Only the thought of her promise to Captain Goldsborough enabled her to release her grip on the carriage strap and allow Mr. Dillon to hand her down.
The street in front of the house was jammed with carriages and the sidewalk was overcrowded with people waiting to enter, and Joanna instinctively shrank back. The ladies were so elegant, and the gentlemen loomed so terrifyingly tall above her. Whatever had made her think she belonged here?
Beside her a woman in a shockingly low-cut scarlet gown was clinging to the arm of a man in a German uniform, and ahead of her a party of five young English cavalry officers were loudly discussing the merits of their favorite horses. No one appeared to have noticed Joanna, for which she could only be thankful.
“Oh, look, up ahead, I do believe that is Lord Uxbridge. Do you suppose the duke will be in attendance this evening?”
Joanna was about to confess that she had not the slightest idea what Wellington’s plans for the evening were, when Mrs. Dillon answered calmly, “I have heard he is expected to drop in later, after the opera.”
Relentlessly propelled by the flow of the crowd, Joanna moved forward, finally entering the residence, then slowly being squeezed up the stairs. Her immediate fear was that she might be trampled in the crush. But even that seemed a preferable fate to the more likely prospect of being separated from the others in her party and left to face the masses of strangers all alone.
Once, when she had been four or five, her father had taken them to a fair, as a special treat. She had loved it, until somehow she had gotten separated from her family. Surrounded by large strangers, she had been terrified for what seemed like an eternity, before her brother had found her and scooped her up in his arms and told her not to be such a baby.
Just such a feeling of terror possessed her now, and she would have given anything to reach out and grab Belinda’s hand and cling to it... except that Joanna was not a small child, and she could not behave in such a childish way, no matter how comforting it would be.
To add to her distress, the heat on the stairs was formidable, and the mingled scents of hot wax, sweat, and various musky perfumes almost gagged her. It was only after they reached the ballroom that she felt able to take a deep breath.
At once she was awestruck. Never in her life had she seen anything to compare to the view that met her eyes—the monstrous porcelain chandeliers hung with lusters, the colorful uniforms on the men, the diamond- and ruby-encrusted women, the orchestra playing the most beautiful music Joanna had ever heard—it was all overwhelming to her senses. Nothing she had previously experienced had prepared her for this spectacle.
Beside her Mrs. Dillon raised her lorgnette and coolly surveyed the crowded room. “Rather flat, I am afraid. I suspect we would have done better to have gone to the musical at the Sedgwicks’, except that German sopranos always give me such a headache.”
Pushing her way through the masses of people like a man-of-war, Mrs. Dillon led the way to a bank of gilt chairs where the chaperones were sitting with their young charges. After she and the two girls were duly seated, Mr. Dillon announced his intention of finding the card room and left them to their own devices.
“Are you not excited?” Belinda leaned over and whispered in Joanna’s ear. “Your very first dance.”
“I must confess that ‘terrified’ more nearly describes my emotions,” Joanna whispered back, trying her best to keep her voice light, as if she were making a joke.
“Coward,” Belinda said with a gurgling laugh. “You have nothing to be afraid of. I shall see to it that you have a partner for every dance. Oh, la, here come my devoted admirers.” Releasing Joanna’s arm, she began fluttering her fan and looking demure.
In minutes they were surrounded by a growing crowd composed mostly of young officers, all jockeying for position as near as possible to Belinda. One of them stumbled against Joanna’s chair, and for a minute she was fearful she might end up with an ensign on her lap.
Then, to her total horror she heard Belinda say in a loud voice, “I have decided that anyone wishing to dance with me this evening must also sign my friend’s card.”
Dead silence followed Belinda’s tactless remark; then everyone—officers, chaperones, and the other young girls in the immediate vicinity—turned to stare at Joanna. It seemed an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds before general conversation resumed, and there was a rush to sign her card.
