The Debutante's Daring Proposal

by Annie Burrows

  But before she could do anything so weak as to break down or as foolish as to fling herself on to his chest, Stepmama rose from the card table and headed in their direction with a martial gleam in her eye. Which made Georgiana lift her chin and stiffen her spine, thank goodness.

  Just in the nick of time.

  ‘Lord Ashenden? Why, what a surprise,’ Stepmama cooed. ‘I had no notion that you were a friend of Lord and Lady Havelock.’

  ‘Why should you?’

  Georgiana almost shivered at the chill in his voice. It was as if the Edmund she’d started to become comfortable with again had vanished. In his place stood Lord Ashenden. And she could easily imagine him delivering the kind of remark that had fallen from the lips of Lord Lensborough, earlier. The kind of remark designed to cut down a vulgar interloper and remind her that though she might have wheedled her way inside a house belonging to a member of the Quality, she had absolutely none herself.

  Instead, his frosty expression thawed, even though it was only by about half a degree.

  ‘I have a passing acquaintance with Lord and Lady Chepstow, too,’ he said. ‘Have you met them?’

  ‘Oh, yes, she is a most charming woman,’ Stepmama gushed.

  ‘Lady,’ he corrected her.

  ‘Yes, that is what I meant, of course.’

  ‘She is also extremely intelligent,’ he said, enigmatically. ‘She was working as a governess, you know, when Chepstow decided to marry her.’

  ‘Indeed?’ For a moment, Stepmama faltered, unsure of where the conversation was headed. Georgiana could barely prevent herself from kicking him. He was deliberately toying with Stepmama. At least Lord Lensborough’s derision had been obvious, though delivered with brutal swiftness.

  ‘I heard,’ Stepmama was saying, ‘that they had known each other almost all their lives, that she attended the same school as his sister.’

  ‘That may be correct,’ he acknowledged. ‘In any case, I find it admirable that she was using the talents God gave her to make her own way in the world.’

  ‘Oh, yes, most admirable,’ said Stepmama with enthusiasm, though she couldn’t possibly have any idea what she was being so enthusiastic about.

  ‘Are you hinting,’ said Georgiana, taking pity on her stepmother, ‘that I would be better to go out and work for my living, than attempt to get a husband, my lord?’ Was that what he’d meant about keeping his promise to help her? Since he knew how reluctant she was to marry, was he going to use his influence, and his connections, to help her find paid employment instead?

  ‘Oh, merciful heavens, how can you say anything so absurd?’ cried Stepmama, rapping her over the wrist with her fan. Quite hard.

  ‘Is it so absurd?’ Edmund tipped his head to one side and stared at Stepmama as if he was giving the matter serious consideration.

  ‘Completely absurd,’ tittered Stepmama. ‘Why, who on earth would employ Georgiana? In any capacity? She has none of the feminine accomplishments. I suppose, if we could find a school where horse riding was considered important, she could teach the younger girls to ride, but other than that...’ She waved her hand dismissively.

  Edmund’s eyes barely flickered, but they seemed to her to have turned to ice.

  ‘Did you never teach her any of the feminine accomplishments you consider so desirable, madam? I should have thought that was among your primary duties.’

  ‘Oh.’ Stepmama looked taken aback at this deliberate, open criticism. ‘Well, naturally, I tried,’ she said, putting on her most martyred expression. ‘Only Georgiana is not the slightest bit biddable, you know. Not like my own daughter.’

  ‘Who is the most accomplished female,’ he said with deceptive smoothness, ‘I am ever likely to meet, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  There was an edge to his voice that made Georgiana almost urge Stepmama to beware. He clearly hadn’t liked the way Stepmama had belittled her, even though he must know she’d only spoken the truth.

  ‘Oh, heavens, yes. My Sukey—’

  ‘Embroiders and paints, and plays the pianoforte?’

  ‘Why, yes, naturally, and—’

  ‘Speaks Italian and French, and sings like a nightingale?’

  ‘Well, no...not the languages, though she does sing beautifully...’

