The Earl, the Vow, and the Plain Jane

by Cheryl Bolen

  Because he would know no one. Not a single person. "Would you be available next Wednesday?"

  "For something as august as the opportunity to attend Almack's, nothing could be more important. How good of you to ask, my dear Miss Featherstone." He favored her with a broad smile.

  In the distance she saw that Lord Fitzherbert was steering his phaeton toward them, looking as proud as a barnyard rooster who'd just sired a peacock, that peacock being Miss Featherstone's lovely cousin.

  When they came fully abreast of Mr. Poppinbotham's barouche, Miss Featherstone presented her escort to the viscount and her cousin, and the viscount offered to turn around and ride abreast of them so the cousins could speak freely to one another.

  "Fine cattle you've got there, Poppingham," Lord Fitzherbert said.

  Mr. Poppinbotham's eyes flashed with good humor. "It's Poppinbotham, your kind lordship. How good of your lordship to notice my horses. I don't mind telling you it was no easy matter finding four so well matched."

  The viscount lifted a brow. "You get them at Tattersall's?"

  "Indeed I did. I always say nothing but the best. 'Tis my motto. Nothing but the best for Cecil Poppinbotham."

  As it turned out, the two men were closest to one another, and they began to discuss conveyances – with Miss Featherstone's escort prompt to disclose his barouche alone cost over four hundred quid.

  Not being particularly interested in vehicles, the cousins began to chat. "Another ball for you tonight?" Miss Featherstone asked.

  "No. I had but one invitation, and Mama said it would not do me credit to go to the Mortons'."

  "Dear love," Miss Featherstone advised, "it's best not to mention people by specific names with such a comment."

  "As always, you are right, dear Jane. I wish you could accompany me everywhere."

  "It's a great pity our interests are so dissimilar. I adore politics; you are sadly ignorant of such affairs. And I'm a hopeless wallflower while you are the Season's reigning queen. I really would love to spend more time with you, pet, especially since we're both in London. Might I persuade you to come to our house tonight? Papa's having one of his Whig dinners."

  "I don't suppose my papa would mind since it's at Uncle's house." Lady Sarah eyed her cousin's escort. "Will Mr. Poppingbottom be there?"

  "Poppinbotham. And, yes, he will."

  Lady Sarah took that opportunity to stare at her cousin's suitor.

  Twice while Miss Featherstone was conversing with her cousin, she heard Mr. Poppinbotham say, "When I get in Parliament."

  She would hear more on that subject that evening.

  Chapter 6

  Lord Slade surveyed the modest drawing room in Mr. Featherstone’s house with great satisfaction. There was no other place he would rather be. How he had missed the stimulating conversation of Mr. Featherstone, his brilliant daughter, and his former colleagues in the House of Commons. Featherstone had a knack for assembling around him men who were great thinkers. There were on this evening, though, two exceptions.

  Why did Featherstone permit that Poppinbotham buffoon to pollute their gatherings? The man’s understanding of the legislative issues of the day was completely lacking – which could tend to explain Featherstone’s willingness to take the printer under his wing.

  The other exception, Lord Slade looked upon far more favorably. For dear Miss Featherstone had contrived to persuade her beautiful cousin to honor them with her presence this evening. Since it had gotten progressively chillier throughout the day, Lady Sarah wore a gown of soft blue velvet, presenting a picture of complete loveliness. It was difficult not to stare at her. Not in all the years he’d been in London had he ever seen a prettier debutante. And she possessed a fortune, too.

  A pity he must compete with such a sea of admirers. At least he had a leg up tonight.

  Despite Lady Sarah’s dazzling beauty, he found his attention more readily bestowed upon her plainer cousin, perhaps because she made so many contributions to the conversation.

  “I must admit to great admiration for the American system of government,” Miss Featherstone said when the topic turned to Catholic emancipation. “I believe a society which promotes religious freedom to be a far superior one to ours.”

  “Did you not also tell me you admired the way the Americans set up representation in the two house chambers?” Slade asked.

  She looked up at him and smiled. “How good of you to remember.”