Her embarrassment at Belinda’s public announcement was so great, Joanna was unable to meet the eyes of any of the young men who one after the other were introduced to her. They politely, albeit hurriedly, solicited dances from her, and her mumbled acceptance was apparently adequate response.
In spite of the impressive number of names soon scrawled on her dance card, almost all her pleasure in the evening was gone, destroyed forever by Belinda, who had made it blatantly clear to everyone that Joanna was nothing more than an object of pity—a charity case, too plain to attract the slightest masculine attention.
After such an inauspicious beginning, what other disasters might the evening hold?
Her only consolation was the posy that Captain Goldsborough had sent to her—a mixture of yellow and white blossoms that were unfamiliar to her. Clutching it tightly to her breast, she silently prayed that somehow she might be rescued from the nightmare she now found herself in.
Then, as if her thoughts had conjured him up, a masculine form filled her line of vision, and Joanna looked up to see Captain Goldsborough smiling down at her.
“I hope you have saved a waltz for me.”
Instantly her embarrassment and her fears receded. She was safe at last. “I am not sure which dances I have promised and which are still free.” Looking down at her card, she saw that Belinda’s admirers had written their names primarily beside the country dances, leaving the waltzes for the most part free. She smiled in relief and held out her card to the captain.
“Ah, the first waltz is to be mine. I am honored.” He quickly scribbled his name down for the first and last waltzes, then introduced Lieutenant Walrond and Captain Fitzhugh, two other officers in her brother’s regiment, who also signed their names. Joanna was well aware that Captain Goldsborough had undoubtedly coerced them into requesting dances, but she could only be glad he had not made it public knowledge the way Belinda had.
“I am happy to see that you are carrying my flowers,” Captain Goldsborough said, his eyes straying to Belinda.
Feeling sympathy for his shattered hopes, Joanna was compelled to explain, although it was really not her place to do so, “Belinda received so many nosegays, and she could not wish to hurt anyone’s feelings, so in the end she chose to carry the flowers provided by her father.”
Captain Goldsborough’s expression lightened a bit, and he politely discussed the sights of Brussels with her until her first partner claimed her for a country dance.
* * * *
“Sank you for za dance, Fraulein Pettigrew.” Allowing her partner, a rather fat German major who spoke surprisingly good, although heavily accented English, to relinquish her into the care of Mrs. Dillon, Joanna tried to convince herself that she was having a marvelous time. It was surprisingly hard to do. “I believe this is my waltz, Miss Pettigrew.” Joanna was pulled out of her musings to see a young English officer bowing in front of her. Not remembering his name among so many she had been introduced to, she surreptitiously checked her dance card. “To be sure, Lieutenant Gryndle.” She moved out onto the dance floor with him. It was not that she disliked the dancing—she loved it and had discovered she was able to remember without difficulty the steps of the country dances Belinda had taught her back home in England. Nor did she have the slightest trouble following her partner’s lead during the waltzes, although she still found it shocking to be held so close in a man’s arms.
Unfortunately, no one appeared to notice how proficient she was. Even while dancing with her, her partners were not able to keep their eyes and their attention off Belinda. None of them so
far, except of course for Captain Goldsborough, who was in all ways a perfect gentleman, had made even the slightest effort to engage Joanna in conversation.
Not that she could blame them. Who would not prefer to feast his eyes on her friend, whose brilliant good looks made not only Joanna but also every other young girl in the ballroom look drab in comparison, and whose gay laughter made even the most cynical chaperone smile?
Lost in thought as she was, Joanna was caught completely off guard when her partner suddenly stopped dancing and pulled her behind some heavy velvet draperies and into his arms.
It happened so quickly, she was able to gasp out only a startled “Oh” before he pressed his lips against hers, squeezing her ribs so tightly he virtually cut off her breath.
Just as Joanna thought she must surely faint, Lieutenant Gryndle released her, and she staggered backward, gasping for breath.