  Georgiana was suddenly torn between the equal urges to laugh and to slap him. He was being at his most cutting, and sarcastic in her defence, and Stepmama had no idea he was making fun of her and her pretensions.

  ‘Madam,’ he breathed, with complete insincerity, ‘I must certainly have an introduction to this paragon.’

  ‘But of course!’ Stepmama swelled with triumph. ‘Sukey is sitting just over there...’

  ‘I did not mean now,’ he said. ‘I was just about to leave.’

  ‘Oh, but—’ Stepmama began in desperation.

  ‘No, no, really, I have pressing commitments elsewhere. But perhaps...’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You will permit me to call upon you?’

  ‘We should be delighted!’ Stepmama beamed at him. ‘Should we not, Georgiana?’ she said pointedly, giving her another tap across her still-stinging wrist with a fan that felt as though its struts were made of oak.

  ‘Delighted,’ she said, with a smile. A big, false smile.

  ‘In that case, you must furnish me with your direction, you know.’

  Stepmama rattled it off and urged him to repeat it to make sure he wouldn’t forget it.

  He merely gave her a curt nod. ‘I shall not forget,’ he said. And stalked off.

  ‘Well,’ said Stepmama, using her fan for the purpose for which it was intended, for once. ‘What do you think of that?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Georgiana, regarding his retreating back with a frown.

  ‘Oh, you are so dense sometimes, Georgiana, I despair of you. It is quite simple. We’ve been in Town only two weeks and already we can claim visiting rights with two viscounts and an earl. If I don’t see my Sukey married to a title before the Season is out then I’ll...’

  ‘Eat your fan?’

  ‘Eat my fan? Eat my fan? Why on earth should I do something so absurd? And really, where do you get such vulgar expressions from?’ Stepmama wrinkled her nose in distaste. ‘Well, never mind that for now. It is all of a piece with the rest of your behaviour. You are never going to get a husband if you will loiter in the retiring room, or the furthest corner of the salon from where the most eligible men are standing, or come out with vulgar expressions like that when someone does finally get into conversation with you.’

  She rolled her lips inwards, a sure sign that she had plenty more to say, but was determined to save it for later.

  ‘Which is why I came over here in the first place. I noted a gentleman come in who may be just the thing for you. A cavalry officer, if I know anything about uniforms. Come along, Georgiana,’ she said, seizing her by the wrist. ‘We need to get him to notice you before either of those Pargetter girls get their talons into him.’

  Chapter Seven

  Mrs Wickford’s drawing room was already crowded by the time Edmund called the next day. He could hear the hubbub of voices the moment a rather jaded-looking butler opened the front door.

  The fellow’s demeanour underwent a transformation the moment Edmund handed over his card.

  ‘Would you care to step this way, my lord,’ he said, making for the stairs.

  ‘No need for you to show me up,’ said Edmund. ‘I am sure I can find the way.’

  The butler winced. ‘Indeed, my lord,’ he said apologetically. Though whether from insinuating that he might get lost in such a small house, or for the noise emanating from the upper floors which made his guidance unnecessary, it was impossible to tell.

  Edmund mounted the single, narrow flight of stairs sw
iftly and found his way to the drawing room which overlooked the street without the slightest difficulty.

  The first person he saw was Mrs Wickford. It was impossible to miss her, since she was presiding over a tea table stationed right beside the door.

  ‘Why, Lord Ashenden,’ Georgiana’s stepmother cooed as she lifted the teapot. ‘What an unexpected honour. I did not expect you to call upon us this morning.’

  ‘Did you not? When I specifically said I would do so?’

  ‘Ah but, no,’ she said shaking her head in what he assumed she intended as a playful manner. ‘You only said you would call. You made no mention of which day you might honour us with your presence. And what with you having so many more pressing concerns than us, I really did not expect you to fulfil your generous offer to look in upon your former neighbours quite so soon.’

  She pressed a cup of tea into his hand. ‘Sukey is just there,’ she said, waving in the direction of a sofa containing a gaggle of girls sporting blonde ringlets. ‘Do go and make yourself known to her. We are being quite informal this morning, as you see.’

