He would, he told himself later, as he waited for his phaeton to be brought round, just pop in for a moment to take a peek at how she was faring. If she seemed to be doing all right, he would go to his club. He had tucked the copy of Last of the Mohicans into his coat pocket, just in case.
And if it looked as if she needed him, well, he would be there.
And he’d have the added advantage of checking to see whether her theory about Isabel and young Saunders was correct. On the whole, he decided, as his phaeton swung round, it was promising to be a most profitable evening.
Chapter Ten
Kate was perfectly aware of the gentleman staring in her direction. She had felt his gaze boring into her ever since she’d entered the ballroom.
But she refused—she absolutely refused—to imagine that it was Daniel Craven. No. Once in one night was entirely enough. She would not make a fool of herself a second time. It was bad enough that he’d haunted her dreams for so long, the mere thought of him seemed to turn her into a quivering mass of jelly. She simply could not go around thinking she was seeing him while she was awake, as well. Not unless she wanted to be pegged a madwoman.
The man who was staring at her, she decided, was probably just someone who thought he knew her. Well, she’d known it would happen. Try as she might to stay well away from the dance floor, she’d spotted at least a dozen faces she recognized. She’d managed to avoid them by ducking behind pillars and potted palms, but it was only, she knew, a matter of time before someone pulled aside the palm fronds, and cried, “Why, Kate Mayhew! Whatever are you doing here? Wasn’t your father the one who ... ?”
Kate moved her seat a little nearer to the grey-haired dowager in front of her. Not because she fancied the old woman would deign to engage her in conversation—a mere chaperone? Perish the thought!—but because she hoped the woman’s towering coiffure might offer her camouflage.
Isabel, she was not happy to see, catching a glimpse of her charge through the assorted heads in front of her, was behaving as disgracefully as could be. She had been a perfect nightmare through dinner, hardly saying a word to the eligible—and quite good-looking—gentlemen on either side of her. Her heart, she’d explained to Kate later, had been too full to allow her to speak, she was that excited at the prospect of being allowed to see Mr. Saunders. Kate had pointed out that it was all well and good to look forward to seeing Mr. Saunders, but when there was a duke at one elbow and a baron at the other, she might at least deign to ask them how they were enjoying their pheasant.
And then when they’d arrived at the baroness’s, Isabel had quite literally thrown her wrap at Kate and made a mad dash for the ballroom, where she immediately latched onto a tall, fair-haired gentleman, whose side she had not left—not even once—for the entire evening. This gentleman, Kate supposed, was Geoffrey Saunders.
He was not unprepossessing, as young gentlemen went. Kate supposed he’d have to have some charms, or Isabel would not have been interested in him. She was not certain, but she thought she recognized him from her own season out—unless, of course, she was mistaking him for his elder brother, whom, she’d heard the dowager in front of her whisper, was rumored to have twenty thousand pounds a year.
The younger Mr. Saunders appeared to be about Kate’s own age, and was everything that was dashing, from his raffishly curled blond mane to the shiny sword he wore at his hip—an affectation, since he was not in the army, or at least was not in uniform. She could quite see how a young and inexperienced girl like Isabel might fall for a Geoffrey Saunders. Especially since, from what Kate could see, no other gentlemen seemed at all interested in her—unless, of course, her marked preference for Mr. Saunders had already driven everyone else away.
She was going to have to have a talk with Lady Isabel, Kate decided, the moment they were alone again. The girl simply could not continue to carry on in this manner. She was making a fool of herself in front of everyone. It wasn’t any wonder her father had forbidden her from seeing the young man, if this was an example of how she behaved around him. Why, even now she was playfully pulling at that ridiculous sword. And this was supposed to be the daughter of a marquis!
Well, the daughter of the most notorious marquis in London, she amended. Perhaps that was why no one, not even the dowager beside her, was lifting an eyebrow at Isabel’s scandalous behavior. They seemed to expect it from a girl whose own parents made such spectacles of themselves with their scandalous divorce.