  As she continued on her theme of obstacles in the way of equalizing representation in the British lower chamber, he was struck by the contrast between this drawing room and Lord Clegg’s, where Miss Featherstone’s mother had grown up. In size, there was a great disparity. The Featherstones' was only a fourth as large as the one at Clegg House where he and his brother had called the day before. In quality of furnishings, though, the two dissimilar rooms were on equal footing.

  Slade suspected the late Lady Mary must have furnished these rooms as a young bride. The mahogany furnishings were of very fine quality. While faded, the red and gold silken upholstery was still exceptionally lovely. No Italian masters adorned the walls here, but he recognized a Gainsborough. Was that Lady Mary? He could not say the lovely woman in the painting looked anything like Miss Featherstone, but as he peered at it he realized a strong resemblance between the woman in the flowing blue silk gown and towering powdered hair and Lady Sarah. They were obviously aunt and niece.

  He wondered if Lady Mary ever regretted that she’d not wed a titled man with deep pockets. His mother had told him the Featherstones' marriage had been a true love match. He would have liked to have known the woman who was possessed of such great sense. For there was no finer man than Harold Featherstone.

  How fortunate Lady Mary had been to be able to follow her heart.

  If the late Lady Mary were anything like her daughter, she must have been possessed of uncommon intelligence. He could well understand how Harold Featherstone would have stood out from the other dandies who were sure to have been dancing attendance upon her. He hoped her niece shared that.

  Then he would stand a chance.

  The Featherstone servant, a middle-aged woman, announced dinner. Since Lady Sarah was the highest-ranking female, Mr. Featherstone led her into dinner. As the highest ranking male, Lord Slade led Miss Featherstone into the dining room.

  “I have arranged that you shall be seated next to my cousin,” Miss Featherstone whispered. “Pray, dazzle her with your wit.”

  Somehow, he thought a striking physical appearance would hold more sway with Lady Sarah than a man of wit. What a pity.

  He was seated to the right of Lady Sarah. At the opposite end of the table, Miss Featherstone served as hostess. It appeared she had taken Poppinbotham, who sat at her right, under her wing.

  After the soup was consumed in silence, Mr. Featherstone passed the pickled beets. “I thank you,” Lord Slade said. “It is so very good of you to have us, and I must say this table has never held such lovely delights.” His gaze settled on Lady Sarah.

  Mr. Featherstone laughed. “You’re anything but subtle, my lord. Is my niece not lovely? She reminds me so of my late wife.”

  “Then you must have been an exceedingly fortunate man to have wed such a beautiful woman. I trust that Gainsborough in the drawing room was of your Lady Mary?” Slade asked.

  “Yes to both. I was most fortunate, and yes, that is her portrait.”

  Once their plates were filled and eating had actually commenced, Lady Sarah addressed him. “So you are mad for all things political.”

  “That’s true. I fear that makes my conversation dull to those who don’t share my interest.”

  “My cousin tells me you are anything but dull, my lord. She positively gushes over your intelligence.”

  “Your cousin is too kind.”

  Lady Sarah’s glance flitted to Mr. Poppinbotham, and her lips thinned. “Indeed, she is.”

  That gentleman could be heard to say, “When I get in Parliament, I h
ave not decided if it would be best to have my coachman bring me with the full four-horse carriage, or if I should just come in my tilbury.” He glanced down the table at Slade. “Which do you do, my lord?”

  The Buffoon had not yet been elected to the lower chamber when he was already comparing himself to a member of the upper chamber! “I daresay you will not be pleased with my response, Poppinbotham, for I am undoubtedly one of the most frugal men in all of Parliament. I let Slade House, took lodgings close to Westminster, and I walk to the House of Lords every day we are in session.”

  “But, my lord,” Poppinbotham exclaimed, “it is dark when sessions end. Surely a fine aristocrat like yourself doesn’t walk the pavement alone at night!”

  “I am fortunate in that my colleagues are always gracious about giving me a lift at the end of the day. Often we’re going to the same homes for dinner or routs.”

  “Or to your clubs, I daresay,” Poppinbotham added.

