Dizzy Dilemmas

by Mary Beeken

  “Except Erica!” Marcus pointed out.

  “Except Erica,” he confirmed. “Though she was already taken and lets face it, even Prentiss is no match for me! But we were talking about you being jealous and in love.”

  “No we were not. Go away Trevellyn before I forget why we are best friends and knock you into the middle of next week!”

  In response, Ross thumped him on the back and moved away. It was just as he got beyond reach of his friend’s punishing right hook that he turned and said. “Being in love is not so bad. You just have to be honest with yourself!”

  Being the host, it was not long before newly arriving guests were claiming Robert’s attention and Dizzy and Georgiana wandered off to socialise. Dizzy was surprised to find many acquaintances amongst those present and unlike the general whirl of entertainment where mundane chatter abounded, here she was encouraged to converse with them on a wide variety of topics many of which were discouraged by the leaders of the ton as being inappropriate for women and young, unmarried women in particular because it was perceived that men liked their women to be ignorant on such matters as politics and international affairs. Coming from a family where her opinion was sought and valued, it had been hard to adjust to the perceived norm of the ton and she had found it somewhat stifling, especially as she could not claim some recompense by enjoying the dancing. Grandmamma, feeling neither she nor her daughter-in-law had been at all successful in launching the older girls, felt compelled to try harder to fit Dizzy into the perfect debutante; if not in grace and deportment which was an impossibility considering her innate clumsiness, but certainly in the skill of social discourse.

  For the first time since embarking on the London seasons, she felt comfortable and able to speak her mind freely without provoking any censorious glares or rebukes. She found that people were prepared to listen and give credence to her opinion even if their own views were in direct opposition to hers. Instead of having her views dismissed out of hand with a snort of derision, Dizzy found herself pulled into lively debates and arguments whereby others tried to persuade her to change her thoughts or she in turn had to persuade them to join her way of thinking.

  Walking past one group she heard her name being called and turned to find herself being addressed by Fiona Pearson; one of Lady Trevellyn’s numerous cousins if Dizzy remembered correctly.

  “Lady Dizzy, Will you please lend me your support. I am trying to persuade my husband here and all these other gentlemen that ladies need to be able to defend themselves. Would you not find it useful to have a few moves at the ready should ever you find yourself being attacked by a thief or worse?”

  “Absolutely!” Dizzy was quick to agree. “I know to tuck my thumb in when I throw a punch from watching my brothers when they were younger. Gabriel didn’t once and his thumb swelled to the size and colour of a big tomato. My sisters and I would pester to be allowed to join in their fisticuffs but they always refused. So unfair when you think we are considered the weaker sex and therefore are surely more in need of being taught techniques to defend ourselves.”

  “The idea is that we gentleman protect you, dear lady,” John Fitzpatrick responded with a sardonic smile. He was the only boy in a family of ten children and knew beyond anything that women were not as frail as they were made out to be and as men liked to believe. Regardless, he got an elbow in his midriff for his comment from Fiona.

  Whilst he doubled over pretending to be mortally wounded; though in actuality Fiona’s elbow was bony enough to bring tears to one’s eyes and hefty enough that it if caught you in the solar plexus it could leave one somewhat winded, Dizzy pleaded their case with Stephen.

  “Surely you could teach us a few techniques without offending the whole of the male population?”

  Stephen visibly shuddered. “You must be joking. Fiona is lethal enough now. Look at poor Fitz here; he still hasn’t regained his breath and that was just her elbow thrown in jest! If I teach her the science of boxing goodness only knows what she will do to me when next we have a row. Do you know I beat her in a pillow fight last year and since then she has been practising religiously every day for the rematch this year! I am sorry Lady Dizzy but I value my own skin too much. Perhaps you can persuade one of these other gentlemen.”

  As he finished speaking Fiona who had hunched her shoulder at him visibly brightened and addressed the individual who had come to stand behind Dizzy.

