Cupid's Choice: She's a shy beauty in distress. He's a chivalric gentleman.

by Buck, Gayle

  “Oh, you do!” said Guin quickly, anxious to reassure him.

  He laughed again, his friendly glance inviting her to share in his amusement. She started to laugh, too, though she couldn’t be certain if she did so because of how silly she had made herself sound or because she was simply so happy.

  Sir Frederick glanced down at his companion again. She was looking up, a bright smile on her lips and a laughing expression in her extraordinary dark blue eyes. He thought he had never seen such eyes before, deep midnight pools ringed with black lashes, expressive of her every emotion. “You are altogether charming,” he said unthinkingly.

  She blushed and turned her head away. After a pause she asked in a carefully neutral voice, “Have you been a diplomat long, Sir Frederick?”

  And that was as neat a setdown as he had ever received, he thought ruefully. A polite and impersonal question in response to a flourishing compliment. He had deserved it, of course. He had already promised her that he would not place her at a disadvantage while she was with him, and at once he had then turned around and uttered what must be guaranteed to put her out of countenance again.

  Sir Frederick meekly accepted his companion’s lead. “I have been employed in that capacity since I finished at university. My last post was in St. Petersburg. Since then I have been attached to the Foreign Office, and there is some talk of a post in Paris.”

  “Russia? Paris! Oh, how I envy you, Sir Frederick,” said Guin, clasping her hands together in front of her breast as she turned impulsively toward him. Her eyes shone with enthusiasm. “Pray describe to me something of those places, for I have always longed to travel.”

  “Where would you like to go?” asked Sir Frederick, amused. “Besides Russia and Paris, of course.”

  A tiny frown formed between her slender black brows, so that she bore a strong resemblance to a puzzled kitten. “Well, I have always thought I should like to see Greece because of the stories that Percy and I read under his tutor. And I should very much like to see Rome. I was quite fascinated with Julius Caesar, you see. He was such an interesting man.”

  Sir Frederick was startled, so much so that he allowed the reins to drop in his surprise. The phaeton surged forward. It did not need his groom’s hoarse exclamation to make him realize the possible consequences of bounding along through the heavily trafficked streets. Sir Frederick modified the pace of his team. He regarded his companion with raised brows. “Miss Holland, am I to infer that you have had a classical education?”

  She returned his look with mingled surprise and puzzlement. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Latin? Hebrew? Greek?” quizzed Sir Frederick.

  Guin’s expression cleared. “Oh! Well, you see, I had lessons with Percy. He told Mama that he was lonely without me and that I could help him with his books. I daresay I learned all sorts of things that females don’t usually. Percy’s tutor was very kind to me, too, so that I felt quite comfortable.”

  Sir Frederick rattled off a simple Latin phrase and then looked at her curiously. “Can you translate that, Miss Holland?”

  Guin obediently did so, the puzzlement in her expression beginning to give way to amusement. “That was an easy one, Sir Frederick. You must do better than that to stump me.”

  “Let’s try one in Greek, then.” Sir Frederick quoted a familiar passage from a well-known ancient Greek play.

  Again, Guin found no difficulty in translating what he had said. She looked at him inquiringly. “Why are you asking me these things, sir?”

  Sir Frederick drew in his breath. “My dear Miss Holland, you are amazing. You are probably better educated than most ladies of my acquaintance.”

  She burst out laughing and shook her head. “But how absurd! You must know that I have no accomplishments at all, Sir Frederick! My governess despaired of ever teaching me to draw or watercolor, and I am the merest dab at playing the harp.”

  “Thank God!” said Sir Frederick swiftly, flashing his quick grin. “I positively detest the harp, Miss Holland.”

  “Oh, you are always so kind, Sir Frederick,” said Guin, her white straight teeth flashing in a quick shy smile.

  “Did your governess succeed in teaching you French?” asked Sir Frederick, still smiling. He was fascinated with what he was learning about Miss Holland. She had been nothing but a lovely shrinking mouse when he had first met her, and chivalry had stirred in his breast. Now he was learning that she had intelligence sharpened by education.

  “Poor Miss Rhodes! Yes, she did and also a little Italian. But Mama would much have preferred that I had learned to paint instead. I fear that I was a disappointment to Miss Rhodes,” said Guin on a regretful sigh. “Mama turned her off in the end.”

