by Jenny Hambly
Miles laughed. “No, Mama, do not rise to the bait. You know how much Aunt Frances enjoys teasing you.”
Over dinner, Lady Brigham launched into a recital of the various ladies he might like to invite to dance.
“Miss Crabtree is only the daughter of a baron, but she has a respectable dowry, or if you do not like her, there is Lady Selena Sheringham, who is very pretty and will inherit a fortune that her great aunt left her when she either marries or comes of age. It is a shame Lady Barbara Philpot has already accepted an offer from Lord Buntingdon, for she is quite breathtaking, and then there is Miss Edgcott. I spoke with her at Lady Battledon’s ball and found her very engaging, and rumour has it that she is very well provided for. But if you don’t like any of them—”
“Julia,” Lord Brigham said gently, “I think you have said enough. You would not wish to influence Allerdale, I am sure. Let things take their natural course this evening.”
Miles threw his father a grateful look.
“My head is spinning, Mama. All the names you mentioned have already flown out of my head, apart from the last one, and I am sure that will soon follow.”
“Miss Edgcott? Yes, well, I do not hold out so much hope in that direction. She does not appear to wish for a husband; she turned down Ormsley, you know, and with his wealth and good looks, he has had a succession of girls thrown in his path by hopeful mamas. I was surprised to hear he had offered for Miss Edgcott as he is very starched up and she is, after all, only the daughter of a baronet and a lively girl; I would not have thought that would have suited him at all.”
“At least that is one lady, then, I may cross off my list.”
“Do not be so hasty, Miles,” Lady Brigham said. “She has not met you yet, after all. We are not looking for you to make a great match; we only wish you to be happy. If you like Miss Edgcott, I am sure we would not object; her birth is respectable.”
Lazy Bassington’s deep, lazy voice sounded, its slow measured tones in sharp contrast to Lady Brigham’s bright, bubbly speech. “You talk as if Miles has only to click his fingers and he can marry who he pleases, Julia.”
“Well, and why not? There are very few gentlemen with as good prospects, and he is more handsome even than Ormsley.”
“You are prejudiced, Mama,” Miles said with a fond grin. He turned to his aunt, “I may have been arrogant enough to believe it at one time, ma’am, but I am no longer.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“Because, Aunt, I have already been turned down once.”
Charles had been allowing the talk to flow over his head whilst he applied himself to a substantial dinner but at this, he raised his head, his eyes alight with curiosity. “You don’t say? Who was this girl who had so much sense?”
“Charles!” protested Lady Brigham.
“It is not the place of a gentleman to tell you,” Miles said, his tone stern but his lips twitching.
“Quite right,” his father said in the soft, silky voice which always dampened Charles’ exuberance.
The subject was allowed to drop.
The ballroom filled quickly, and Lady Brigham was fully occupied greeting guests for some time, but she did not fail to bring Lady Selena to her son just as the set for the first dance was forming.
He agreed with his mother’s assessment of her, she was indeed pretty, and he thought she had a singularly sweet smile. Lady Brigham had failed to inform him, however, of her extreme shyness. She rarely raised her eyes to his, and murmured only yes, no, or I’m sure I couldn’t say, in response to his attempts at conversation. Miles did not wish for a wife who would try to rule the roast, but neither did he wish for one that could barely string a sentence together and jumped whenever he spoke.
He was relieved when the dance came to an end. He had barely returned Lady Selena to her mother and exchanged a few pleasantries with Lady Sheringham, a formidable matron with a calculating eye, when Lady Brigham appeared by his side with Miss Crabtree in tow. His lips tightened and the swift glance he sent his mother made his exasperation clear. However, when he bowed before Miss Crabtree, he had wiped all signs of annoyance from his countenance.
He at first thought her a little dab of a thing but when they came together in the dance, and he asked her how she was enjoying her season, she surprised him by raising eyes that were full of merriment.
