He was not entirely pleased to see several other gentlemen mount the steps ahead of him. Even though he knew they were probably there because he had first set the fashion by dancing with Miss Galsworth.
And he knew that it was to be expected that some gentlemen would call the day after the ball. But two days later? James felt an irrational pique as he was shown into the drawing room. Particularly since he could not say that there had been any noticeable improvement in Miss Galsworth’s appearance.
Today she wore a light blue gown covered with ruffles and a blue ribbon that pulled her hair back in a way that was even more unflattering than the manner in which it had been dressed for the ball. On her lap was a piece of needlework, which she eyed, from time to time, with patent disfavor.
Clearly she was a young lady who had no hope, barring a secret fortune that no one knew of, of ever forming an eligible attachment to a member of the ton. If she were to marry at all, her parents would have to swallow their pride, ignore the disdain of the ton, and look for the son of a wealthy merchant who wished to improve his station in life. And even then she might not find the matter an easy one to bring off.
Or so James was telling himself as he bowed to Mrs. Galsworth. But then he turned to Miss Galsworth and she smiled at him. A genuine smile that lit up her face and brought depth to her really very pretty green eyes.
Without thinking, James fashioned a matching smile on his face. And as he bowed, he found himself seeking out the chair nearest to her own.
“How do you do, Miss Galsworth?”
She regarded him with wry amusement that she did not trouble to hide. Before she could answer him, however, her mother did so.
“You were to have come yesterday, Mr. Langford! How naughty of you to make us wait.”
James regarded Mrs. Galsworth with disfavor. His voice was cool and his eyebrows arched in polite disdain as he replied, “When you invited me to call ‘tomorrow’ as you put it, the time was after midnight. Naturally I assumed you meant today.”
That put her in her place. It was not well done of James but the woman irritated him beyond measure. Several of the gentleman gaped at him, having rarely heard James be rude to a hostess before.
But at his side a soft voice murmured, “Bravo! You have routed Mama and that is not easily done.”
He looked at her swiftly but Miss Galsworth’s face gave away nothing. It was as if she had never spoken. Still, there was a hint of mischief in her eyes that found an answering spark within his own and he found to his surprise that he wanted to draw it out even more.
“Would you care to go for a drive in the park, later this afternoon, Miss Galsworth?” he asked.
“No,” was the cool reply.
Then, before James could recover from his astonishment at the refusal, she added, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, “But I should like to visit a lending library, if you would take me.”
Mrs. Galsworth audibly gasped at her daughter’s effrontery. Hastily she tried to mend matters. “My dear, I can go to Hookham’s and retrieve any novel you wish,” she said.
Miss Galsworth continued to look at James, a patent challenge in her eyes as she said, “I should rather go with Mr. Langford.”
He was amused. “Shall I call for you at four?” he asked.
She nodded and he wondered if it was fear or eagerness he read in her expression. Either way, James was curious enough now to be glad he had extended his impulsive invitation. Particularly when he glanced at Mrs. Galsworth and noted her heightened color.
James could not have said what devil it was in him that made him wish to upset the woman, but he could not deny the impulse was there. Between them, he and Miss Galsworth appeared to have done so quite thoroughly.
Not trusting himself, James rose and took his leave. He found himself accompanied by the entire group of gentlemen, who had already been there when he arrived.
He tried to demur. To be taking away with him Miss Galsworth’s entire court was the outside of enough! But he could sway none of the gentlemen, and in the end, he had to give way with whatever good grace he could muster. On the street he discovered their purpose.
“Told Harrington you’d be by.”
“Cotswold was the one pegged it for today.”
“Why, Langford?”
Why? That was indeed the question. Why had he taken up her interest once and come again today to confirm it? James had no answer that satisfied himself, much less one that would satisfy these men. So he shrugged, smiled his mysterious smile, and said, in a careless voice, “Why not?”
And with that he walked away, leaving the crowd of men arguing behind him.
