by Buck, Gayle
On the eve of the ball, Guin received not one but several posies with silver-gilt cards tucked into them. All were from gentlemen whom she had met since coming to London. She was astonished. “Why, my lady, whatever am I to do?”
“Do? Listen to yourself, child! You must choose one of these pretty offerings and pin it to your gown,” said Lady Smythe, rather amused by her young companion’s amazed consternation.
“But which one?” said Guin helplessly, surveying the row of beautiful tiny bouquets tied with ribbons.
Lady Smythe rose with a rustle of silk. “I shall wash my hands of you in a moment, Guineveve! Which one, indeed! Why, the one from the gentleman who most nearly possesses your heart, of course. It is a subtle way to encourage the male of the species in his pursuit.” Her ladyship’s brows rose in pointed query.
Guin’s color rose, yet she laughed across at her ladyship. “I see! Very well, ma’am! I shall do just as you say.”
“And I suppose you will not reveal to me the gentleman’s name?” asked Lady Smythe.
Guin shook her head, still smiling. “He—he has not declared himself, you see.”
“Then most assuredly you must encourage him, whomever he is,” said Lady Smythe with a wicked, knowing glance. She exited the bedroom well satisfied. The girl was coming along nicely, better than she had ever expected when she had first discussed Miss Holland with Sir Frederick. Lady Smythe’s smile widened as her thoughts dwelled a little longer on Sir Frederick Hawkesworth. “I really ought to speak again to Mrs. Richardson,” she murmured to herself.
When Guin went downstairs to join Lady Smythe in greeting the guests, and later, when she had been released to mingle with the company, she felt herself to be moving on a gilded cloud. For the first time in her life, she knew herself to be beautiful. It had taken long, unhappy weeks and the inexplicable kindness of several individuals to bring Guin to the realization, but she was at last convinced of her own worth. All that she had endured, and had learned, became supremely worthwhile when Sir Frederick’s gaze fell on the posy pinned at her breast.
Guin saw the leap of light in his eyes, and she knew Lady Smythe had been right. Everything faded somewhere into the background, until there existed just herself and Sir Frederick. He held out his hand to her, and without a word she placed her own in it. His fingers closed over hers, and he swept her into the waltz.
Guin laughed breathlessly. “How did you know that I had been given permission to waltz?”
“I am a consummate diplomat, Miss Holland. I have many, many connections,” said Sir Frederick with mock pomposity. When she giggled, he flashed his quick smile. “Actually, Lady Smythe let it drop when I called to leave flowers for you. You are wearing them.”
“Yes.” The charm of his smile took her breath away. She shook her head and sighed regretfully, but a tiny smile touched her lips. “It—it was such a difficult decision. I had so many to choose from.”
Sir Frederick’s dark brows rose. His arm tightened about her waist. “I trust it was not too difficult?” he asked softly, looking down at her with a possessive light in his brown eyes.
Guin blushed and dropped her gaze. “Oh, no, it was not,” she acknowledged, unable to continue her flirtatious teasing when he looked at her in just that way.
“I am glad, Guin,” said Sir Frederick quietly.
Guin swiftly looked up, surprised by his familiar use of her Christian name. What she saw reflected in his eyes caused her heart to pound. Guin was whirled away into a night to be forever remembered.
Chapter Twenty-three
Lady Smythe’s ball was pronounced a sad crush and a smashing success. Miss Holland was touted as a ravishingly lovely, very prettily behaved young lady. The invitations swelled in number, and Lady Smythe’s ball proved to be but the beginning of a long crest breaking toward the end of the Season.
Mrs. Holland was in high alt. Though there were titled gentlemen who called on her daughter and paid Guin court, Mrs. Holland was shrewd enough to realize that most were simply drawn by her daughter’s inexplicable social success. Mrs. Holland decided that Guin’s future, and her own social consequence, would be best served in the person of Mr. Lloyd.
A few offers were actually made for Miss Holland’s hand, which Mrs. Holland had no hesitation in declining. She did not deem it necessary to inform her daughter of these passages, since none of the gentlemen in question came up to her expectations. It would be time enough to inform Guin of the name of her future husband when the gentleman presented himself.