  “It’s been a long while since I’ve been to Brook’s.” The fact was, it was too bloody expensive for Lord Slade to keep his membership active. Not when he still had three sisters to dower.

  Mr. Featherstone obviously did not like the direction the dinner table conversation was taking for he began to steer it back to pertinent issues of the day. “Do you think, Lord Slade, the bill on labor unions will be put to a vote in the House of Lords?”

  Slade shook his head. “Lord Carrington will never allow it to be brought up.”

  Mr. Featherstone’s eyes narrowed with displeasure. “Might hit him in the pocketbook if he had to pay decent wages to the men who toil in his mines.”

  “Papa is an ally of Lord Carrington in this matter,” said Lady Sarah, smiling broadly.

  Her smile indicated she was inordinately pleased. Was the poor girl so ignorant of civil liberties that she was proud of her father’s resistance to progressive reform?

  Then it occurred to him she was merely pleased that she actually knew something about what they were discussing, that she had actually paid close enough attention to what was occurring in the chamber where her father served.

  “My dear niece is well aware that her father and I do not see eye to eye on matters of reform, but we agree amiably to disagree,” Mr. Featherstone said, smiling at Lady Sarah.

  She peered across the table at Lord Slade. “I understand you have several sisters to launch into society, my lord.”

  “Three. The eldest will come out next year.” It would take every farthing he could lay his hands on.

  Unless he could capture an heiress.

  He must make himself agreeable to Lady Sarah. More than that, he must make himself admire Lady Sarah. He had given his word to Miss Featherstone he would not ask for her cousin’s hand until he could truthfully tell the lady he loved her. As it stood at present, the only thing he admired about the young lady was her appearance. And her hefty purse.

  How had it been with his host when he had fallen in love with the previous Lord Clegg’s daughter? “Tell me, Mr. Featherstone, prior to your marriage did your late wife share your interest in politics?”

  “Indeed, she did. In fact, that is what brought us together.” He glanced down the table at his daughter. “She was as astute as our daughter is. She used to sit in the galleries at the House of Commons – back when women were allowed – to watch her brother . . ." He turned to Lady Sarah. “That would have been your papa in the House of Commons before he succeeded. My dear Mary claimed she fell in love with me because she admired my speeches.”

  Slade nodded. “A most intelligent woman, to be sure.”

  At the other end of the table, he caught snatches about the extension of the franchise.

  “You are in favor of giving the vote to the common man?” Poppinbotham asked Miss Featherstone.

  “Of course, and you must, too, if you intend to align yourself with the Whigs.”

  “Oh dear.” Lady Sarah wrinkled her nose. “Why, my dear cousin, should you wish to allow the masses to have a say in running our country?”

  “It is my opinion that all men are created equal,” Miss Featherstone replied.

  “If it is permissible to disagree,” Lady Sarah said, “I must. If our Creator had meant us to be equal, He would have made us equal. I believe it’s we aristocrats who have been charged with looking after the masses.”

  “And some aristocrats do an admirable job,” Lord Slade said, “but most are only interested in serving themselves.”

  Lady Sarah sighed. “Now I know why Papa does not attend these dinners.”

  He turned to her. “I assure you, I do not mean to be disagreeable.” But it was bloody difficult to be agreeable to one with whom he had nothing at all in common, to one whom he could not even admire.

  After dinner, he contrived to be one of the last to leave in order to speak privately with Miss Featherstone. Which meant he was privy to Poppinbotham’s leave-taking from the young lady.

  Holding her hand far too long, the Buffoon said, “I beg you allow me to call for you tomorrow afternoon for a ride in the park, my dear Miss Featherstone.”

  “If the weather obliges, that will be most agreeable, Mr. Poppinbotham.”

  Lord Slade was the last to leave.

  “I am so happy to be alone with you, my lord,” Miss Featherstone said, “for I must tell you to plan on Almack’s Wednesday night.”

  He grimaced. He knew he must return there when his sisters were presented, but he had hoped to prolong the misery as long as possible. For there was nothing more boring than attending the assemblies there – where his title deemed him a matrimonial prize even without a fortune. The scheming mothers were relentless, the daughters were very young, and intelligent conversation was nonexistent. “Must I?”

