by Jenny Hambly
Before she could make any sort of reply he had left the room. Countess Lieven raised a brow.
“I was beginning to fear that you would not come, Miss Edgcott.”
“I do apologise for my being so late,” Eleanor said calmly, aware of the edge in her hostess’s voice. “It is not my usual habit, I assure you, but I was unavoidably delayed. Was that who you wished to introduce me to? Who was he?”
“It is a sad state of affairs, Miss Edgcott, when you do not recognise the foreign minister of your own country.”
Eleanor coloured. “I have not had the pleasure of making Lord Castlereagh’s acquaintance.”
“No? Well, he is rather taken up with world events just at the moment. I do hope that you are not one of those who has some sympathy for Napoleon?”
“I am not. Whilst he is free, he must always be a danger I should think.”
“I am pleased that you have the wit to see it, Miss Edgcott. It is a constant source of surprise to me that he still has supporters in this country and that there are others who think there remains a peaceable solution to be found.” She nodded towards a corner of the room. “Earl Grey is here tonight; he is one who believes it, should you wish to discuss the matter with him.”
“But I do not wish to discuss it at all, ma’am. I do not know enough about the intricacies of the situation and so am not qualified to do so.”
A small smile twitched at the countess’s lips. “A wise decision. He can be very persuasive, and I would not wish you to be bamboozled by his eloquence.”
“But if you do not agree with him, why is he here?”
“Because I like to keep up with all sides of an argument. Just because I do not agree with him does not mean that I cannot appreciate his ideas. Besides, things change all the time in politics, and it is not wise to alienate people who may one day hold more influence than they do at this present moment.”
Eleanor had heard that Countess Lieven was not at all shy of alienating people but smiled. “I am sure you are right, ma’am.”
The countess then took her by the arm and led her about the room, introducing Eleanor to a bewildering array of people she did not know. They did not stay with anyone long enough for her to do more than exchange polite pleasantries until they came to a handsome gentleman with white-blond hair and humorous, light green eyes.
“Allow me to introduce Mr Nicholas Pavlov to you, Miss Edgcott.”
The gentleman bowed gracefully. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Edgcott.”
She smiled at him in her usual friendly fashion, and said, “But you sound like an English man!”
“That is because my mother was an English woman,” he explained. “I grew up speaking French and English in equal measure, and I completed my education at Oxford before returning to Russia.”
“My husband and I have been trying to persuade Mr Pavlov that these circumstances make him ideal for a career in diplomacy. He has agreed to work for my husband in an unofficial capacity for a few months, and we are hopeful that by the end of that time we will be able to recommend him for a more official position, if he wishes it. Oh, I see Lord Grey is ready to depart, do excuse me.”
“And what is it that the countess wishes you to do, Miss Edgcott?” he asked with a twinkle.
“Wishes me to do?” she said, nonplussed.
“I mean no disrespect to our hostess,” he said, “but I believe the countess’ invitations are generally given out with some object in mind, whether they are socially or politically motivated.”
“Well I can think of no way in which I could be of use to her in either case,” Eleanor said. “Are you interested in a career in diplomacy, Mr Pavlov?”
“It is not why I came again to England,” he said. “It was my English grandfather, Mr Fallow, who insisted I finish my education in this country and provided me with an allowance whilst I did so. He was a modest landowner from Cheshire who unfortunately had too many daughters to provide for. My mother chose to be a governess, but after one particularly unpleasant situation she replied to an advertisement placed by my father, Count Pavlov, and went to Russia.”
“And he fell in love with her, how romantic.”
“Perhaps. But it resulted in him being ostracized in St Petersburg, and he was forced to retreat to his country estate.”
“Was that so bad?” she asked. “Did he not like the country?”
“Not all year round,” he said. “Russia is not unlike England in that respect; the nobility only moves to their country estates in the summer. He bore it well enough, and now my mother is dead, he and my half-brother are being welcomed back into the fold once more.”
“But not you?”
“No. I must always be a reminder of what is seen as my father’s mistake. Not wishing to be a hindrance to either him or my half-brother, I decided I would try my luck in England. I got to know my grandfather a little when I was here before, and I liked him. I hoped to know him better, but I am too late; he died six months ago, and my uncle has stepped into his shoes. He does not seem overly keen to develop closer ties with his half-Russian nephew. I think he is afraid I will be a drain on his resources.”
He did not seem unduly concerned over this development, but Eleanor was aware of a feeling of sympathy towards him. His words about his mother had been matter-of-fact, but she had seen and recognised the pain in his eyes.
“And would you be a drain on his resources?”
“No. My father is not rolling in riches, but he is funding my visit. However, if I decide to stay, I will have to find some sort of employment.”
“It seems that you already may have done so. That is, if you wish to serve in the diplomatic service. Do you?”
He grinned, wryly. “You are not easy to sidetrack, Miss Edgcott. Countess Lieven is very patriotic and does not wish to lose me to my English relatives; she thinks I may still be useful to Russia. She has taken an unaccountable liking to me.”
Eleanor looked thoughtful and then suddenly laughed. “Oh, I see it all now.”
