deduce the truth of his offence when they were in full matchmaking mode?
His fears, though, proved unfounded. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or regretful when, despite all three of their efforts to discover her, it seemed the Lady Barbara had chosen not to attend.
The only good came in the many male glances sent Isabella’s way. Caught up in her sisterly mission, Isabella had overcome her shyness. Her eyes twinkled with suppressed delight at his uncomfortable state, and a blush painted red prettily across each cheek.
“I fear she has not made an appearance, Aubrey,” Isabella said at last, when they had made sure to go through every room opened for the event at least twice.
Aubrey reached that conclusion some time before, but had kept silent to ensure the gentlemen of the ton got to see this side of Isabella. “Perhaps you should take a turn on the dance floor before we try once again? There is many a young man trying to catch your eye.”
She froze and glanced around, ducking her head as she met the first gaze only to peep from beneath the tendrils of hair come loose in her determined search.
Though he’d thought to curse at his ill-considered words, he swallowed the response at the sight of a smile twitching on her lips.
His mother raised an eyebrow at the gentleman in question
and gave an imperious wave to draw him over. With Lady St. Vincent taking a hand, Isabella would have little choice but to concede at least one turn around the dance floor.
Aubrey stepped back, no longer necessary and having failed at his own purpose. He tried to see her absence as a sign he should dismiss the encounter, but the Lady Barbara’s mystery lingered.
When Isabella returned from her dance, her face flushed, he reached for her arm to continue the search as promised, but his mother waved him off.
“Her dance card is full, Aubrey, or will be the moment she makes it available. Take yourself off to the card room if you can find no other companion than your sister.”
The color drained from Isabella’s face, and she shot him a pleading look.
“I’m happy to wait here.”
“Nonsense.” Lady St. Vincent took him by the arm and pulled him one step off. “You stand sentinel over her, and the others will think their attentions unwanted. Give her a moment to flourish, and she’ll forget why she ever stood back.”
Aubrey looked to his sister for confirmation, but before he could catch her downturned gaze, his mother pushed him away forcibly. He had no choice but to go lest he cause a scene and worsen Isabella’s state.
He chose not to go far.
His frown grew as the hours lengthened, as much from how Isabella shrank away from forced encounters with one gentleman after another as from the inability to confront his own lady. He had no more claim to her than any of these to Isabella, but he planned to pursue the possibility.
His sister never stepped onto the dance floor again, those interested turning aside either from her lack of response or from his mother’s unsubtle efforts.
At last, he could tolerate neither his nor Isabella’s torment any longer and strode back to their side.
“I think we’ve made enough of a mark for this evening, Mother. I’ve a mind to quit these environs.”
She raised one eyebrow. “You can take the carriage. There’s no need for you to stay. Just send it back once you reach White’s or wherever else you plan to seek your entertainment.”
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