Rescuing Rosalind (Three Original Ladies and Their Gentlemen)

by Vandagriff, G. G.

  “Perhaps. But I think Ganymede will stay with me when things chance to be dull upon the high seas. I carry my Shakespeare with me, you see.”

  “It is rather a pity you are so old,” Fanny said, dimpling as she suppressed a grin.

  “I should not do for Orlando, I suppose.”

  “His love for Rosalind made him a bit silly. Putting those love letters in trees and so forth. You seem far too sensible to do such a thing.”

  “You, my good girl, know nothing of my nature. Do not make the mistake I myself made this afternoon and judge a book by its cover.” He sipped his consommé. “Among my men, I am considered brash rather than sensible, I’m afraid.”

  “That is promising. On your next leave, you must come to visit us at Shearings during the season. I will be properly out.”

  “I should like to see that, I must confess. But you will probably be married by then, Miss Edwards. I am quite certain you will have forgotten who I am.”

  “Will you be here tomorrow?”

  “If it snows, as it promises to, I will put off my journey and remain here until the roads are clear.”

  “Excellent! You will have to make good on our wager. I will pray tonight for snow.” Forgetting her pose, she clapped her hands and then clasped them under her chin, her eyes flashing with excitement. “You must indulge me.”

  He smiled broadly. “I may be wrong, but I think you are already overindulged.”

  His words stung. Withdrawing, she cast her eyes away from his laughing ones. “How very ungallant of you.” Her jaw hardened.

  “Excuse my bluntness. I am used to saying what I think. A captain’s prerogative.”

  “Well, I do not intend to speak to you of my private affairs, but I can tell you this much: you are very wrong, indeed.” Thinking of the home she had escaped only weeks before, her bosom swelled at the injustice of this remark.

  “Forgive me, then.”

  The idea of reading Shakespeare with a man who thought her spoiled no longer appealed. “I acquit you of your debt. You may spend your day as you please.” With those words, Fanny turned her head and began speaking to her brother-in-law, the duke, who was seated at the end of the table on her other side. She recounted to Peter an amusing conversation she had had with his two year old son, Alistair, in the nursery that afternoon.

  When they gathered in the drawing room after the meal, Fanny chattered with simulated animation to her sister, all the time aware of the marquis’s every move. At length, she could not keep him from approaching her.

  Bowing, the captain said, “I beg your pardon if I upset you. I was unduly personal. It was not well done of me.”

  Fanny inclined her head cooly. “Yes. If we were better acquainted, you would have known how wrong you were.”

  “It is a shame I must leave so soon to rejoin my frigate. I think I must enjoy becoming better acquainted with you.”

  “Good night, Lord Deal,” Fanny said, nodding a regal dismissal. “I would retire now. I find I am quite fatigued.”

  * * *

  As soon as she awakened the next morning, Fanny got out of bed and ran to the window to check the weather. The snow had held off. She did not know whether to be glad or sorry.

  The thought of the captain’s deep green eyes registering warm approval as they rested upon her when she entered the drawing room still lingered. And oh, how she wished she could have had a chance to regain his good opinion and prove him wrong. She was not spoiled! Just impetuous. Anyone who had been raised by “Lady Hatchet” deserved a little fun when she finally escaped and, the need to be a lady aside, Fanny had only just started having fun.

  { 3 }

  THREE YEARS LATER

  Buck walked into Lady Wyndham’s ballroom, the first time he had done such a thing in many years. He tried to remember what age he had been at the time of his last appearance before the ton, but he had been at war since he was twelve years old, and the intervening years had blended together. Only when his leaves had coincided with the spring Season had he ever had the leisure to see how society comported itself.

  In general, he found the frivolity not to his taste. During the past twenty years, his life had taken place against a large canvas, including voyages to the far side of the world. Cards and dancing were such tiny, meaningless occupations in comparison. With the war at an end and Napoleon imprisoned on St. Helena, there was black doubt in his mind as to whether he could ever adjust. He loved the sea. He relished battle. What in life could compare to the exultant feeling one experienced when one boarded an enemy ship with its defeated crew to raise the Union Jack?

