Wallflower (Old Maids' Club, Book 1)

by Catherine Gayle

  “No,” Jo said, unruffled. “You misunderstand me. Perhaps purposefully.” Her eyes narrowed a bit, but she pressed on. “You have an affection for him that isn’t like a brotherly affection. Maybe even a bit of a tendre?”

  “Don’t be absurd.” Tabitha sniffed. She couldn’t possibly have those sorts of feelings for Lord Devonport, could she? “And even if I do, he certainly doesn’t return them. And even if he did, I could never act on them. Old Maids’ Club. Remember? I have no intention of breaking our pact. Not now. Not ever.”

  Not even if it broke her heart to do so.

  Jo eyed her discerningly as she sat down on the settee beside her. She took Tabitha’s hand in her own and squeezed. “Yes.” Then she lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of Tabitha’s as a single, wet stream trailed its way down her cheek. “I remember. How very well I remember.”

  Chapter Four

  Raynesford and Elaine arrived at deLancie house the following evening to collect Noah and his mother. Mother had announced her plans to meet Glastonbury there before Noah took her home after the Scantlebury soiree last night. Noah, Leith, and Claremont had informed Raynesford of their intentions to attend as well. Raynesford had kindly offered the use of his carriage. Claremont and Leith would meet them there.

  Raynesford had also informed Noah that, after rushing away from him at the Scantlebury ball, Lady Tabitha had sent Miss Faulkner to fetch him. Nearly an hour had passed by that time, which made Noah feel more like a scoundrel than ever. She claimed to be suffering from a megrim to the point of incapacitation, and she had insisted upon going home at once.

  Based on her claims, Raynesford and Shelton seemed to believe whatever had happened hadn’t been Noah’s fault. Fortune had seen fit to smile down upon him, at least in that instance.

  And, as luck would have it (at least as far as Noah was concerned), the ailment seemed to still have Lady Tabitha in its grips. Meaning she would not also be accompanying them that evening. He wasn’t sure he was ready to see her again, especially since he had caused her such distress without knowing how he’d done it.

  A night without her company would allow him to search out some of his other options. He’d heard a rumor that the young Miss Jennings would be present at the musicale. If fortune truly wanted to favor him, perhaps he would discover another heiress or two while he was there, with Claremont and Leith’s help, of course. They seemed to be more in the know when it came to which young ladies might have a settlement coming into her marriage than Noah was.

  He really ought to have been paying more attention to these things. He’d known this would eventually come to pass since well before his father had died. There was no excuse for not taking matters into his own hands a long time ago.

  When they were all situated in the carriage and on their way, Noah’s mother faced Raynesford and Elaine. “And you assure me Lady Tabitha will be quite well soon? You’re certain? I was so terribly worried when I saw her rushing away last night. Glastonbury refused to let me take off after her since we were about to make our announcement, you know. But we found Miss Faulkner a few moments later instead, and she seemed cock-sure she could handle the matter.”

  Elaine reached across the carriage and took her hand. “Yes, Mother. She’ll be fine. Already today she is doing much better. But you know how the megrims can be.”

  “Oh, that I do. How could I not, with five daughters?” She laughed and sat back in her seat, fidgeting with the grayed knot at the nape of her neck. “And Raynesford, how is your horse breeding coming along? Any foals yet?”

  Raynesford started, then sat ramrod straight, staring at Noah’s mother like a mouse that wanted to scurry away when caught in the light. “Two foals, madam.” He didn’t elaborate. Hardly surprising.

  “Oh, how delightful. Will you be letting Lily ride one of them?”

  His eyes came close to bulging out of his head. “My daughter is hardly a year old. She has no need for a horse.”

  “It will be many years before she starts to ride, Mother,” Elaine said, laughing over at her husband. “There will be plenty of other foals before the time for that arrives.”

  “Where are you stabling them?” Noah asked. Not that he needed to spend any money at the moment on more horses. But he might like to go and take a look sometime, at any rate.