  What he saw was a most efficient system of processing callers and sending them in the direction she wished them to go. Which was towards the giggling blondes if they were male, to judge from the assortment of gentlemen hovering round them. The matrons were all sitting on another sofa, sipping tea and watching.

  Georgiana, however, was as far away from everyone else as she could possibly get, just like last night. The only difference today was that she was not occupying the far corner on her own. She had the company of a hulking great brute of a man wearing the garish uniform of a cavalry regiment.

  Since he intended to call upon this house regularly, he forced himself to smile politely at Mrs Wickford. And then, since he really needed to keep in her good books, he strolled to the sofa on which the blonde girls sat and stood sipping his tea, pretending to pay attention to them prattling on about some nonsense or other, whilst actually listening to the cavalry officer belabouring Georgiana with a detailed account of a hunt in which, naturally, he’d led the field.

  When his cup was empty, he set it down, accorded the trio of blondes a nod, then sauntered across to the corner into which, if he wasn’t mistaken, the cavalry officer had pinned Georgiana. She was wearing another pale, insubstantial gown which revealed far too much for his liking, in spite of having long sleeves. The cavalry officer appeared to like it, though. In fact, he was enjoying the view down its tightly fitted front so much that he appeared to have forgotten he was holding a cup and saucer in one hand. The saucer was rapidly filling with the liquid from the cup, which was tilting at a steadily increasing angle.

  Edmund quirked one eyebrow and shook his head in reproof. Georgiana, who’d been watching him approach, lifted her chin and glared at him over the officer’s shoulder. Ah, well. What else was new?

  ‘Good morning, Miss Wickford,’ he said softly, making the officer start and spill what remained of the tea that had gathered in his saucer down his scarlet jacket. ‘Won’t you introduce me to your new friend?’

  Georgiana’s lips compressed in annoyance. As though to say the man wasn’t her friend at all. However, manners obliged her to provide the information he’d requested.

  ‘Lord Ashenden, this is Major Gowan.’

  Major Gowan looked torn between reaching for a napkin to mop up the tea trickling down the front of his jacket and sticking out his hand to shake. Edmund solved his dilemma by whisking a handkerchief from his own pocket and extending it to the Major. The action also solved his own dilemma, borne of his extreme reluctance to extend his hand to this man in friendship. Or even common politeness.

  ‘Thank you, my lord,’ said the Major, dabbing at the damp blotch. It would probably leave a stain. And tea stains were notoriously difficult to remove, he reflected with satisfaction. ‘Dashed awkward, handling such tiny cups, with hands my size.’

  ‘Indeed,’ he said coolly, eyeing the man’s sausage-like fingers.

  ‘Don’t know why women must insist on serving such pap anyway. Would all do much better for a decent glass of brandy.’

  ‘Ale, surely, at this time of the day?’ Edmund glanced at Georgiana, who was, at least, shooting her silent daggers at the Major now, rather than at him.

  ‘Ale?’ The Major looked outraged. But then he darted a look round the drawing room and pulled a face. ‘Oh! Yes, of course. Need to keep one’s wits about one when dealing with the fair sex.’

  ‘Only when dealing with the fair sex? Dear me,’ he said softly. And had the pleasure of seeing Georgiana bite her lower lip, while her eyes lit with amusement. ‘Of course, you hold a commission in a cavalry regiment, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ said the Major, impervious to the slight he’d made by drawing the inference between belonging to a cavalry regiment and his reluctance to use his wits. ‘Was just telling Miss Wickford here about my absolute passion for horseflesh. Something we share, by all accounts, eh, what?’

  He’d turned to Georgiana as he made the remark, but since he didn’t raise his gaze to the level of her face when he made it, he completely missed the way she rolled her eyes.

  ‘Do you have something in your eye?’ Edmund enquired politely.

  She glared at him. But only briefly, for the Major ceased his keen observation of her cleavage for a second, to look up in bewilderment.

  ‘In her eye? What? Eh?’

