by Mary Nichols
‘Not only that, but he was in your regiment,’ Mrs Bertram went on, turning back to her husband. ‘If he were still with the colours, he would have been obliged to ask your permission to marry, and, even though he is no longer a serving officer, courtesy demands no less than he should make you aware of his intentions.’
‘You seem very sure of his intentions.’
‘Of course. Women know these things, do they not, Georgiana?’
‘I am afraid I have no experience of such things,’ she said, wishing her aunt would not keep turning to her for confirmation of everything she said.
‘We have stood here long enough, I think,’ her aunt said crisply. ‘I doubt there will be any more arrivals and I need to sit down and take a glass of ratafia. And you may wish to dance, Georgiana.’ She lifted Georgie’s hand where her dance card should have been attached to her wrist by a ribbon. ‘Where is your card, child?’
Georgie did not like her aunt addressing her as ‘child’ but at the moment that was how she felt - young and bewildered. ‘I do not wish to dance, Aunt. I am my sister’s chaperon and guardian, or had you forgot?’
‘Fustian!’ Mrs Bertram exclaimed. ‘I am here, am I not? You do not need to sit with the antidotes tonight. Go and enjoy yourself.’
‘Aunt, there is no one...’
‘Oh, yes, there is,’ Colonel Bertram interrupted, taking her arm and leading her into the ballroom to dance a stately minuet, and as soon as they were out of earshot he said, ‘Now, me girl, you’d best tell me what’s bothering you.’
‘Nothing, Uncle, nothing at all. But I would not wish to behave improperly.’
He threw back his head and laughed, making several people in the vicinity turn to look at him. ‘Is this the fearless Georgiana Paget I used to know? Why, as a girl, you thought nothing of riding to hounds and taking a hedge with the best; are you balking one now?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Jealous of your sister, eh?’
She looked up at him sharply and almost missed her step. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Getting an offer before you. You are the elder, after all.’
She let out her breath in a sigh of relief. ‘Oh, I do not think of that at all, Uncle. If Felicity is happy, it is all I ask.’
The Colonel wisely decided to say no more and when the dance finished he took her card from her reticule where she had hidden it and perambulated round the floor with her, bowing and chatting to his guests as he went, putting Georgie forward whenever he could, so that by the time they returned to Mrs Bertram, who was sitting having a comfortable coze with Lady Hereward, her card was almost full.
It was very kind of him and she appreciated his efforts, but it didn’t alter the fact that Richard had not asked her to stand up with him and unless he did so very soon she would not have a dance left for him. And that was as it should be, she told herself sternly. She had no right to sigh after her sister’s prospective husband.
She had hardly taken her seat beside her aunt when Lord Barbour was standing before her, in knee-breeches and satin coat, doing his best to make an elegant leg and creaking terribly in the process. She favoured him with a smile which was just a little too bright as he took her card and, seeing that there was no name beside the country dance then beginning, asked her to stand up with him. She retrieved her card, slipped it back over her wrist and stood up. This fat, conceited, not entirely sober coxcomb was to be her lot and she had better make up her mind to it, but even the feel of his clammy hand holding her fingers as they began the promenade was enough to repel her. She was glad that the strict etiquette her aunt insisted on meant that she would not have to endure more than two dances with him.
Her aunt, when Georgie was returned to her, was sitting between Mrs Sopwithy and Lady Hereward, watching Felicity circulating the room with Richard, her gloved fingers resting lightly on his sleeve. ‘How good to see one’s best efforts so well rewarded,’ she told them as Georgie took her place beside Lady Hereward.
‘Shall it be announced tonight, do you think?’ her ladyship asked.
‘He has yet to speak to the Colonel, but we shall see.’ Harriet smiled like a contented cat.