  She placed her hand on his sleeve. “If you hope to impress Lady Sarah with your elegance on the dance floor.”

  With no forethought of what he was doing, he placed his hand over hers. “I shall be greatly in your debt, my dear Miss Featherstone.” Then he leaned toward her and dropped a kiss on her cheek before departing.

  Chapter 7

  Miss Featherstone was very pleased with herself. Despite that half the men in the beau monde had designs on her cousin, she had persuaded that lovely creature to ride to Almack's in Mr. Poppinbotham's carriage with her – and Lord Slade. Dear Sarah was sure to fall in love with the handsome earl after being so intimately in his company on these several occasions now.

  On Wednesday night, they sped toward King Street with Miss Featherstone seated next to Mr. Poppinbotham in the dimly lit carriage. This afforded her the opportunity to observe the couple seated across from her. What a fine looking couple they made, Lord Slade so dark and handsome, Sarah so fair and lovely. In her soft ivory gown, draped elegantly over her smooth curves, Lady Sarah brought to mind an elegant Grecian goddess.

  "You have the vouchers?" Mr. Poppinbotham asked Miss Featherstone, nervously.

  She looked up at her companion. "Oh, yes, in my reticule. Should you like them?"

  "What is the protocol?"

  "I'm not sure there is a protocol. Do you know of one, Lord Slade?" Jane asked.

  "Daresay it won't matter, but it may make Poppinbotham feel better if you allow him to present the vouchers."

  Mr. Poppinbotham wiped his moist brow. "Oh, yes, very good of you, my lord, to suggest that."

  Miss Featherstone handed over the vouchers.

  "Any other protocols I should know about?" Mr. Poppinbotham asked.

  "My mama says it's not proper to stand up with the same partner for more than two sets," Lady Sarah offered.

  "Unless one is engaged to be married," Miss Featherstone added.

  Mr. Poppinbotham nodded. "That is most helpful to know. Shouldn't wish to break any rules."

  After arriving at the Palladian structure filled with hundreds of fashionably dressed members of the ton, the two couples immediately paired up to dance the first set, a minuet. When it was over, Lord and Lady Wycliff joined them.r />
  "What the devil are you doing here tonight?" Lord Slade asked his friend. "I thought Almack's held the same appeal for you as reading Ackermann's."

  "Right you are, old boy, but when Louisa told me you'd be here tonight, I thought I'd come along. Never see you at White's or Brook's anymore."

  "I'm honored."

  "Don't be. I merely wanted to impart something to you." He moved to Lord Slade and settled an arm around his friend's shoulder, then he tilted his head back to the others. "Forgive me if I steal away Lord Slade." He affectionately eyed his wife. "I expect you, my love, will not lack for dancing partners whilst we are gone."

  Indeed, hoards of young men swooped down to beg that Lady Wycliff and Lady Sarah stand up with them. Lady Sarah accepted Captain St. John's offer, and Louisa Wycliff went off with an older gentleman Jane did not know.

  Jane and Mr. Poppinbotham then found chairs upon which to sit and watch the dancers.

  * * *

  The two lords who'd forged a lifelong friendship at Eton found a small chamber not being used. Though it lacked candles, a fire had been lain, so the room was not in total darkness. Wycliff closed the door.

  "You act as if there's some sense of urgency," a baffled Slade said.

  "There is. Darrington-Chuff is going to stand for Parliament at Blythstone."

  "That is disappointing. You and I know he's an ass, but with his fortune and the connection with the Duke of Griffin, he's as good as elected."

  "We cannot permit that to happen."

  Slade's brows lowered. "Why?"

  "Because he's not only a staunch Tory, he's dead set on strengthening the monarchy, emasculating Parliament, and opposing any kind of education for the masses."

  Slade frowned. "I do remember him once saying that it was most dangerous to allow the common man to learn to read. They were born to follow. We were born to lead. Some kind of rot like that."

  "Exactly."

  "Then what do you propose we do about this?"