by Jo Beverley
“And I have no doubt, Miss Burnley, that if given half the chance, you would cast every other woman at Almack’s into the shade.”
His voice slid up her spine like a piece of brushed velvet. Her eyes locked on his face, and she couldn’t look away. Awareness sharpened to a pinpoint as she saw only him and the heat of his gaze that trapped her so completely.
At that moment, and with a frightening sense of inevitability, she understood that what she felt for him was not a schoolgirl’s crush or a spinster’s foolish infatuation. After all these years, and with a finality she knew spelled her doom, Meredith realized she had fallen madly and irrevocably in love.
Chapter Eleven
“Come closer, my dear, and let me get a proper look at you.” Lady Stanton, dressed in a lacy wrapper, reclined on a silk chaise in the small but elegant sitting room attached to her private suite of apartments.
The old woman looked pale and exhausted. Clearly, the bustle and excitement leading up to Annabel’s debut had worn her out. General Stanton, always worried about the frail state of his wife’s health, had insisted that her physician examine her this morning. Much to everyone’s dismay, Dr. Gates had ordered her to remain at home for several days of strict rest.
Meredith quailed at the thought of attending the Framingham ball without Lady Stanton by their side, but nothing could be done to remedy the situation. She and Annabel would simply have to muddle through it on their own.
Lady Stanton had sent round a note earlier in the day, asking Meredith and Annabel to wait on her before the ball. Meredith suspected she wanted to give them a few discreet words of advice, now that the day of reckoning was finally upon them.
“Oh, my darling girl,” Lady Stanton cried softly as Annabel rotated slowly in front of her. “You look beautiful. Your mother would have been so proud of you.”
The girl was truly lovely in her gown of pale green net over a white silk underdress. Her hair had been cut in the latest style and swept into a shiny mass of curls on top of her head. Strands of delicate seed pearls threaded her auburn locks, completing the ethereal look that so well complemented Annabel’s petite figure. Meredith was convinced that no other girl would appear to greater advantage than her sister did tonight.
“Meredith, step closer, please. I want to get a good look at you as well.”
She obediently crossed the room to Lady Stanton. Meredith’s hopes for the evening were all pinned on her sister, but she could not deny the pleasure she had felt when putting on the new gown. It had been a long time since she had worn anything so lovely, and she had dressed with extra care. She had even made Agatha pull down her hair three times until she was certain that her new coiffure suitably matched the understated elegance of the dress.
“That gown is wonderful, my dear. It perfectly suits the color of your eyes.”
Meredith carefully inspected her appearance in the large pier glass mounted on the wall. Her gown was made of pearl gray gauze, with pink satin trimmings under the low bodice and on the tiny sleeves. She wore matching pink dancing shoes and long, gray gloves made of the finest kid on her arms. Agatha had woven silver ribbons through her glossy locks, and a few black curls tumbled artfully around her neck and shoulders.
After a long and critical look, she decided that any flaws in the picture were the result of her own defects and not of the gown or her coiffure.
“You are both astonishingly beautiful, and I have every expectation that by the end of the evening all the men in London will be paying court to you.” Lady Stanton’s eyes twinkled with merriment. “You must be careful not to break too many hearts your first night out.”
“Oh, Grandmamma, now you are being silly. I only hope I have enough partners for the evening. I simply dread the idea of standing about in the corner while everyone whispers behind their hands at the dowdy country wallflower.” Annabel peered around Meredith to stare at her own reflection in the glass, patting her curls into place for at least the tenth time since she had entered the room.
Meredith could tell by Annabel’s voice that she was very anxious. They were both painfully aware of how important this evening was to the young girl’s future.
“Annabel, my dear, I assure you, there is absolutely no chance of that. Simply be yourself and everyone will love you.” Lady Stanton smiled reassuringly at her granddaughter. “I know you are not used to this kind of event, and that you are experiencing some apprehension, particularly since I cannot be with you tonight.”
