by Joan Wolf
Two thrushes rose from the bushes into the air above them. Sir Gilbert looked up at the birds silhouetted against the blue sky. “I miss home, and that’s a fact,” he said nostalgically “London is too crowded and dirty and smelly for my taste.”
“I prefer the country myself,” Mrs. Sherwood agreed. “It was very pleasant visiting Lady Moulton’s estate for a few days. The house was situated right on a river, Sir Gilbert. It was a lovely setting.”
They walked in silence for a few moments. The dogs scampered back and then darted off again. Freddie spotted a squirrel and chased it up a tree. Both dogs stood at the base of the tree, looking up, hoping the squirrel would come down so they could chase it again.
Sir Gilbert said gruffly, “And your girl is all right with marrying a man old enough to be her father?”
Mrs. Sherwood didn’t answer right away and he said hastily, “Forgive me if I was impertinent.”
She gave him a faint smile. “It’s all right. In fact, I was worried about just that thing myself. But now I think that Lord Rumford’s maturity is one of his attractions for Diana.” Her face became grave. “You see, Diana grew up without a father, and I think she sees a steadiness and stability in Lord Rumford that appeals to her very much. And I think he will take good care of her.” Her smile reappeared. “In fact, I have come to believe that they have a very good chance to have a happy marriage.”
“I am delighted to hear that,” Sir Gilbert said. “I had a happy marriage myself, and I know what a blessing such a state can be.”
“You must miss your wife very much,” Mrs. Sherwood said softly.
He nodded. “I’m getting used to being on my own, but I still don’t like it much. It will be harder still when Charlotte gets married, I’m afraid.”
“How long has your wife been dead?”
“Going on three years now.”
“Have you never thought of marrying again?”
“I’ve thought of it, of course, but I’ve just never met anyone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”
There was the sound of a splash in the distance.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Sherwood said. “The dogs have gotten into the river again.”
“It’ll do them good,” Sir Gilbert said as they strode along together toward the sound of the splashing.
“I know,” Mrs. Sherwood said. “This walk in the park is the highlight of Freddie’s day.”
“It’s the highlight of my day, too,” Sir Gilbert said, looking soberly at the lovely profile of the woman walking beside him.
The faintest of color stained Mrs. Sherwood’s cheeks.
Five days went by after Sally’s return home from her visit to the Moultons, and there was no word from the Duke of Sinclair. He wasn’t at any of the balls that she attended, she didn’t see him at the opera and he didn’t attend the meeting for supporting climbing boys. Then, on the sixth night, she saw him at Covent Garden. He was in a box across the theater from hers accompanied by a stunning woman with jet-black hair and a low-cut, clinging, black satin gown. As Sally watched, he bent his head to listen to something the woman said. There was something about the gesture that suggested intimacy. They were the only ones in the box.
The play was a comedy, She Stoops to Conquer, and the audience was uproariously noisy as it responded to the goings-on on stage. Sally sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap, with her mother and Mrs. Sherwood on one side of her and Diana and Lord Rumford on the other. The other four appeared to be enjoying themselves very much, but Sally scarcely smiled.
Who is that woman?
It was the thought that preoccupied her during the entire first act. When the intermission came, and people got up and began to visit their friends, Sally kept her eyes on the box opposite. A few men had come in to speak to Sinclair and his lovely companion, and Sally watched as she threw her head back and laughed at something one of the men had said to her.
“Are you enjoying the play, Lady Sarah?”
It was Lord Dorset, giving her his sunny smile. His adoring brown eyes made him look rather like a puppy, she thought.
“It is very good,” said Sally, who had not heard a word of it. She had to know who that woman was, and Alex wasn’t here to ask, so she decided that she would have to ask Lord Dorset. “Who is that lovely woman with the Duke of Sinclair, Lord Dorset?” she asked. “I don’t believe I’ve seen her before.”