  That afternoon, he had discussed the matter at White’s with his friend, Ruisdell.

  “Buck, you will want some time to adjust. I thought much as you when I was invalided out of the army. I found society a shallow thing, and was jaded and bored beyond belief.”

  “You seem contented enough now.”

  “I met Elise, and my world changed.”

  “One woman did that?”

  “I know it isn’t fashionable to speak of it, but love did that. Elise is remarkable. In addition to her obvious charms, she is forever involved in schemes to make life less of a burden for the poor.” Pausing, he lit a cigar and drew on it. “Not every enemy wears a French uniform. Elise has helped me to look closer to home. There are hunger, homelessness, dismemberment, and other evils caused by the war. My wife and her volunteers run a soup kitchen in the East End for the families of wounded soldiers. My friends Northbrooke and Beverley help me to place the unemployed in work that they can take pride in, that fits their skills.” He paused, seeming to reflect. “Then there is the orphanage Beverley has set up for boys whose fathers were soldiers. They are trained for the woolen trade. His wife even writes gothic melodramas for the boys to perform.” He grinned. “Vastly entertaining.” Then leaning towards Buck, he said, “In a very small way, I feel we are fighting a battle here on the home front. We would certainly be glad of your help expanding these efforts to veteran sailors.”

  Buck had shaken his head. “But what of adventure? What of conquest?”

  Ruisdell had removed his cigar and given a deep, rich laugh. “I can tell, my dear fellow, that you have not spent any amount of time around well-bred females who require wooing!”

  “I have made sure not to. My mother was supposedly well bred, as you will recall.”

  Ruisdell observed him as he drew on his cigar. “Bad luck, old man. I had forgotten all about that scandal. I can see why you would be somewhat cynical.” He tapped ash into the dish in front of him. “My mother was hardly a paragon. I can sympathize. Recall the rogue I was! The worst in England, they said. You were at sea at the time, but the only reason I gave Elise any attention at all was that Somerset bet me a hefty sum that seducing her would cure my ennui.”

  He laughed. “Needless to say, I lost the bet. She has never ceased to enchant me.”

  And so, little more than half grudgingly, Buck had accepted Lady Wyndham’s invitation. Standing on the staircase that ran up one wall of the ballroom while waiting to greet his host and hostess, he ran his eyes over the crowd below. A vast range of colored silks reflected in Lady Wyndham’s mirrored wall. There were even men dressed in such odd colors as lavender and turquoise. At the moment, the guests were performing a lively country dance.

  Dancing! What a futile waste of time. He nearly turned around and descended the staircase to return to his carriage. Just as he had made up his mind to leave, he caught sight of a familiar form standing by the Duchess of Ruisdell at the side of the dance floor. It was Rosalind, and she was glorious.

  Curiosity as to what kind of young lady she had become arrested his intention to depart. Slapping his gloves against his thigh, he waited impatiently for his turn to greet his host and hostess. He missed his uniform with its double rows of brass buttons, wide, braid-trimmed lapels, and epaulettes. Although his evening coat had also been cut by Weston, the master tailor, he did not feel that it gave him the stature
and presence of his dress uniform. He might be just another fribble. Buck felt he had lost his identity. Being a marquis did not suit him nearly so well as being a captain.

  Pulling on his gloves, he prepared to present himself, such as he was. He hated having to wear gloves.

  “Lady Wyndham, Lord Wyndham, I am Captain Kernow-Charles, Lord Deal. Thank you so much for your kind invitation. I have not been in a ballroom these many years.”

  Lord Wyndham thrust his hand forward and shook Buck’s forcefully. “Demmed good show!” He turned to his wife. “My dear, this man is the major reason we beat the Frogs in the Caribbean. Took more demmed prizes in his frigate Antelope than anyone else sailing out of Jamaica.”

  Lady Wyndham’s eyes lit. “A war hero! I am delighted that my husband insisted you be invited, my Lord. We are honored by your attendance.” She offered her hand, and he bowed over it.

  “I am not much of a dancer, I am afraid. Too many years at sea.”