“Do you?” Mr Pavlov said agreeably. “What is it you see?”
“I think, sir, that the countess may be trying to organise more than your career. I, you see, am a diplomat’s daughter and have spent many years abroad. I returned home only last year when I lost my father.”
The flash of surprise that shot through his eyes told her that he had not been primed in any way for this meeting.
“You think she is matchmaking?”
“I am sure of it,” Eleanor said. “You have already told me that you are not very well off, sir, but I have been left very comfortably circumstanced. If Countess Lieven has your best interests at heart, I suppose I would seem a very suitable prospect for you.”
“You are very frank, ma’am,” he said.
“Yes,” she agreed. “I think in this instance, it is best. I do not know about you, sir, but I do not like to be a pawn in anybody else’s game.”
“No more do I,” he agreed.
Eleanor raised a sceptical brow. “No? You have twice evaded informing me whether or not you wish to be a diplomat and so I take it that you do not. Yet you have allowed the Lievens to persuade you to explore that possibility.”
A look of admiration came into his eyes. “You are astute, Miss Edgcott. I will match your frankness for although I am not at all sure why, I feel I can trust you. I have a particular reason for wishing to stay in London for the present and so it seemed both practical and diplomatic, if you will, to accept their offer.”
Eleanor smiled; she instinctively liked Mr Pavlov. “So, it is they who are the pawns? I will not ask you what your reason is for I sense that it is private, and you need not fear that I will give you away; I have no reason to do so, after all.”
“Thank you,” he said bowing. “We are about to be interrupted, ma’am. May I take you for a drive in the park next week? It might be in both our interests to at least appear to be playing the countess’ game.”
“I would b
e perfectly happy to drive with you in the park, sir,” she said truthfully, “and not because it is part of anyone’s game.”
He smiled and moved off. Eleanor turned, her own smile growing as she saw a tall, beautiful lady approaching her.
“Georgianna! I did not see you in this crowd! I am delighted to find you here.”
“And I you, Eleanor. The talk is all of Napoleon and the inevitability of war. Somerton is deep in a conversation about the likely efficacy of both our troops and those of our various allies. You may call me a traitor, but I can only be glad that he is no longer serving his country, even if he is not.”
“Is he not tempted to re-join his regiment?”
“Very. Only the joint persuasion of his father and myself have thus far held him back.” Georgianna smiled gently. “But whatever now happens in Europe, I feel certain he will not do so.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened. “Are congratulations in order?”
The glow in her friend’s eyes answered her.
“Yes,” Georgianna said softly. “But it is not generally known as yet. I know I can trust you not to breathe a word; only Somerton, Marianne and now you know of it. I have even forbidden Alexander to inform his father just yet, for the duke would be bound to insist that I return home to Rushwick Park. He very much wishes for a grandchild.”
“I will not, of course, but there is a glow of health and happiness about you that might give you away.”
“No, why should it?” Georgianna said. “My maid informs me that I can expect to feel languid, horribly sick, and suffer from unpredictable mood swings.”
“Oh, I see. I do not know of such things, but I am very glad you have not suffered any of those symptoms; it seems a shame that such an exciting event should be accompanied by them. How is Marianne? The last time I spoke with her she was writing to both the prince regent and Lord Liverpool about those poor animals in the menagerie.”
“She has received a reply from the latter informing her that although they cannot be moved to an outside park due to the danger that they might escape, their living conditions and diet will be looked into.”
“In other words, she has been fobbed off,” Eleanor said dryly.
Two engaging dimples peeped in Georgianna’s cheeks as she said, “That is because Lord Liverpool, or rather one of his secretaries, does not know Marianne. If she does not see any improvement, she will make herself a nuisance until she does.”
“I hope you are right, for I quite agree with her sentiments. Will you be at Lady Brigham’s ball on Tuesday?”
“I most certainly shall,” Georgianna confirmed, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Her son, Lord Allerdale, is the godson of my aunt, Lady Hughes, and a friend of mine.”
“Now that is interesting,” Eleanor said, an inquisitive gleam in her eyes, “for Countess Lieven informs me that he is known for being rather wild, although I believe the rumour is that he has changed his ways.”
Georgianna laughed. “I hope he may have, but I do not place any dependency on it. He may well try if his mama has indicated that she wishes him to. He loves her dearly and would do anything for her, but I doubt that she has; she can never be brought to see that he has any faults.”
“But you said he was your friend, Georgianna, and so he cannot be so very wild.”
“He can be very amusing and good company, and I do not believe him to be a bad person but watch out if he loses his temper!”
“Did he do so with you?” Eleanor asked, agog with curiosity.
“Yes,” Georgianna admitted, her eyes softening as if she were remembering a fond memory. “But ask me no more; I would not colour your opinion of him.”
They had been walking slowly about the perimeter of the room but paused as they came up to two gentlemen. Lord Somerton’s forehead had been furrowed and his face serious, but he broke off his earnest discussion as he spied his wife. He raised an eyebrow, and a look that hovered somewhere between concern and adoration softened his golden eyes.
“Have you had enough?”
Georgianna smiled at him and then the other gentleman.