Guin had thought long and hard about what Mrs. Richardson had said to her that day in the park. She had come to know her own heart very well, and had for a little while denied it because of all the difficulties she had foreseen, but at last she acknowledged to herself that she was in love with Sir Frederick. It had seemed to her, especially recently, that Sir Frederick was not entirely indifferent to her and that gave her hope when she had before been utterly convinced of her own unworthiness. However, that did not mean the primary obstacle in the thorny path she was weaving toward happiness had been overcome.
Guin had grown in confidence, but it took all the courage she could muster to broach the subject of Sir Frederick’s attentions toward her to her mother. She chose a particularly auspicious moment, when her mother had just finished addressing an acceptance to a particularly flattering social invitation from a well-placed hostess.
“Mama, Percy is quite impressed with Sir Frederick Hawkesworth. He—he feels that Sir Frederick is just the sort of gentleman who would make a good husband for me,” said Guin hopefully. Her cheeks were tinged with color at actually voicing such a possibility, for though her heart was firmly attached, she thought she knew better than to trust in the dream that Sir Frederick might return her affection in such full measure. After all, Sir Frederick had yet to approach either her mother or her brother as he had hinted he would that evening at Vauxhall Gardens. However, if her mother’s ambitions could be swayed in favor of Sir Frederick, then Guin felt she would not altogether despair.
“Sir Frederick Hawkesworth! Why, he is a mere baronet! I look higher than that for you, Guineveve. You are the sister of the Earl of Holybrooke, after all,” said Mrs. Holland complacently, sanding the sheet and folding it,
Guin knew at once, and with a sinking heart, exactly what her mother had in mind. Though none of her serious admirers was a peer, there was one who would one day step into a title. It would be just like her mother to latch onto a future expectation for her, for Mrs. Holland had done that very thing when she married Guin’s father. Of course, it had not turned out just as Mrs. Holland had hoped; instead, Percy had inherited the title, which was almost as good in Mrs. Holland’s estimation.
“Mr. Lloyd is not a peer, Mama,” ventured Guin.
“He is not now, but he is Lord Rockham’s heir! My dear, only think of it! You could one day become a marchioness.” Mrs. Holland cut off her raptures to study her daughter’s pensive expression. “Why, never tell me that you have taken Mr. Lloyd in dislike!”
Guin made haste to reassure her mother. “Oh, no! Of course I haven’t. Mr. Lloyd is all consideration and—and I like him very well! But—”
“I knew that I could count on your good sense, Guin,” said Mrs. Holland, bestowing a rare smile on her daughter. In congratulatory accents, she continued, “You have grown amazingly longheaded this Season, which I never thought to be possible, as stupid as you behaved when we first came to town. But I shall not scold you, for you have improved amazingly since then.” She moved away with a swish of skirts to the gilded mirror, where she inspected her reflection with a critical but not unappreciative eye. She fluffed the laces at her bodice, tilting her head to study the effect.
“But, Mama, about Mr. Lloyd—” said Guin, somewhat desperately, tensely clasping her hands together.
“Yes, Mr. Lloyd! I am very well content, Guin, for I hourly expect him to make an offer to you. You would be a great fool to refuse such a well-bred, distinguished
, and well-connected gentleman! His fortune is merely respectable, but we shan’t refine too much upon that, since he has large expectations!” said Mrs. Holland, smiling contentedly at her reflection.
“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Guin, half under her breath. Dismayed, she perceived that her mother would never countenance the thought that she might not wish to wed Mr. Lloyd.
“What did you say, Guin?” asked Mrs. Holland, turning to her daughter. There was a hardening glint in her eyes. Something of her daughter’s daunted attitude had begun to penetrate through her thick complacency, and she had begun to suspect that not all was as settled as she would like it to be.
Guin sighed, defeated, and shook her head. “Nothing, Mama! I was merely reflecting upon my—my good fortune! I have made many friends this Season and—and acquired almost a score of suitors. It has me in a puzzle how it all came about!”
Mrs. Holland laughed, at once completely in charity with her again. “Indeed! I did not expect you to go off so well, certainly! However, between Lady Smythe and myself, we have made a success of you and I hope you are properly grateful!”