He was weary, unaccountably weary. But he had no time for that. He had to send to the stables for his phaeton and pair. And change to clothes suitable to take a young lady out driving.
James paused for a moment, wondering just how old Miss Galsworth actually was. She did not seem a young chit, scarcely out of the schoolroom. Nor would he, despite an air of maturity about her, have guessed her to be much above twenty. But that left several years into which her age could fall.
Not that it mattered. How could it when he was only doing the polite? And yet James wondered.
If the Honorable James Langford was confused by his emotions, he was no more so than Miss Galsworth herself. On the surface, Mr. Langford was just the sort of simpleminded wastrel she could not abide. To be sure, he was kind, but kindness had never been sufficient to recommend a man to her before. Why should it do so now?
But it was not the kindness, Juliet thought as she ruthlessly tugged the comb through her curls, completely disarranging the style done so carefully for her earlier. And no amount of arguing could persuade her to don the gown her mother had said she ought to wear.
Instead, Juliet pulled a plain gown of dark green from her closet. She shook it out, noted the complete absence of bows and furbelows, and nodded in silent approval. For once she would dress to please herself.
Her maid stood by, aghast. “But miss! Your mother will be most unhappy with me. She was quite explicit. You were to wear the other green gown. The new one. The—”
“The one with all the white bows that make me look absurd,” Juliet finished for her.
The maid giggled. “Well, yes, ma’am. It has perhaps a bit too much trimming. But your mother was most certain what she wanted.”
“And I am equally certain of what I want. Come, help me into this gown. I shall delay until the last possible moment, going downstairs, and Mama will not have time to send me back upstairs to change. If she is angry, then I shall tell her it is all my fault—that I spilt something on the other and thought she meant I must wear green and this was the best I could do.”
The maid shook her head but did as she was bid. Well before the time Mr. Langford was expected, Juliet was ready. She stood looking at her reflection in the mirror, her spectacles perched firmly on her nose. Gone were the curls that had been coaxed into creation with the help of a curling iron. Instead her cap of hair was combed far more becomingly around her face, though of course it would all be hidden by her bonnet anyway.
And the simple lines of her unadorned gown emphasized Juliet’s height, instead of her breadth. She looked, she thought, almost acceptable.
Was it a mistake to wear this today? Before she had gotten to know Mr. Langford any better? When others might see her as well?
Impatiently, Juliet shook her head. It did not matter. She only knew she could not deny the impulse to do so. To show her true self to the man.
Which was absurd! He was an indolent dandy. No, not a dandy, they had established that already. Well, a wastrel then. Everyone said so. And yet, there had been a look of intelligence in his eyes that mirrored her own, both at the ball and earlier this afternoon. Something she had not expected to see. It was fanciful no doubt, but Juliet even found herself thinking that in Mr. Langford perhaps she had found a kindred spirit.
It was nonsense, all nonsense! No doubt he w
ould tell her she looked much better with the curls in her hair and the bows and furbelows on her gown and she could dismiss him from her thoughts without further trouble.
But oh how she wished he would not.
Even as she stood there, caught up in her impractical, fanciful thoughts, someone rapped on the door and called out to her to hurry up, that Mr. Langford was already waiting downstairs.
Juliet and her maid looked at one another. Hastily she removed the spectacles that so offended her mother and tucked them into her reticule. She wished she dared wear them with Mr. Langford so that, for once, she would not need to squint and could see the city clearly. But even she knew that would be going too far.
The maid held out a bonnet and spencer to her mistress. Juliet took a deep breath and then took both, put them on, and went downstairs to meet Mr. Langford. Perhaps one day she could wear her spectacles in public, but not today.
Mama, of course, almost screamed at the sight of her daughter dressed so plainly. Nothing, Juliet thought, with a sense of despair, would ever convince the woman that her daughter did not look enchanting rigged out in all the nonsense she usually insisted upon.