“I wonder how many times you shall be forced to ask that question this evening? You are behaving with great restraint, Lord Allerdale, but you do not fool me. I know exactly what you are thinking.”
“I doubt it,” he said dryly.
She smiled knowingly. “Oh, I think I do. You are wishing yourself anywhere but here. Am I right?”
She won an answering smile from him. “Now how can I answer that, Miss…?”
He realised with some mortification that he had forgotten her name.
“Crabtree.” She threw the words over her shoulder with an understanding smile before she skipped away from him.
“Forgive my wretched memory,” he said, offering her his most charming smile when they came together again.
“Of course, I will,” she said promptly. “When I first came to Town, I suffered from the same affliction. It is so tiresome to be bludgeoned into dancing with a host of people one does not know, or who one does not particularly wish to know. I am in the same predicament, you see.”
Miles found himself warming to Miss Crabtree.
“I was not bludgeoned into dancing with you, and I am very pleased to know you, ma’am.”
“Were you not?” she said with a twinkle. “You were, at least, left with very little choice. It would have been shockingly rude of you not to ask me to dance when it was perfectly plain that is what your mama intended.”
“I am perfectly capable of being shockingly rude, I assure you.”
“That’s better,” she approved. “It is also tiresome to be forced to talk polite nothings all evening.”
“But you don’t!” he said.
“Not with you,” she said. “Did I not say we are in the same predicament or has your wretched memory struck again?”
He laughed. “No, it has not. Did you not wish to come to Town, Miss Crabtree?”
“No,” she said. “But my father would insist. I finally gave in when it became clear he would not be happy until I did. In his eyes, I am his adored only child and so perhaps he can be forgiven for thinking that I am beautiful and worthy of an earl or even a marquess. And do not think I am fishing for compliments, because I am not. I know I am nothing at all out of the ordinary and I also know exactly what I want, and you may be sure I shall get it.”
“I believe you,” he said, his eyes alive with amusement. “What is it you want?”
“Mr Shaddon,” she confided. “He is the son of our local magistrate, who is only a squire. He is not particularly handsome, although I find his countenance very pleasing, and he is not at all fashionable, but that don’t concern me either.”
“And is Mr Shaddon devastated at having you torn from him?”
Miss Crabtree’s eyes crinkled as she laughed. “I cannot imagine him being devastated by anything! He is a very stoical sort of gentleman, and usually has a great deal of sense, but on the subject of my coming to Town he became quite buffleheaded!”
“Is that a word, Miss Crabtree? I do not think I have heard the term before, although I think I understand you.”
“Well, if it is not, it should be. The clunch agreed with my father that I should come. He said that he was not worthy of me and that he would not marry me until I had had the opportunity to do better.”
Miles bowed and kissed her hand as the set came to an end.
“It has been a pleasure, Miss Crabtree, and I wish you very happy with your Mr Shaddon.”
Although Miles had enjoyed his time with Miss Crabtree, he did not intend to allow himself to be cornered by his mother again. He made for the opposite side of the crowded room but pulled up short when he spied one of the most beautiful
ladies he had ever encountered. Her figure was nicely rounded and elegant, her neck long and graceful, her profile perfection. When she turned her head towards him as if aware of his scrutiny, he saw her bone structure was of the sort that would guarantee she would age gracefully.
Lord Carteret’s voice murmured in his ear. “Exquisite, isn’t she? But Lady Barbara is already taken; Buntingdon was there before you.”
Lady Barbara’s long curling lashes dipped over her eyes in a coy manner, but not before Miles had seen an invitation in them.
“But she is not yet married,” he said, swiftly closing the distance between them.
As he bowed before her, a waltz struck up.
“May I have the honour of dancing with you, Lady Barbara?”
“I am afraid you are too late, sir,” she said, regretfully. “My betrothed asked me to reserve this dance for him.”
