by Brenda Hiatt
Nor was he the only gentleman present to shower her with the most flattering attentions, though he was the most absurd. Many among the titled and wealthy seemed to find her one of the most charming ladies at the ball. She made the acquaintance of a few of those other charming ladies, as well, and had been invited to two different afternoon teas for the following week. Popularity did have its advantages, she decided.
Lady Platt was not impervious to the attention being paid her plain little sister, and though she wondered at what the possible attraction might be, she found it gratifying in the extreme, as it could not but elevate her own social position by association. Indeed, she casually mentioned her relationship to Miss Gordon at every opportunity. She had known that Ravenham's notice would be a good thing for Gabriella, but had never dreamed of this level of success!
It galled her to admit it, even to herself, but some measure of the credit had to go to Gabriella. It was gradually being borne in upon her that her sister was neither so plain nor so dull as she had always thought her; certainly the gentlemen present didn't seem to think so. Lord Timothy had been pursuing Gabriella all night, and he was very nearly as wealthy as Ravenham, or would be when his father died. She must mention to her sister that the young lord was well worth cultivating.
* * *
The variety of dishes offered at the midnight supper was astonishing to country-bred Brie, and she enjoyed the food almost as much as the company. She and the Duke were sharing a table with Elizabeth and Lord Garvey, and it made for a merry meal. After two days of thought on the matter, Brie had decided she was being foolish to condemn him on the basis of a single glance at a beautiful courtesan in the Park. As he now seemed willing to forget that piece of awkwardness for the moment, she found it surprisingly easy to do likewise.
The girls remained at the table while the gentlemen went to fetch the ices offered for dessert, and Brie decided to take that opportunity to speak to her friend privately.
"I'd like your advice," she began, "for I fear I may have behaved rather badly." She proceeded to relate the story of Sir Frederick's vicious attack upon poor Velvet on the day that Elizabeth had helped her to doctor the kitten and her subsequent desire never to see or speak of the man again.
"Then, two days ago, when he spoke to me so pleasantly, as if nothing had happened, I fear I lost my temper and cut him dead. Your brother seemed most...surprised, and I never did have a chance to explain my reasons to him. Do you think I did wrong?" She refrained from mentioning what had kept her from explaining, though she still burned with curiosity about that black-haired beauty. She wished she dared ask Elizabeth about her, but she could not bring herself to do so.
"Not to my way of thinking," said Elizabeth decisively, "though I can't say for certain that most would agree with me. After that story, I shall be tempted to cut him myself. I know Dexter has never liked Sir Frederick, and even warned me away from him once, though I still don't know exactly why. I can't imagine that he would be upset at your not caring for the man, in any event!"
Brie was about to remind her that the Duke was yet unaware of Sir Frederick's cruelty to Velvet when her attention was caught by a bit of gossip being related rather loudly at the next table.
"Needless to say, no one would receive her after that, nor her cousin either!" a turbaned dowager, unknown to Brie, was saying to a younger lady at her side.
"They learned quickly enough that Society has no use for upstarts and adventuresses! I don't know that she ever went so far as to tell anyone that her father had a great fortune, but I for one don't doubt for an instant that they themselves started the rumour. And then it turns out he is little better than a merchant, and a less than successful one at that. I ask you! But of course, this is last year's news. Fancy that you hadn't heard about it till now! It was quite an on dit in September, I assure you."
The dowager went on to more current topics, avidly attended by her companion, but Brie sat as if turned to stone. Elizabeth had embarked on a rather long story about a cat she and Dexter had once had and appeared not to have noticed the other conversation at all, for which Brie was grateful.
"And then the silly thing could not get back down again!" Elizabeth said with a laugh. Brie did her best to assume an appropriately amused expression, though at the moment she was anything but amused.
An upstart, an adventuress, leading Society to believe she was high born and wealthy when she was not... Wasn't that exactly what she was doing? Of course she had never schemed to deceive anyone, but that did not mean that the polite world would be any more forgiving if— when— the truth came out. Which it would, of course, if she were to accept any offer of marriage she might receive, as her sister had been urging!