  “I doubt that she was disappointed in you, Miss Holland, as much as she must have been with her employer,” said Sir Frederick. He saw that she was looking puzzled again, and he casually turned the conversation.

  Soon he judged it to be time to return Guin home, and he drove back to the town house. “Take their heads, Spencer,” he said to his groom, springing down from the phaeton. He was just giving a hand to Guin to help her down when Lord Holybrooke came strolling around the corner.

  “Oh, here is Percy!” exclaimed Guin, her face lighting up at the sight of her twin brother. She jumped down to the pavement and ran to meet Lord Holybrooke. As the two walked back toward Sir Frederick, she was animatedly telling her brother about being able to drive out with Sir Frederick.

  “Sir Frederick, I am glad to see you again,” said Lord Holybrooke with his easy dignity.

  Sir Frederick returned the greeting, shaking the younger man’s hand. He at once reiterated his offer to take Lord Holybrooke to Tattersall’s with him. The young earl civilly declined, though with obvious regret.

  “I came home only to change since I am engaged to a party of friends and must meet them within the hour,” said Lord Holybrooke. He grinned boyishly at Sir Frederick. “The thing of it is, sir, there is to be a mill.”

  “Oh, no, Percy! You cannot be going to a horrid fist-fight!” exclaimed Guin, stepping back so that she could look into her brother’s face. “How can you like such a thing?”

  The two men exchanged glances, complete understanding passing between them. A lady could not be expected to comprehend the fascinated draw that a round of fisticuffs had on the male of the species.

  “Another time, then, my lord,” said Sir Frederick easily. He said good-bye to Guin and her brother, and climbed back up into the phaeton. His groom let go of the horses’ heads and leaped up behind. Sir Frederick nodded his head in farewell and drove away.

  He had been given much to ponder about Miss Holland. She was a surprising female, he reflected. He had originally taken her for little more than a lovely dormouse. Then he had perceived there was more to her personality and had attempted, with a modicum of success, to draw her out. Today he had discovered that she had a well-educated mind. Not only that, but she was probably every bit as versatile as he was himself in several languages.

  A few streets over, he saw his friend Mr. Henry Duckwood standing on the walkway. Mr. Duckwood was waving to him, so Sir Frederick pulled over to the curb. “Going my way, Henry?”

  “Wherever you wish, dear fellow,” said Mr. Duckwood, stepping up into the phaeton and disposing himself comfortably on the narrow leather seat.

  Sir Frederick guided the phaeton back into the traffic. Casting a knowledgeable gaze over his friend, he said, “You are looking elegant today, Henry. Is that a new coat?”

  Mr. Duckwood sprawled carelessly on the phaeton’s seat. He lovingly smoothed his sleeve. “You’ve discerned it, Freddy. I had it from Weston this morning. I am very pleased with it. Where are you headed? If you are going to Tattersall’s or the park, I have half a mind to accompany you.”

  “Tattersall’s it is, then, for I have already exercised my horses by driving with Miss Holland,” said Sir Frederick, turning a corner with neat skill.

  Mr. Duckwood abandon
ed his lazy attitude and sat up. His fawn’s eyes were at ones filled with concern. “Holland? Isn’t she the chit that Caroline Richardson introduced you to?” He shook his head. “Freddy, Freddy! I warned you, and what must you do but run your head straight into the noose.”

  Sir Frederick shook his head. “It isn’t like that, Henry. I feel sorry for Miss Holland. Mrs. Holland is a regular tartar and abuses her. So I have been paying Miss Holland a bit of attention, just to get her confidence in herself built up a trifle.”

  Mr. Duckwood morosely shook his head. “Dangerous, Freddy, very dangerous. What’s to say that Miss Holland isn’t setting you up for a facer?”

  Sir Frederick laughed. “If you knew her, Henry, you would recognize that Miss Holland hasn’t an ounce of coquetry in her. She’s a sweet innocent who doesn’t know the first thing about how to go on. On top of it all, I discovered this morning that she can translate Latin and Greek and speaks French and Italian.”

  “A bluestocking, is she?” said Mr. Duckwood, pursing his lips as he turned it over in his mind. He shook his head. “She’ll never go off in style if that becomes known. A pity, but there it is.”

