“Of course, I will, gladly!”
“Well, then. Goodb-bye!”
She watched him go with a warm glow, brought on by the certainty that he valued her companionship more highly than that of Elvira, but blinked at herself for feeling little else at his departure. This disquieting realization forced her to sink back down onto a chair, and she mused over the interactions of the last several weeks, to see if she could discover the depth of her feelings. These, after some probing, proved depressingly shallow, and based on fairly flimsy footings. Her romantic tendencies, however, rejected these findings outright and, after some mental gyrations, she was able to conclude that her lack of despondency must stem from an innate confidence in his fidelity to her, and only a ninny would be so ill-bred as to resent his obedient return to his family. The more she reflected on the excellence of Mr. Barnabus’s character, and the certainty that he was the hero of the story she and Elvira had so painstakingly constructed, the more the circumstance of his being taken from their circle took on a desolate hue, and she began to feel positively low. This, she concluded happily, was proof of her devotion, and she found herself able to return to the gaiety of the ballroom without compunction.
Immediately upon entering the crowded room, however, she was accosted by Lord Castleton, whose apologies for his rudeness and professions of contrition at offending her were so effusive that she accepted his invitation to dance merely to halt his tongue. This gambit was only partially successful, however, as he left off abusing himself to take up cataloguing her virtues, which was embarrassing enough, had not his blandishments been contingent upon his own superiority. Already regretting her rash decision to stand up with him, Lenora resolved upon preserving a civil countenance and leaving him as soon as she was able, but at the end of the dance, not ceasing his encomiums, Lord Castleton proceeded to lead her out onto the balcony, where he was sure she would enjoy the fresh air. As his actions were accompanied by many winks and a squeeze at her waist, Lenora quickly forgot her resolve to be civil, and when her desire that he instantly take her back into the ballroom was ignored, indignation suffused her person.
An angry attempt to remove herself from his company was greeted by a rush of rather moist proclamations of his undying love, and an attempt at a loose-lipped kiss thwarted only by Lenora’s being able, due to his lordship’s eyes being closed in ardor, to side-step, causing her cavalier to career into a tall shrub growing at the edge of the balcony. She had taken only two steps back toward safety, however, when she felt his hands close about her wrist and she was wrenched into the shadows and into a tight embrace. Over his lordship’s shoulder, Lenora’s eyes sought desperately for Tom, but the press inside the ballroom was too great, and her outraged cries were not heard over the noise. She thought frantically that if she could only break free of her tormentor, she could flee from him into the garden, but this train of thought broke off abruptly when a tall figure suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“I see you are in need of assistance, Miss Breckinridge,” said Sir Joshua, firmly removing Lord Castleton’s arms from Lenora’s person. In a trice, he had shoved his lordship bodily into the shrubbery, and was offering her his arm. “I believe your brother has been looking for you, ma’am. May I take you to him?”
She murmured something, too overcome to order her mind properly, and walked a little unsteadily with him back into the crowded ballroom.
Once surrounded by the press, Sir Joshua leaned his head down to her. “Are you alright, Miss Breckinridge?”
She clung to his arm with both hands. “Yes, thank you, sir. I am only angry and—and—”
“It is very understandable how you feel,” he murmured, patting her hands comfortingly. “You will drink a glass of lemonade, then I will take you to your brother. He ought to have been watching over you.”
“He—he was, sir, but I told him not to worry so. I never imagined that—”
“One does not, to be sure, ma’am. Indeed, if you have any of your mother’s blood in you, you could not.” He handed her a glass of lemonade and stayed by her side until she had recovered her color. Taking her glass, he smiled down at her. “Now, I do not think you are very worse for the experience, do you?”
She exhaled and shook her head. “Indeed, I think I am better, for now I shall know how to go on, if ever I am accosted so again.”
“Good. To learn from adversity is wisdom, and shows you to be very mature indeed.”