Lord Dorset didn’t even have to look to know who she was talking about. His eyes became stern. “She is no one you will ever meet, Lady Sarah. Her sort do not frequent the ballrooms of the ton.”
Sally’s heart sank. She’s his mistress. And she’s gorgeous and elegant and he looks as if he’s enjoying himself with her very much. I wonder if he loves her.
Sally rarely swore, not silently, but she did now.
Damn.
This is what Alex was talking about, she thought. This is what it meant to be a rake.
“Do you agree, Lady Sarah?”
She realized suddenly that Lord Dorset was speaking to her.
“I beg your pardon,” she said, “but I didn’t hear you. It’s quite loud in here, isn’t it?”
He moved his chair a little closer to her and bent his head toward her ear. It was a gesture of intimacy, such as the one she had seen Sinclair make with his mistress. Sally didn’t want such a gesture from Lord Dorset. She wanted it from the man with the dark gold hair and the enigmatic green eyes.
She had felt herself pulled toward the duke from the time that they had first met. She had sensed something in him that spoke strongly to something in her. She had thought that he was the man for her.
But now she looked across the theatre and saw him with that beautiful black swan of a woman, and she realized that she was only eighteen years old, and not very sophisticated. What did she have to offer a man like Sinclair?
Diana was much younger than Lord Rumford, she thought, trying to look on the bright side. But Diana was even more beautiful than the duke’s mistress, and she was older than Sally, as well.
She smiled and nodded at Lord Dorset, agreeing with whatever it was that he was saying.
He isn’t interested in me, she thought dismally. He likes me because he saw me do a few charitable acts and he’s a charitable man. He probably regards me as a kind of little sister.
Damn, she thought again. Oh, damn, damn, damn. I wish I’d never come to Covent Garden tonight.
Twenty-Two
The day after Sally’s visit to Covent Garden, Alex asked to speak to her after breakfast. The two of them went out into the small garden behind the Standish town house. It was mostly shrubbery, with a bench in the middle and a big circular bed of tulips. It was a chilly, overcast morning and Sally had put a wool shawl over her muslin morning dress. They sat together on the stone garden bench.
“Since you seem to be interested in Sinclair, I made it my business to find out everything I could about him,” Alex said. “I know there are things men should not speak of to young girls, but I think it’s important you know the truth about Sinclair before you give your heart away to a man who is not what you think he is.”
Sally clutched her shawl tightly around her shoulders. “I know he has a mistress, Alex,” she said in a low voice. “I saw them together at the theater last night. She is very beautiful.”
Alex looked for a moment at her downcast profile, then he said matter-of-factly, “This is what I found out. When Sinclair was about four, his mother left his father. She ran off to Italy with an Italian count, in fact. I believe she is still alive, but of course he never sees her. After that, Sinclair’s father became steeped in dissipation. He drank all the time, and he had his mistresses live in the house with his son. Sinclair grew up in an atmosphere of complete moral depravity, Sally. Of course, he went off to school, but what he saw at home has to have left its mark on him. He apparently has no desire to marry and has kept a succession of mistresses since he came to town when he finished Oxford. He is accepted by all the to
n, of course, because of his exalted title and wealth, but he evinces little interest in good society. One rarely sees him at a ball—or at any other social function, for that matter. The one good thing I can say about him is that he is a genuine reformer in the House of Lords. Anyone trying to get some progressive legislation through can always count on his vote. And he actually shows up for debates, which a lot of peers do not bother to do.”
Sally sat quietly, not saying anything.
Alex put his arm around her. “You’re a wonderful girl, Sally. You were so good about writing to me the whole time I was in the Peninsula—it was always like a breath of home to get your letters. You have a huge heart. The man who wins your love can count himself one of the luckiest chaps on the face of the earth. Don’t set your heart on Sinclair. He may be a duke, but he comes from bad stock. A man who was brought up like that—how can he possibly be a good husband to you?”
