“I will not!” she cried. “I have not been out for ages — I mean — I am all right — and I won’t go home early!”
She really did feel as though she had been sick, and deprived of society for three weeks. Such is the power of the imagination.
“Now, now, do not be upset,” he soothed, with a charming smile. “You shall stay up as late as you wish! But do sleep late tomorrow, and get your rest, Minna, dear!”
She could have slapped him. He drew her closer, and swung her easily in the waltz. But he moved her almost impersonally, not the way he had done when she was Madame Dubois. Oh, she missed it! She wanted to be the merry widow again, bold and flirtatious, and inviting his caresses!
But Gabrielle had that role now, and adored it. She would not give it up!
He let her go with a bow, made sure she had another partner, then went back to Gabrielle Dubois, who received him with a radiant, triumphant smile. She had never had such an easy victory, thought Minna viciously, dancing slowly with her elderly partner.
Then she saw Percy beckoning to her from the little drawing room next to the ballroom. He had Denise on his arm, and both looked radiant. She made her way through the crowd as her partner bowed and left her.
Many were dancing, so they were alone in the room. Denise looked at Percy.
Percy beamed down at his sister, he seemed unable to speak.
“Well, what is it? Do you wish to go home?” teased Minna, with a sparkle in her eyes.
“No!” he blurted out, turning red. “I wanted to — that is, I asked her!”
“You asked her what?” said Minna, tapping his arm with her fan. “Did you ask her to dance?”
Denise giggled. “He asked me, Minna!” she murmured.
“Dear me, what did he ask?”
Percy finally managed to say, “Asked her to marry me! Said she would!”
“But we cannot announce it, Papa has not been asked!” whispered Denise hastily.
“Wanted you to know, Minna, dear,” said Percy simply. “You helped!”
Deeply touched, Minna leaned to Denise and they kissed. “I am so very happy, dearest Denise,” she said. “I could not ask for a sweeter sister!”
“Nor I, and I have three!” smiled Denise. “Oh, and I know Papa will consent! He thinks Percy is wonderful, as I do!” And she sent an adoring look up to Percy.
“I’ll come tomorrow morning and ask him. What time does he arise?” asked Percy seriously.
Denise smiled, a becoming pink in her cheeks. “I think if you come about ten o’clock, Percy, he will receive you,” she said.
“Ten? I shall not sleep all night!” he said.
“If you do sleep deeply, I’ll come and waken you,” teased Minna, and they all laughed. “Oh, Mother will be so happy about this,” she said. “She loves you, Denise.”
Denise was immensely pleased with this message, and said, “You are so kind to me! Oh, I shall be happy in your family, I know it!”
Percy presently asked Denise to dance with him, and they went off blissfully. Her radiant looks up at Percy, his adoring looks at her, the way he held her so — so protectively and gently — made Minna feel happy for them.
They did truly love, it was evident, and theirs would be a marriage of true minds. They were both warm-hearted, sweet of nature, and earnest about work and their duties in life. It would be a good marriage, and she was so happy for her brother.
Then her glance fell on another couple, and she felt rather blighted. Oliver and Gabrielle were dancing again. Did Gabrielle have no regard for her reputation, that she accepted him so often? But Minna knew it was sour grapes for her, she would willingly have traded places with her cousin.
Oliver saw her, and smiled. He said something to Gabrielle, who did not look pleased; however, they both came to Minna, who was standing alone in the doorway to the ballroom.
“You look lonely,” said Oliver. And that is the worst thing one can say to one feeling a wallflower.
She stretched her mouth in an unconvincing smile. “Oh, no, I am just resting from dancing so much.”
“You are weary,” said Oliver at once, with a worry line on his forehead. “Minna, you should go home. I will speak to Percy at once.”
“Oh, no, I pray you, do not do that,” she said hastily. Not for the world would she interrupt that happy couple. “I am fine, I tell you!”