Annabel nodded solemnly, her hazel eyes grown wide with appreciation for the import of the occasion.
“If you have any questions or doubts about anything, do not hesitate to ask Lady Silverton for advice. She may be a very silly woman in some respects, but there is nothing she knows so well as the ton, and how to move through it. Her sponsorship and my nephew’s escort are all you need to make an initial good impression.”
Meredith’s stomach fluttered at the thought of spending the evening in such close proximity to Silverton. He and his mother were arriving shortly at Stanton House to drive them to the ball. His presence, she finally admitted to herself, was the real reason she had dressed so carefully tonight.
She squashed that thought immediately. Her ridiculous feelings for Silverton did not matter; only Annabel’s success did.
“My cousin, Lady Framingham,” continued Lady Stanton, “has been most gracious in inviting us to use her annual ball as the opportunity for your coming-out. She will do whatever she can to assist you, but she will be very busy and cannot look after you. If Lady Silverton is not by, then you may also rely on Robert and Sophia’s mother for guidance. Her judgment can be depended on completely.”
Lady Stanton raised her eyebrows pointedly at Annabel.
“I know you are excited, my dear, but please remember that you must not talk across the dinner table, no matter how interesting you find the company on the other side.”
Annabel giggled. She had a lamentable tendency to forget the strict rule of conversing only with those seated right next to her at dinner.
“Yes, Grandmamma, I promise.”
“Meredith, I expect you to keep a watchful eye on your sister. She is very young, but I know you are sensible enough not to be dazzled by a lot of handsome young men and their flattering ways.”
No, thought Meredith with a stab of guilt—just one charming and virile marquess.
“Yes, my lady,” she replied, simultaneously swearing to herself that she would not let Annabel out of her sight all night.
“Well.” Lady Stanton sighed. “I’ve done all that I can. The rest is up to you. Annabel, my love, would you please go to the library and say good-night to your grandfather? He is waiting to speak to you.”
Annabel dropped a kiss on her grandmother’s cheek and hurried from the room. Meredith lifted an enquiring brow at Lady Stanton, who clearly wished to speak to her in private.
“Meredith, I know you are nervous about tonight, and I am very sorry that I will not be with you.”
“My lady, please don’t worry. I will keep a strict watch on Annabel. I know how important this evening is to her future.”
“Yes, my dear, it is important. But try not to reflect too much upon it. Annabel will be loved wherever she goes, and I have no doubt she will attract her fair share of admirers tonight.”
Lady Stanton rose from her chaise and wandered over to her dressing table. She cast an enigmatic glance at Meredith, who felt a frisson of foreboding trickle down her spine.
“And even if Annabel doesn’t find an eligible suitor in the next little while, you must not worry.”
Meredith wrinkled her brow. “Why is that, my lady?”
“Because I believe that an excellent match can be made for Annabel within our own family. We need not depend on the vagaries of the marriage mart to secure her future.”
“Do you mean one of Annabel’s own relations?” Meredith’s sense of foreboding grew even stronger.
Lady Stanton nodded.
The older woman broke into a pealing laugh.
“Goodness, no! Whatever the general thinks, Robert is still too young to get married. No, there is someone else in the family who would be a fine husband for Annabel. But since he must first make the decision for himself, I will say no more. I only wanted to tell you that you must not worry so much. Our family will see to Annabel’s future, no matter what happens tonight.”
For an interminable moment, Meredith’s brain refused to function. She heard a buzzing sound in her ears, and the floor tilted under her feet. Silverton, she thought. She means Lord Silverton.
“Meredith, is something wrong?” Lady Stanton’s voice cut through her daze.
“No…no, my lady. I’m fine.” Meredith struggled to compose herself, even though her whole world had just been spun around like a top.
Could this really be happening to her? Could she really have fallen in love with a man whose family intended him to marry her sister? What else had her foolish infatuation blinded her to?
