"Lowell," said Hester with awful calm. "Don't argue with me. I shall scream if I have to say another word to you! I need to walk back to Bruton Street alone! I just might be able to speak to you tomorrow, but don't count on it." She turned and left him standing on the door step. He waited irresolutely, then shrugged his shoulders and went in.
Hester walked swiftly back up towards Berkeley Square. She was seething with an explosive mixture of anger and apprehension. How dare Lowell do such an outrageous thing! What would become of her—and her family—if London ever found her out? The parcel in her hand seemed to burn through to her fingers; she wanted to drop it, but dared not let it go. She reached the top of Half Moon Street and turned in the direction of Berkeley Square, head down, still clutching her parcel—and collided with a tall gentleman who was coming towards her. She dropped her parcel and with a gasp of dismay bent down to pick it up. A hand came out to prevent her.
"You must allow me," said a deep, drawling voice.
Hester groaned inwardly. Fate was always against her on such occasions. It was inevitable that out of all the gentlemen in society she should meet this one, just when she least wanted to. She summoned up her courage. "Lord Dungarran!" she exclaimed. "How...how...pleasant to meet you again!"
Chapter Four
Surprise, a fleeting expression of resignation, and then a faint hint of reproof—Hester saw all of these cross Dungarran's face before he resumed his normal calm.
"Miss Perceval. What an unexpected pleasure!"
The words were conventional, and were not supported by any warmth in his voice. Hester's eyes dropped. He must not be allowed to see the panic into which Lowell's revelations had thrown her. Not this man.
"Thank you for coming once again to my rescue, sir," she said stiffly and held out her hand for the parcel.
He smiled briefly, but did not hand it over. "At least it isn't wet." His eyes surveyed the street. "But...are you once again in need of an escort, Miss Perceval?"
"Not in the slightest. I am making for Berkeley Square. It isn't far."
"All the same," he said decidedly, "I will accompany you." He offered her his arm.
"It really isn't necessary, Lord Dungarran. If you will give me my parcel I am perfectly able to walk the few yards to the square."
He frowned. "Miss Perceval, I have no wish to force my company on you, believe me. But you may be assured that if your parents or Hugo knew that you were walking the streets of London without a maid or footman they would be as... surprised as I am. It is bad enough in Northampton. In London it is unheard of. Come!" He presented his arm again.
The colour rose in Hester's cheeks. There was so much she wanted to say, none of it polite. So she remained silent, her eyes fixed anxiously on the parcel which he still carried in his other hand. She was faintly surprised not to see signs of scorching on its wrappings. As they walked along Curzon Street he held it out and said, "What is it this time, Miss Perceval? Not muslin or satin—it is too hard for that. Or should I not ask? It feels like a book."
Hester swallowed and tried to smile. "It...it is a book. Lowell has lent me a book of... of... poetry. B—ballads."
"You like poetry?"
"I... I... No, I don't."
She heard him give a slight sigh. Then he began again, patiently making conversation with someone, she thought resentfully, he would much rather not have to talk to at all. If he only knew the strain she was under to say even a word that was sensible!
"Have you been in London long, Miss Perceval?"
"No. We have just arrived."
"Ah!"
They entered Berkeley Square in silence. He paused. "You are fortunate in finding a suitable house in the square. They are much in demand. Which is it?"
She disengaged herself. "We...we are staying in Bruton Street, in fact. A few yards farther on. But you have done enough, Lord Dungarran. Thank you. May I have my book?" He gave her a look and offered her his arm again.
Still in silence they crossed the square. To Hester's relief the entrance to the house was in sight. She began to thank him again, holding out her hand for the book. "No, Miss Perceval. I shall see you to your door," he said grimly, ignoring her attempts at farewell.
At the door he bowed and at last handed her the parcel. "Goodbye, Miss Perceval. No doubt we shall see each other again."
"I look forward to it already," said Hester.
