Annabelle shook her head. “I don’t blame him. She sounds awful.”
“Oh, she was,” Marianne replied, rolling her eyes. “Mama never liked her, either.”
Annabelle laughed at that. “Well, Lord Elmwood certainly sounds as if he is right-minded when it comes to ladies. No wonder he told me he wasn’t interested in accomplishments.”
“‘Accomplishments’?” Marianne frowned at the word in much the same way her brother had hours earlier. “No. I can’t see David being particularly impressed by accomplishments. I must say I’m glad Beau isn’t either, as I’m not particularly accomplished myself,” she finished with a laugh.
“You are lovely, Marianne. And accomplishments are silly things the ton invented to make debutantes feel as if being no more than a prize at the market is actually worth something.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Marianne replied. “Tell me. Which young ladies will you introduce to David?”
Annabelle gave her a sly smile. “I’m still deciding but I do have a few prospects. Young women who have just made their debut, mostly.”
“There were some lovely young ladies at the Queen’s court,” Marianne replied.
Annabelle decided to ask the question that was on the tip of her tongue. “Did you know your brother intends to marry for love?”
A bright smile covered Marianne’s face. “I’d expect nothing less.” She stared at the wall and after a few moments, a more somber countenance replaced her smile. “Our Mama always told us marry for love and you’ll never regret it.”
Annabelle swallowed and glanced away. Well, that sentiment wasn’t true. Her own mama had married for love and had certainly come to regret it, but Annabelle wasn’t about to tell that to a woman whose wedding was in a matter of days. “What else should I know about your brother?” she asked instead to change the subject.
The smile returned to Marianne’s face. “David is kind, generous, funny, caring, and handsome, of course. Do you know he led a charge against the French in Portugal knowing it was tantamount to suicide? The enemy took him prisoner because he refused to stop running back again and again to save as many of his men as he could.”
Annabelle sucked in her breath. “Oh, my goodness. He sounds ever so brave.”
“He is,” Marianne said, pride obvious on her face. “He risked his life repeatedly, facing almost certain death.”
“That is something I’ve never been,” Annabelle breathed.
Marianne frowned. “What’s that?”
“Brave,” Annabelle whispered. “I’ve never been brave.”
“Well, I should hope you would rarely have cause to be,” Marianne replied, this time reaching over and patting Annabelle’s hand.
Annabelle smiled and shook her head. “Of course. Now, what else?” She pasted a bright smile on her face.
Marianne launched into another tale of her brother’s valor, this time a story of how he saved a young hare from a trap, bandaged its paw, and nursed it back to health before releasing it into the forest. How could one not think the man was a saint?
Annabelle listened to story after story, peppering questions about Lord Elmwood’s likes and dislikes in between. Two hours later, when she stood to leave, she felt as if the air had been sucked from the room. She must have asked Marianne two dozen questions about David’s tastes, dreams, hopes, and preferences, and in the end, she certainly had one lady in mind. A lady who met all the criteria and then some. A lady who was eligible, accomplished, witty, clever, and possessed of both a fine family and a small fortune of a dowry. A lady who never would have blamed him for purposely losing a competition to make his younger brother feel special, and would have gladly helped him nurse the hare back to health. In fact, a young lady who just might fall in love with him a little for doing both.
Herself.
Chapter Ten
The next morning, David arrived strictly on time for his lesson with Lady Annabelle. He’d said and done some unfortunate things yesterday. Asking her age had been particularly wrong of him. But he hadn’t been able to stop himself. Besides, she’d proven herself to be game enough when she’d cheekily answered him later.
Lady Annabelle had proven his assumptions wrong on a handful of scores yesterday as well. It appeared she was not the vain, pampered debutante he’d thought she was after their initial meeting. She’d been witty and wise and kind to him yesterday, not scolding or prim or haughty in the least. She even made fun of herself, referring to herself as ‘on-the-shelf.’ Nothing could be further from the truth. He had absolutely no trouble seeing why flowers were streaming through the door, or why the betting book at White’s was filled with bets on her marriage prospects. Though David could also understand why it all seemed ridiculous to her, especially since she clearly had no intention of taking a husband. She still hadn’t exactly explained why she was so set against it, but he supposed that was none of his business. Lady Annabelle had been kind enough to offer to help him learn the rules of Society, and he intended to do so expediently. He would be a model pupil.
To that end, he was recommitted to being a complete gentleman in her presence today. How difficult could it be? He only needed to stifle the urge to say nearly anything he’d normally say and pretend to be interested in things he would never be interested in. Like titles and parties and calling cards. He smiled to himself as he jogged up the stairs to Bell’s front door.
Within moments of knocking, David was escorted past even more flowers in the foyer and into the salon. Were some of the new arrangements from the same men who had sent flowers yesterday? That seemed overdone. Or did ladies like that sort of thing? He frowned. Lady Annabelle hadn’t seemed to give a toss about the flowers, but did other young ladies desire daily bouquets? How would he ever learn all these things?
