A Perfect Plan

by Alyssa Drake

  “Just wait until you are married Thomas,” threatened Mr. Mason.

  “I have no intention of ever taking a wife,” replied Thomas smoothly, his statement punctuated by the click of a glass.

  Edward placed a hand on Benjamin’s shoulder. “Someday, when Thomas is in earnest, we will tease him incessantly.”

  Benjamin grinned. “I look forward to it.”

  “As do I,” answered Edward, returning Benjamin’s smile.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sam stole a peek at Wilhelmina as they sat, side by side, in chairs arced around the pianoforte. Wilhelmina remained motionless, a peaceful smile pasted on her lips, her head tilted slightly to the right. Sam wondered if Wilhelmina actually enjoyed the concert or if she were just so conditioned to society, she was able to appear interested as she suffered through the same torture assaulting both their ears.

  Shifting impatiently, Sam turned her attention back toward the front of the room. Miss Shirely, dressed in peach, warbled a familiar tune. Her voice seemed pleasant enough; apparently singing was one of her many talents. However, the same could not be said for the poor girl in green accompanying Miss Shirely on the pianoforte. Hunched over, trying to hide her face, the lithe brunette frowned in misery, a worried line creasing itself across her forehead. Obviously uncomfortable with the attention she now received, she kept glancing at Miss Shirely for reassurance. Unfortunately, the girl’s fingers slipped periodically, and a sour note would echo through the room. Each occurrence earned her a vicious stare from Miss Shirely. Sam felt pity for the girl, imagining the upcoming tongue-lashing Miss Shirely would unleash once the song finished.

  Sam wondered what Miss Shirely’s motivation was in choosing the girl for an accompanist. Clearly, music was not her talent. However, the brunette, who appeared slightly older than Miss Shirely, doggedly continued the painful performance. Perhaps Miss Shirely made the choice to showcase her own attributes. The design appeared a failure—another unharmonious note resonated through the tiny room, setting Sam’s teeth on edge. The girl cringed, staring at the piano keys to avoid the increasing ire emanating from Miss Shirely. If not for the attention of the entire room, Sam suspected Miss Shirely would humiliate the poor girl into a puddle of green silk.

  “Terrible, simply awful,” commented a voice to the left of Sam.

  Sam turned and found herself staring into Mrs. Stanton’s ancient eyes. “Pardon me?”

  “I was remarking on the concert we are being forced to endure.” Mrs. Stanton whispered loud enough for the people around her to hear her displeasure.

  “I think the song is quite lovely.”

  Mrs. Stanton stared at Sam for a moment, drawing out the silence; another raw note echoed in the room. “Yes, the song is usually quite beautiful; however, this particular presentation is not.”

  Sam did not respond. She sat quietly in her chair for a moment, contemplating her words. Next to her, she felt Wilhelmina smile in approval at Sam’s restraint. Mrs. Stanton thumped her cane on the ground next to Sam’s foot, startling her from her silent deliberation.

  “Come now, I know you are filled with opinions.”

  A quick glance at Wilhelmina showed her sister-in-law had either not heard Mrs. Stanton’s comment or chose to ignore it. Another off-key chord reverberated down Sam’s spine. She shuddered; Mrs. Stanton smiled knowingly.

  Sam leaned closer to the older woman, whispering to prevent anyone else from overhearing her words. “I do not envy that poor girl once Miss Shirely gets her alone.”

  Mrs. Stanton raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised by Sam’s charitable comment and angled her chair closer, bending her head. “Do you not think this display of incompetence is enough punishment for Miss Clemens?”

  “No,” Sam shook her head firmly, not recognizing the name of the unfortunate girl. “Miss Shirely’s reputation has also been publicly dented by this little performance. The revenge she has planned for Miss Clemens will be severe.”

  “Miss Shirely is not a friend of yours?” questioned Mrs. Stanton, her eyes probing.

  “I am outside her sphere of consideration,” replied Sam succinctly.

  “I highly doubt that,” Mrs. Stanton snorted, “considering to whom you are engaged.”

  Sam sighed in concession. “I have no desire to befriend someone who takes pleasure in another’s despair.”

  “Ahh,” nodded Mrs. Stanton, a flitting smile pulling at her lips. She jerked her head toward the pianoforte. “And Miss Clemens?”

