“And isn’t the Season too wonderful!” Miss Blake exclaimed. “I haven’t slept for a week. Every night there is something exciting to do. Some nights we go to two or three different events, and we still must turn down over half the invitations we receive.”
Jane’s only outing so far had consisted of a musicale, where her musical sensibilities had been outraged by the fumble-fingered efforts of the hostess’s two daughters. The Italian tenor who followed had not been much better, but he was very good-looking in a dark-complexioned way, which no doubt accounted for his popularity.
“It has been quite interesting,” Jane agreed diplomatically.
“The only disappointment was Almack’s. Have you been there?” Miss Blake continued on, not waiting for a response. “I never saw so many handsome gentlemen in my life. Everyone was so elegant, but the rooms were quite shabby. Why the assembly rooms back home are more refined.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Jane could see Mrs. Dunne approaching. Having met Mrs. Dunne previously, and endured a long lecture on the sad lack of manners among younger ladies, Jane was in no mood to listen to another tirade. Turning back to Miss Blake she said, “You must tell me all about it, for Lady Sefton has been kind enough to send us vouchers.”
Miss Blake obligingly launched into a vaguely coherent description of Almack’s. Jane listened with half an ear, nodding and agreeing whenever her companion paused for breath. Mrs. Dunne passed them by, choosing a seat next to the elderly Miss Gunther. But now Jane was trapped by her own cleverness, as Miss Blake continued to rattle on. When the door opened Jane looked up, hoping for a diversion.
“Lord Glendale,” Browning intoned importantly.
Glendale came striding through the door, making his way over to Lady Barton. His graceful and unhurried movements, coupled with his lean muscular body, gave the impression of barely leashed energy. Conversation ceased, and Lady Barton’s callers began to preen, as if waiting to see where his attention would fall. Out of the corner of her eye, Jane saw Miss Blake surreptitiously rearrange the folds of her gown, and then fix a bright smile on her face.
“Good morning, Lady Barton,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek. “I trust I find you well.”
“Well enough,” Lady Barton said, visibly triumphant at having such a distinguished caller. “And what brings you here this morning?”
“It is such a beautiful day, I thought Miss Sedgwick would enjoy a drive in the park,” Glendale said, looking over to where she sat.
Jane jumped up, eager to escape. “How very kind of you, sir,” she replied. Then, mindful of her manners, she looked to Lady Barton for permission.
Lady Barton nodded regally. If she was disappointed that Lord Glendale had no intention of staying, she did not show it.
“I will be ready in a moment,” Jane said to Glendale. Taking her leave of the callers, she walked with the appearance of calmness to the hall.
The hall was empty, and Jane raced up the stairs to her room. Sally was nowhere in sight, so Jane threw open the doors of her wardrobe. Dresses of all descriptions crammed the wardrobe, and Jane blinked at the evidence of her aunt’s unlikely generosity.
How did Sally ever find anything? Recklessly shoving aside the expensive garments, she finally found the cloaks in the back. Her hand hesitated over the blue. The merino spencer was elegant, but much too fine for such a cold day. The emerald green wool then. The dressmaker had said it matched her eyes. She wondered if Lord Glendale would notice how becoming it was.
Grabbing the matching bonnet from the overhead shelf, Jane threw on the cloak and tied the bonnet. She paused to check her appearance in the glass. Passable enough, she supposed. Then she hurried down the stairs, to find Glendale waiting for her.
“Ready so soon?” he asked.
She nodded. “Let us leave before Lady Barton changes her mind.”
Glendale handed Miss Sedgwick into the curricle, then sprang up beside her. He took the reins from the groom, and waited until the man climbed onto the back seat before driving off with a flourish.
“It seems you have rescued me again, my lord,” Miss Sedgwick said. “I don’t know how much longer I could have managed to sit there and make polite conversation about nothing.”