Sally said in a low voice, “I’ve only seen him a few times, Alex. He certainly hasn’t asked me to marry him.”
“But you’re interested in him. That was very clear from what you said the other day. I don’t want you to romanticize him just because he did a good deed for you. He carries a lot of baggage, Sal. A lot of baggage.”
She stared at her lap. “For how long has he been a duke? How did his father die?”
“He’s been the duke since he was twenty-four. His father got drunk and choked on his own vomit, Sally. That’s the kind of man he was.”
Sally made a small sound of distress.
“Pretty disgusting, eh?” Alex said.
She turned her head to look at her brother. “Is Sinclair a drinker, too?”
“I haven’t heard that about him.”
“Is he a gambler?”
“No more than is usual.”
She nodded thoughtfully.
He squeezed her shoulders slightly then took his arm away. “I want to see you marry a nice young man, who will love you the way you deserve to be loved. I don’t want to see you pining after a rake with a disreputable background who will probably never make you an honorable offer.”
Sally smiled at him. “Thank you, Alex. You’re a good brother. I appreciate that you told all this to me. I know a lot of people think young girls shouldn’t be told anything about real life.”
“You’re not an empty-headed young miss, Sally, and I would never treat you as if you were.” He stood up. “Now come along. It’s chilly out here and you are only wearing that shawl.”
Sally got up and accompanied her brother back into the house. Alex was going to the Horse Guards and gave orders for his phaeton to be brought around as Sally went upstairs to her room.
Once inside, she went to sit in the chair that was placed before the fire that had been lit against the chill of the overcast day.
That poor child, she thought as she stared into the flames. She was not seeing the fire, however, she was seeing Sinclair’s face. Deserted by his mother and left with a father who showed no concern at all for his son’s needs. No wonder he doesn’t want to get married. The example of marriage he grew up with would put anybody off.
Alex had thought he was telling her something that would disgust her with the duke, but the exact opposite had happened. He had only confirmed Sally’s feeling that Sinclair was a man who was harboring a deep hurt. Being a duke didn’t shield you from the effects of a mother who had so little care for you that she left you to be brought up in an un-loving, immoral household. His lofty status would have been no comfort to the deserted little boy.
The question was, was Sinclair so damaged, so distrustful of women, that it would be impossible for him to fall in love? And if he were in fact capable of love, what made her think that his heart would turn toward her?
The image of the beautiful black-haired woman she had seen him with last night came once more to her mind. She stood up and went to stand in front of the cheval mirror.
She was a pretty girl. She knew that. She had thick blonde hair and nice blue eyes. I wish I had Alex’s eyes, she thought as she met her own orbs squarely in the mirror. They are something special. Mine are just ordinary.
She wished she were older. She had always felt as if she were older than her years. Compared to some of the girls she had met this Season, she felt positively ancient. But she looked so young. Sinclair, she felt, would be attracted by a more mature woman.
I have to find a way to see him again, she thought. She must come up with a reason to ensure that their paths would cross again
Lady Standish had suggested an evening at Vauxhall, and her two children and Diana all agreed that it would be fun to see the famous Gardens, well known for their fireworks displays, their musical presentations and their food. Lord Rumford would go also, of course, to accompany Diana, and Alex surprised everyone by inviting Miss Charlotte Merton and not Lady Caroline Wrentham.
“Why on earth are you taking Miss Merton, Alex?” Lady Standish asked curiously. “She’s a nice enough girl, I suppose, but there is certainly nothing special about her.”
Alex shrugged. “She’s pleasant enough, and I don’t want to encourage any more gossip about me and Lady Caroline. I have no intention of making her an offer, and I don’t want it to look as if I will.”
Lady Standish looked disappointed. They were all sitting around the dinner table, dressed in formal attire. It was Almack’s night. She said, “Why don’t you like Lady Caroline?”
“I do like her, Mama. I just don’t want to marry her. I don’t want to marry anyone right at this moment, so don’t get your hopes up.”