Mr. Langford, when Juliet found the courage to meet his eyes, was staring at her as though stunned. He recovered quickly, however, as one would expect a gentleman to do. He bowed, offered her his arm, and headed for the doorway. Mama was still making inarticulate sounds behind them.
Outside, Mr. Langford handed her up into his phaeton with punctilious courtesy. Out of habit, Juliet glanced at the carriage itself, but it seemed in excellent condition. She nodded approvingly, which seemed to cause Mr. Langford to look somewhat taken aback and then amused.
“Do you approve of my equipage?” he asked, taking the reins from his helpful groom.
“It seems nice enough,” Juliet conceded.
“I see. I would not ask,” he said with a diffidence she suspected was not natural to him, “except that you seemed to be inspecting it with a particularly careful eye.”
Juliet colored up, mortified. She dared not tell him the truth nor did she think she could successfully lie. Fortunately, the change in her appearance was sufficient to divert his thoughts.
“You look much better dressed like this,” he said bluntly. “You ought always to dress in plain, simple lines.”
“I wish you would tell that to Mama,” Juliet retorted tartly. “She is convinced I must resemble some sort of doll or something and cannot resist ordering the most appalling decorations for my gowns.”
He nodded. “I thought it might be her notion. But why do you allow it?”
Juliet gaped at him. Was he wanting in wits? She spoke slowly, as though convinced he was. “Mama pays the bills. Therefore, Mama has the power to make any modiste figure my dresses precisely as she wishes.”
“How then do you come to have something as simple as this?” he asked, indicating her current attire.
Juliet’s eyes narrowed, remembering. “I have this because I managed to slip it into my trunks when they were being packed. I wear it at home for gardening. Which Mama does not mind. Had she known I brought it to London, I’ve no doubt she would have taken a pair of shears to the fabric so that I could never wear it again. Which she may still do when I return home today,” she acknowledged, a trifle sadly.
“No she won’t,” Mr. Langford said with great decision.
Juliet gaped at him again. It was becoming a habit. He seemed to notice for he smiled kindly at her and went on, “I shall make certain she doesn’t. Indeed, I shall make certain she gives orders so that all the nonsense trimmings are removed from all your gowns.”
That ought to have pleased Juliet but abruptly she found herself wishing for precisely the opposite. She found she did not want to have him cajole her mother in such a way.
“Oh, no! Pray don’t!” Juliet objected quickly.
It was his turn to gape at her, a distraction to which his well-bred but high-strung horses took exception. He hastily got them back under control and then said, a speculative gleam in his eyes, “Now why would you not want me to do so?”
Juliet looked everywhere but at Mr. Langford. She waited for him to say something more. Instead he waited patiently. Finally, seeing no way out, she snapped, “If you must know, for all my complaints, I do not entirely disapprove. Indeed, I think of these absurd clothes that Mama makes me wear as a sort of test.”
Chapter 4
A test? Was the girl mad? “No, here now, Miss Galsworth! You cannot say such a thing and then not explain,” James said, with pardonable exasperation.
But it seemed she felt she had already gone too far. And in any event, they were at Hookham’s Lending Library. She looked surprised when he halted the carriage and tossed the reins to his groom, who had jumped down from behind.
“Well?” he said with the same note of exasperation as before, “I thought you wanted to find a book. You will find a great many here, you know.”
Abruptly a smile lit up her face. “Yes, I did! And I thank you for being so kind as to bring me here. I didn’t think you truly would.”
She did not wait for him to hand her down, but managed the matter by herself. James frowned. Was she such a hoyden that she did not know how she looked, scrambling down in such a way? Or was she so caught up with the thought of books that she simply forgot?
He would have asked such a question about no other young lady he knew. But somehow it became important to know, in the case of Miss Galsworth, which might be true. Hastily he followed her into the shop.