The lieutenant’s face seemed to be contorted with pain, and she realized someone was twisting his arm behind his back ....
To her dismay, Joanna was able even in the dim lighting of the little alcove to recognize that the man who had rescued her was Captain Goldsborough. What must he think of her, to have found her in such a compromising situation?
In a low voice he muttered something in the lieutenant’s ear. Joanna could not make out the words, but whatever the captain said, it caused the blood to drain out of Lieutenant Gryndle’s face. He started to reply to the captain, but another jerk on his arm cut off the excuse he was going to offer.
Moments later the captain released him, and without an apology or a backward look, the lieutenant fled through the curtains, leaving Joanna alone with the captain.
His expression was so fierce, for a moment she was almost frightened of him, but his words immediately made it clear that he did not hold her to blame for what had happened.
“Are you all right?”
She tried to tell him she was, but she was shaking too much to speak, so she only nodded. He cursed under his breath, then put his arm around her shoulder. She leaned her head against his chest and tried desperately to calm the over-rapid beating of her heart, which was not caused entirely by Lieutenant Gryndle’s attack, but partly by Captain Goldsborough’s masterful rescue.
It was, after all, very romantic to be saved by the man she most admired, just as if she were the heroine in a romantic novel.
“It is my fault,” he said finally. “I had no idea that Gryndle would single you out for attention. Although he is of good family and is accepted everywhere, he has already acquired a rather unsavory reputation. He will not bother you again, of that you may be sure. And I shall let the others of his ilk know also that if they bother you in any way, they will have to answer to me.”
Captain Goldsborough smiled down at her, and her heart, which had begun to slow down, again began to race.
“I promised you I would look after you like a brother, and so I shall do.”
Like a brother. All the silly romantic notions fled out of Joanna’s mind, and she was able to step away from Captain Goldsborough’s arm and say quite matter-of-factly, “Thank you very much for your help, but I believe you had best return me to Mrs. Dillon now, before someone else decides to make use of this alcove and discovers us here.”
She was quite proud of the way she projected a calmness she was actually far from feeling. She could only hope that no one would suspect anything was amiss.
There was more to looking after a young lady than seeing to it her dance card was filled, Nicholas realized. He shuddered inwardly at the nearness of the disaster he had just averted. Since he was the one responsible for Miss Pettigrew’s presence at the dance, how could he ever have explained to her brother that while under his care her reputation had been sullied, or even completely destroyed?
He could only be thankful he had not had a partner for this dance, and so had happened to notice who Joanna’s partner was. As soon as he had recognized Gryndle, Nicholas had started making his way around the ballroom toward the couple, halfway expecting the lieutenant to try something of this sort. He had arrived a scant minute too late, and he would forever regret that Miss Pettigrew had been subjected to such cavalier treatment.
As they reached their destination without further mishap, his companion released his arm and reseated herself at Mrs. Dillon’s side. Nicholas searched Miss Pettigrew’s face for signs of distress after her ordeal, but her expression was quite calm when she looked up at him and thanked him in a quiet voice.
“If I might borrow your dance card for a moment?” he requested, also keeping his voice low so that Mrs. Dillon and the other chaperones would not hear.
“Oh, yes,” she murmured, thrusting it at him as if it burned her fingers.
A quick perusal revealed the name of another man he would never have allowed his own sister to dance with, and two more were questionable. Deciding it was better to err on the side of caution, he crossed off all three names and handed the card back.
“If you will allow me, I shall find you more suitable partners.”
“Willingly,” she said. “And I thank you again for your assistance.”
He did not deserve her trusting smile, but he would see to it that he did not fail her again.
Chapter 3
The moon was setting when Nicholas strode into the hotel that was doing temporary duty as a makeshift officers’ club. As soon as the Dillons had departed the dance, taking Miss Pettigrew along with them, he had determined to seek out her brother and persuade him to take a more active interest in his sister’s welfare.