“Well,” came a deep voice at her shoulder. “Are you planning on ignoring me all night, then, Kate?”
She turned quickly in her seat. “Freddy!”
He gave a gallant bow. “The very same. I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past ten minutes. Why did you keep looking away? I know you saw me.”
Kate blushed. She couldn’t, of course, tell him the real reason—that she’d thought he was Daniel Craven. He’d only tease her some more. Then, realizing the dowager and her friends were paying close attention to their conversation, Kate got up, and taking the earl’s hand, let him guide her through the sea of mauve and silver skirts.
“I saw you,” Kate confessed, when they’d made it out of what she had scornfully called Spinsters’ Corner, when she’d been Isabel’s age. Little had she thought then that she might one day end up amongst their silver-haired ranks!
“That is,” Kate went on, “I knew someone was staring at me. But I never imagined it was you. What are you doing here, Freddy? I thought you despised this sort of thing.”
“You know I do,” he said, tugging irritably on his white gloves. “Mother made me come.”
Kate looked around nervously. “She’s here? Oh, Freddy, should we be seen together? You know how she feels about me.”
“Pish posh.” Freddy shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not afraid of her.”
“You should be,” Kate said, dryly. “She controls your purse strings, doesn’t she?”
“Only till I’m thirty,” Freddy said. “Then I can do what I like with Grandpapa’s money.”
“I don’t know what I’m worried about,” Kate said with a shrug. “It’s not as if she’d recognize me. I swear to you, Freddy, it’s exactly as I told you. I’ve run into a half-dozen girls I used to know and they honestly haven’t recognized me.”
Freddy looked at her skeptically. “Sorry, Kate. I think they recognized you, all right. Recognized you and just preferred not to become reacquainted. You haven’t changed a bit, you know. You’re still the prettiest girl in the room.”
“Oh, Freddy.” Kate gave him a good-natured shove. “Go on.” Then she let out a little shriek. “Good Lord,” she said, staring out across the dance floor. “Is that who I think it is? Emmaline St. Peters? Hasn’t she gotten herself a husband yet?”
Freddy followed the direction of her gaze. “Old Emmy? Of course not. No one good enough for ’er, and all. What is this? Her eighth season out?”
“Tenth,” Kate said emphatically. “She was two years ahead of me in school. Oh, Freddy, we mustn’t gossip about her. It’s too wicked. But how can she wear white?”
“Which reminds me,” Freddy said. “Haven’t I seen this gown you’re wearing before, only in a different incarnation?”
Kate dragged her attention from the spectacle of the aging debutante and looked down at herself. “What do you mean?”
Freddy took her by both hands and held her at arm’s length. “Dame Ashforth’s,” he said, running a critical gaze up and down the length of her dress. “June twenty-seventh, eighteen hundred and sixty-three. You had only a single dance with me, and told Amy Heterling that I trod upon your toes. I was crushed when I heard about it.”
Kate’s jaw dropped.
“Yes,” Freddy said, releasing her hands. “You see, I love you quite madly. I liked it better when it was white. And what have you done to the front of it, there? All the little interesting bits are gone.”
Recovering herself, Kate said flatly, “The ‘interesting bits,’ as you call
them, have been covered with an insert. It doesn’t do, you know, for the chaperone to show more bosom than her charge.”
Freddy sighed, “It’s a burning shame to butcher a Worth in that manner.”
“Speaking of burning,” Kate said lightly, “I would think Mr. Worth would be delighted this dress has turned out as well as it has, considering its history. You can hardly even smell the smoke anymore.”
A look of horror appeared on Freddy’s handsome face. “Kate,” he cried. “I’m so—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
Kate gave him a playful tap on the shoulder with her fan. “Freddy! What’s wrong with you? I’m only joking.”
“I know,” he said, looking miserable. “Only it wasn’t a joke, really. I mean, I’m sure all of your things smelled horribly after ... after—”
She snapped the fan open, and laid it over his mouth, effectively keeping him from continuing.
“No more,” she said, with mock authority. “You know better than to speak of such things on a dance floor. It offends Bacchus.”