“Do not be cross,” said Gabrielle, her eyes narrowing. “Dearest Oliver, could you not send her home in one of your carriages? I feel sure she is doing too much!”
Minna could have killed her cousin cheerfully, stabbed her in her full bosom.
“You are very kind to her,” he said, gazing down at Gabrielle. “How good it is to see cousins so close and so fond of each other! I believe you lived together for three years?”
“Yes, and we became like sisters.” Gabrielle smiled.
Oh, liar, black dreadful mean liar, thought Minna vengefully.
“That is a good idea, to send Minna home,” said Oliver. “I will get one of my footmen to take her. Let me see —” And he began to look about.
“No, I will not go!” said Minna, feeling like a cross child being sent to bed. “I am — having — fun — a wonderful time — and I — am — not — weary!”
“Dear me, Minna, your old temper is coming out!” tutted Gabrielle. “I well remember when she was younger, how she used to scream and then hide in the bushes. Remember, Minna, how you hid in the bushes, to keep from going to bed?”
Minna literally could not prevent it. A demon made her say it.
“Oh, it was not to keep from going to bed, Gabrielle!” she answered sweetly, and clearly. “I liked hiding in the bushes, to watch you manage your beaux! You always got them to kiss you in such interesting ways! It was very — fascinating! You were but sixteen, I recall, when Peter Carmichael got you in the maze, and —”
Gabrielle had her mouth open unbecomingly when Oliver intervened, incredulously. “Minna, be quiet! I am amazed at you! How can you say such things!”
Was it anger and fury in his grey eyes? Or was it an unholy amusement? She could not tell, and she dared not stare at him.
Gabrielle found her tongue. She was an unbecoming red. “I declare, what a liar you have become, Minna! I shall speak to Tante about this!”
“Do — I dared not tell her at the time, Gabrielle. But I do feel you should confess to Mother. She was responsible for you!”
Gabrielle gasped, and gave Minna such a look, Minna knew she would be in for a bad time when they were alone. But recklessness drove her on.
Oliver intervened hastily. “Come now, no more of this. Gabrielle, I meant to ask you — would you come driving with me tomorrow? I mean to drive into the countryside, I think you would enjoy it. I can arrange for a fine luncheon at an inn, to make the journey less wearisome.”
Minna was outraged. That invitation should have come to her! She had to stand and be quiet as Gabrielle smiled up alluringly at Oliver and replied, “I should adore it, Oliver. How kind you are to ask me! What time shall we depart?”
“May I come for you at eleven o’clock? And do bring a bonnet and shawl, it will probably be cool by the time we return in the evening!”
To take her out all day — alone — and he made no mention of a chaperone! Minna’s temper, none too steady by now, was about to topple over and crash!
“It sounds like a lovely journey, Oliver. How kind you are to think of it! I shall be ready!” And Gabrielle could not refrain from giving Minna a long, significant, triumphant look.
“Jessie will be glad to come with you, she loves the carriage rides,” suggested Minna sweetly.
Gabrielle did not even need to say a word.
“No, no,” said Oliver quickly. “She will not need Jessie! I am sure your aunt will approve! She has known me for years!”
A dreadful fear came over Minna. He meant to propose to Gabrielle Dubois! Oh, she must prevent it, she must! Oliver had marriage on his mind!
Minna must prevent this horrible mistake! She had even reached out to clutch Oliver’s arm when she realized she could not say anything. She was in a trap of her own making. She could not expose herself this way.
Oh, what a coil Minna was in!
While she had stood silent, the two others had been speaking, making further arrangements for the next morning. Oliver would come at eleven; he would have the comfortable carriage with the hood over the front seat. She did not need to wear riding habit, a dress would do. He would order the luncheon in advance, was there any food she particularly wished? Chicken, splendid. And white wine, yes, of course. And paté — of course. And pastries, naturally.
Minna’s heart swelled in indignation as Oliver named off all her favourite foods — chicken, oyster pâté, chocolate and almond puff pastries — and Gabrielle should have them!