Glendale sympathized with her. He had thought to pay a morning call to check on Miss Sedgwick’s progress, but hadn’t taken into account that the London Season was now in earnest. Lady Barton’s morning room had been packed with eligible young ladies and their doting mamas. Only his quick wits in suggesting the drive had saved him. If the weather had been rainy, he would have been trapped in that room. The prospect was enough to make any carefree bachelor break into a cold sweat.
“Delighted that I could be of service. And it is far too lovely a day to spend it indoors.”
“I would have braved a Yorkshire blizzard, just to escape that crowd. And from the expression on your face when you entered, I suggest you felt the same.”
Glendale was still pondering his narrow escape. “Did you see that room? Nothing but eligible young ladies and their mothers. Were I to pay the slightest of attentions to any of those girls, she would construe it as a declaration, and her parents would send the notice to the papers.”
“And where does that leave me?” Miss Sedgwick asked.
Glendale glanced over to Miss Sedgwick, startled by her perception. He must remember not to underestimate her. Her ignorance of ton manners did not mean that she was lacking in wit. He thought furiously for a moment. He could hardly tell her about that absurd wager with Lord Frederick.
“Well, that’s different…”
Miss Sedgwick arched her eyebrows, indicating her disbelief. “Go on,” she prompted.
Inspiration struck. “You are family. We are cousins, of a sort.” He hurried on with his explanation. “After all, Lady Barton is your aunt, and she is my uncle’s wife.”
“Cousins,” she repeated wonderingly. “I never thought of it that way.”
She appeared satisfied with this explanation, and Glendale allowed himself to relax.
“In that case you must call me Cousin Jane,” she said.
He smiled, remembering their first introduction. “Jane? I thought Lady Barton introduced you as Cornelia?”
“Bah! I hate that name. No one calls me Cornelia except Lady Barton, and she does it only to spite me. If we’re to be friends, you will call me Jane.”
Friends. Well, why not? He had never had a friend who was a woman before, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. And Miss Sedgwick certainly didn’t fit any of the other categories of women that he was familiar with.
“Very well,” he said, shaking her hand to seal the bargain. “Friends it is, Cousin Jane. And you can call me Matthew.”
On that note, they reached Green Park. It was the perfect place for his purposes, fashionable enough, but far less crowded than Hyde Park. In Green Park it was possible to drive more than ten yards without being hailed by an acquaintance.
Miss Sedgwick was suitably impressed. “It’s so lovely,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t know there was anything like this in London. It seems like ages since I’ve seen anything green and growing.”
“Pining for home already?” he asked, startled. “But you’ve only been here a few weeks.” Most women viewed the country as a place of exile, longing for the gaiety of London whenever they were away.
“It’s not the country I miss, but the people. I’ve never been away from my family before, and I can’t help thinking about them. It seems so strange not to be there, not to be part of their lives.”
There was a wistful sadness in her expression that made him want to reach over and comfort her. He felt suddenly protective of the naive young miss. He wondered how he would have felt at her age, if he had been sent to London, knowing no one except her aunt. Lady Barton was hardly the type to trouble herself to make her niece feel welcome.
“And yourself? Is your family in London, my lord?” Miss Sedgwick prompted.
“No, my parents are back in Sussex. They prefer the country, and visit London only rarely.”
“And your brothers and sisters?”
“None. I’m their only child.” A fact which made him all too eligible, and accounted for his parents’ growing determination to marry him off.
“How sad for you!” Miss Sedgwick exclaimed. “I can’t imagine life without my brothers and sisters.”
“When I was younger I wanted a brother, but my parents presented me with a pony instead. All in all, I believe it was the better bargain.”
“There speaks a man with no siblings. Perhaps I should lend you one of mine.”
“And do you have enough to spare?”
Miss Sedgwick laughed, her green eyes dancing with mischief. “Assuredly. With four brothers and four sisters, you can have your choice, Cousin Matthew.”
It was Glendale’s turn to blink incredulously. Large families were not unheard-of, but they were not common among the nobility. Eight siblings! If Miss Sedgwick had any sense, she’d be grateful for the relative peace and quiet of London.