Miss Galsworth went not to the shelves of novels, as he had expected, but to one tucked at the back with books of science. She seemed to know precisely which tome she was looking for. And they apparently did not have it, for her disappointment was patent.
James looked around and then coughed discreetly. “Er, if you told me what you were looking for, perhaps I could help. I have a rather extensive library of my own, you see,” he added apologetically.
She looked at him doubtfully and he found himself bristling at the insult implicit in her air of disbelief. As a result, he so far forgot himself, and his pose as an indolent dandy, that he rattled off the authors and titles of several scientific texts he had in his study.
Her eyes widened in the most gratifying way and James added a few more titles. Now her lips parted with a tiny exclamation of awe and approval.
And when he clinched matters by stating that he had possession of the latest tome to be released, the precise tome she was looking for, Miss Galsworth clasped his hands with hers and said, admiringly, “My dear sir, I have clearly underestimated you!”
Just how far James would have forgotten himself, just how indiscreet he might have become, would fortunately never be known for at that precise moment a shrill female voice said, “James! How extraordinary to find you here. And at this time of day!”
James closed his eyes, then slowly opened them again. Miss Galsworth seemed to sense his distress for she hastily released his hands. He could feel her watching with great interest as he slowly turned and pasted a sickly smile upon his face.
“Athenia!” James said, with a marked lack of enthusiasm. “How are you? May I present Miss Galsworth? Miss Galsworth, my dear sister, Lady Darton.”
The two ladies greeted one another warily. It would be hard to say which one gave the other the shrewder appraisal. Neither seemed enchanted by what she saw.
James all but shuddered as he recognized the too-sweet smile that now settled on Athenia’s face.
“My dear Miss Galsworth. One has, of course, heard of you.”
James wanted to step in front of the younger woman to protect her, but it seemed she neither wanted nor needed protection. In a voice just as sweet, just as false, as Athenia’s she said, “And everyone, of course, has heard of Lady Darton.”
Athenia all but preened. “I fancy I am rather well known,” she agreed.
“Mr. Langford was just telling me how extensive a library he has,” Miss Galswor
th continued. “I am in awe of a family that values books so highly.”
Athenia looked a bit more doubtful at this, but it was a compliment and so she regally inclined her head.
James held his breath, certain Miss Galsworth was about to say something outrageous. Instead she merely simpered, positively simpered, and said, “But oh dear, we must not take any more of your time, Lady Darton. I know how very busy you must be!”
And then while Athenia acknowledged this final compliment, Miss Galsworth sent him a silent plea and James hastily began to move toward the door.
“Miss Galsworth is absolutely right! Must go. Give my best to George.”
And before Lady Darton could collect her wits sufficiently to recollect how she had meant to savage Miss Galsworth, they were out the door and he was handing her, with more haste than dignity, into the phaeton.
“That,” he told her as they pulled neatly away from the curb, “was a narrow escape.”
“Do you think so?” Miss Galsworth asked, with an assumed air of innocence. “Indeed, I found Lady Darton perfectly amiable.”
“Yes, so long as you were feeding her compliments!” James retorted. “A fact of which I am somehow certain you were aware.”
She did not deny it. Indeed, Miss Galsworth laughed. At his inquiring look she explained, “Lady Darton reminded me of Mama and, you see, I know what makes Mama happy.”
James nodded. “Yes, well, I still say it was a fortunate escape.” He paused then asked, “Shall I take you back home or would you like to drive around the park, after all?”
Miss Galsworth hesitated, then said, diffidently, “Would you mind greatly if we tried another lending library? I truly should like to find a copy of that book.”
James threw all caution to the winds. “No need,” he said recklessly, “I’ll let you borrow my copy. I’ll have it sent around or bring it myself tomorrow.”
The smile on her face was sufficient to soothe whatever second thoughts James might have had. “Thank you!” she said, sounding almost breathless. “Then, yes, I should like to drive around the park.”
The Wily Wastrel Page 3