She blushed, looking gratefully up at him, and let him lead her to Tom. Her brother was outraged by what he deemed “that pup’s dashed insolence,” but after a quiet conference with Sir Joshua, he declared his intention to meet with Lenora before every dance, to satisfy himself as to her safety, and as to the propriety of her partner, but to leave her to enjoy herself otherwise. With another speaking look to Sir Joshua, Lenora went with Tom to find a suitable partner.
Sir Joshua, having seen his two young friends safely into the next set, made his way across the room to Mrs. Breckinridge. She, interrupted in dull conversation with a matron whose sole purpose in life seemed to be to enumerate the many ills of her children, happily excused herself at his approach, and rose to greet him.
“Sir Joshua, I had not thought to see you here.”
“Mrs. Breckinridge. I had a previous dinner engagement, but assured Amelia I meant to come afterward.” He bowed over her hand and murmured just so she could hear, “Am I come in time to rescue you once again?”
Keeping admirable control over her countenance, she said brightly, “Ah! Your timing is excellent, sir!” Then, to repay him, she glanced pointedly over his shoulder and murmured, “Or do I owe the pleasure to Lady Castleton? Does she hunt you again, or is it her daughter?”
His eyes widened and he cast a quick glance around, which brought an impish smile to Mrs. Breckinridge’s lips. He returned a rather cold gaze to her. “That was not kind in you, ma’am, and now you will do penance by standing up with me.”
“Oh, surely you must know that would be more a punishment to you than to me, sir,” she said, her eyes still gleaming.
“I know nothing of the sort, ma’am. Do you waltz? I have a particular desire to see you waltz, and how better to do it than to dance with you?”
She stared at him, taken completely out of her stride. “You behold me speechless, Sir Joshua. One of your startling compliments again! But I have determined to take you at your word, so, yes, sir, I will dance with you.”
The already heady feeling of being so close to a man for the entirety of the dance was heightened by the fact that, as she had admitted to Lenora only days before, Genevieve really did know that Sir Joshua was a romantic figure. She had been increasingly aware of it these past few weeks, and as their friendship had grown, so had her regard for him. She had quickly recognized that his solemnity sprang merely from a solidity of moral character that was, to a woman of her experience, vastly preferable to the more common carelessness of gentlemen of fashion, and it hid a ready sense of humor that exactly fit Mrs. Breckinridge’s ideal. His person was attractive as well, and within the circle of his arms, and responding readily to his enjoyable conversation, she forgot herself so far as to fantasize that he was not like a brother to her.
But her pleasure in the evening was to end with the waltz, for as Sir Joshua led her back to her chair, she noticed Lady Castleton in reality bearing down upon them, and reluctantly advised Sir Joshua of this impending danger. As she had foreseen, he bowed quickly over her hand, murmuring something about the card room, and was gone, leaving her feeling slightly bereft.
Lady Castleton, rather than sailing by, deigned to pause beside Mrs. Breckinridge, looking her up and down through beady eyes. “Well, little Genevieve Wainsley has unburied herself at last!” she said in her brusque manner. “Though, you cannot be blamed, my dear, for keeping hidden so long, society being so unforgiving as it is. Anyone with any sensibility will agree that you were
right to wait.”
“Ah, Cassandra, what a pleasure! Yes, I have risen from the ashes of my deplorable marriage and come to cast myself at the feet of such liberal persons as yourself. And as you see, the prodigal has been welcomed with open arms!” Genevieve placed a hand over her heart and said, with an ingratiating look, “I am overcome.”
Lady Castleton’s sneer deepened into a frown. “Less generous persons would say you got your desserts, but I should never say so. No, I cannot imagine the distress of watching a hard-won fortune disappear before one’s very eyes, and one’s idol proven to be the veriest brute, and I would never wish such revelations on anyone.” She lifted a cynical eyebrow. “Even you, Genevieve.”
“It is very odd in you, for I seem to recall you wishing me the very thing just after my wedding day. But memories are tricky things, you know. For example, I vividly remember marrying Bertram for love, but you are not the first to assure me that I married for money. I confess I cannot find it in me to thank you for undeceiving me, for it is excessively lowering to believe yourself possessed of virtue, and then to discover you have been all along a viper.” She had the satisfaction of watching the color rise up into her ladyship’s face.