Another dance was beginning and Georgie’s partner came to claim her, so she was not obliged to suffer any more of the conversation, for which she was utterly thankful. She danced well and when she allowed herself to forget the tall major who dominated the room with his presence and her pretty little sister, who seemed to be flirting outrageously with every young man in the room, she managed to enjoy herself - at least until after supper, when she found herself, for the first time, sitting alone. Her aunt was gossiping with a group of her cronies, her uncle had gone to see how the less energetic gentlemen were doing in the card-room and Felicity was dancing with John Melford and laughing at something he had said. She hardly had time to wonder where Major Baverstock might be when she saw him coming purposefully towards her. She began a detailed inspection of her fan because she could not watch his progress without the yearning in her eyes becoming obvious.
‘Miss Paget, will you do me the honour of waltzing with me?’
Only then did she look up. ‘Why, Major,’ she said, pretending surprise. ‘You have taken me unawares...’
‘Do you not wish to stand up with me?’
Oh, yes, yes, more than anything, her heart cried, but her voice said, ‘Major, I am supposed to be my sister’s chaperon.’
‘Still? I had supposed your aunt had relieved you of that duty. I have seen you on the floor several times, twice with Lord Barbour.’
‘Oh,’ she said, smiling up at him. ‘Were you counting?’
‘No, but I’ll wager the tabbies were.’
‘And do you suppose they have counted your dances too?’
‘Undoubtedly.’ He whirled her on to the floor and was even now spanning her waist with his big hand, leaning back a little and smiling down at her. She felt herself melting into him, so that they seemed fused by the music into a single body, moving as one. She was in a dreamlike state that had no bearing on reality and she did not want to wake up.
‘I thought you would dance well,’ he said, after their first circumnavigation of the room. ‘It’s much like sitting a horse - a kind of union, combining movement and rhythm.’
She laughed. ‘I am not at all sure that I like being compared to a horse.’
‘I was not comparing you to a horse but complimenting you on your dancing.’
‘Then I thank you, sir.’
‘I am afraid I have been too long away from Society and feminine company, I stumble over the simplest exchange of pleasantries. Please forgive me.’
‘There is nothing to forgive.’ She couldn’t help it; she had to know. ‘But how does my sister take your compliments, Major? Does she understand them any better than I do?’
‘I believe so. At least, she has not complained.’
‘You go on very well together, then?’
‘Yes, indeed.’
‘And have you had an interview with Colonel Bertram yet?’
He looked down at her, surprised by the question. ‘The Colonel?’
‘Yes, Major, my uncle. He will have to be approached if you mean to speak to Felicity...’
He disliked the idea of being pushed into anything, even if it was what he’d intended in the first place, and he stiffened. ‘Of course, but if you do not mind, Miss Paget, I will choose my own time. There are matters that require my attention first.’
‘Something like a madcap wager, I collect. Well, Major Baverstock, it is interesting to know where your priorities lie.’
His face darkened and his eyes narrowed and she knew she had angered him, but she didn’t care; she wanted to rouse him to something and if it could not be love then it must be anger. But oh, how her heart ached, and there was nothing for it but to endure. ‘You know, of course, that under the terms of my father’s will I have to approve my sister’s choice of husband and arrange her dowry.’
> ‘No, I did not. I can hardly believe someone as sensible as Sir Henry should have done such a thing. You are hoaxing me.’
‘Not at all. Ask my Aunt.’
‘Then do you approve?’
Oh, what a question! She smiled slowly, unable to resist the temptation to tease in spite of her swiftly beating heart, or perhaps because of it. She had to stay on top of herself or sink into despair. ‘I have not yet been asked the question. Of whom am I to approve?’
‘Miss Paget, I beg you not to play games with me; I have thrashed a man for less provocation than you are giving me.’
‘I am not a man.’
‘No, Miss Paget, but unfortunately it seems you have been cast in the role of one by your father.’
‘Then man to man, are you requesting my permission to speak to my sister?’
‘Dammit, no!’ His voice had risen and she looked around to see who might have heard.
‘I think perhaps we should leave the floor to continue this discussion,’ she said in a low voice.