  “Tewkesbury Stables. Let me know when you’d like to go and I’ll work it out. Perhaps you could accompany Tabitha. She’d like to come and see them, too. She’s not much on fully grown horses, but she’s always loved the foals.”

  Splendid. Noah tried to quash a frown. So Raynesford hadn’t given up on the idea yet. He knew better than to expect Shelton to have forgotten about it all, but some small part of him had hoped the elder brother would have let the notion of his sister becoming Lady Devonport slip away into the netherworld.

  “Oh, I would quite enjoy that too, Owen,” Elaine said. “Perhaps we could make a day of it. I’m sure Noah would agree, won’t you?”

  “I’d be delighted.” He really had no choice now.

  Mercifully at that moment, the carriage jostled to a stop and one of Raynesford’s men came around to set down the steps. Noah climbed down and reached in to hand his mother out, then waited for Raynesford to do the same with Elaine, and then they went as one up the steps to Lady Kirkaldy’s home.

  Glastonbury greeted them as they were ushered into the salon. A cursory glance showed him that Leith and Claremont had yet to arrive. But moments later, Noah was blissfully able to slip away from the group and comb the gathering for young, unmarried ladies who might be attached to a sizeable fortune on his own.

  Miss Jennings and her mother had not yet arrived. The eligible misses seemed to be assembled in groups of varying number about the edges of the room like small families of ducks, each situated around a leader of sorts.

  Noah recognized Lady Miriam Smallworth at the helm of one set. He’d have to avoid them. From all indications, Lady Miriam had inherited her mother’s vulture-like tendencies.

  The next group over was smaller, with only three young ladies. Noah could only identify one of them as a lady he’d met before, and she hadn’t made enough of an impression for him to recall her name.

  He moved on to the next group, which consisted of six debutantes. Here he could make out both Miss Olive Whitby and Miss Phillips, neither of whom was particularly dreadful, but he also knew that neither held a particularly sizeable dowry. Still, perhaps the group with the two of them and their friends might be a good place for him to start his socializing for the evening.

  He took a glass of lemonade from the tray of a passing footman and started across the room, only to change directions in mid-stride when Claremont winked at him from where he and Leith were leaning against a window on the far side of the room.

  “Already set to work on your prospects, then?” Claremont asked as Noah drew closer to them.

  “Evening, Devonport,” said Leith with a cheerful grin that made his dark features slightly less menacing. Only slightly, though.

  Noah nodded to them each in turn. “Good to see you both. So none of the ladies in that circle has a decent portion? I thought to start there since I at least have a passing acquaintance with a couple of them.”

  “An acquaintance to a dowry-less chit won’t help you in any way. You know that.” Claremont crossed his arms and scanned the room. “In the group over there by the pianoforte, the little redhead? That’s Lady Cressica Frost. Her father’s made a fortune at the gambling tables, and he has no intention of letting his winnings fall to his nephew. She’s set to inherit about forty thousand, give or take, depending on how much Hackshaw can avoid having tied up in the entailments.”

  “She doesn’t look a day older than fourteen,” Noah replied. “And she’s so emaciated I can see every bone in her body. She might break if I sneezed on her.”

  “True.” Claremont shrugged. “But forty thousand. Think about it.” He looked over the gathering again until he found another possi
bility. Pointing over to the group with Miss Olive and Miss Phillips, the one where Noah had initially been headed, he said, “And the tall brunette in pink over there? That’s Miss Jacinda Leatham. Her father died over a year ago. I don’t know the exact sum she’s got in trust, but I do know it is more than fifty. She’s only just come out this Season. The fortune hunters will be all over her in no time. You should try to make an impression before the others get their chance.”

  Miss Leatham didn’t seem much older than Lady Cressica, but at least she looked a bit sturdier. With her, Noah needn’t worry that a misstep would cause her to crumble to a pile of ash at his feet. She was a possibility.

  Claremont gestured toward a third grouping, with a bushy-haired blonde and two auburn-haired ladies. Two of the three, at least, appeared older than the majority of the crowd. “Those are Somerton’s sisters, Lady Sophia Hardwicke and Lady Charlotte Hardwicke. I’m not sure who the other lady is with them. But I would imagine he’s placed quite the settlement on both his sisters. Lady Sophia, in particular, since she’s no spring chicken.”