“Of course I am, Mama,” said Guin with a quick, lopsided smile. “How could it be otherwise? I shall never forget Lady Smythe’s kindness, nor that of Mrs. Richardson.”
A faint frown flitted across Mrs. Holland’s face. She did not care for Caroline Richardson, though that lady had never been uncivil or backward in any attention. “Well! I should hope that your uncle and your brother and I might expect an expression of thanks.”
“Oh, of course!” said Guin hastily, not at all backward at perceiving her mother’s displeasure. She was aware of her mother’s dislike for Caroline Richardson, and she had known instantly she had made a mistake in bringing the lady’s name up. “And then there is Sir Frederick Hawkesworth, who has been so unfailingly kind and obliging from the very beginning.”
“Yes, indeed! We must not forget what we owe to Sir Frederick. He was the one who uncovered Lord Holloway’s unpalatable circumstances to us, after all! Why, we might not have otherwise found out until you were well and truly wed to Lord Holloway! What a mistake that would have been,” said Mrs. Holland, at once forgetting her irritation. “I shall be particularly gracious to Sir Frederick when next I see him.”
However, when Sir Frederick sent his card up the following afternoon and was received by Mrs. Holland, it was not graciousness that was her uttermost feeling upon learning his errand to her.
Sir Frederick was civility itself, and nothing could have exceeded his affability, though it was tinged with a slight diffidence that sat ill on one usually so easy in company. The reason was shortly forthcoming. Sir Frederick cleared his throat and plunged into the business at hand. “Mrs. Holland, you cannot have overlooked the attentions which I have shown to your daughter, Miss Holland.”
“No, indeed! As Guin and I were saying just yesterday, you have been extremely kind and obliging toward her this Season. Will you not have a biscuit, Sir Frederick? I assure you that they are quite good,” said Mrs. Holland, offering the plate.
Sir Frederick politely declined. He was a little at a loss, for Mrs. Holland had spoken in quite a normal tone and without seeming to have a hint what he was getting at. “I am happy that I have won such accolades, ma’am. However, I hope I may persuade you that my regard for Miss Holland is more than that of friendship. Indeed, Mrs. Holland, I have come here today in hopes that you will grant me permission to pay suit to your daughter. That is, if Miss Holland would find my suit agreeable, of course!”
Mrs. Holland regarded him with astonishment, her expression swiftly undergoing transformation as she absorbed his meaning. Her smile firmly in place, but with a less friendly light in her eyes, she said, “Sir Frederick! You have caught me quite by surprise. If I had known—! However, I suppose it is not too late to tell you! I am sorry, Sir Frederick, but I fear that I cannot countenance your suit!”
Sir Frederick was utterly taken aback. “Ma’am! Am I to understand that you deem me unsuitable? I can assure you of the sincerity of my sentiments. I—I am most attached to Miss Holland, and I have thought that she regarded me with some degree of warmth. I can assure you, too, of my ability to support a wife. In fact, I will be most happy to lay before you and Lord Holybrooke, as well as your man of business, all facts concerning my estate.”
Mrs. Holland shook her head, still smiling. “I do not doubt the truth of everything you have said, Sir Frederick. But alas! I fear it is not in my power to encourage you! You see, and I know you will not put it about, since nothing has been announced just yet, but my daughter is contemplating an offer from Mr. Howard Lloyd.”
Sir Frederick’s mind reeled. He felt like he had been kicked in the chest by a horse. “I—I see.” He could scarcely draw breath. When he focused on Mrs. Holland’s face, he saw that she was regarding him with something like pity. With an effort he managed to pull himself together. With what dignity he could muster, he said, “I am severely disappointed, naturally. Pray convey my felicitations to Miss Holland. You—you will forgive me if I do not stay, Mrs. Holland. I have an engagement to keep.”
“Of course, Sir Frederick.” Mrs. Holland rose at once and held out her hand. There was a peculiar satisfaction in her eyes. “I shall not stand on ceremony and show you out, Sir Frederick, for I am certain you know the way. Why, I have counted you as our friend for some months! I hope that we may continue to do so?”