Betsy Redmond appeared at Minna’s side. Her sharp look went around to them all. “Having a good time, darlings?” she asked cheerily.
Minna could have wept.
“Oh, yes,” murmured Gabrielle, giving Oliver a melting look. “Monsieur Seymour entertains so delightfully! I am so enchanted. How happy I am! How glad I came to London, dull though it can be! It was so sweet of you to invite me, chère Tante!”
Minna could not smile. Her mother made all the conventional replies, and urged Minna with her.
Oliver put his arm about Gabrielle and they began to dance again.
Mrs Redmond whispered, “Darling, it is for the best! If he likes her so much —”
“I will never forgive you for sending for Gabrielle! He liked me best! And he does not know what she is like!”
“Dearest, he is an older man, if he likes a more experienced woman, that is his privilege! You are but twenty —”
“Oh, Mother! She is not right for him,” said Minna, shaking her head. “She will make him miserable! She has no loyalty — she betrayed her husband, she would again.”
Mrs Redmond looked surprised, then thoughtful. “But he is a stronger man, I feel sure. He would keep her in line —”
“Would you want Percy to marry a woman who has a lover?”
Betsy Redmond gasped at her daughter’s frank words. “A lover?” she whispered, glancing about her warily.
“François.”
“Oh, dear!” She gulped. “Are you sure?”
“I have seen him go into her room — afternoons and nights.”
“You should not have looked,” said her mother automatically. “And he stayed?”
“Hours.”
“Mercy.” Mrs Redmond looked rather helpless.
“Well, Mother,” said Minna. “You have to expect it. She has been married. And she is French. And she always did like lots of attention from different men.”
They had to stop talking about this. Astrid Faversham had come within speaking distance. She was smiling, obviously a false smile, for her cold grey eyes surveyed them haughtily.
“I see your niece has captured Mr Seymour,” she said, in a snap of her teeth. “He dances with her all night!”
“Not quite,” said Minna. “He danced with me also!”
“Duty dances,” said Astrid, and it was almost a cry. “She has him in her palm!”
“I hope not,” muttered Minna fiercely.
“Well, it is only my first season, and there are other men,” said Astrid. “Only — it would have been such a cachet, to capture someone like him in the first season!”
Minna drew herself up. “My dear Astrid,” she said firmly. “It would be a great privilege and high honour — to marry someone like Oliver Seymour — in any season!”
“Well said,” her mother commented, and patted her arm. Astrid looked rather shocked, then subdued.
“I guess you are right, Miss Redmond,” she said, meekly for her. “It has been an education — Mother said so — to come to know Mr Seymour — and you, of course, Mrs Redmond, and Minerva. And your cousin.” And she went off, her head held high.
“For once,” said Betsy Redmond. “I must agree with Astrid Faversham. The season has been an education. I hope for you also, Minerva!”
“You might call it that,” said Minna. “But the season is not yet over.”
She caught a glimpse of Oliver with Gabrielle, smiling down at her as they waltzed. She felt a fierce fire in her, flaming and burning.
She loved Oliver, and even if he did not return her love, she would save him from Gabrielle!
CHAPTER 12
Minna tossed and turned that night, sleeping little. There must be some way to prevent that proposal the next day. Oliver must get to know Gabrielle better, and after that he would not dream of proposing.
But how to put it off? How to prevent them from riding out together?
She went down to breakfast early, and was the first one there. Percy was still asleep, said his valet, smiling. But for once Minna could not worry about her brother. She had more immediate problems on her mind.
François came down next, and something snapped in her mind. François looked weary and gloomy, and ate little. He was obviously as worried as she was.
When the footman had left the room, Minna said quickly, “François, I would talk with you.”
“But of course, dear Minna.”
“You love Gabrielle, don’t you? Wouldn’t you like to marry her?”