  “You’re right,” said Sir Frederick thoughtfully. He glanced at his companion. “Miss Holland has more than enough to overcome as it is. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tout this about, Henry.”

  “Oh, I’m not one to spread damaging tales. You may count on me to keep quiet Freddy,” said Mr. Duckwood amiably.

  “I knew I could,” said Sir Frederick casually.

  A good understanding being established, the two gentlemen dismissed the subject of Miss Holland from their minds and began discussing horseflesh.

  Chapter Nine

  Sir Frederick accepted the invitation to Mrs. Holland’s rout with mixed feelings. Though he had committed himself to lending a helping hand to Miss Holland socially, he had the feeling that he was letting himself in for just the sort of entertainment he most disliked. Within minutes of entering the town house, he realized that he was right.

  Mrs. Holland had filled her guest list with as many notables as she could possibly lay claim. Since she was not acquainted with the sort of personages which made up diplomatic or government circles and was on terms with very few fashionables, the result was a majority of many of the same sort of pretentious personalities that she was herself.

  Sir Frederick recognized most of the guests and exchanged polite nods or bows with several of them, though privately deploring the necessity. His dark brows rose when he saw two or three gentlemen present he would have hesitated to introduce to any of the ladies of his acquaintance. He particularly disliked the gushing familiarity of one lady whom he cataloged as an encroaching mushroom. He would probably hear it rumored before the week was out that she was quite one of his closest acquaintances, he reflected disparagingly.

  “My, my, aren’t we vicious this evening,” murmured Sir Frederick to himself disgustedly. He regarded the assemblage through his quizzing glass in an aloof manner calculated to give pause to anyone else who did not know him well. Even altruism stopped short of encouraging the sort of toadeating he found singularly deplorable. Dropping the glass, he decided he would make the opportunity to leave early. Having already spoken to his hostess and to Colonel Caldar, it but remained to do his duty toward Lord Holybrooke and Miss Holland.

  A drawling, cheerful voice broke into his thoughts. “Is that what happens to diplomats when they are kept dangling at the Foreign Office without assignment? Do they gibber madly to themselves?”

  Sir Frederick turned swiftly. He threw out a hand. “Thank God! A friendly face.”

  Sir Peregrine Ashford laughed and shook Sir Frederick’s outstretched hand. “Not your style of thing, is it?” He glanced around them and grimaced slightly. “Truth to tell, it isn’t mine, either. But when young Holybrooke invited me, I thought I should accept. I didn’t like to disappoint him, especially when he told me how devilish it would be and that it was some sort of coming-out party for his sister.”

  “I didn’t know you and Lord Holybrooke were on such friendly terms, Peregrine,” said Sir Frederick, surprised.

  “We had met before, of course, but I fell into conversation with him at a mill last week. I liked him. He is very unaffected, quite unlike what one might have expected,” said Sir Peregrine with a shrug.

  “You mean, after one had the doubtful pleasure of a few moments spent in Mrs. Holland’s company,” said Sir Frederick suggestively.

  Sir Peregrine laughed, his dark features lighting up. “Quite, though I wasn’t going to say so.” He eyed Sir Frederick curiously. “What brings you tonight?”

  “I come at personal invitation, my dear fellow,” said Sir Frederick, assuming a lofty tone. “Mrs. Holland apparently approved of my tender care of her daughter when I invited Miss Holland out for a drive. I did not feel myself able to deny myself the pleasure of attending.”

  Sir Peregrine gave a skeptical glance. “I shan’t bother pointing out that you have, without a doubt, larger experience than anyone else I know in sliding out of unwelcome invites!” He shook his head at Sir Frederick’s quick grin. “What I don’t understand is this sudden devotion to Miss Holland’s interests. Freddy, you haven’t gone nutty on her, have you?”

  “Have you been talking to Henry?” demanded Sir Frederick suspiciously.

  “No, should I be?” asked Sir Peregrine mildly.

  “Henry would have it that I am dancing to a tune of Caroline Richardson’s making,” said Sir Frederick with a negligent shrug.

  Sir Peregrine’s brows rose. “And are you?” he asked with every expression of interest.