“Some Persons find it easy to persuade themselves into love, when there are greater inducements at hand. But it is all of a piece, dearest Genevieve. I cannot conjecture why I should have entertained the expectation that your sufferings must have altered you.”
“Nor can I, my dear Cassandra, for how can one who has not changed a whit hope to perceive change in another?”
Her ladyship reared her head back, assuming the posture of a Great Lady. “In spite of your impudence, I feel it incumbent upon me to put a little word in your ear, my dear. My Dulcinea has fairly captivated the very gentleman you seem to have in your eye. I should not wish you to make more of a fool of yourself than you must, and so I trust you will look otherwhere to recoup your losses.”
This speech fell a trifle flat, for Genevieve’s attention had been arrested too early in it to pay the heed it deserved. She blinked rapidly, her lips twitching with the urge to let forth a most ungenteel laugh. “D-dulcinea? Oh, what—what a lovely name!” Her inner devil, on such a loose rein, rather unsurprisingly unfurled its genius, and she clasped her hands ecstatically before her. “My dear Cassandra, you are to be congratulated! Such perspicacity to bestow so magnificent an appellation upon an infant, and so be prepared for just the eventuality in which you find yourself. You behold me in awe.”
“What can you be insinuating?” demanded Lady Castleton, looking thunderous. “Shameless creature, you will tell me at once!”
“Oh, my dear,” said Mrs. Breckinridge, executing a flowing curtsey, “it is only that in clothing your daughter in such beauty from birth, you have made liars of all who consider her plain.”
Her ladyship, bereft of speech, swept away, and Genevieve gracefully resumed her seat, too well-bred to outwardly revel in her victory. Indeed, she could not, for though she had affected not to attend her, Lady Castleton’s barbed hints that she had set her cap at Sir Joshua had struck home, and thrown her mind into a state of perturbation she was at much trouble to resolve.
It had never been her intention to catch anyone for her daughter this season, but she could not pretend to be unaware of Lenora’s admiration for Sir Joshua, and the knowledge that others had observed it as well, and had accorded it such a despicable motive, deeply mortified her. There was no denying Sir Joshua’s being a matrimonial prize—Lady Castleton herself had set her sights on him for her daughter—and hopes of a match between him and a portionless girl like Lenora would be considered the height of pretention. But another, less defined sensation strove in her breast, one which loudly deprecated Lenora’s right to Sir Joshua’s heart, and she cravenly put it down to Lady Castleton’s insinuations.
Her ruminations were here interrupted by Tom, who came to sit beside her with a sigh. “What an evening, Mama.”
“Are you not enjoying yourself, Tom?”
“Oh, yes, hugely, despite Lenora.” He caught her worried look. “Oh, don’t fret for me, Mama! I’ve had a capital time! That Miss Marshall!”
She smiled and took his hand. “She is a lovely girl, Tom. I like her very much.”
He looked down bashfully, but rallied her with, “And you’ve been cutting a dash tonight, Mama! Don’t try to deny it. I saw you dancing with Sir Joshua—the waltz, no less!”
She colored, a flood of contradictory emotions threatening to overpower her. She wisely turned the subject. “I think Lenora has enjoyed herself as well.”
Tom grimaced. “Yes, though it’s been dashed exhausting for me!”
“How so, dear?”
“It’s no easy thing to keep an eye out for any rum touch who may present himself.”
“But surely you saw no need to put yourself out tonight, Tom! Lady Wraglain assured me—”
“Well, she didn’t tell you she’d invited that commoner Castleton, who thought it good sport to get Lenora alone on the balcony!”
“Oh, dear. No doubt he was foxed. I suppose you gave him a set-down?”
“Didn’t have to, Mama. Sir Joshua did it for me, and I’ll be honest with you, I’m glad he did.”
Mrs. Breckinridge had suddenly succumbed to a sort of numbness, and could not comment.