He narrowed his eyes at her tone, then added coldly, "Meanwhile, I would remind you that it is unwise to go out alone in London—as I am sure Hugo would tell you if he were here."
It was too much! Hester lifted her chin and said in a high voice, "Lord Dungarran, I am grateful for your solicitude for someone who is, after all, the merest acquaintance. I assure you that I shall do my utmost in the future not to put you to any more trouble, however unnecessary. Goodbye." She curtseyed and went in.
As Robert Dungarran retraced his steps towards Curzon Street a slight frown marred his handsome features. The years had apparently not improved Hester Perceval. She was still uncomfortable in society, inept in conversation, and obstinate in her opinions. It was to be hoped that Hugo would not call on him again for support in looking after his sister. He would have to refuse. He walked on a little, then paused in thought. For someone who had so little command of language her last remark had been remarkably polished. In two sentences she had thanked him, accused him of unwarranted interference, and made it clear that she would avoid him in the future! And now he thought of it, her "I look forward to it already' had been delivered with a nice touch of irony. Was there more to Hester Perceval than at first appeared...? Impossible! He strode on.
Meanwhile Hester, still clutching her parcel, had scurried up two flights of stairs. She had managed to avoid the servants, who would have taken her pelisse and hat, and had arrived, breathless, in her bedchamber. It was a charming little room decorated in blue and pale yellow, with a window from which she could just see a corner of the gardens in the centre of Berkeley Square. It was growing dark outside. But Hester had no eyes for any of this. In haste she hid the book, still in its wrappings, among the papers she had brought with her. The servants would not interfere with those. Then she called for her maid and quickly changed her dress for dinner. She eventually arrived in the drawing-room just as her mother was remarking on her absence.
"Ah, there you are, Hester! I was almost coming to see what had happened to you. Did you enjoy your walk with Lowell?"
"Yes, Mama. His rooms are very agreeable."
"Did you meet the famous Mr Gaines?"
"No—I gather he is seldom in. In any case, Mama, I shouldn't raise your hopes if I were you. I'm afraid Mr Gaines is useless as a prospective husband. After tonight he will be in Devon for most of the Season, and I doubt I shall see him again."
"Good gracious, Hester, nothing was further from my mind. Did...did Lowell see you safely back?"
"Er...no, Mama. I left him at his rooms."
"You can't have walked alone. And you didn't take one of the footmen. Who was that with you at the door?"
Her mother would be most upset to learn that she had set out from Half Moon Street without an escort. Hester said, "Lord Dungarran kindly offered to accompany me."
"Indeed? A very good friend of Hugo's. And a most eligible parti." She smiled benevolently at her daughter.
"Not as far as I am concerned, Mama.''
Lady Perceval gave a sigh of exasperation. "Hester, I am quite sure you need have no apprehension about Hugo's friends. They have surely all forgotten the events of six years ago. You must forget them, too. Simply behave as if this were your first visit to London, and you will do very well." She paused, then went on, "Dungarran appeared to be most attentive..."
There was a pause during which Hester tried to think of something to say. Her mother went on, "It is a great pity that you went out this afternoon straight from your journey. If I had not been so interested in what Hugo was telling us I would have made you change your dress. Yo
ur pelisse was sadly crushed. I cannot imagine what Dungarran thought of it."
"Mama, Dungarran is interested neither in my dress, nor in my person. Please do not imagine differently."
Lady Perceval ignored her. She went on, "That dress looks very well, my dear. But I must have a word with your abigail. Your hair is not at all well arranged."
Since she had allowed her maid a mere three minutes for the task Hester was not surprised. She looked down. She had no idea what she was wearing. The dress consisted of a straight slip with an overskirt and sleeves of dull green. There had been much discussion during its making about her lack of curves, which had resulted in a lavish use of lace round the top of the bodice. She sighed. It was difficult to be enthusiastic about clothes when one was tall and skinny. Her cousin Robina could look appealing in a kitchenmaid's sack apron—not that Aunt Elizabeth, whose notions of propriety were very strict, would ever allow her daughter to be seen in one.