But his friend was not sleeping in his quarters, nor was he engaged in any official duty. By dint of questioning, Nicholas had finally tracked him to this place.
The main room was low-ceilinged and smoke-filled. Those few officers who remained were sunken in half-stupors, the candles were guttering in their sockets, and the soft light filtering around the edges of the heavy curtains at the windows indicated that there remained at best two or three hours for sleep before their attendance would be required on the parade grounds.
Gazing around impatiently, Nicholas finally spotted his friend. In one corner, almost hidden by a keg of French brandy balanced precariously on four gilt chairs, Mark was still playing cards with an Austrian major, who appeared so far gone in his cups, it was unlikely he could even read the spots on the cards.
Just as Nicholas reached them, the major’s head fell forward onto the table, and he began to snore loudly. Mark calmly stood up and began clearing the table of coins and banknotes, stuffing them carelessly into his pockets.
“Not a bad evening’s work,” he said cheerfully, his voice betraying only slight traces of brandy. “The estimable major whom you see before you was suffering from the twin delusions that he understands the intricacies of piquet and that he can hold his liquor. I believe I have corrected his misconceptions on both scores.”
Nicholas did not return the smile. He had intended to make it clear to his friend that his first responsibility ought to be to his sister and that he should be willing to give up his own preferred entertainment to accompany her to dances.
But now that the moment was at hand, Nicholas realized it was not the easiest thing to do, to question another man’s way of handling family matters. A great deal of tact would be required.
Mark began buttoning his coat. Looking down at the sleeping major, he asked, “Do you suppose he will remember how I have fleeced him? Or do you think the brandy has so befuddled his mind that tomorrow evening I can again entice him into playing with me?”
Recognizing his opportunity, Nicholas jumped in with both feet. “It would be more to the point if you would accompany your sister to the Andervilles’ ball tomorrow evening. I am sure she would be overjoyed to have your escort.”
“My sister?” Mark stared at him in amazement.
“Yes, your sister. You do remember that you have a sister, don’t you, and that she is here in Brussels?” Nicholas’s anger spilled over. So much fo
r tact.
He turned to walk away, but Mark caught him by the shoulder and spun him back. “You think I prefer to spend my time with conceited drunkards like the major rather than with my sister? You think I would not prefer to take Joanna riding in the park than to waste my time translating the fulsome compliments that all and sundry generals feel compelled to exchange? Do you think I wish to see my sister clad in her friend’s cast-offs and living off some rich cit’s charity?”
Nicholas shook off his friend’s hand. “Then why do you ignore her? Why do you not concern yourself more for her welfare?”
Nicholas was shocked and a little embarrassed by the naked emotion visible in his friend’s eyes. Turning his head away, he pretended an interest in the playing cards that were spilled on the table.
“I have no choice,” Mark said bitterly. “You have an estate to go home to; your brother-in-law is a duke, you have family, connections, money. I have nothing to fall back on, so I must forgo enjoying the present and look to the future, confound it.”
His voice was becoming louder, and Nicholas realized they were in danger of rousing the few remaining officers from their alcoholic stupors. Taking his friend by the elbow, he led him out of the club and into the street.
“I cannot afford to pass up an opportunity, whether ‘tis spending an evening fleecing an Austrian major or spending an afternoon running errands for one of our own officers,” Pettigrew continued dispassionately as they walked in the direction of their lodging.
Then he stopped walking and turned to face Nicholas. “Do you understand? If it were not for Joanna, I could perhaps stay in the military, but I must provide her with a home, which I cannot do if I am sent from one posting to another or if I am put on half-pay. And I am not so foolish as to pretend she might someday attract a husband.”
“Surely you are exaggerating the case. Granted, Joanna is rather plain, but there is nothing about her features which would cause someone to take her in disgust. Besides which, her generous spirit and sweetness of manner are quite appealing. In addition, I have found her pleasant to talk to, and I do not regret the time I have spent in her company.”
The Resolute Runaway Page 3