When she lowered the fan again, Freddy looked sheepish. “Allow me to make amends, then, to the god of revelry,” he said, “by asking you for this dance.”
Kate looked horrified. “Are you mad? Do you want to get me into trouble my first night out? I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on Lady Isabel, not cavorting with my former beaux.”
“What do you mean, former?”
“You know what I mean.” Kate heard a scream, and, recognizing Isabel’s voice, quickly turned back toward the dance floor. Geoffrey Saunders, she saw, had snatched his sword back from Isabel, and was pretending to run her through with it. Kate quite sympathized with his feelings, but really, she could no longer tolerate this sort of behavior.
“Excuse me, Freddy,” she said, her mouth tightening. “I’m afraid I’ve got to go and commit a murder.”
Freddy caught her by the arm, however, before she took a single step. “Whoa, now. That’s not the way.”
Kate hissed, “What do you mean? Freddy, I can’t let her go on like that. She’s making a scene.”
“But it will be worse if her chaperone suddenly strides up and cuffs her on the ear.” He nodded his head toward the dance floor. “I know a better way. Come on. You approach from the left. I’ll create a diversion on the right.”
Kate hadn’t the slightest idea what he was talking about, but she moved in the direction he’d pointed. Isabel was at the center of a large group of young people, and if she wasn’t the prettiest girl in the group, she was certainly the most animated, and Kate knew that high spirits tended to make up for even the plainest face.
When Isabel spotted Kate, she half expected her to run—Kate was quite certain her disapproval must have been easily readable on her face. But instead of fleeing for cover, Isabel darted forward and seized Kate by the hand, then dragged her, despite her protests, into the center of the group.
“Geoffrey,” Isabel cried, hauling Kate up before her beau like a prize salmon she’d caught. “This is she, Geoffrey! The lovely Miss Mayhew who made it possible for me to be able to see you again! Isn’t she the veriest angel, Geoffrey? So little and precious! I simply adore her, and you must, too.”
To which Mr. Saunders replied, “Your wish, as always, Lady Isabel, is my command.”
And to Kate’s horror, the young man stooped down, lifted her hand, and laid a kiss upon her knuckles.
Kate was quite glad supper had taken place so many hours before, or she was quite certain hers would have come up again.
“Isn’t she a love, Geoffrey?” Isabel asked. “Oh, Miss Mayhew, I’m so awfully glad you came to live with me. Really, I must be the luckiest girl in the world!”
Mr. Saunders hadn’t yet released Kate’s hand. He was looking down at her very intently, and she could not help but notice that his eyes were extraordinarily blue—something that must have contributed to his irresistibility, as far as Isabel was concerned.
Kate knew what he was going to ask before he said it. In fact, she might almost have said the words along with him, they were so familiar to her.
“Don’t I know you from somewhere, Miss Mayhew?” he asked.
“I fail to see how that would be possible, Mr. Saunders,” Kate said, managing a queasy smile. She gave her hand a tug, and Mr. Saunders released it at once. Turning to Isabel, Kate whispered, “Lady Isabel, I need a word with you, if you please.”
Isabel whispered back, quite audibly enough for everyone on that side of the crowded room to hear. “Not now, Miss Mayhew.”
Kate reached out and laid a hand upon the back of Isabel’s arm, right where her upper arm met her elbow.
“No,” Kate whispered. “Now, my lady.”
Isabel yelped. Kate was putting steady pressure on her funny bone. Not hurting her, exactly, but not causing her any great pleasure, either.
At that moment, Freddy sauntered up, and slapped Geoffrey Saunders rather hard upon the back.
“Saunders, old bean,” he shouted. “Good to see you. Been a while, hasn’t it?”
Geoffrey grew noticeably paler behind his mustache. “Lord Palmer,” he said, losing a good deal of the bravado he’d exhibited in front of Kate. “How nice to see you again.”