  ‘A mote of dust, perchance?’

  ‘No, it isn’t dust,’ she snapped. ‘That is,’ she added more politely, after glancing in her stepmother’s direction, ‘I have nothing in my eye.’

  ‘Then why were you squinting?’ He removed his spectacle case from his pocket, took out his spectacles, hooked the wires over his ears, and leaned closer as though inspecting her eyes. He came close enough to smell her perfume. It was predominantly something herbal. It made him wonder if she’d rinsed her hair with a decoction of rosemary. It was certainly glossy. Like silk.

  Just as he was wondering whether her hair would feel as silky as it looked, he noted an increased tension about her shoulders, as though she was flexing one of the muscles in her arm. Or clenching her fist. Or at least thinking about clenching it.

  ‘Your pupils are constricted,’ he said. ‘As though the light is bothering you.’

  ‘The light?’ Major Gowan looked up at the cloudy sky through the window, in disbelief.

  ‘Of course, the light on a day like this would not bother most men,’ he said, turning his attention to the Major, ‘since we spend a great deal of time out of doors. But the fairer sex, you know, are confined within doors for such long periods that at this time of the year, when the days begin to grow longer, it can be quite painful for them to expose the delicate membranes of the optical orb to sunlight. Particularly the sort which comes through west-facing windows.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Major Gowan regarded him with astonishment.

  ‘Oh, absolutely,’ he said with a completely straight face. ‘I recommend removal from the area at once, Miss Wickford. Before permanent damage is done. We do not wish the squint to become permanent, do we?’

  ‘Squint?’ the Major echoed, looking at Georgiana’s beautiful brown eyes in alarm. ‘No, certainly don’t wish you to acquire a squint.’

  ‘In that case, Miss Wickford, I must insist that you move away from the window at once.’

  When she opened her mouth to utter what would probably have been a pithy account of her estimation of the nonsense he’d been spouting, he adopted his most severe expression.

  ‘Allow me,’ he said, ‘the privilege of a long-standing acquaintance to escort you to another part of the room. A safer environment.’ He crooked his arm. She took a deep breath. And narrowed her eyes. It was touch and go, for a moment, whether she would take it or not. He could see part of her still wishing to hit
him, or shout at him, or simply flounce away. Any of which would prove fatal to her social standing.

  Fortunately, another part of her was looking for an excuse to escape the Major. And it was that part of her that accepted his offer. That placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to steer her to the one remaining sofa without occupants, with meekly downbent head.

  The moment she sat down, however, she shot him a challenging look from beneath her lush dark lashes.

  ‘You really are the most complete...’

  ‘I know,’ he replied calmly, sitting down beside her. ‘But the Major believed every word, which was the main thing.’

  ‘I know, I cannot believe he swallowed such a...plumper!’

  ‘My dear, have you not heard the opinion the infantry hold of the cavalry?’ My dear? He’d called her my dear? He would just have to hope she didn’t make an issue of it, but just assumed it was the kind of thing he said to every female he chatted with during at-homes. From now on, it might be a good idea to do just that. ‘That all the brains in those regiments reside in the four-legged troopers?’

  ‘No. I have not yet held a conversation with anyone from the infantry.’

  ‘I doubt very much that you have held one with a cavalry officer, either,’ he said dryly. ‘Though really, you could do with learning something about tactics.’

  ‘Tactics?’ Her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  ‘Yes. For example, when choosing one’s ground, one should always have a means of...ah, swift retreat. Have you not heard of the expression, fighting with one’s back to the wall?’

  ‘I certainly know what it feels like,’ she said with feeling.

  ‘Then next time, I trust that you will not retreat into a corner before you have even engaged with the enemy.’

  She nodded. ‘I shall certainly regard these at-homes more in the light of skirmishes, from now on.’

  ‘And employ a suitably defensive strategy? I may not always be around to come to your rescue.’

  ‘I—’ She swallowed back what looked like an indignant retort with a great effort. ‘I suppose you wish me to thank you,’ she said through gritted teeth.