  “Damn your eyes,” said Sir Frederick without heat. “If you must know, it is Lady Smythe’s coil more than anyone else’s.” He saw that Sir Peregrine was looking at him with polite astonishment, and he sighed. “I suppose I shall have to explain it to you, now that I have said this much.”

  “Quite, dear fellow. Er-would it be tactless to suggest you have been deuced indiscreet?” said Sir Peregrine.

  Sir Frederick recommended that Sir Peregrine could keep his unsolicited opinion to himself, and in a few sentences outlined his conversation with Lady Smythe and the astonishing upshot. “And I have pledged myself to do whatever I can to help Miss Holland along.”

  Sir Peregrine heard him out in silence, then shrugged. “Well, you know your own business best, Freddy. However, if you find yourself at point-non-plus, I hope you know that you may count on me.”

  Sir Frederick begged him not to be melodramatic and to come meet Miss Holland. “Since you are so eager to sport your canvas on my behalf, you might as well make yourself useful and help me bring her into notice.”

  “You’ve got windmills in your head, Freddy,” said Sir Peregrine calmly. He allowed himself to be led over to where Lord Holybrooke and Miss Holland were standing. He greeted Lord Holybrooke, before turning to the earl’s sister while Sir Frederick performed the introductions.

  “Sir Peregrine is a particular friend of mine,” said Sir Frederick.

  “Oh, then I am persuaded we shall be friends, Sir Peregrine,” said Guin with a shy smile, extending her hand to him.

  Sir Peregrine was taken aback. As he bowed over the lady’s hand, he glanced swiftly upward at Sir Frederick. However, there was nothing on that gentleman’s face to hint that he had found Miss Holland’s avowal at all discomposing. Sir Peregrine smiled at Miss Holland and returned a civil reply, before turning again to the earl.

  Lord Holybrooke quickly bore Sir Peregrine off with him toward the refreshment room, saying, “I warned you that it would be devilish. It is the fault of that screeching violin. Why my mother must hire an orchestra at all is beyond my comprehension, for there will not be anything but country-dances, since my sister hasn’t been presented at Almack’s yet.”

  Sir Frederick and Guin laughed as the two gentlemen left them. “Percy does not care for musical evenings,” observed Guin.

  “No, I can see tha
t he doesn’t. For myself, I look forward to the dancing. I asked you before if you would stand up with me, Miss Holland,” said Sir Frederick.

  “That was for quite a different function, sir,” said Guin, scrupulously fair.

  “I know it, but will you stand up with me this evening also, Miss Holland?” said Sir Frederick.

  “Of course I shall. However, I should like it if you would stand up with someone else first, if you please,” said Guin.

  “But I don’t please,” said Sir Frederick gently. “There is not another lady in the room whom I wish to dance with more.”

  “Oh!” Guin dropped her fan. She smiled up at him. “That—that is quite the nicest compliment anyone has ever paid me!”

  Sir Frederick obligingly picked the fan up for her and handed it back. “Have I put you out of countenance again, Miss Holland?” he asked with amusement, taking note of her blush.

  “Yes—no! Yes! Oh, you mustn’t say such things where someone might overhear you,” said Guin, glancing uneasily around. “Someone might think I was fl-flirting with you and Mama might hear of it.”

  “Then I shall flirt with you in Greek, and no one will know,” said Sir Frederick, and promptly said something both outrageous and provocative. He watched with interest as her cheeks brightened even more. “Did you understand that, Miss Holland?”

  “Fairly well, I believe,” said Guin breathlessly. She had cast down her eyes, but now she looked up at him with a trembling smile. “I think you are very ungallant, sir. But—but I like you to tease me, I think!”

  Sir Frederick laughed. He was about to reply when Mrs. Holland rustled up with a gentleman in tow. Sir Frederick bowed to his hostess, “Mrs. Holland, your servant.” He glanced toward her cavalier, keeping his face impassive.

  “Sir Frederick, how good it was of you to come. You must know Lord Holloway, of course,” said Mrs. Holland, indicating her companion with a swift lovely smile. Her hand was laid proprietarily on the gentleman’s bent arm.

  Sir Frederick acknowledged that he did, suppressing all sign of his scorn for one whom he knew for a fop and profligate. The two gentlemen exchanged polite civilities. It was evident to anyone interested in such nuances that no spark of friendship lay between them.