“Listen, Saunders,” Freddy said, swinging an arm around the younger man’s neck. “I’m not sure if you remember the last time we met. It was at old Claymore’s country place. It rained all weekend, and we were all forced to stay indoors and play at bagatelle. Coming back to you now? In fact, if I recall correctly, you ended up owing me quite a tidy little sum by Monday morning ....”
Their voices trailed off as the earl dragged the younger man away. Isabel, glumly watching them go, no longer protested as Kate quickly led her off to a quiet corner of the room.
“Lady Isabel,” Kate said brusquely, as she reached up and adjusted a few of the girl’s curls. “You are entirely too free with your affections where that young man is concerned. You must learn to be more guarded.”
Isabel, her eyes still on her lover’s back, murmured, like an automaton, “I’m not.”
“You are, Lady Isabel.” Kate tugged on her charge’s bodice, which had slipped down even lower than it was supposed to. “It doesn’t do, you know, to let a young man be so sure of your affections. If you want to win him, the best way to do it is to keep him guessing about whether or not you like him.”
Isabel’s bright green eyes, so like her father’s, fastened onto Kate’s face. “But if he doesn’t know I like him, he won’t come around,” she said plaintively.
“On the contrary,” Kate said. “He’ll come around more.”
Isabel’s lower lip began to jut out petulantly. “That’s rot,” she declared. “If you like someone, you should let him know it.”
“Certainly you should ... after he’s declared himself.”
“But how’s he going to know to declare himself,” Isabel asked, “if I don’t give him any encouragement?”
“You’re going to give him encouragement,” Kate explained gently. “You should encourage all of your beaux equally, however. It’s far too early in the season to be singling one out from all the others.”
“But Geoffrey’s the only one who ever really pays any attention to me, Miss Mayhew!”
“Because you’ve made it perfectly clear to everyone else that Mr. Saunders is your favorite, and that you have no interest in anyone else. But you can’t tell me he’s the only man who asked you to dance tonight.”
“Well,” Isabel said, looking down. “No. But he asked for all my dances as soon as he saw me, and so then when Sir William asked—”
“You hadn’t any dances left.” Kate nodded. “In the future, you should reserve the first and last dance for Mr. Saunders, but leave the rest open for other young men who might ask.”
“But Miss Mayhew—”
“Do you want Mr. Saunders to ask you to marry him?”
“Oh, yes!”
“Then you must be differen
t. You must not make it so easy for him. If he thinks he’s already won you, he’ll grow bored. And then he’ll move on to someone he feels represents more of a challenge.”
“Bored?” Isabel cried, paling visibly. “How horrid!” She scissored a glance in the direction in which Mr. Saunders and the earl were returning. “I couldn’t stand for Geoffrey to grow bored of me ....”
Freddy, Kate saw, was still chattering amiably, but Mr. Saunders looked exceedingly glum. As he sauntered to her side, the earl gave Kate a comical leer, even as he slapped the younger man on the back and said cheerfully, “Well, I’m glad that’s settled, then. Just a little misunderstanding between friends. Happens all the time, don’t it, Kate?”
Kate gave him a very sour look. “I’m certain, Lord Palmer,” she said, pointedly avoiding his Christian name, and wishing he would do the same, “that I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bah!” Freddy turned to Isabel, who was looking up at Geoffrey Saunders with an expression on her plump face that could only be described as worshipful. “Ho there, little lady,” Freddy said, in a voice so boomingly loud that Isabel actually jumped a little. “What do you say you and I take a turn about the room? I feel like doin’ a jig or two.”
Isabel’s green eyes went very wide as she looked from Freddy, to Geoffrey, to Kate, and then back again. “Oh, but ...” she stammered. “Oh, but I promised—” Her gaze landed on Kate, whose mouth suddenly got very small.
“Oh,” Isabel said, looking down again. “Oh, yes, thank you, Lord Palmer. I should be delighted.”
Kate had the pleasure of seeing Geoffrey Saunders’s jaw drop as the earl whirled Isabel off onto the dance floor. He did not look hurt so much as he did perplexed. Feeling quite pleased with herself, Kate opened her fan, and began applying it with a good deal of energy.
A little scandal Page 11