  “Ah here is Glenmore. What do you say, Marcus? Are you prepared to teach us how to defend ourselves against cut throats and marauders?”

  Dizzy spun around so quickly she lost her balance and would have fallen had Glenmore not once again caught her by her shoulders and steadied her. Immediately tingles were sent cascading down her arms and the air seemed to become trapped in her lungs, for no matter how hard she tried, she could not get her breath.

  “My Lady, you seem to have fallen for me, again.” His smile was wolfish and he continued to hold onto her even though she was once again upright and balanced.

  Fiona, who could sniff out gossip at a hundred paces and prided herself on being the first to predict a romance, pricked up her ears and looked from one to the other, her question momentarily forgotten by the suddenly interesting events unfurling before her.

  “I am clumsy, Your Grace,” Dizzy frowned menacingly at him, reminding him by glare if not word that they were supposed to be strangers.

  “I know,” he still kept hold of her, ignoring the slight shrugs of her shoulders that was supposed to make him relinquish her.

  “We can vouch for that too. Can’t we Fiona?” Stephen said cheerfully. “Well known fact that Lady Dizzy is accident prone!”

  “What do you mean ‘Fallen for me again’?” asked Fiona, not bothering to reply to her husband and being her usual direct self.

  “She fell for me at the British Museum,” Glenmore told her.

  “That is not true. I fell for Mustapha Mummy,” Dizzy retorted. “You just happened to have quicker reflexes than him and caught me first; that is literally and not figuratively.”

  “Who is Mustapha Mummy?” Fiona asked but she might as well have saved her breath because no one took any notice.

  “It would have been difficult not to have quicker reflexes on the grounds that he is dead!” Marcus said, still holding her but now his hands were moving down her arms in a gentle caress. Dizzy fervently hoped that no one else read it as much but a swift glance at Fiona informed her it was a forlorn hope; Fiona missed nothing!

  “How unfeeling it is of you to remind me, Glenmore. You know I await his proposal.” Even as Dizzy uttered the words she wanted to suck them back in but they just kept coming, tripping out of her mouth like thistledown on the breeze. Goodness only knows what their audience thought; probably that she was as insane as she was clumsy. Glenmore at least seemed to find it highly diverting because his wolfish grin turned into one of genuine amusement.

  “Has he given you any indication that marriage is on his mind? No wait! He does not have a mind does he, for his brain was removed via his nose at the time of death and fed to the dogs?”

  “It was not fed to the dogs!” Dizzy was outraged at the suggestion. “It was just thrown away!” then she mumbled to herself. “Oh please stop talking!”

  “Did you say something, I didn’t quite hear that?” he asked with a smirk and she knew that yet again he had heard her and he knew, yet again that she knew that he knew that he had heard her!

  She growled. Loudly.

  “I did hear that!” he informed her.

  “We all did!” Stephen piped up.

  “You know I rather think Mustapha may not like gherkins, especially pickled ones and that just might be why he is holding back! Apart from the fact that he is dead and has no internal organs attached,” Marcus said.

  His hands had reached her wrists but instead of letting her go they started on their upwards journey, more openly caressing or so it seemed to Dizzy. She considered stepping away but instinct told her th
at even then he would not relinquish his hold and the gossips really would have something to talk about.

  “You make assumptions. He may consider pickled gherkins to be a great delicacy; one more over that is worth savouring,” Dizzy informed him primly though the smouldering look he sent her led her to believe that her response may have a double entendre that was more obvious to him than to her.

  “I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that a pickled gherkin is definitely a delicacy worth savouring. I only wish I could taste it now! It would be tart but sweet at one and the same time.” Glenmore’s voice sounded deeper, more sensual and she could not prevent a slight shiver of desire. His smile this time turned triumphant as if he had won an important victory.

  “Oh for goodness sake, Marcus you cannot eat her here; it wouldn’t be seemly!” Fiona reminded him, thinking that as an old married woman of several months standing she ought to make a token gesture at being a chaperone.