“Sir Joshua’s as good a fellow as ever breathed, Mama. Can’t say I don’t wish he would quit beating about the bush and—” He broke off with a conscious little smile. “Well, I’m sure you know what I mean.” Then, spying Miss Marshall alone nearby, he made his gallant excuses to his mama and took himself off to beg a second dance.
As soon as she was able to mobilize her thoughts, Mrs. Breckinridge stridently suppressed the nameless sensation that had suddenly assumed the mien of a suspiciously green-eyed monster. She could not be jealous of Lenora—Sir Joshua was a brother to her, an uncle to her children, and a man who, with half the eligible maidens at his feet, would never even think to throw his attentions away on a worn-out woman. Indeed, she did not wish him to, being herself inured to the idea of romance. She had her children to care for, and her home to reclaim, and—and not a thought to spare for such frivolous notions as twilight love. Firmly rejecting the wry thought that she had windmills in her head, she squared herself to dispassionately consider the evening’s revelations in light of Lenora’s happiness.
Though Lenora surely cared for Sir Joshua, she also had a marked interest in Mr. Barnabus which, as the recent overheard conversation attested, strongly suggested that she did not know her own heart. She was young yet, in body as well as in mind, as Mrs. Breckinridge very well knew when she laid her plans to bring Lenora out this season. Only a conviction that Lenora was not ready to pledge her life to one man had given Genevieve the complaisance to move forward with her plans, but that conviction, she now realized, had not taken into account the emotions Lenora should possibly excite in male breasts. Mr. Barnabus she was fairly sure meant nothing by Lenora but friendship, and until tonight, Sir Joshua’s manners toward her daughter had appeared to her so staid that she had experienced only moments of distress, and generally only from Lenora’s open admiration of him. But as an attachment to him would leave Lenora’s heart vulnerable, Mrs. Breckinridge dutifully acknowledged that it behooved her to ascertain the degree to which Sir Joshua returned Lenora’s affection.
This resolution reached, Mrs. Breckinridge could do nothing better than to put the matter out of her head, and she did so, only descending into a brown study twice before turning to the chaperone next to her and engaging in conversation wholly appropriate to responsible and aged matrons. She signally failed, however, to recall more than two of Tom’s childhood illnesses, being distracted by reminiscences of Lenora’s sunny disposition from a child and the development of her lively sense of humor, and so was forced to doggedly attend to her companion’s much more comprehensive saga.
The ploy ultimately failed to prevent her from entertaining morbid thoughts, so she excused herself from this particular purgatory and marched purposefully to the refreshment table in search of something to recruit her stability. But when she reached for a glass of champagne, another hand lifted it for her, and she turned, and stared in plain astonishment at the most unwelcome gentleman beside her.
He tutted. “What a greeting for an old friend, Mrs. Breckinridge! If it were not you, I should be affronted, but I believe I know you well enough to comprehend your feelings.”
“My Lord Montrose,” she said, with sufficient calm. “I did not know you were to be here.”
“Or you should have stayed at home?” he said knowingly. “By happy chance, I am the guest of young Lord Castleton at the moment, so it is to his pity that you owe your discomfiture.”
“Oh, I am not so small-minded,” she said, recovering enough to take out her fan in an effort to keep from glancing about for Lenora. “How lucky for you to have found such a friend.”
“Yes, I should say so.” He took the fan from her, offering her the glass still in his hand. “It is insufferably hot,” he said, plying the fan for her.
She laughed and took a judicious gulp of the champagne. “Yes, though one could not expect less, with such attendance. I declare you must be only one of many who have come uninvited.”
“Yes, and a great many of them too superstitious to open a window!” he said, his eyes never leaving her face. “I happen to know the way to the gardens, however.”
“What an excellent idea, my lord.” She set down her empty glass and plucked the fan from his grasp. “Do not you let me keep you.”
He possessed himself of her hand as she turned away. “No, you must come see the gardens, Genevieve. They are lovely in the moonlight.”
“I apprehend it is the moon that calls you, my lord,” she said smoothly, “in which case, I should be a fool to accompany you. I’ve no doubt others of your kind will respond to its call, and it should be horrific to find myself surrounded by your fellow creatures.”
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