  “She should choose her friends more carefully,” Sam replied in a hushed tone as Wilhelmina sent a withering glance in her direction.

  “This is Miss Clemens’ first season. I am sure you are aware of the pitfalls which come from being thrust into society.” Mrs. Stanton arched an eyebrow.

  Sympathy poured through Sam, she did indeed. “Does Miss Clemens have any family to guide her?”

  Mrs. Stanton half-smiled. “Her mother has encouraged the attachment to Miss Shirely.”

  “An unfortunate recommendation,” Sam murmured. She noticed sadness in Mrs. Stanton’s eyes; the older woman blinked quickly, clearing the emotion from her face. Another sour note pulled Sam from her musing.

  “Tell me, Miss Hastings, are you proficient at the pianoforte?” questioned Mrs. Stanton, abruptly changing the subject.

  “Not in the slightest,” Sam replied.

  "Honesty. How refreshing.” Curiosity sparkled over Mrs. Stanton’s face. “However, you must be good at something. At what do you excel?”

  Sam pondered the question for a moment—none of her favorite pursuits were deemed the least bit acceptable. She chewed her lower lip. An eighteen-year-old Benjamin flashed into her mind, blood dripping from his hand, a broad grin splitting her face. She knew without a doubt Mrs. Stanton would appreciate such an intriguing skill.

  “Fencing.”

  Whatever proper activity Mrs. Stanton imagined, that was definitely not the answer she expected. The older woman choked on her response, demurely covering the sound with a cough. Once she regained her composure, she sent a conspiratorial wink in Sam’s direction.

  “How delightfully inappropriate; I, myself, excelled in horsemanship.” Her eyes twinkled, an indication the spunk she once possessed still coursed through her veins although slightly muted.

  Mrs. Stanton grasped Sam’s hand, squeezing it with surprising strength. “I suppose Edward tutored you in the fine art.”

  Sam nodded absently, her attention drawn by Wilhelmina’s pursed lips. Obviously, Wilhelmina did not approve of the course of the conversation. However, she continued to sit silently, reluctant to lecture Mrs. Stanton on the unsuitability of the discussion.

  “Edward thought I was an excellent practice partner,” Sam ventured, shifting slightly in her seat to block Wilhelmina’s disapproving look.

  “You must have done extremely well under such excellent tutelage,” Mrs. Stanton smiled.

  “I did,” grinned Sam, twisting further around in her chair. “Edward said I could out-fence most of his schoolmates.”

  Suddenly, Sam felt a sharp poke between her shoulder blades. Sam turned and glared at Wilhelmina who discreetly moved her hand back into her lap. Mercifully, the song finished at that exact moment, and the surrounding crowd broke into a smattering of polite applause. The unsuitable comment Sam wanted to fling at Wilhelmina was drowned out by the stampede of people escaping from the room as Miss Victoria Leveret took a seat behind the pianoforte.

  Sam’s eyes followed Miss Clemens unfortunate path as she was roughly steered toward the rear of the room where several twittering girls waited. Miss Shirely’s vise grip left red fingerprints on Miss Clemens’ delicate arm. Sam noticed the anguish of pain which flashed across the poor girl’s pale face.

  “Daphne, may I have a moment, please?” Mrs. Stanton’s stern voice halted the somber procession as they passed their row.

  “Aunt Abigail,” answered Daphne with a tight smile. She moved toward her aunt but
found Miss Shirely unwilling to release her rigid grasp.

  Mrs. Stanton raised her eyebrows and looked pointedly at Miss Shirely’s hand. “Miss Shirely, I would appreciate if you would unhand my niece.”

  Miss Shirely’s lips smiled, but the sentiment did not reach her eyes. “Certainly, I was merely assisting Miss Clemens as she has a tendency to be fairly clumsy.”

  “Especially when she is shoved,” muttered Sam, earning a reproachful glance from Wilhelmina.

  Miss Shirely shot a glare at Sam. “Miss Hastings, a pleasure to see you again.”

  “Likewise, Miss Shirely,” answered Sam, her voice dripping with honey. “I do hope your ankle is not causing you too much trouble this evening.”