“Oh, these English,” he murmured. “Sword blows at the breakfast table. Yes, I love her. Yes, I would marry her. But she has fallen in love with Oliver, I believe. Mr Seymour seems a most worthy man —”
“Balderdash,” said Minna vehemently. “She has no idea what Oliver is like at all! He would not suit her! She sees only his money, his jewels, his townhouse.”
“Well, of course,” said François, cutting his ham methodically. “A Frenchwoman is usually very realistic. And he is most attracted to her.”
“He is not!” stormed Minna, then had to stop as the footman reappeared with a fresh pot of hot water for the tea. She waited till he departed again.
“He was attracted to me,” she said more quietly. “And he thinks she is — me! He would not like her character if he knew her. I mean — she is not his sort!”
François did not bother her with protestations and politenesses. He stirred his tea thoughtfully. “You are right,” he said finally. “I think he is a good moral man. He would soon bore her, and then she would take lovers. It would not be a good marriage.”
Minna gasped, but took up the suggestion. “I don’t think so either. I think she would make you a good wife, because you understand her, and would not put up with nonsense, once you were married.”
“You think not?” he asked, a little puzzled line on his sad, pleasant monkey face. “I am not so sure. She winds me around her fingers.”
“That is the trouble,” said Minna quickly, before anyone could interrupt them. “You must be firm with her! She admires firmness. She keeps testing you to see how far she can go. She always does, with all her beaux. When they weaken and give in to her, she is bored, and turns to someone new. She is searching for someone to — to tame her!” she added, with some help from a romantic Gothic novel she had been secretly reading.
“Tame her?” questioned François, looking interested. “You mean — like a wild horse?”
“Exactly! She needs someone who will hold the reins firmly and not let her get the bit in her teeth!”
“Ah.”
“I am sure of it!”
“A firm hand.”
“Yes, yes! She must be mastered. She must be told who is the master, and not allowed to run her own way! And François, I don’t want her going with Oliver Seymour this morning!”
“If I tried to stop her, he would duel me,” said François, with a sigh. “I am not a very good shot.”
“Nonsense, it won’t come to that. Listen, François, I have an
idea!” She talked very rapidly now, to get the words in before someone came. Her mother always came down early.
“Tell your mother?” he suggested.
“No, she would become obstinate and find a way to meet him away from the house. No, I shall go instead!”
“She will not let you,” he said, with a gleam of humour. “She would duel you, and her weapons are always sharp!”
“I know that from experience.” Minna grimaced. “No, if I dress as Gabrielle — and go out with him in the carriage before anyone sees — and if you keep Gabrielle away —”
“Hum. I see. Yes!” François agreed. “But the question is — how? I cannot tie her to her bedpost!”
“Well, maybe not.” Though the picture pleased. Minna began to think, turning over projects in her mind. Then her mother came in.
“Good morning, dear François, dear Minna. What a pleasant morning,” said Mrs Redmond, with a hopeful look in their direction.
The footman brought more tea as François rose to seat Mrs Redmond, and Minna said, “Good morning, Mother. Yes, a lovely day.”
Mrs Redmond poured her tea, said, “May I offer you another cup, François?”
“No,” said Minna. “He is going to see the roses with me. Come along, François!”
He suavely concealed his surprise, and came with her. She marched him through the drawing room and out through the French windows, to the rose beds.
“Most charming,” he murmured.
“Not here, but to the back,” she muttered, and put her hand in his arm to urge him faster.
He came with her, and surveyed the large summerhouse with growing understanding.
“Ah,” he said. “A pretty little gazebo in the town!”
“Yes, and the summerhouse has a lock on the door!”
“Ah, indeed!”
They went to examine the lock, and the interior of the summerhouse. It was indeed a lovely little place, with white-painted benches, some flowery cushions on them, a pleasant breeze blowing through the lattice work, a view of the rose gardens. It was on the other side of the large house, away from the stables, out of view of the street. In short, a nice place to hide out. Minna showed him how the lock worked, for it was locked nightly to keep out idlers who might wish to sleep there away from the streets and the law.
French Jade: A dazzling Regency love story Page 14