"Aren't they, Brie?" Elizabeth was saying, and Brie reined in her thoughts with an effort.
"What, Elizabeth? I fear I was woolgathering for a moment."
"Perfectly understandable, with all this noise," said Elizabeth. "I was merely commenting that kittens can be the drollest things."
"Oh! Certainly," replied Brie, recalling with difficulty what they had been speaking of before her devastating bit of eavesdropping.
The gentlemen rejoined them a few moments later, and the conversation moved on to other topics. The ices were as delightful as the other dishes had been, but Brie was unable to enjoy them properly; a pall had been cast over the evening for her.
It was nearly two before the guests began to leave, and by the close of the evening Brie had nearly managed to regain her former high spirits, though she was beginning to feel the late hour. After all, if the Duke of Ravenham was willing to introduce her about, knowing full well her lack of fortune, how bad could it be? A tiny voice reminded her that he had no choice, as he had lost a wager, but she did her best to quell it.
After bidding an affectionate good-night to Elizabeth and a cordial one to her brother, Brie joined Angela, who was about to go in search of her husband.
"He is in the card room, of course," she said resignedly. She wasn't angry, as she had long ago learned to keep herself amused at such dos without Sir Seymour's help. In fact, she had come to prefer it that way. "I only hope we shan't have to carry him to the carriage."
Before they could reach the hallway off which the card rooms and other small salons opened, however, the two sisters were waylaid by Lady Pinhurst, a handsome young brunette whom Angela had met frequently until the past two years, when the Platts' social position had slipped slightly.
"Angela, my dear!" she gushed. "I vow it has been an age and more since I have seen you! We must arrange a meeting soon and have a real cose!"
"Certainly, dear Gwendolyn, certainly," agreed Angela eagerly. Lady Pinhurst was a contact she very much wished to renew, as she still moved among the highest circles. "Pray come for tea one day this week."
"Indeed I shall," said Lady Pinhurst, before changing tack. "You sly thing! Here we all thought you had merely married into Sir Seymour's money, and all the time you were an heiress in your own right. And never a word from you about it! That shows real modesty in my mind, whatever Sally Jersey may say. Now, why have you kept your dear little sister secluded in the country for so long rather than allowing us her company?"
"Our poor father could not bear to have her away from him," answered Angela, the very picture of the dutiful daughter. "But as he passed on a year and more ago, my mother and I thought it time dear Gabriella enjoyed the pleasures of a Season."
"Ah, yes. Your father was a viscount, I heard tonight. Have you a brother to inherit the title?"
At this point, Brie felt obliged to intervene, as it was increasingly obvious that Angela had no intention of correcting any of the woman's many misconceptions about them.
"No, my lady, I fear your informant was slightly mistaken," she said politely but firmly, ignoring Angela's warning shake of her head. "Our father was merely the second son of a viscount. His brother, who is still alive, is the successor
, and he has two sons himself, so I fear our brother, Gabe, is hardly likely to inherit."
"Oh. Oh, I see," said Lady Pinhurst, appearing less than pleased to have been in possession of inaccurate information. "Well, that is neither here nor there, I suppose. Shouldn't hurt your chances in the least, my dear," she said kindly to Brie, "for word of your fortune has quite got about. And a pretty face, as well! I shall see you both someday soon! Ta ta!" She sidled away to share her newest tidbit of gossip with another dear friend.
"That was hardly necessary," Angela hissed as soon as Lady Pinhurst was out of earshot. "What possible harm could it do to allow people to think our father had the title? It's not as though he is still alive to contradict it!"
"Really, Angela!" exclaimed Brie, also in whispers. "How can you say so? It would be frightfully easy to disprove, I should think, and then how would we look to the world?" She knew this argument would carry more weight with her sister than a mere charge of dishonesty. She was right.