A few minutes later, they were hailed by one of Glendale’s acquaintances. Glendale had spotted Sir Peter Verney riding in the distance, but hoped the man would have the decency to leave them alone. Instead Verney rode up alongside them, and politeness dictated that they stop to exchange greetings.
“Good afternoon, Glendale. I didn’t expect to see you here today.” Sir Peter Verney looked speculatively over at Miss Sedgwick. There was something calculating in that gaze, and Glendale hurried to make introductions.
“May I present my cousin, Miss Sedgwick? Miss Sedgwick, this is Sir Peter Verney, an acquaintance of mine.” An acquaintance that he would just as soon deny. Sir Peter was in his mid-thirties. A younger son who had never known the weight of responsibility, he had given his life over to idleness and debauchery. But no public scandal had broken, and he was received almost everywhere. The ladies of the ton were fond of likening him to a poet, and indeed he had the look of one, with long blond hair, a pallid complexion, and a frame that was thin to the point of emaciation. It was only when you looked closely that you could see the signs of dissipation.
“A pleasure to meet you, sir,” Miss Sedgwick replied. She had the poor taste to smile at the cad, as if genuinely pleased to make his acquaintance.
Sir Peter took the gloved hand she offered, raising it to his lips, while looking steadily into her eyes. Dammit, what was the man thinking? Miss Sedgwick wasn’t some Covent Garden light-skirt, but a respectable woman. Glendale cleared his throat loudly, and Sir Peter relinquished Miss Sedgwick’s hand. He turned his mocking attention towards Glendale.
“Glendale, you dog, I should have known you would steal a march on the rest of us. Where have you been hiding this charmer?” Sir Peter’s insinuating smile made it clear that he didn’t believe that Miss Sedgwick was Glendale’s cousin. Glendale had never liked the man, but up until now he had tolerated him as someone who moved in the same circles. With difficulty, Glendale controlled the urge to plant his fist in the middle of that leering face.
He snapped the reins, making the horses fidget, and unsettling Sir Peter’s mount. He took a petty pleasure in watching Sir Peter’s attempts to bring his high-strung bay under control.
“I can see your horse is too fresh to be kept standing,” Glendale observed. “And Lady Barton is waiting for our return. Good day.”
With that, Glendale drove off, leaving an astonished Sir Peter behind. No doubt the man was trying to reconcile the notion of a high-stickler like Lady Barton with his previous assumptions.
“Did I miss something?” Miss Sedgwick asked. “You were very short with your friend.”
“He’s not my friend. Just an acquaintance. And someone whom you should stay away from,” Glendale growled, still upset by the encounter. What did it matter if he was not in the habit of being seen with eligible young ladies? That didn’t give Sir Peter the right to assume that Miss Sedgwick was less than respectable, just because he had taking her out driving.
“Why?”
“Because—” he began, and then hesitated as he tried to think of how to phrase his words. “Because Sir Peter is not the kind of man you ought to know.”
“Then why did you introduce me?” pointed out the ever-logical Miss Sedgwick.
“You would have seen him eventually. Sir Peter’s received almost everywhere. But he’s a rake and a fortune hunter. Just stay away from him, Jane.”
“Well, in that case I should be quite safe from his attentions,” Jane replied, her voice frosty. “How lucky that I have you to look after my interests.”
From the tone of her voice, he knew his abrupt command had offended her. But surely it was better that she learn the truth now. And what had she meant by saying that she was safe? He glanced over, but one look at Jane’s set face made him decide against asking her to explain.
Later, in the privacy of her room, Jane attempted to sort out her feelings. Dear Mama, Jane began her letter. I am quite well, and hope that you and the children are the same. London is overwhelming, but everyone is quite kind to me. I have made a new friend, Lord Glendale, who is Lord Barton’s nephew. Lord Glendale is as handsome as Rosemarie could wish for, and has all the ladies of the ton at his feet. I miss you and the children dreadfully, and hope that you will write soon, and tell me everything that has happened since I left. And tell Angus MacLeod that I am still waiting to hear how Percival is settling in.