“Are you sure, my dear? You look very pale.” Lady Stanton’s sharp gaze studied her.
“I’m simply thinking about Annabel and her future, that’s all,” she hastened to reassure the other woman. Panic ripped through her chest. Oh Lord, please don’t let anyone realize how I feel!
“Well, don’t think too much. All will be well. Now, go join your sister, and say good-night to the general.”
Meredith somehow managed a credible curtsy and blindly reached for the doorknob.
“Oh, and Meredith…”
She looked over her shoulder at Lady Stanton, wondering bleakly what other revelations might be forced on her tonight.
“Don’t forget to have a good time.”
Meredith nodded and escaped from the room. She managed to make her way to the library, although she had no recollection of doing so until she stood outside the door. Before she could even catch her breath, the footman opened the door and bowed to her across the threshold.
“Ah, there you are,” rumbled General Stanton in his gruff voice. “I thought you had changed your mind and decided to stay at home like a sensible woman instead of running all over town with my silly granddaughter.”
Silverton leaned against his uncle’s desk, the height of masculine elegance in his impeccable attire.
Meredith almost stumbled when he turned and smiled at her. His gaze swept over her body, and the naked intensity of that look stoked a reluctant heat that curled down from her stomach to the top of her legs.
How could he look at her that way if he planned to marry Annabel? Perhaps, she thought, with a faint dawning of hope, she had misunderstood Lady Stanton. Perhaps her ladyship intended someone other than Silverton for Annabel.
“Really, Arthur,” exclaimed Lady Silverton from her perch on one of the leather club chairs. “How can you be so old fashioned? Annabel is over seventeen and Miss Burnley is well past the regular age of making her debut. It is more than appropriate they should be going out into society.”
“Age has nothing to do with it,” retorted the general. “Damned disrespectful to be carousing all over the place, what with the Monster on the loose again in France.”
“You are right, of course, Uncle,” interjected Silverton. “But the war has been going on for so many years that one cannot expect society to come to a complete halt. We can only hope that Wellington and the allies will soon be able to stop Bonaparte’s advance across the continent once and for all.”
Lady Silverton ignored the general completely as she rose to greet Meredith.
“Well, Miss Burnley, you look very nice this evening. And Annabel, I am in transports over your gown! You are to be commended on your excellent taste. I have every confidence that you will be the most beautiful girl at the Framingham ball.”
Annabel smiled with relief at Lady Silverton’s effusive praise. She got on extremely well with the dowager marchioness, who treated her with a careless affection.
Her treatment of Meredith was an entirely different matter. Lady Silverton was very high in the instep, and Meredith knew she would have preferred to grant her sponsorship to Annabel alone. Although never rude, whenever she talked to Meredith the cool reserve in her manner suggested a faint but clear disapproval. In spite of herself, it stung her to realize that Lady Silverton thought so poorly of her.
“Are you ready Miss Burnley? Miss Annabel?” Silverton’s engaging smile encompassed them both as he draped his mother’s spangled gauze scarf over her shoulders.
Meredith busily arranged her own light shawl, and Annabel flitted around the desk to drop a kiss on her grandfather’s cheek. He murmured gruffly into her ear, but his concerned gaze followed her slender figure as she joined the others by the door.
“Take care of ’em, Silverton. They are both too green to look after themselves, and I daresay they’ll get into trouble if someone doesn’t keep them under a close watch.”
Silverton glanced at Meredith, his cobalt eyes almost black in the flickering candlelight. A smile quirked the corners of his mouth, almost as if he were enjoying a private joke.
“No need to worry, Uncle,” he replied, a hint of laughter in his well-bred voice. “I won’t let them out of my sight.”
Meredith barely heard a word at dinner. The elderly gentleman seated to her left was a cultured baronet with a passion for Renaissance art. Once he discovered that she painted, he proceeded to lecture her on the merits of the Flemish School versus the Italians. She tried to pay attention, but the interminable meal with its astounding number of courses passed in a complete blur.