"Hester?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mama! I was wool-gathering. You were saying?"
"When Hugo arrives we shall decide what events we shall attend. There are several cards already here, and others are sure to come. In addition, your father and I plan to hold a couple of soirees. Hugo will help us to draw up a guest list... We must make sure Dungarran's name is included."
Hester was about to protest, then she decided to hold her peace. The noble lord was almost sure to find himself "unable to attend"! Her thoughts wandered again. How boring it all was! And all for nothing. Her encounter this afternoon had brought home to her once again how unfitted she was for life in society. How uninterested she was in life in society! Worse still, she was racked with anxiety about the book. As soon as she could she would escape and read the thing this evening. It was not something she looked forward to.
Nothing occurred during the next week to change Hester's opinion of society. She dutifully attended dinners, parties, soirees, balls, where she exchanged platitudes, pretended an interest she didn't feel in the latest styles or the latest engagements—and danced. She even danced once or twice with Lord Dungarran. Much as she still disliked him, she had to admit he was an agreeable partner. Their steps fitted very well. She only wished that she could demonstrate how much she had changed from the "obstinate, conceited, ignorant child" he had called her all those years ago. But she found she could not do it. His patent indifference, and her own lingering dislike and resentment, were in the way. And, from what she had observed, he had not changed a great deal in the intervening years. He was still a creature of society, basically frivolous in his pursuits and interests. She was quite unable to think of a single thing to say that might interest him, other than conventionally polite exchanges. As a result they spent a lot of their time together in silence. He was always courteous, but his boredom was palpable. It was small consolation that he was apparently as little impressed with all the other ladies—even the Season's successes—who tried to engage his attention, to flirt with him. He was much more charming with them, but he remained as elusive as ever.
Talk of The Wicked Marquis, which was widespread, was also a source of unease. She had read the novel herself of course, the night after receiving it from Lowell, and had been somewhat relieved. It was indeed very funny, and, apart from one or two shockingly salacious episodes, not nearly as scandalous as its cover would suggest. What was more, Lowell's additions and alterations had made it virtually impossible to guess the authorship from internal evidence. But everyone in London had identified Lord Baconwit, Beau Broombrain, and the rest, and quotations from it were free and frequent. And, though no respectable lady could admit to having read such a dreadful novel, there was much gossip and laughter at the expense of Hester's unfortunate victims.
After a while Hester stopped wincing inwardly when The Wicked Marquis came into the conversation, and was able to smile with the rest, feel indeed a faint touch of pride in its success. She was even willing to listen to Lowell's apologies.
Ten days after her arrival in London Hester came in, bored and tired from a shopping expedition, to find Lowell waiting for her. They were alone. Lady Perceval had gone up to her room.
"Hester! Look at this!"
Hester took the sheet he was holding out and carried it to the brighter light near the window. Though she had brought her grandfather's glasses with her, she never used them in public. She read out its contents with a sigh of rapture.
'"Mr Garimond announces a forthcoming Lecture to be given by an Eminent Cambridge Mathematician'—I wonder who that could be?— 'under the Auspices of The New Scientific and Philosophical Society'. Look, Lowell! Look! It's on my subject! 'Algebra, Numbers and Ciphers— A New Approach'. Where, where? And when?" Hester was so excited she could hardly speak. Lowell took the paper from her trembling hand.
"It's being given next Wednesday, at the Society's headquarters in St James's Street."
"I must go!"
"Well..." Lowell looked uncomfortable. "There's a problem."
"What is it?"
"It's not an open lecture, Hes."
"Not open? What does that mean?"
"The meeting is for gentlemen only. No ladies admitted."
"But...but I must go!"
Lowell regretfully shook his head. "It's not possible."
Hester grew pale with rage and disappointment. "Oh what a devilish world this is! I could explode, Lowell! The thought that you who are...are as ignorant as a swan in mathematics..."
"Steady on, Hester! I can count!"