  Wilhelmina poked Sam severely again between the shoulder blades. Sam did not turn around this time. She knew the effect of her improper comment on Miss Shirely who bristled slightly as Sam pasted a pleasant smile across her face.

  “I have not had any difficulties this evening. Thank you for your concern,” Miss Shirely responded through clenched teeth.

  “Miss Hastings, I would like to offer my heartiest congratulations on your upcoming nuptials,” Miss Clemens stated courteously, her shy voice holding a pleasing melodious tone.

  Miss Shirely’s face turned red. She opened her mouth to issue Miss Clemens a scathing retort, but paused, her mind working furiously. Instead, Miss Shirely settled for growling under her breath and flounced out of the room without another word. Several girls trailed behind, a kind of informal procession, offering their sympathies in whispered tones.

  Sam smiled graciously, “Thank you for that lovely sentiment, Miss Clemens.”

  “Enough with all this formality,” interrupted Mrs. Stanton suddenly with another thump of her cane. “Daphne, I would like to present Miss Samantha Hastings. Miss Hastings, I would like to present my niece, Miss Daphne Clemens.”

  Miss Clemens moved to curtsy, obligating Sam to rise and mirror the action. They bumped heads and broke apart, laughing.

  “Samantha,” Mrs. Stanton interrupted, her eyes twinkling, “as you are now part of my family, or will be shortly,” she amended, “you may refer to me as Aunt Abigail.”

  A jarring chord echoed suddenly, announcing the readiness of Miss Leveret. Sam glanced around, shocked by how quickly the room had emptied in the past several minutes.

  “Aunt Abigail,” Sam tested the words.

  “Yes, Samantha,” the woman smiled broadly, indicating her pleasure of the familiarity Sam employed.

  “I have had a charming time sitting next to you during the concert, however,”—Sam grimaced as the first few discordant notes began floating through the room again—“I believe I am in dire need of refreshment. Miss Clemens, would you care to join me?”

  Miss Clemens beamed, a brilliant smile lighting her face. “I would love to.”

  Sam grinned at Wilhelmina. “I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening’s recitals.” Wilhelmina rolled her eyes in response; Abigail snorted.

  “Daphne,” a shrill voice greeted Sam and Miss Clemens as they exited the music room.

  “Mother,” she greeted the woman dejectedly, sighing as a rather large woman, swathed in an abhorrent pastel rose color, stopped directly in front of her.

  “I have been recently informed you were purposely rude to Miss Shirely.” Mrs. Clemens’ voice, frothing with irritation, carried over the din echoing from the music room. She glanced briefly at Sam, sniffed, then continued her rant. “You should be grateful Miss Shirely deigns to spend her time with you.”

  Miss Clemens flushed, embarrassed by the attention drawn from her mother’s chastising tone. “Mother.”

  “I do not welcome the influence of your new acquaintance,” continued Mrs. Clemens, ignoring her daughter.

  “Mrs. Clemens,” began Sam earnestly. “It was not my intention to cause any strife between you and your daughter.”

  Mrs. Clemens eyed Sam disdainfully and sniffed again. “Intentional or not, you have. I would prefer you do not associate with my daughter in the future, Miss….”

  “Samantha Hastings,” answered Miss Clemens, an undercurrent of joy shooting through her comment as if she finally discovered a moment in which she could unbalance her mother.

  “Hastings,” choked Mrs. Clemens. “You are the sister of Mr. Edward Hastings?”

  “Yes, I am,” smiled Sam serenely, tilting her head to the side.

  “And the future wife of Lord Westwood,” added a voice from behind them.

  “Abigail,” scowled Mrs. Clemens. “I should have known you were interfering again.”

  “An introduction is not interference,” stated Abigail blithely.

  “Miss Shirely refuses to continue her instruction of Daphne,” accused Mrs. Clemens.

  “Surely, you do not find that a great loss,” Abigail countered with a smile. “Lord Westwood’s fiancée would certainly be a much better example.”

  Mrs. Clemens grunted. “I have heard differently.”

  “Then you have been misinformed,” another voice broke into the discussion. Wilhelmina joined the circle, standing between Sam and Abigail.

  “Mrs. Hastings,” stammered Mrs. Clemens. “It is a pleasure to see you.”

  Wilhelmina studied Mrs. Clemens for a moment, uncomfortably drawing out the silence. “Indeed,” she finally answered. “It is a delight to see you again too.”