  “You will soon learn,” she said confidently.

  Lord Wyndham lordship added, “After commanding a frigate in the heat of battle, I should think anything else would be easy.”

  “To tell you the truth, I miss it.” Buck smiled and then stepped away and down the staircase into the ballroom.

  It took him some time before he could find Rosalind again. Finally, he thought to look on the dance floor. There she was. Dancing a minuet with a spotty youth who had very little chin. How she must chafe at the tame, measured dance!

  She was taller than when they had first met. And exceedingly graceful. Gowned in turquoise, her auburn hair half up and half in ringlets, she was beautiful, indeed. As she made the turns, she inclined her head as though she were a ballerina, thus investing the staid dance with her own particular kind of drama. Obviously, she was playing some role she had cast for herself. He smiled, remembering the slight figure in the tunic among the topiary animals at Ruisdell Palace. He had offended her in at least a half dozen ways. But until he called her overindulged, she had taken it in good part. Why had he been so judgmental? He hadn’t had a shred of right to be. And speaking his thoughts had surely been unpardonable.

  Would she even remember him? She had been on the Town three years now. Perhaps she was engaged or even married.

  “I see you are observing my sister-in-law,” Ruisdell said, strolling up to greet him. “Perhaps a victorious navy captain could restrain her. I surely can’t.”

  “She doesn’t like me at all. If she even remembers me.”

  “I don’t think she would forget a man who gave her such a neat set down.”

  “You heard about it?”

  “Endlessly. She rang quite a peal over you. You wouldn’t credit some of the names she called you.”

  He laughed. “Give me a sampling.”

  “Popinjay.”

  “That’s not too bad.”

  “How about ‘Queer as Dick’s hatband?’”

  “I say! She didn’t!” He laughed. “The little spitfire.”

  “She has only become more difficult since she made her come-out. Recently, she has taken up with questionable company. Elise worries she has ruined her reputation. And I do not like Elise to be worried. I have been forced into the role of the evil stepbrother in an attempt to curtail the worst of her starts. And she is not the least awed by the fact that I am a duke.”

  “Does she still desire to become an actress?”

  “She is acting all the time.” The duke shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. “As a lifelong friend, I know I can trust you, Buck. I’m seriously worried about her. She’s seemed a bit desperate lately, feverish, as though she’s spinning out of control.”

  Ruisdell’s words touched Buck with an unexpected concern. Rosalind was such a game little thing. Was she, too, looking for adventure? Did she feel trapped and nullified by the ton, as well? Oddly enough, their conversations at Ruisdell Palace had always stuck in his mind. He remembered her concerns about becoming a proper young lady, and so he suspected she found the rules of the ton onerous indeed.

  The interminable dance ended. It only took a minute after she had spotted him before she made her way through the crowd and stood in front of him.

  “If it is not ‘Old Sobersides,’ back from the wars!” she greeted him, offering a languid hand. Her eyes sparkled.

  “Rosalind,” he said, his voice low as he bowed over her hand. “You look well.”

  She twirled before him as though exhibiting herself. “Is that all you can say?”

  “You have grown,” he said and grinned.

  “I had forgotten your smile,” she said. “That almost makes up for the tepid compliment.”

  She was a captivating little minx.

  “Orlando has not yet appeared on the scene?”

  “Alas, no! He is dashed slow to make himself known!” She plied her fan and gave an exaggerated sigh.

  The girl delighted him with her tricks. How could one quell such spirit? Remembering Ruisdell’s description of her desperation, Buck felt a sudden spurt of fellow-feeling. He surprised himself by saying, “Well, in the meantime, I have a mind to try to beat the record time to Richmond tomorrow in my new phaeton. Would you care to join me?”

  Clapping her gloved hands, she laughed without restraint. “Famous! Oh, I should love it above all things.”

  Ruisdell cleared his throat again and raised a brow, looking at Buck severely. “Proper young ladies . . .”

  “Oh,” Buck said, dashed. “Do they not? Pardon me. I am unacquainted with all the strictures upon young ladies. What a shame. I just purchased the most beautiful matched grays.”