“I will admit that I am a little weary,” she said. “But only because I am sure Lord Brigham will not sink me beneath reproach by repeating my words to the countess. Have you met my friend, Miss Edgcott, sir?”
He bowed. “No, I have not had that pleasure. How do you do, ma’am?”
Eleanor inclined her head and said, “I am very well.”
Lord Brigham was well aware of the speculation surrounding Miss Edgcott, as he was also aware of the bets currently being placed at his club on which lady would win his son’s favour, not that anyone speculated upon this subject to his face.
“Will I have the pleasure of seeing you at our ball, Miss Edgcott?”
Eleanor’s smile was perfectly serene, but her eyes laughed. “You certainly shall, my lord. Who am I to miss the most anticipated event of the season?”
Lord Brigham looked at her keenly for a moment and then his rare smile dawned.
“I have the feeling, Miss Edgcott, that you do not care a fig for our ball.”
She laughed. “Well, no. But I have been to so many in such a short time, you see, and although they are all very pleasant, they do sap one’s energy, which is a shame, for there are so many other interesting things to concern oneself with.”
“What a refreshing perspective. Come, Miss Edgcott,” he said, offering her his arm. “Walk with me and educate me as to what could be more important to a lively young lady than a ball.”
Chapter 6
Captain Charles Bassington of the 13th Light Dragoons sprawled at his ease in a chair in his cousin’s sitting room, his careless attitude not quite at one with his smart regimentals.
Miles strolled in and said in the voice of one about to face his doom, “Will I do, Charles?”
“You look very dapper, Miles, but for heaven’s sake wipe that scowl from your face or it will all be for nought! You don’t have to make any decision tonight, after all, and I hope you won’t; it don’t do to rush into these things. Flirt with every pretty girl in the room and enjoy yourself; it’s what I intend to do.”
“It’s what you always do!” Miles said dryly. “But as you usually have to flit across the channel not long afterwards, you can hardly be accused of raising false hopes in any young lady’s breast.”
“True,” Charles acknowledged. “But I am being serious for once; forget that you are supposed to be finding a bride. You will find it far easier to like a girl if you are not trying to ascertain if she is suitable wife material at the outset.”
Miles had been tugging at the sleeve of his close-fitting coat, but stilled, a memory from last summer flashing vividly in his mind. His godmother had come to stay at Brigham with Georgianna, and Lady Brigham had held a dinner for their neighbours. Viscount Maudley, who held himself in very great esteem, had ruthlessly questioned Georgianna on her accomplishments as if attempting to determine if she was worthy of his attention. A grin twitched his lips as he remembered how she had neatly turned the tables on him before giving him a ruthless set-down.
“That’s better,” Charles said, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. “It’s not like you to be such a miserable fellow and I have seen you bring more than one little beauty around your thumb, after all. You can be very charming when you choose to be.”
“Yes,” Miles admitted, “but the beauties you speak of, were none of them at all respectable!”
Charles laughed. “Don’t I know it; I remember that little dasher…” he paused and shook his head. “No, I will not taunt you with memories that must now be laid to rest. Come on, or we will be late for dinner, and I promised your mother that I would have you in Berkeley Square in good time.”
A sardonic gleam, which Charles found far too reminiscent of Lord Brigham, came into his cousin’s eyes. “You wound me, Charles. I had thought you sought me out for the pleasure of my company alone.”
“And so I have, as well you know,
but if in following my own inclination I can also bask in the approval of my aunt, all the better!”
“Toad-eater!” Miles said, holding the door open.
“No, that’s coming it too strong, old fellow!”
They quickly fell into their old way of bantering each other and so were oblivious to the admiring glances they attracted from more than one occupant of a passing carriage as they made their way to Berkeley Square. Both were tall, with broad shoulders and handsome countenances, but where Miles was dark, Charles was fair, his hair a mixture of blond, gold, and red tints.
“What a dutiful son you are, Miles,” Lady Bassington said, not troubling herself to rise as they came into the drawing room.
“Aunt Frances.” Miles strode over to the handsome woman who reclined on a sofa, her feet resting on a footstool. He bent and kissed her.
“Please, do not get up.”
She patted his cheek and gave a low laugh. “Impudent boy! I have no intention of doing so! It is so wearing to always be getting up and down whenever anyone enters the room.”
He grinned down at her. “I quite understand. I expect you are saving your energy for the ball. No doubt you will find it deplorably fatiguing.”
Lady Bassington might be indolent, but she was by no means dull-witted. She chuckled. “Not at all. I shall enjoy watching you navigate your way through the hopeful young gals on offer.”
As no hint of maliciousness laced her words, and her eyes held a wealth of understanding, Miles only smiled and said, “You may give me an assessment of my performance.”
“You may be sure I will, and of the gals you choose to dance with.”
Lady Brigham tutted. “This talk of your performance is ridiculous. You do not have to act a part, Miles, just be yourself. Any young lady who cannot appreciate you for who you are is not worthy of your consideration.”
“I quite agree with you, Julia,” Lady Bassington said. “Miles certainly needs an intrepid lady.”