Undeterred, Miles took her arm and led her towards the couples who had already taken their places. “It is Lord Buntingdon who is too late,” he said. “For the dance is about to begin and he is nowhere to be seen.”
As his arm encircled her waist, she glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. “He will not like it. I only hope he does not call you out.”
“I hope he may,” he said with a grin. “For when there is an obstacle in one’s path, I find it best to remove it.”
Her eyes widened. “Is he an obstacle in your path?”
He had expected her to laugh and take his words in the light-hearted spirit in which they had been given and could not help but compare her studied innocence with the more open manners of his last partner. But as he could not withdraw his words, he gave her the answer he knew she wished to hear.
“How could it be otherwise when he has claimed the season’s brightest star?”
When she neither objected to his flattery nor attempted to deny that she was worthy of such a comparison but accepted his compliment as if it was her due, for some reason her beauty dimmed.
“Yes,” she said in a forlorn little voice, “it is a shame that we did not meet before… before I made my choice. We make a striking couple, don’t you think?”
Miles’s eyes hardened. He had intended to flirt outrageously with the beautiful Lady Barbara, and if she had uttered her words with a laughing insincerity he would have continued to do so. But there was no hint of playfulness in her words. To have shown her hand so plainly, to belittle Buntingdon by making it clear that she would not have accepted him if she had known that the son of a marquess would be in the offing – for it could only be that which made her regret her decision – gave him a disgust for her.
Gentleman enough to not wish her to see it, his eyes lifted from hers. They came to rest on a couple who were dancing as if oblivious of everyone about them, their eyes locked on each other, their mouths curved in a gentle smile, and their adoration for each other patently apparent. His parents were defying convention and behaving in a shockingly vulgar manner by dancing together in such a way, but they would surprise no one. They always danced one waltz together at every ball they attended if it was on the programme. He suddenly wished for the music to end, feeling as if he were somehow unworthy to share the floor with them.
“Lord Allerdale?”
Lady Barbara’s voice was petulant, and her mouth pursed. Miles suspected she was unused to her admirers’ attention wandering whilst in her presence.
As the last few notes of the waltz were played, Miles released her and offered an elegant bow.
“Forgive me, but I caught sight of another striking couple, my parents, who are still very much in love. They have reminded me that I should not have robbed the man who has been fortunate enough to win your affection of this particular dance but satisfied myself with admiring your beauty from afar.”
He escorted her from the floor and nodded at the earl, whose eyes narrowed at their approach. Lord Buntingdon was a haughty man of large fortune, some ten years his senior, and known as a great collector of beautiful objects.
“Allow me to offer you my congratulations, sir,” Miles said, with a pleasant smile. “And to beg your pardon for stealing the dance that should rightfully have been yours, but you were nowhere to be seen and I do not think you can blame me for wishing for one dance with the most beautiful creature in the room.”
“I quite understand, Allerdale,” he said coldly. “It took me a little longer than I had anticipated to wend my way through the crush of people. I hope you enjoyed your dance, for you will not be granted another.”
Miles correctly interpreted his words to mean ever rather than just this evening, but as he did not wish for another opportunity, he accepted this with good grace, bowed, and moved off.
Lord Carteret fell into step beside him. “Already playing your games, Allerdale?”
Miles gave a weary smile. “Do not concern yourself, Carteret, there was no game I wished to play.”
“Oh? Do not tell me Lady Barbara was impervious to your charm?”
“My charm was of secondary importance to my future prospects. I think she may be regretting her decision to marry Buntingdon; he is a cold, one might almost say sinister character, after all. I think she hoped that I might fall for her charms and somehow rescue her.”
“You do not fancy the role of knight in shining armour?”
“It would hardly suit me,” Miles said dryly. “Besides, I do not like to play other people’s games.”
“I am pleased to hear it,” Lord Carteret said softly. “Buntingdon is a deuced fine shot if it came to a duel.”
“I would not cause such a stir,” Miles said, “have I not promised my father to behave in a more circumspect manner?”