  “But have you seen the way she looks at gentlemen who try to dance with her?” Leith cut in, his black eyes wide. “I don’t think we should direct Devonport in her path.”

  “And Lady Charlotte is a bit green, yet. Rather too exuberant.”

  Claremont looked over at her again and Noah followed the path of his eyes. The younger girl was talking expressively, using her hands and arms to emphasize her point. She struck the poor blonde lady in the face, surprising her and knocking the glass from her hands. Sherry spilled down the front of the blonde’s gown, and she flushed profusely as Lady Charlotte dabbed at the mess.

  No, the Hardwicke sisters did not seem his best options. He thanked Claremont and Leith for the information, and then made his way over to the group of young ladies with Miss Leatham. After a round of introductions, Noah situated himself between her and Miss Phillips.

  “Lovely weather we’ve had of late, is it not?” Miss Leatham said. Her voice was airy. Fitting for her choice of conversational topics.

  “Yes, quite,” he replied. “Not a cloud in the sky all day today. If it remains clear tomorrow, I might like to go for a promenade at Hyde Park.” Noah left the unasked question hanging in the air. Maybe she would give him a little encouragement.

  “Oh. Yes, I suppose you might. I should hope for rain by the end of the week, though. The hyacinths in Mother’s garden could do with a touch of rain.”

  Good gracious, was she truly so dull-witted that she hadn’t understood his insinuation? Perhaps he’d try again later. “I’m sure we’ll have rain again before too long, Miss Leatham. After all, this is England. Which performance tonight are you most anticipating? I rather enjoy the Beethoven sonata for pianoforte, myself. And the Haydn is always enchanting.”

  “I don’t believe I know any of the pieces to be performed tonight, my lord. I’m sure I shall enjoy them all equally well, though.”

  “Indeed.”

  She neglected to offer another topic of discussion, and Noah was thankful for the few moments of silence this afforded. He said a silent prayer of gratitude when Lady Kirkaldy hurried them all to their seats.

  The sonata was undeniably excellent. A soprano solo followed, leaving him with chills and goose flesh. Miss Leatham, however, did not seem to be stirred in the least by either performance.

  His thoughts kept drifting to how very different such an evening would be if he were in the company of Lady Tabitha instead. Music, in general, never failed to capture her imagination and attention. They had conversed for hours at length about their favorite performances over the years.

  Sometimes, until Lady Tabitha’s cousin had left to care for their aunt, Miss Bethanne Shelton would play the pianoforte in Newcastle’s home for hours. Noah loved coming upon a group of them surrounding her, all engrossed in the magic she produced with the touch of her fingers. Raynesford had once told him that their aunt, Lady Rosaline, had been quite adept at the keys of the pianoforte as well. That her music had been a link that somehow united the entire Shelton family.

  Beethoven had always been a particular favorite of the lovely Miss Shelton’s to play. Noah missed those moments. He missed them, in particular, at this very moment with a young lady by his side who seemed disinclined to music at all. He had to wonder why she’d even come to the musicale if she couldn’t bother to enjoy herself. But then again, the music had nothing to do with his reason for attendance, either. He shouldn’t fault her for that.

  He turned his thoughts back to the present and watched the performances. After the soprano, a string quartet performed a rousing piece by Mozart, which was followed by a brief intermission.

  “Oh, I see my dearest friend over there,” Miss Leatham said after Noah had fetched her a glass of lemonade. “If you’ll please excuse me.”

  “Of course.” He couldn’t be more thankful to be finished with her company. Besides, Miss Jennings had arrived not long before the musicale had begun. Perhaps he ought to try his hand with her. Surely she would be more engaging than Miss Leatham.

  He situated himself amidst her group and gained his introduction. Then he did his best to make himself agreeable to both Miss Jennings and her mother. Miss Jennings’s conversation, while slightly more invigorating than that of Miss Leatham (since she managed to at least discuss the string quartet coherently), was still rather colorless.