  “Who is Mustapha Mummy?” Fitz had recovered enough to ask, having lost the thread of the rest of the conversation trying to force air into his lungs.

  “Keep up Fitz,” Fiona admonished him. “Obviously he is an Egyptian Mummy at the British Museum though why Lady Dizzy is expecting a proposal from him, the Lord only knows!”

  “Lady Dizzy described him as her ideal spouse,” Glenmore informed her. “Silent and so relaxed as to be supine. However, he was seen to visibly shudder when she expressed this view.”

  “How you twist the truth, Your Grace! The reality is I accidentally knocked the display case and he wobbled. It could be seen that he was shaking with glee,” Dizzy announced.

  “But isn’t he dead?” asked Fitz by now completely befuddled.

  “Is that when she fell for you and you caught her?” Fiona asked Marcus as she elbowed Fitz once again in the stomach lest he interrupt again.

  “Oh know I merely steadied her then. Later she fell into my arms,” he responded.

  “Did you study economics at university, Your Grace?” Dizzy asked sweetly. “For you are certainly economical with the truth! When I turned to leave, my reticule caught on the display case and I was falling onto it when Glenmore caught me. There was no falling into arms believe me.”

  “So you were at the British Museum together?” Fiona asked.

  “Oh no I was there with my family,” Dizzy was quick to point out. “And Glenmore was there with Lord and Lady Trevellyn. It was pure chance that we were all there at the same time.”

  “Some might call it fate,” Stephen said.

  “Not us would we Glenmore?” she replied.

  “Would we not?” he queried, and then added when she scowled. “No not us. It was most decidedly a pure chance thing rather than a fates thing.”

  “But you are friends?” Fiona was tenaciously determined to get all the facts straight.

  “Oh no! We are just acquaintances,” Marcus said with a lopsided grin.

  “Not even acquaintances,” Dizzy added. “We are merely on nodding terms.”

  “And only on the briefest of nods at that,” Glenmore confirmed.

  “A single nod; the merest hint of movement of the head!” Dizzy said emphatically hoping she had had the last word on the subject.

  “Perhaps you should release her then Marcus being only a hint of an acquaintance!” Fiona said pointedly looking at his hands which were still caressing her.

  “Yes because by the looks of it, your heads may be barely nodding but your hands are decidedly well acquainted,” Stephen pointed out.

  The Marquis and Marchioness of Trevellyn stood talking to Robert Prentiss a short distance away and although they were out of earshot they were nevertheless keen observers. Although Erica had been invited along to The Enlightenment Society during her first season, her infrequent sojourns in the capital meant she rarely attended the events and was therefore not acquainted personally with all of its members. However she heard interesting titbits about them from Robert who was her partner in a very successful and lucrative business which frequently undertook work for the government, some of it clandestine. To retain her anonymity, she went by the name of Eric Hurst; a man believed to a recluse by everyone.

  “What do you think they are saying?” Ross asked.

  “I don’t know but rest assured I will get Fiona to tell me everything just as soon as Glenmore and Dizzy move away,” Erica assured him.

  Robert took a draught of his drink and eyed his friends with wry amusement. “You two really ought not to interfere in Glenmore’s affairs it will only end in tears.”

  “It is for his very own good for as you can see, he is smitten with her,” Erica told him then added for honesty’s sake. “Besides Ross and I have a wager on how long it will be before for the wedding takes place.”

  “You are incorrigible, the both of you,” he said. “Just because you have found wedded bliss does not mean you have to manoeuvre everyone else into Holy Matrimony!”

  “Marcus displayed all the signs of jealousy earlier when he saw the two of you together. You know scowling and growling and looking like he wanted to strangle the life out of you!” Ross casually commented and smirked when his friend, blasphemed.

  “Oh God! I am not to be thrown into the role of rival again am I? I had enough of that with you!”

  “I may have mentioned that you were on the lookout for a wife and Lady Dizzy was a candidate,” Ross told him.

  “Which I am not and she is not!” Robert informed him.