“Ah, I am pleased you have remembered it, old fellow. It saves me from bringing your ire down on my head by reminding you of it.”
Miles did not consider this comment worthy of a response, and at that moment caught sight of Charles among a small group of people.
“Come,” he said to his friend, “I am sure Charles will wish to speak with you.”
Chapter 7
Lord Haverham returned home in good time for the ball, and Eleanor ran him to ground in his study before he went up to change.
“I am pleased to have this opportunity for some private conversation with you, cousin.”
He eyed her a little warily as he encountered the look of determination in her eyes.
“Oh? Nothing wrong is there?”
“Well, do you know, Frederick, I rather think there is.” She laughed as his brows descended. “Do not look so worried, cousin, it is nothing that cannot be easily remedied.”
Lord Haverham’s frown did not immediately lift, some instinct warning him that his comfort was about to be disturbed.
“Is it Diana?”
“Yes, it is Diana. It is a shame she is so beautiful. Only Lady Barbara Philpot and Lady Somerton can perhaps equal her.”
Lord Haverham’s eyes gentled. “She is a jewel past price, isn’t she, Eleanor?”
“Undoubtedly,” Eleanor promptly agreed.
“But why should you say that it is a shame she is so beautiful? I am very proud to have such a beautiful creature for my wife.”
“Of course you are, Frederick, and I imagine that when you courted Diana you complimented her often and spent a great deal of time in her company.”
“Yes,” he admitted, “how else would I have won her affection and interest when she had so many other admirers?”
“You have a very splendid stable at Standon,” Eleanor said meditatively.
Lord Haverham’s eyes shot up. “What the deuce has that to do with anything?”
“Oh, nothing at all,” Eleanor said airily. “But please, humour me for a moment. When you choose a horse, what do you look for?”
“Its pedigree, its proportions, oh, many things.”
Eleanor smiled. “Very good. And once you have purchased the horse, do you ride it or allow your stable hands to do so?”
“Of course I ride
or drive it!” Lord Haverham said. “I do not purchase my horses for the benefit of anyone but myself, although I do allow my servants to exercise them of course.”
“Yes, naturally you do; you can, after all, trust your servants to take the greatest care of what is yours.”
Lord Haverham began to see the light.
“Eleanor! You cannot be comparing Diana to a horse!”
Eleanor laughed. “It does sound ridiculous when you put it like that, Frederick, and I hope you will never tell her I did so, but if you think about it, you will, I am sure, see my point.”
Frederick pulled back his shoulders and glared at her, clearly offended. “You are saying, I suppose that I take better care of my horses than I do my wife.”
“Well,” she said gently, “if you do, I am sure you do not mean to. But most of the beauties I have encountered, with the exception of Lady Somerton, remind me of highly-strung horses; they are used to being admired and if they are not handled in the right manner, they can become rather wayward or unhappy. And when one is as beautiful and naïve as Diana still is, it is not always wise to leave them unprotected when surrounded by people who may owe you no loyalty.”
A look of dawning horror darkened Lord Haverham’s eyes. “Are you saying, Eleanor, that my wife has gone beyond the line of what is pleasing with another man?”
“No, Frederick, I am not saying that. But if it is generally believed that you are not keeping a watch on so desirable a creature, you cannot be surprised if other gentlemen, some of questionable reputation, make up to her.”
“Who has made up to her?”
“Lord Sandford has shown her a great deal of interest recently.”
Lord Haverham’s eyes snapped together. “Sandford? How could you let such a wastrel make up to Diana? Only last year he had an affair with Lady…” he paused, “do not tell me Diana has encouraged him?”
Eleanor went to her cousin and laid a hand on his arm. “She is still an innocent, Frederick. Since I explained to her how undesirable, not to mention damaging, his attentions might be, she has treated him only with the coolest civility. But she would not have been as susceptible to his charms if she had felt as valued as she should be.”