"Oh, very well, have it your way," replied Angela sulkily. "At least you had the wit to keep your mouth shut about your supposed 'fortune.' Come, let us find Seymour before we are the only ones left in the house."
* * *
CHAPTER 12
"Pink flowers for my hair, do you think, or would blue be better?" asked Elizabeth, holding out a spray of each for Brie's inspection. They had been spending a delightful morning shopping for fripperies, particularly for Elizabeth's fast-approaching come-out ball, which was now scarcely a week away.
Brie had nearly managed to forget her mortification over the gossip she had heard at Lady Bellerby's, and was taking great comfort from Elizabeth's friendship; Elizabeth knew full well that she was no heiress, even if Brie had not yet told her about her late father's profession. She vowed to herself that she would soon, Angela's strictures notwithstanding. She and Elizabeth had grown too close to keep such a secret from her.
"What colour is your dress to be?" asked Brie practically, concentrating on the business at hand.
"White, of course," said Elizabeth in disgusted tones. "You are so lucky you can get away with brighter shades. I daresay I could, too, with my dark colouring, but Dexter and Scottie, my old governess, insist that only white will do till after the ball, at the very least. Next, they will wish me to wait until I'm married to wear colours!"
"At least white looks good on you," said Brie comfortingly. "It makes my hair look quite drab, but seems to bring out the highlights in yours."
"But it is so ordinary! Everyone is wearing white this Season. Though perhaps you'll start a new fashion for colours as you have with your hairstyle. I dareswear I saw at least three girls wearing their hair long last night, though I know one of them for certain was wearing a hairpiece for the effect, for she had short hair but a week ago."
Brie ignored the latter part of this speech, though she knew it to be true, as the Duke had once predicted. "We'll have to enliven your white with an unusual trim, I suppose. How about these peach flowers, or the pale green ones over there?"
Elizabeth finally decided on tiny amber roses for her hair and bought some lace edging in the same shade, which also happened to be that of her eyes. Brie thought the colour would enhance her "ordinary" gown admirably, and said so.
"Lord Garvey will be charmed, I'll be bound," she said teasingly. "How go things in that quarter, by the bye?" "Well, but slowly," responded Elizabeth with a twinkle. "He keeps hinting, but has yet to declare himself. Do you think I dare hope?"
"Oh, dare away, darling," laughed Brie. "I see it as only a matter of time until you are the happiest of women, and he of men, for you are clearly besotted with each other."
"Is it truly that obvious?" asked Elizabeth, thought she did not look precisely dismayed. "Do you think Barry as besotted as I?" Brie could assure her friend of Lord Garvey's devotion with perfect honesty, and the two girls continued their happy chatter as they went in search of yet another merchant eager to relieve them of their pin money.
* * *
"Gabriella, you will never guess what happened while you were out!" Angela greeted her sister on her return. Elizabeth had dropped Brie at the door, as she had another engagement that afternoon, and Brie was now relieved that she had not come in. Angela's fine blue eyes shone with excitement and it even looked as though she might have run agitated fingers through her beautifully styled hair, if such a thing were possible.
"You're a very lucky girl, sister," drawled Sir Seymour, coming out of the parlour to join his wife in the hallway. "Let me be the first to congratulate you. Quite a conquest, quite a conquest." He seemed as pleased with himself as if he had been solely responsible for whatever triumph was being celebrated.
Brie noticed Madsen and his wife hovering near the dining room door, obviously eager to share in the good news which had befallen the family. Preferring that it not become below-stairs gossip before she knew what this news was, Brie indicated the parlour and shut the door once all three of them were within.
"Now, perhaps you can tell me what this great good fortune is that has befallen me in my absence. Has some unknown relative died and left me an heiress?" she asked jestingly.
"Even better," Angela assured her, "for you shall have both money and a husband."
Brie sobered at once. "What... whom do you mean?"