Sir Frederick shook his hostess’s hand. Her words underscored the disastrous outcome of an interview upon which he had pinned every expectation of a happy future. A friend! That was all he was to Miss Holland! His years of diplomatic training were all that kept his emotions under rigid control. Only the telltale tick at one corner of his mouth betrayed him. He knew that he smiled and said something civil, but ever afterward he could not remember what it was, or indeed, recall how he got out of the town house.
He looked around him in a dazed fashion, recognizing at last that he was standing on the flagged walkway. Sir Frederick squared his shoulders and began to make his way down the street. A short rain shower had started, but he scarcely noticed it. The only thing that stood out in his thoughts was that once again he had fallen in love with a woman who had preferred someone else.
A voice penetrated his consciousness. “Sir Frederick! I say, Sir Frederick!” From a great distance, he summoned his thoughts and brought them to focus on the gentleman who was regarding him with an increasingly concerned expression. Mechanically, he inquired, “Colonel Caldar. How do you do, sir?”
“I am very well, thank you. But you, sir!”
Sir Frederick drew himself together. He managed a smile. “Forgive me, Colonel. I was deep in abstraction. I have much on my mind at present. I—I have accepted a post in Paris, and I shall be leaving London shortly.”
“Oh!” Colonel Caldar stared at him with obvious surprise. “Well, that is news indeed.”
“Yes, if you will excuse me, sir?” Sir Frederick scarcely waited for the gentleman’s hurried acquiescence, but walked swiftly away.
Colonel Caldar stood frowning after Sir Frederick for only a minute or two, before he strode swiftly toward the town house. There was no reason that he knew of for Sir Frederick to be in this street except if he had come from calling at the town house. After seeing the stricken look in Sir Frederick’s eyes, Colonel Caldar could leap to only one conclusion. He hoped very much that he was wrong.
However, when he reached the town house and demanded a private interview with his sister and taxed her about Sir Frederick’s visit, he was appalled to realize the truth of his unwanted conclusion. “How could you have done such a thing, Aurelia?” he gasped. “How could you reject Sir Frederick’s offer out of hand in such a crude fashion?”
Mrs. Holland twitched her shawl straight with some annoyance. “Really, Arnold! You are being incredibly obtuse. Why shouldn’t I reject Sir Frederick’s suit? Guin is going to marry Mr. Lloyd or someone like him. My daughter is not to be thrown aw
ay on a mere baronet, as I have told you before!”
“Doesn’t Guin’s happiness count with you at all, Aurelia?” demanded Colonel Caldar in growing anger.
Mrs. Holland stared, then laughed. “My dear brother, Guin shall be quite happy when she becomes a titled lady.”
“You cannot have considered! Aurelia, unless I miss my guess, your daughter is half in love with Sir Frederick,” said Colonel Caldar baldly.
“My daughter,” said Mrs. Holland with emphasis, her brown eyes very hard, “will not disoblige me by marrying someone of whom I do not approve. And let me remind you, Arnold, that I am Guin’s mother and neither you, nor my new sister-in-law, have any rights where she is concerned. I shall do precisely what I think best, and you cannot say a word against it!”
Colonel Caldar bit back an exclamation. After a short struggle, he said stiffly, “I am aware of it! And I bitterly regret it. However, you are wrong in at least this respect, Aurelia! I care deeply about Guin, and you may be certain that I shall continue to air my opinion on this subject.”
Mrs. Holland dissolved into tears. She looked reproachfully at her brother. “Arnold! How can you abuse me in such a fashion? I am only doing my poor best!”
“It is very poor, indeed!” exclaimed Colonel Caldar hotly, before slamming out of the sitting room.
That evening Colonel Caldar and his wife came to dinner. Guin observed there seemed to be some tension between her mother and her uncle. They were meticulously polite toward one another. Mrs. Caldar regarded all with a thoughtful gaze, her usual serene composure unruffled.
Afterward, when Colonel Caldar had followed the ladies to the sitting room for after-dinner coffee, he remained unusually silent. Guin knew that her mother still very much disliked it when Lord Holybrooke was engaged elsewhere when she and her mother dined at home. No doubt Mrs. Holland had complained to Colonel Caldar about it, and he, not wishing to enter into fruitless argument, had simply become uncommunicative.