Together they retired to one side of the ballroom, where two vacant chairs were placed close to a huge potted plant, brought in from the conservatory, but they did not sit down. Instead they turned to face each other. ‘I suppose you will say I asked for that,’ she said.
‘No, but I am not about to bend the knee to a slip of a miss who thinks she can dangle a carrot in front of me and I will meekly follow.’
‘I do not understand.’ She was genuinely puzzled.
‘All this talk of approval and dowries. I find it hard to credit that it is in your hands.’
‘But it is, Major, and believe me I wish it were otherwise; it is not a responsibility which sits easily on my shoulders.’
‘And what has Miss Felicity to say to that?’
‘She will be guided, as I have been, by wiser heads than ours. My aunt or, better still, my uncle will advise us.’ She was quite serious now. ‘But I will never stand in the way of my sister’s happiness; you may depend on that. And she shall have whatever dowry I can afford...’
‘No dowry is necessary,’ he said, controlling his impulse to shake her. No, not shake her, he corrected himself, crush her to him, kiss her until she returned fire with fire, passion with passion. ‘You may keep Rowan Park intact.’
‘That I intend to do.’
‘And Lord Barbour?’
‘What about his lordship?’
‘Are you going to marry him?’
‘You are impertinent, sir.’
‘I beg pardon, but give me leave to feel concerned for you. He is not a man I can recommend.’ It was as far as he dared go to warn her. I
‘I do not need your recommendation, Major,’ she retorted, furious with him. ‘Just because you have fallen out with him, it does not mean that everyone else should do so.’ The waltz had come to an end and the dancing couples were leaving the floor. ‘Now I suggest we return to my aunt, or we will give the tattlers something to talk about.’
Dutifully he escorted her back to her place beside her aunt, but he did not immediately seek an interview with the Colonel, as she had expected, but went over to a white-haired gentleman who sat on one side of the room, surveying everything about him with keen dark eyes. His features were so like Richard’s that Georgie felt sure they were related.
‘Who is that?’ she asked her aunt.
‘Oh, that is the Major’s father, Viscount Dullingham, my dear. I invited him, of course, but I hardly expected him to honour us by coming.’
He had come to look them over, to decide if Felicity was good enough for his son, to see the hoyden who guarded her and with whom they would have to deal. Georgie did not know whether to laugh or cry.
Chapter Six
‘Introduce me,’ Lord Dullingham commanded his son.
Richard complied, taking his father over to where Mrs Bertram sat with her family about her, looking round the glittering company like a queen. Seeing him coming, she rose to her feet in a flurry of plum-coloured taffeta, knowing how much recognition by him would enhance her reputation and aware that everyone was watching. ‘So very pleased to make your acquaintance, my lord,’ she said as he took her hand and bowed over it. ‘May I present my nieces?’ She turned to Georgie. ‘This is Georgiana, and this...’ she drew Felicity forward ‘... this is Felicity.’ The beam on her face clearly indicated her expectations and made him smile.
He was, Georgie noticed, a very handsome man, still quite slim and upright with a shock of white hair which appeared to have no particular style, though its untidiness suited him. The rest of him was neat in the extreme, though a little old-fashioned. But, unlike Lord Barbour, whose satin knee-breeches made him look ridiculous, the Viscount was the epitome of stately elegance. She found herself smiling, almost mischievously, when he favoured her with a close inspection, his dark eyes full of humour.
‘I am told, Miss Paget, that you know horseflesh.’
‘A little, my lord. I had a good teacher.’
‘Sir Henry, yes. Capital fellow. Keeping up his good work, are you?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘I shall need new carriage horses soon; mine are getting long in the tooth - like their owner.’ He smiled at his own joke. ‘I’ll come to see what you’ve got.’
‘We shall look forward to that, my lord,’ she said, trying to keep the eagerness from her voice. If Lord Dullingham bought horses from her, it would do her business no harm at all.