"Why, Lord Timothy Gardiner, of course," answered her sister, as if speaking to a slow child. "Do not say you knew nothing of this, for it is common knowledge that he has been your most persistent suitor. Has he not spoken to you yet?"
"Quite proper that he has not, my dear," Sir Seymour informed his wife. "I know it is becoming the fashion for young people to settle these things among themselves before consulting their elders, but it cannot be the wisest course."
The thought that Sir Seymour would disregard any fashion, particularly one he himself had embraced a few years ago, would have struck Brie as ludicrous if her mind were not completely taken up with the matter at hand.
"Are you saying that Lord Timothy came to make me an offer?" she asked, wanting to be very sure of the facts before proceeding any further with this discussion.
"Isn't that what we just said?" exclaimed Angela. "Really, I never thought you such a slowtop! I should think you'd be thrilled!"
"You didn't accept on my behalf, did you?" Brie was certain that this was not the usual procedure, but would not put anything past her ambitious relatives. "What exactly did he say, and what did you tell him?"
"Well, he asked for you at the outset, but when I told him you were out, he requested an audience with Seymour. Which, of course, I granted."
"He said that he had come to make you—his 'goddess,' I believe was his word—an offer in form, if we would not think it presumptuous of him," continued Seymour. "Presumptuous! I ask you! With his fortune, and you having no dowry at all! I did not wish to appear vulgarly grateful, but I made it known to him that I had no fault to find with his suit."
"But you are not my guardian!" protested Brie, aghast that such a decision should be taken out of her hands.
"Sadly, no, and so I informed Lord Timothy," said her brother-in-law, pulling out a gold-chased snuffbox and flicking it expertly open with one hand. "Angela tells me, however, that you have been wishing to invite your mother to London, and she can give her consent when she arrives. I cannot imagine that she will object to such a match."
"Have you written to her yet, Gabriella?" asked Angela when her husband paused.
"I—I have not yet posted the letter." Actually, she had not even written the letter, as Angela had never agreed to the invitation, and she had no intention of doing so now until Lord Timothy could be dissuaded. She had no doubt whatsoever that her mother's wishes would coincide with Angela's.
"Just as well. I'll write to her myself," Angela decided. "That is r
eally more appropriate, anyway, as I am the one offering her hospitality."
So much for that reprieve, thought Brie, wishing she'd instead said her letter was sent.
"Please, say nothing of this in your letter," she pleaded. "I am not at all certain that I wish to marry Lord Timothy, and it would be cruel to raise Mother's hopes for naught." She was perfectly certain that she did not wish to marry him, but hoped that such temporising might deflect a pitched battle with her sister. It did not.
"Not wish to marry him!" Angela and Sir Seymour exclaimed together. Lady Platt silenced her husband with a glance and a quick shake of her head.
"Seymour, dear, perhaps you should leave us now. This is a feminine matter, and better left for us ladies to work out."
Sir Seymour obediently left the parlour and Angela turned to face her sister with a syrupy smile which caused Brie to brace herself.
"Dear Gabriella," she began, her voice as heavily honeyed as her smile, "it is obvious that Lord Timothy's offer has come as a surprise to you and that you need time to collect your thoughts. Perhaps I can help."
Brie decided that the time for mincing words was past. "No, Angela, it was not a complete surprise, as he has been mooning over me for more than a week now, though I had no idea he meant to act so quickly. My thoughts are quite collected, however, and I can tell you at once that I have no intention of marrying him."
"Oh, I can certainly see why," retorted Angela sarcastically. "Why should you settle for a handsome gentleman of the nobility, with one of the most respectable fortunes in England, and who dotes upon you, as well? Any girl in her right mind would hold out for a better offer!" Her voice was as acid now as it had been sweet a moment ago. "Or—" a sudden thought seemed to strike her "—have you hopes of bringing Ravenham up to scratch? I must admit his title quite puts Lord Timothy in the shade, for he will be but an earl when his father dies, though their fortunes might be comparable."