  She had a penchant for discussing the newest fashions of the day and whether a particular shade of ribbon ought to be worn with another particular shade of gown. She did at least have the decency of looking uncomfortable in discussing such things with a gentlemen. Noah wondered briefly why she would do so if it left her ill at ease. Perhaps her mother had told her that was what she was expected to discuss. Pity. She had an animation about her when she spoke with other young ladies that was intriguing, to say the least—similar to Lady Charlotte’s, but without the unfortunate consequences which might endanger those with whom she spoke.

  Noah had a very difficult time imagining spending a lifetime with nothing more stimulating to discuss than when they might next expect rain or whether the violinist had properly tuned her instrument, and frankly, the thought of discussing ribbons and coiffures for the rest of eternity gave him the shakes. When the intermission came to a close, he escorted Miss Jennings and her mother back to their seats and took up his next to the debutante, though he did not envision the remainder of the musicale to be more sensational on the heiress-becoming-bride front than the first half had been.

  In truth, his expectations came to fruition. Miss Jennings was not an altogether disagreeable chit, but she kept looking over to her mother for approval of her conversation and behavior.

  Exploring his other options, apart from Lady Tabitha, was proving itself to be a rather unpleasant affair. But he could see no way around it. By all indications from last night, Lady Tabitha wanted nothing to do with him right now.

  Noah said his farewells to Miss Jennings and her mother. Miss Jennings, at least, seemed agreeable to him paying her a call soon. They could walk through the park or go for a ride. There could be some possibility there. It might prove to be more than possibility, if he could convince her to discuss something more invigorating next time.

  He would have to try.

  ~ * ~

  “You’re half-cracked. Even Bethie would agree.” Jo grasped Tabitha’s arm forcefully and pulled her into one of the dimly lit alcoves along the foyer of the Theatre Royal. “Lady Marianne Pratt is an absolute twit if ever I’ve met one. Toby will murder you.”

  Tabitha fought the urge to roll her eyes heavenward. “She’s perfect for him. Young. Pretty. What’s not to suit his fancy?”

  “Perhaps the fact that her head holds more cobwebs than thoughts?”

  “Which, I thought we agreed, ought to suit Toby flawlessly,” Tabitha replied. “He’s never been the brightest, if you haven’t noticed. Besides, he cares far more for how a lady will look draped
over his arm than he does for how stimulating her conversation might be. I rather think he has other things in mind than discussing Plato’s dialogues when he’s with a lady.” Not that Tabitha would ever think to discuss such a thing with a gentleman, herself, but that was hardly the point.

  Jo’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I never imagined I’d say this, but you are being too harsh on your brother, Tabby. It’s ugly on you.”

  Tabitha blanched. Too harsh? Ugly? Was she truly so intent upon her own wishes that she was not looking after the best for her brother? Finding him a bride would do him good. It would. It was Toby and what was best for him that she was thinking of, and not her own interests. Wasn’t it? She sniffed. “I can’t help that he’s proven his nature time and again.”

  “I thought this was all about encouraging him to change his nature. Don’t you want him to marry so that he’ll leave you alone? Why throw a nitwit in his path, one who will bore even him to tears?”

  “Hmph.” Damn and blast, for once in her life, couldn’t Jo refrain from making sense. Tabitha crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. Perhaps it was more of a pout than a frown. She couldn’t be wholly certain without a glass to look into. “Well, do you have a better suggestion?”

  Jo peeked out from the alcove and scanned the crush. Tonight would be a reprise performance of The School for Scandal. A frown settled on her face, but for several long moments that was her only reaction. “What about,” she murmured, “Miss Jennings? I’ll grant you she isn’t the most loquacious chit to make her debut in recent Seasons, but after a few years she could possibly be decent company for him. And, more importantly, for us.”

  Tabitha raised a brow and couldn’t remove the droll tone from her voice, even though it made her sound more like Owen than herself. “For us? I thought we were supposed to be looking out for Toby.”