He turned his attention to Felicity and favoured her with a little conversation, but she was so much in awe of him, she could find little to say above a whispered, ‘Yes, my lord,’ and ‘No, my lord,’ which exasperated her aunt. After a few minutes’ discourse with Colonel Bertram, with whom he was already acquainted, he took his leave, accompanied by his son. If Mrs Bertram was disappointed that Richard had not stayed to speak to her husband about Felicity, she hid it well, preening herself on the added consequence to her reputation as a hostess that his lordship’s presence had given. Now everyone would know that Richard and Felicity would soon become betrothed. She only hoped it would be before she had to leave for Paris.
‘Well, my boy,’ the Viscount said as he and his son returned to Baverstock House in his lordship’s carriage. ‘Can’t make up your mind, eh?’
‘Sir?’
‘Which of the Paget gels to offer for.’
Richard looked at him in astonishment. ‘Father, why do you say that? I collect you telling me you hoped it would not be the elder.’
‘So I did. Changed my mind. She’s got a lot more about her than her sister.’
Richard did not know whether to be angry or downright miserable at this pronouncement, or whether, had he known of his father’s change of heart before this, it would have made the least difference; probably not. ‘Miss Felicity Paget is shy, Father. When you get to know her...’
‘So you have offered.’
‘No, sir, but I believe everyone expects it soon.’
‘But you are prevaricating.’
‘No.’ But he did not sound at all sure and his father chuckled.
‘You may not have been at home much in the last eight years but you are still my son, and I know you better than you think. I saw you dancing with them both and I’d say it was Georgiana who has caught your interest.’
‘Oh.’ He was silent for a moment, recognising the truth of what his father had said. ‘Is it that obvious?’
‘Only to me. What are you going to do about it?’
‘What can I do?’ Richard asked miserably. ‘Mrs Bertram has made her wishes known. I am expected to offer for Felicity.’
‘And what about her sister’s wishes?’
‘Hers too. If I thought she was in any way hanging fire, I might think again, because she has to approve, you know, being her sister’s guardian, but she is pushing as hard as anyone for the match. I do not see what I can do but come to the mark. To do anything else would give the gabblegrinders a field day.’
His lordship
reached out and put a hand on his son’s sleeve. ‘But not tonight, eh?’
‘No, there are other reasons...’
‘A wager?’
‘You have heard about it?’ Richard asked in surprise, knowing his father went out very little.
‘Wendens is a fount of information.’ Wendens was his father’s valet, old and bent almost double with rheumatics, but he still managed to look after his lordship, if only slowly, and to keep him up to date with the latest on dit. ‘But what has the wager to do with your betrothal?’
Richard told him as succinctly as he could, though it all sounded a little high-flown to the Viscount. That anyone could imagine his son, whose competence was more than adequate even without the Dullingham inheritance, could marry for the sake of a horse was beyond comprehension. He smiled. ‘It seems to me that everyone is assuming that Miss Paget will marry Barbour before you marry her sister and you can’t be sure of that.’
‘She has more or less indicated that she will.’
‘I’ll lay odds she doesn’t.’
‘You would lose your money.’
‘I don’t think so. She is not such a ninnyhammer.’
Richard wished he had his father’s faith. But even if Georgie did not marry Lord Barbour it hardly changed things as far as he was concerned. He had not finally committed himself to offering for Felicity Paget but it was as near as dammit and nothing short of a terrible scandal, which would hurt both families, could get him out of it. Oh, what a coil he had got himself into!
‘He’s come to speak to the Colonel,’ Fanny said when she woke her mistress just before noon the following morning. ‘They’re together now, in the library.’
Georgie sat up and took the hot chocolate from her maid with hands that shook. So, it was all over, her aunt’s scheming, the anticipation, the courtship; before the day was out Felicity would be betrothed to Richard Baverstock. She took a deep breath to compose herself. ‘Does my sister know he’s here?’
‘Miss Felicity? No, she is still fast asleep. And why should she know before you?’
‘Goodness, Fanny, you are a goose. As soon as my uncle has given his consent, the Major will want to speak to Felicity, won’t he? You should be helping her to dress, making her look her best.’