His sister ignored this feeble interruption and swept on, "You, who refuse even to try to understand ciphers, you can go freely among some of the best minds in England today, while I have to keep back and suffocate in the drawing-rooms of society... I shall burst with frustration!" She strode about the room, muttering, "It's too bad! Too bad! Indeed, it is too bad!"
Lowell watched this display with some awe. He had long known his sister's views on the lack of opportunity for women, but this was the strongest demonstration yet. She looked magnificent in her rage, eyes flashing blue fire, cheeks glowing... He had seen for himself how Dungarran and the others dismissed his sister as quiet, insignificant and boring. If they could only see her now—a veritable tigress...
"Hester..." he said tentatively.
"No, Lowell! I'm not fit for company at the moment, and Mama might come in at any moment. Tell her I've gone upstairs to read, will you?"
"You...you won't do anything silly?"
"What is there to do? I might chew a few sheets, or tear up a few carpets, but nothing serious, such as going out without an escort or omitting to curtsey to Lady Jersey. But I wish to heaven you had not shown me that advertisement!" She went out.
Lowell also regretted his rash action. He had brought it without thinking of the consequences, only that Hester would be interested in the mention of Garimond and the Society. It was true that she was having a hard time in London. He was impressed at the effort she had made to please her parents. Only he knew how much she feared reminding the world of the cocksure girl she had been six years before, and of her subsequent humiliation. Only he knew the trouble she took to make unexceptionable conversation—but as soon as she was with someone who could be regarded as remotely eligible, she became quiet and dull. If only the world knew his sister as he did—teasing, laughing, affectionate, with a puckish sense of humour, and a strong liking for the ridiculous!
As he walked back to Half Moon Street that night he was deep in thought. The result was that he was back in Bruton Street the next day to invite Hester to a walk. She was pale and heavy-eyed, and responded reluctantly when Lady Perceval urged her to take the air. But eventually she and Lowell set off towards the park.
"I'm glad you came—I want to talk to you in private, Hes. I've had an idea, but I'm not sure you'll like it."
"What is it?" asked Hester listlessly.
"You'd like to go to that lecture, wouldn't you?"
"Oh, don't talk any more of that! I couldn't sleep last nigh
t for thinking of it. But I can't go, and there's an end."
"How much would you give to be able to attend?"
"Don't be so absurd! I can't bribe my way into an exclusively masculine meeting! I wouldn't feel comfortable if I did. Please don't mention it again, Lowell. It's too upsetting."
"I wasn't thinking of money or bribes. Supposing you could disguise yourself?"
"Disguise myself? As what? A man? That's even more ridiculous! I would be discovered within seconds. And what a scandal that would cause!"
"No, you wouldn't! Hes, do think about it! It would be such a lark. You're tall enough for a man—a boy, anyway. You're thin enough. And Gaines left quite a bit of his stuff behind. Between us we could find something to fit you. No one would ever know."
"I can't believe you mean it, Lowell! You're mad! It's far too risky! I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing."
Lowell shrugged his shoulders. "In that case, there's no more to be said."
They walked on into the park. Hester was the first to break the silence. "Besides, I don't even know where the Society's offices are."
"We'd go together."
"And what would I say to Mama?"
"Well, I suppose you could confess that you were going to a meeting for men only, disguised as a boy," Lowell said with heavy irony. "On the other hand, you could simply say that you were out for the evening with me. Look Hester, you could raise objections till the cows come home, but you know they could all be overcome with a little courage."
"A little courage! My heavens, Lowell, you have no notion of what you're asking!"
"I'm not asking anything for me. It's you I was thinking of."
"Don't try to tell me you wouldn't enjoy it, all the same. It's just the sort of mad escapade you love."
"It'd be one in the eye for Hugo, too," Lowell said with some satisfaction. "He's so...so correct. Sir Hugely Perfect is just the right name for him. I always want to do something outrageous when he's been lecturing me."
An Unreasonable Match Page 5