  Mrs. Clemens, eyes bulging, glared at her daughter. “You may spend your time with whomever you wish. Choose carefully though, your future happiness depends upon your decision.”

  “Thank you for your excellent guidance, Mother,” replied Miss Clemens respectfully, adding a short curtsey.

  Undeterred, Mrs. Clemens attempted her argument again. “It took your sister four seasons before she found a suitable husband, and you do not have the same amount of leisure as she.”

  “Miss Hastings is the same age as Daphne, and it took her less than one season to find a suitable husband,” countered Abigail. “If I am not mistaken, Miss Shirely is on her third season, is she not?”

  Wilhelmina nodded in agreement. “That is correct.”

  Realizing her defeat, Mrs. Clemens deflated considerably. She nodded cordially to each woman and retreated from the circle. Her repugnant dress trailed across the floor as she neared a group of three women, including Mrs. Shirely and her vile sister, Mrs. Pierce. Mrs. Clemens leaned in and whispered quickly to the ladies. They glanced up, shaking their heads in unison.

  “I do believe your nephew’s wife will not forgive you for this intrusion,” commented Wilhelmina, her eyes sliding to Mrs. Stanton.

  Abigail shrugged. “At this point, I am too old to care. Now, I trust we are all in need of some refreshment.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Benjamin and Edward entered the ballroom simultaneously. Standing together in the doorway, they created a rather formidable barrier. Searching the sidelines of the crowded room, they discovered Mrs. and Miss Hastings conversing in a large cluster of elegant women, including Mrs. Allendale and Lady Westwood. Approaching the ladies, Edward slipped his arms around his wife from behind. She squealed in delight and twisted sideways in his embrace to give him a quick peck on the cheek, her face rouged with delight.

  “My dear,” Edward replied happily, his arms still wrapped tightly around her waist. “May I request the next dance?”

  “Of course, you may.” Mrs. Hastings giggled like a young girl, the adoration for her husband shining in her eyes.

  Edward swept her away in a swirl of cloth onto the dance floor without another word. Benjamin smiled as he watched Edward disappear among the twirling couples, pleased by his friend’s happiness. Then he turned swiftly toward the group and winked boldly at Miss Hastings. She blushed deeply, the delectable color inciting his carnal thoughts.

  “Mrs. Allendale, delighted to see you this evening,” Benjamin greeted the woman with a warm bow and continued around the circle of women, politely addressing each lady in turn. He re
ached Miss Hastings last, lifting her hand to his mouth, allowing his lips to lightly caress the soft skin, relishing the sizzling contact between them.

  “Mother, I am so happy to see you decided to attend,” Thomas’ teasing voice carried over the music as he leisurely approached the group, a mischievous smile illuminating his features.

  “Thomas,” Lady Westwood smiled broadly. “I must say, I share the exact same sentiment as you.”

  “Ladies,” Thomas bowed so ridiculously low, his hand scraped across the wooden floor. His behavior elicited a giggle from both Miss Hastings and Miss Clemens.

  “Mr. Reid,” Mrs. Allendale arched an eyebrow, “I suppose you have been monopolizing my husband most of the evening.”

  Thomas sighed dramatically. “I am afraid that particular rumor is true.”

  “However, I have escaped from his odious company and come to make amends,” Mr. Allendale answered joyfully as he approached his wife. Flanked by Mr. Leveret and Mr. Mason, each man moved around the circle to stand next to his respective wife.

  Mrs. Allendale beamed at her husband. “Have you left any libations for Mr. Leveret?”

  “Not a drop,” replied Mr. Leveret with a boisterous laugh.

  “Miss Hastings,” rumbled Benjamin in a husky voice, his voice whispering softly in her ear. He moved a bit closer, allowing the flames building between them to course enticingly over his skin. “I believe you agreed to take a stroll about the terrace with me.”

  She flushed again, glancing at the floor and answering him quietly, allowing the group’s focus to remain on Mr. Leveret as he began a long-winded tale about his university years. “Lord Westwood, if that is the promise I made, I must follow through with my obligation.”

  Benjamin raised his eyebrows in mock distress. “Your obligation? I certainly would never want to force you to do anything distasteful.”