Fortunately, Silverton sat at some distance from her, giving her the opportunity to recover from the short but nerve-wracking journey from Stanton House.
He had remained silent for the entire carriage ride, observing her intently as his mother and Annabel chatted amicably. Even in the dim light of the carriage lamps his eyes had seemed to pierce her, and there was an unfamiliar stillness about him that set her nerves on edge.
At one point Meredith saw the marchioness study her son through narrowed eyes, a slight frown creasing her brow. A peculiar frozen expression had crossed Lady Silverton’s face when she noticed him watching Meredith so closely.
On their arrival in Grosvenor Square, the Countess of Framingham had swept them all into a large group and Silverton had not come near her again.
But dinner was now over, and their hostess had risen to lead the guests from the dining room. Meredith sighed with relief as she saw Silverton walk ahead of her, deep in conversation with a handsome, dark-haired man. She hoped he would be too busy with his friends to take much notice of her for the rest of the evening.
As she strolled with the elderly baronet up the wide marble staircase to the ballroom, she suddenly realized that Silverton would surely ask both her and Annabel for at least one dance.
She swallowed a startled gasp as butterflies took flight in her stomach. Part of her longed for his attention, although it provoked a terrible sense of yearning she knew could never be appeased. A man like him—one of the highest peers of the realm—could never be with a woman like her.
Even worse, how could she allow herself to feel this way if there was any possibility that Annabel might have to marry him? And how did Annabel feel about him? Although certain that her sister knew nothing of her grandmother’s plans, Meredith could easily imagine Annabel falling in love with Silverton.
“Is there a problem, Miss Burnley?” Meredith had come to a stop near the top of the staircase, the baronet waiting patiently by her side.
“Goodness, no, Sir Phillip,” she replied hastily. “I was simply admiring the beauty of this magnificent staircase and the unusual frescoes on the ceiling.”
Fortunately, her elderly companion saw nothing odd about this explanation. Instead, he launched into an enthusiastic description of the types of Italian marble that ha
d been used in the construction of the grand staircase and imposing entrance hall. Breathing a sigh of relief, Meredith allowed him to guide her to the entrance of the ballroom, where Annabel eagerly awaited her.
Her sister stood in the doublewide doorway, her eyes as round as dinner plates as she gazed into the brilliantly lit room. Meredith halted next to Annabel, amazed by the ostentatious and riotous splendor of the Countess of Framingham’s ballroom.
The huge space was lit with several gigantic crystal chandeliers and a dozen gold candelabras placed on large alabaster side tables. The walls were covered in panels of burgundy velvet surrounded with white satin damask, the whole then bordered with burnished gold moldings. The draperies were scarlet silk lined with snowy white taffeta, trimmed with numerous gold fringes and tassels. An elaborate frieze scrolled across the ceiling, displaying a veritable jungle of painted foliage.
And on either side of the doors were two gigantic stone lions, carved so as to appear ready to spring on the unsuspecting guests.
To complete the fantastical effect, large pier glasses hung on those parts of the walls not covered in velvet, reflecting the glittering throng in an endless profusion of light and color.
It was vulgar and absurd, but the artist in her could not help responding to the stimulating nature of such an overwhelming spectacle.
Annabel began to laugh. Meredith smiled, her troubled heart soothed by the girl’s amused delight.
“Oh, my goodness!” Annabel exclaimed as she reached over and grabbed Meredith’s hand. “This is going to be fun!”
Chapter Twelve
Silverton brooded. He leaned against a massive gilt column in the corner of Lady Framingham’s ballroom and brooded. He never brooded. He never crossed his arms over his chest and scowled moodily at his friends when they tried to talk to him.
But when Nigel Dash had sauntered up to say hello, Silverton had practically bitten his head off. His old friend had beaten a hasty retreat, but not before uttering a smothered laugh.