  “No but Marcus does not know that, does he? So if you were to go over there now and use some pretext to carry her off, he would perhaps acknowledge his feelings for her,” Ross pointed out.

  “And what is in it for me, other than a possible punch being thrown at my head?” Robert asked.

  “A case of that ’86 port that you so admired when you were round to dinner the other night.”

  Sighing deeply, Robert drained his glass and handed it to Erica. “Very well but make it two cases. Always the rival but never the bridegroom!”

  As he walked away Erica turned to her husband and said, “Sweetheart, it is as well that Robert is such a calm person because anyone else would have blackened your eye.”

  “My darling girl, Robert is as much the romantic as the rest of us and he enjoys meddling just as much as you!”

  “Me indeed! I am merely observing and only wagering on the outcome because you can be so very persuasive. You are the one manipulating poor Marcus by trying to make him jealous in the hope that he will propose all the quicker and win the bet for you.”

  “Or is it that you are easily persuaded?” Ross asked her. “For example, if I kiss your neck just here can I persuade you to find a secluded corner, somewhere?”

  He trailed kisses down the back of her neck and beneath her ear; a particularly sensitive spot and one that usually got her to agree to anything.

  “Oh that is so unfair!” Erica said but it lacked conviction and when Ross transferred to caress below her other ear, she readily agreed. “Follow me. I know just where we can be private!”

  “That’s my girl!”

  Robert arrived just as Glenmore was, albeit reluctantly, releasing Dizzy. For the sake of their audience he was solicitously asking her if she had regained her balance but nobody was fooled for a moment apart from perhaps Fitz who had only just got his breath back and had missed much of what had been happening.

  “Lady Dizzy, Fiona, Gentlemen.” He greeted them and then spent a few moments chatting with them before deftly walking away with Dizzy on some pretext of introducing her to the other guests, much to the annoyance of Glenmore.

  It was over an hour later before Glenmore approached Dizzy again and this time he waited until she was quite alone and close to the house.

  “You are a very difficult person to get by oneself,” he told her whilst taking her hand and placing it on his arm before leading her inside and up the stairs. “I want to talk to you.”

  “Good because it just so happens I have a few t
hings I would like to say to you too!” she told him.

  He led her along a corridor and entered a small but charming sitting room that faced the front of the house. Dizzy took a moment to admire the tasteful décor of pale blue and cream before she turned to Glenmore, ready to say her piece, but the words were forgotten and replaced when she realised he was locking the door.

  “What are you doing?” she asked rhetorically but he answered anyway.

  “Locking the door so we will not be disturbed. If anyone comes in here your reputation will be in shreds and I will be expected to marry you and as we have already established, it is something neither of us wants. This way no one can walk in on us,” he explained.

  Much to her amazement, he then went around the room checking a winged chair that faced the window and around the side of a tall cabinet.

  “At the risk of repeating myself, what are you doing now?” she queried, this time expecting an answer though she was not convinced his response would make any sense.

  “Checking that Trevellyn isn’t hiding in here somewhere. He is a devious devil and I wouldn’t put it past him!”

  “He is a good friend of yours isn’t he?”

  “Yes, a very good friend and that’s how I know how devious he can be!” he told her and then when he was sure they were alone, “Now we can be comfortable.”

  Dizzy watched in amazement as Marcus went over to one of the two facing sofas and sat down; swinging his legs up and stretching out as if he were spending an evening at home alone in front of the fire with a good book. Once he had wriggled into a comfortable position he indicated the other sofa to her and bade she made herself equally at home. Dizzy looked at him for a moment and then sat; keeping her feet firmly on the floor as good etiquette dictated. “Perhaps I should leave you to rest!” she remarked caustically.

  “As neither wants to impress the other with our society manners in the hope of marriage, I think we might as well be comfortable. Put your feet up. These sofas are incredibly comfortable,” he informed her and as she was quite envious of how cosy he looked she shrugged and kicking off her shoes, did as she had suggested.