There now. Jane scanned the beginning of the letter. This was her third attempt. The previous attempts lay crumpled on the floor around her chair, having sounded too much like pleas for sympathy. There was no sense in writing about her troubles. Her family was too far away to help, so why worry them?
If only there was someone that she could confide in. Jane had expected that she would feel uncomfortable at first, but she had been here over three weeks, and had yet to find her feet. She had nothing in common with the other young ladies she met. Even the simplest of things brought the potential for disaster.
Look at the other day. Jane had accompanied Lady Barton while her aunt made her round of calls. Lady Barton had carefully instructed Jane not to talk about politics, her family, or, heaven forbid, trade. The weather had seemed a safe enough topic. So when Mrs. Dunne had commented that the weather was unusually warm for this time of year, Jane felt safe in responding that the weather was warm indeed, which was fortunate with lambing season about to start.
Her cheeks burned as she remembered the wave of laughter that had swept Mrs. Dunne’s salon. Mrs. Dunne seemed to feel that Jane had been mocking her, and delivered a stinging lecture on the impertinence of youth. There were only a half dozen people present to witness her embarrassment, but to Jane it seemed like a hundred.
She should go back home. She had nothing in common with these people, and she had no desire to become better acquainted with them. She had no interest in the latest fashions, or discussing the relative merits of one face cream over another, or in listening to scurrilous tales about people she had never met.
Jane thanked heaven that her mother had had the good sense to marry her father. No wonder they had fallen in love. Her father had been a kind man, with a direct, practical way about him. It was impossible to imagine him mingling with the fops and dandies of London.
Of course, not all the men she had met were fops. Matthew Kingsley, for instance. She thought her father would have approved of Lord Glendale. Since their first meeting, she had felt a kinship with him. Jane found herself looking for him wherever she went. His presence livened up the dullest of affairs, while without him all entertainments seemed sadly flat. But for all his seeming enjoyment of her company, Lord Glendale was obviously not in the market for a wife. If only she could find someone else as interesting.
Jane laid down her pen with a sigh. It was time to dress for dinner. She would finish the letter tomorrow. And there was no time to indulge in a fit of the dismals. She was in London for a reason, an
d she shouldn’t let her difficulties make her lose sight of her goal.
True, she was different from the young ladies of the ton, but that didn’t diminish her worth. Jane might feel out of place here, but girls like Miss Blake would be even more out of place in the country. She’d like to see one of them try to run a household or manage a farm. She chuckled at the idea of the elegant Miss Blake standing shrieking in the middle of a pen, while the sheep pressed around her.
What Jane needed was a man who could appreciate her finer qualities. Someone who would be a friend, as well as a husband. But where would she find such a man? An image of a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark brown hair and laughing brown eyes crossed her mind. Lord Glendale. Drat the man, why was he forever breaking into her thoughts? It wasn’t as if he was the only gentleman she knew. She had met dozens of gentlemen since her arrival in town. Not all of them were arrogant fops. Some were kind or clever or even handsome.
But none of them made her feel as special as she did when she was with Glendale. But was it all in her imagination? She had met Lord Glendale first, so it was natural that she used him as the standard to which she compared all other gentlemen. Surely she could find another gentleman equally worthy of her admiration. Of course she could. It was only a matter of setting her mind to it.
Chapter Five
“Have you finished?” Jane asked for the fifth time in as many minutes.
“Just one more, miss.” The maid Sally tucked the ends of the last ribbon securely into Jane’s hair. “There now, it’s done.”
Jane rose from her chair and walked over to the cheval mirror. An elegant stranger peered back at her.
“Oh miss, you look ever so fine,” Sally said.
Jane couldn’t help agreeing. The reflection in the mirror was she, yet at the same time it was not. The young lady in the mirror was wearing a creamy lace ball gown, over an underskirt of the palest green muslin. Emerald green ribbons decorated the hem and caught up the layers, matching the green and white ribbons that were woven in her hair. The simplicity suited her height, giving her the appearance of elegance and sophistication.
A London Season Page 5