He was still contemplating the perils of sending too many flowers when Lady Annabelle came floating into the room. She was wearing an ice-blue gown that made her eyes seem brighter. She wore white gloves and slippers and had a small daisy in her hair. No doubt pilfered from one of the many arrangements in the foyer. She looked fresh and rested and as lovely as ever.
“Good morning, Lord Elmwood. How are you today?” she asked as soon as she saw him standing near the window. “I’m sorry to report that Mama has taken ill this morning and sends her regrets that she cannot attend the lesson.”
David bowed to her. “Good morning, my lady. Best wishes for your mother’s recovery.” There was an awkward pause that he felt obligated to fill so he added, “I see you have more flowers.” He immediately wanted to kick himself for the comment. Not only was it obvious, it was clumsy. Couldn’t he find something better to say? He should have told her how beautiful she looked. How she made the rest of the space fade into a blur when she stepped into the room. How the scent of her perfume put the fragrance of the flowers to shame. Damn. What was becoming of him? Was he in danger of waxing poetic? He sincerely hoped not. Army men were not poetic.
“Yes, well, gentlemen can be so predictable,” she replied with a sigh, waving her hand toward the foyer filled with flowers.
He arched a brow. “I take it you don’t prefer flowers?”
“Flowers are lovely,” she replied, with another noncommittal wave of her hand. “They’re just…predictable. Mama said that Father practically bought a conservatory for her every day the first sennight they were courting.”
“Yes, your mother mentioned they married quickly. I suppose she was impressed with the flowers.”
“She was,” Annabelle replied in a monotone voice. “Little substance though they held.”
“It sounds as if it will take more than some flowers to impress you,” he prodded.
Annabelle shook her head. She was staring unseeing at the far wall. She swallowed hard. “Much more. Flowers and gifts are merely distractions. A man’s character is what’s truly important.”
Well, that was interesting. “Tell me.” He stepped closer to her, intent on finding out what a lady like her wo
uld prefer to a vase full of predictable flowers. “What would you rather receive?”
She stepped in a small circle contemplating the question before turning to him and saying, “A book perhaps. One the gentleman picked out because he had asked me what sort of books I prefer to read. One he saw in a bookshop while browsing and it made him think of me.”
“You like to read?” Reading was one of David’s favorite things to do. So much more enjoyable than talking or exchanging pleasantries with strangers.
“Yes, do you?” she asked, a hopeful look on her face.
“Indeed, I do.” He rubbed his chin. “I regretted that I could only fit one book in my rucksack on the Continent.”
She clasped her hands together. “Oh, do tell me, what was it?”
“In English you would call it The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha, but I had the Spanish version.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of it. Don Quixote. A comedy, is it not?”
The hint of a smile touched his lips. “Marianne gave it to me. She said I would need something silly to cheer me on the battlefield. But I read it so many times, I must say my opinion of the book changed, more than once.”
“How so?” she asked, a truly interested look on her face.
“At first I thought it was a comedy, then I came to regard it as a tragic novel, because Quixote was considered mad and treated like a lunatic. But in the end, I found it to be life-changing.”
She continued to study his face. “How so?”
David took a deep breath. “The book saved my life, in more ways than one. Reading it kept me sane all those long, sleepless nights in the cold. I was fortunate enough to be in an officer’s tent, of course, where I could read by candlelight. The average soldier did not have such luxuries.”
“How else did it save your life?” Lady Annabelle asked, her brow furrowed.
A humorless smile on his lips, David said, “It quite literally saved me from death. When the French captured me and a small group of my men, they began executing the officers. Only when they got to me, they rifled through my rucksack and when they saw the book, they realized I could speak Spanish. That was of use to them, so they kept me alive as an interpreter.”
Lady Annabelle gasped and cupped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, dear, now that you mention it, I remember Marianne telling me you were spared because of your ability to speak Spanish.”
He nodded. “By giving me that book, my sister helped save my life,” he breathed. “I’ll be grateful to her forever.”
“My brother saved me too,” Lady Annabelle whispered, a faraway look in her eyes.
David was not certain he’d heard her correctly. “Pardon me?”
“Never mind.” Lady Annabelle shook her head and replaced the stark look on her face with a bright smile. “I didn’t mean to bring up such a sad subject. We have lessons to attend to. Shall we begin?”
“By all means,” David replied, his smile equally as bright. He clasped his hands behind his back. He shouldn’t have said so much. Lady Annabelle didn’t want to hear poignant tales of battlefields and being a prisoner of war. No one wanted to hear those things. He turned to her. “What will you teach me today?”
She nodded. “I thought we’d begin with some rules of decorum. Would you like a pen and some paper to take notes?” She folded her hands together primly.
David nearly snorted. “Notes? Why would I take notes?”
She blinked at him. “How do you intend to remember it all?”
He pointed to his temple. “With my mind.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “Very well, but there are a great many rules.”
“How many?” He was beginning to feel as if he’d been shut in small space and couldn’t breathe.
She ran a fingertip across one fine brow. “There’s no defined number, but I do recommend taking notes.”
He pursed his lips. “Try me.”
“If you insist.” She took a deep breath and settled her hands into her lap again. “Let’s begin with general manners.”
“Sounds delightful,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes at her.