  Grasping her hands in front of her, she showed a naughty grin. “I shall wear a thick veil. Then no one will know my identity. My sister possesses just such an article.” She fanned herself and threw Ruisdell an arch glance. “I believe she enchanted the duke the first time she wore it. So mysterious, you know!”

  “But I should not like you to court ruin!”

  “I promise I shall be discretion itself. No one would ever expect me to be seen with you. They will not have a clue who the lady in the veil is. Now, do you not want to dance with me?”

  “I never had the time or leisure to dance,” he said. “Perhaps you will join me for a game of piquet in the card room?”

  “I am very good at piquet,” she warned him.

  “I am sure you are. Excuse us, Ruisdell. I will see you at White’s tomorrow?”

  The duke nodded, his lips in a thin line. “For dinner, I think. Without fail.”

  Buck pursed his lips to keep from grinning at his friend’s command. He had the feeling that in his Rosalind, he had a tiger by the tail. Clearly, she liked walking a fine line between propriety and what this benighted society called ruin. He would have to take very great care that she was not discovered at it.

  { 4 }

  FANNY FRETTED ALL MORNING, lest it should rain. Running back and forth to the window in the midst of her toilette, she drove her maid, Becky, to say, “Miss, you have a case of the fidgets, and no mistake. If you can’t sit still, how do you expect me to arrange your hair?”

  Elise entered the room. “Fan, Peter tells me you mean to race with Deal in his phaeton. Surely you know that will put you beyond the pale!”

  “We are not racing. At least, only against the clock. And I am to wear your thick veil. No one will know it is me. We are only going as far as Richmond.”

  “I thought you cordially disliked him.”

  “He has improved vastly. I took ten guineas off him at piquet last night.”

  Dismissing Becky with a nod, the duchess said, “Come here, Fan.” She sat on the sofa under the window in her sister’s dressing room and patted the space beside her. “I wish to speak seriously, dear.”

  Rolling her eyes, Fanny joined her sister. “He still calls me Rosalind,” she said.

  Ignoring this, Elise said, “What is driving this mad behavior? Can you tell me? Peter and I are very worried about you. You seem
determined to bring about your own ruin.”

  Fanny dropped her frivolous manner as her eyes fell. She felt the now-familiar weight on her chest and sighed. “Wretchedness. Pure wretchedness.”

  “You are unhappy here in London with our family? You wish to go home?”

  “Home? To Shropshire?” Alarm coursed through her. “You would not send me there, Elise!”

  Her sister patted her hand. “I only meant to Ruisdell Palace. Sophie is rather lonely with only Anna for company. I thought perhaps your wretchedness had to do with London, the Season . . .”

  “I should be worse in the country, though I do miss Sophie most dreadfully.” Thinking of her sister increased the unhappiness she carried about with her. At least with Sophie, she could be herself.

  “What is it then, Fan? Why are you so set on breaking every rule, encouraging every rake . . .”

  “You have told me that Peter used to be the worst rake in London.”

  “I did not fall in love with him until he was on the road to reform, and that you know. When I saw you encouraging the attentions of Lord Warmsby, I could not believe my eyes! You must know that he ruined your friend Alexandra when he attempted to make off with her to the Border!”

  “You were married over the anvil. There is nothing wrong with that. If her father had let things be, instead of chasing after them, she would have married in Scotland, like you, and be Lady Warmsby by now.”

  “And would that not be a fine thing! The man is a gazetted fortune hunter and womanizer!”

  “Well, now she will have to marry a Cit, I suppose. Someone fat and dusty with hairy side whiskers.”

  Her sister drew a long calming breath. “Something is driving you to this behavior, Fanny. I want to know what it is.”

  Closing her eyes, Fanny slumped. Tears leaked from underneath her eyelids. “I am so confoundedly blue-deviled! After finally getting away from Mother’s tyranny, I thought I would be free. But I feel like I am in a cage. Some days, I want to scream and go on screaming. The ton with all its restrictions is what is driving me to desperation. Perhaps this is how Sukey felt when she was a girl.”