He kept his voice light, but the underlying note of warning was very clear. Don’t trespass on my business.
Mrs. Sherwood said softly, “I’m sure Miss Merton will be pleasant company for all of us, Amelia.”
“I’m sure she will be,” Lady Standish returned in a somewhat mournful tone.
“And don’t invite Lord Dorset to accompany me,” Sally warned. “I’m in the same situation as Alex. I don’t want to do anything that will encourage him to make me an offer.”
“Dorset will be the Earl of Winchester one day,”Lady Standish said. “He is a very good catch, Sally.”
“Then let someone else catch him,” Sally said.
“But what is wrong with him?” Lady Standish asked with genuine bewilderment. “He seems like such a nice young man. And he is clearly interested in you.”
“He is a nice young man,” Sally returned. “But he reminds me of a puppy. And I don’t want to marry a man who reminds me of a puppy.”
Lady Standish sighed. “Then who shall we invite for you?”
“You don’t have to invite anyone, Mama. I don’t have to have an escort to see the Gardens. I will be with you and Cousin Louisa.”
The last member of their party was another surprise. At Almack’s that night, Sir Gilbert Merton asked if he could accompany the Standish party to Vauxhall.
“I have never been there myself, Lady Standish, and I will probably never have another opportunity to go. Would it be inconvenient for you if I accompanied you tomorrow evening?”
“Of course not,” Lady Standish replied with a gracious smile. “Your company will only add to our pleasure.”
Sir Gilbert looked from Lady Standish to Mrs. Sherwood, who wore the faintest of smiles on her face. “Thank you,” he said. “May I get something to drink for you, ladies?”
They accepted and he went off to collect some of the atrocious orgeat that was Almack’s idea of a tasty beverage.
Diana had not been able to stop herself from feeling delighted when Alex had decided not to take Lady Caroline to Vauxhall. She had developed the most unaccountable dislike of the girl. She was too aloof, Diana told herself. Too proud. Too obviously not the right person for Alex. She had been deeply relieved to hear Alex say that he did not have any intention of proposing to Lady Caroline.
It would be like marrying an iceberg, she told herself. Birth and beauty only went so far. It was much more impor
tant that Alex marry someone who truly loved him. Who that person might be, Diana couldn’t say. She hadn’t yet seen anyone among the season’s eligible girls whom she thought would be good for Alex. But she absolutely knew that person wasn’t Lady Caroline.
These thoughts were going through her head as she watched Lady Caroline and Alex on the dance floor at Almack’s. It was true that they made a striking couple, her slender fairness in contrast to his tall black-haired self. Thank God he doesn’t love her, Diana thought fervently.
She was standing by herself on the side of the dance floor waiting for Lord Rumford to bring her a glass of orgeat. When a feminine voice spoke from behind her, almost right into her ear, she jumped.
“I suppose you’re feeling pretty triumphant,” Jessica Longwood said bitterly.
Diana swung around to look at the other girl.
“I am happy,” she replied quietly. “I am going to marry a very fine man.”
“Did you compromise him?” Jessica demanded. “You must have. He wouldn’t have offered for a nobody like you if you hadn’t forced him into it somehow.”
Diana fought off a strong urge to strike the other girl across her pretty sneering face. “You’re a bad loser, Miss Longwood,” she said with a composure she didn’t feel. “Perhaps Lord Rumford discovered what a nasty person you really are. Perhaps that’s why he rejected you.”
Jessica’s light brown eyes blazed with hatred.
“Here you are, my dear.” It was Lord Rumford, returned with the orgeat.
Diana accepted it from him, grateful to be rescued from the venom of her erstwhile rival. Rumford looked at Jessica and a little color came into his cheeks. “How are you, Miss Longwood?” he asked courteously.
Jessica’s smile was sweet. “Very well, Lord Rumford. Thank you for asking.”
A young man came up to Jessica and said, “I believe this is my dance, Miss Underwood.”