She lifted her chin, barely smiling at his playfulness. “Now then. First, a man never smokes in the presence of ladies. He may smoke with the other gentlemen after a dinner party when the ladies have left the room.”
David cracked a smile. “What is the rule for a lady smoking in front of a gentleman?”
Lady Annabelle widened her eyes at him. “Well, for one thing, if a gentleman happens to be privy to such an event, he should never, ever, be ill-mannered enough to mention it, either to the lady herself or any of her relations.”
David laughed. “I see. Very well. Duly noted.”
Lady Annabelle nodded and continued. “You must stand sedately. You must not fidget, scratch, or otherwise act impatiently.”
David pursed his lips. “What if I am impatient?”
“Pretend you are not,” Lady Annabelle said, straightening her shoulders and sitting up even more erect in the chair.
David drew his brows together. “I don’t like pretending.”
Lady Annabelle lifted her nose in the air ever so slightly. “That’s unfortunate. A great deal of the correct behavior in the ton involves pretending.”
David rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised? Very well, no fidgeting. Go on.”
She took another breath. “On the street, a gentleman always rides or walks on the outside of a lady so that she is protected.”
David nodded. “That’s easy enough. I’ve been doing that for years with my mother and sister.”
Lady Annabelle nodded approvingly. “A gentleman should always bow to a lady before leaving, rather than simply walking way.”
“Yes, Lady Courtney already taught me that one,” David admitted, clearing his throat. “What else?”
“Let’s see. Handshakes are permitted between men, but only if they are of equal class.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I didn’t make the rules. I am merely imparting them.”
Another eyeroll. “Very well. What else?”
“A gentleman always waits for a lady to acknowledge him first with a curtsy and then he may tip his hat. But he must use the hand furthest from her.”
David frowned. “What sense does that make?”
Her only answer was to arch a brow at him.
“Fine. Go on.”
“It’s considered ill-mannered to introduce yourself to someone. You must wait to be formally introduced by someone else. Especially if the person is of higher rank.”
“How am I supposed to know who is of higher rank?”
“That will come in due time when we study Debrett’s.”
“Oh, God. What does that mean?”
She looked at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “Debrett's Peerage of England, Scotland, and Ireland? It’s a book.”
“And?” he prompted.
“It’s a famous book. It lists all the peers, their titles, their marriages, their offspring. It’s essential reading for anyone who aspires to be a part of London Society.”
He crinkled his nose. “Aspires is far too strong a word. Perhaps I can skim it.”
“Nonsense. Mama shall read it aloud. And we’ll drill the names into your head.”
David sighed. “I suppose that will help me not make a fool of myself the next time your brother takes me to the club.”
“Oh, yes. All of the members of White’s will be listed in Debrett’s, you may count on it.”
“Good, then I’ll get to know all about Lord Murdock and his cronies.”
“Murdock?” Apprehension skittered across her features. “You met Lord Murdock?”
“Yes, and I can’t say it was a particular pleasure.”
“He’s currently considered the most eligible bachelor in London at the moment, you know?”
“Really? Is he?” The most eligible bachelor placing bets on the most unattainable debutante. David didn’t
like what he was hearing. “What makes him so ‘eligible’?”
“Well, Lord Worthington and Beau were the two most eligible,” Lady Annabelle replied with a smile. “But now that they are both betrothed, Lord Murdock is the most eligible.”
“Eligibility having everything to do with loftiest title, I suppose?” David drawled.
Lady Annabelle nodded. “Yes, of course, but it’s not just a title. It’s also his family, his fortune, his wardrobe, and the fact that he’s handsome.”
“Is he handsome?” David nearly sneered. “I hadn’t noticed.” Murdock was detestable, and if he wasn’t currently doing his best to be such a gentleman, David could tell Lady Annabelle precisely why he thought so.
“Don’t worry,” Lady Annabelle replied with a bright smile. “I have it on the best authority that there is another gentleman who just might rival Lord Murdock for most eligible this year.”
“Who?” David asked, tugging nonchalantly at his cuff. It was all a lot of nonsense, at any rate. He wished for the hundredth time that he wasn’t required to give a damn about any of this.
“You!” Lady Annabelle replied with a laugh.
David froze. “Me?” He pointed to himself. “Rival Murdock?”
“You’re an earl, aren’t you? Single, possessed of a hefty fortune, well-dressed,” —she eyed him up and down—“and we’ve already established that you’re handsome, though I hate to repeat it, as I’m certain it’ll go to your head.”
“Too late,” David replied with a grin. “Though I had no idea I was considered a rival to Lord Murdock.”
“You aren’t,” she clarified, “yet. But by the time Mama and I have completed your lessons, you will be.”
Was it David’s imagination or did she wink at him? The truth was, he wasn’t at all certain he wanted to be a contender for most eligible bachelor in London. Though he supposed it was better than being the opposite. A sort of male wallflower. Was there a name for that? He was about to ask Lady Annabelle when she cleared her throat.
“As to that, we should resume our lessons. We don’t have many more days before the Talbots’ ball.”
Earl Lessons: The Footmen’s Club Series Page 7