The Merry Marquis

by Meredith Bond

  He redoubled his efforts to locate her. There was no way that she would be able to deal with the intellectual acuity that was present in these over-crowded rooms. Poor Teresa was certainly out of her league here.

  He was just about to give up, and try instead to find a lady to look in the withdrawing room for him, when he heard Teresa’s voice. It sounded as if it were coming from the far corner of the room. Richard had glanced there earlier, and had only seen a group of gentlemen standing in a tight knot. He had not even stopped to listen to what they were discussing.

  He moved toward the group, listening again for Teresa’s voice. And then he heard it.

  “Lord Southerner, do but consider. A Parliamentary appearance would help all the soldiers. Do you not think that someone would be willing to do that for his own good, as well as for the good of others?”

  Richard recognized Southerner as a formidable debater he had met during his occasional visits to the House of Lords. His pulse quickened in anticipation of the devastating riposte that was sure to come. Yet, Southerner stroked his chin in thought, and then reluctantly agreed. “Perhaps one could be found.”

  Richard caught a glimpse of Teresa from between two of the men surrounding her. He slowly let out his breath as he noticed that she did not seem to be in any difficulty.

  Watching her from the edge of the group, he realized that, in fact, she seemed to be enjoying herself. Her eyes were sparkling with enthusiasm and she somehow seemed to be using her whole body to convey her point. Her animation reminded Richard of how she looked when she played the pianoforte. He stopped listening to what she was saying, and just watched her.

  She was beautiful.

  He moved closer to join the group, suppressing the strong urge to pull Teresa from her admirers and drag her home.

  To his own home, he realized with a jolt. And what would he do with her once he had her there? The memory of her lips on his just a week ago sent his blood racing through his veins.

  Her innocence, mixed with a startling passion, had almost undone him. The intrusion by her aunt and Lady Jersey had come at just the right moment. Otherwise, he was not too sure that he could have stopped himself from doing something that they both would have regretted later. As it was, his body still tingled at just the thought of kissing Teresa once again.

  He dragged his mind away from the feel of Teresa’s lips and tried to concentrate once again on what they were saying.

  Another of the gentlemen was speaking at the moment. “But I say, make the spokesman a peer. A commoner would not have the strength of character to face down the entire Parliament.”

  Teresa considered this for a moment, furrowing her brow. She nodded, but then changed the focus of the argument. “Yes, a nobleman, then—but because the lords would see one of their own in such difficulties and, just perhaps, would feel some compassion.”

  Richard was impressed with her reasoning. So where was the shy young woman his friends had told him about? Or even the awkward and stammering woman he had picked up earlier that evening from Lady Swinborne’s house? Here before him he saw nothing but vitality and confidence. This was a woman who knew her mind, and who could persuade others to her own way of thinking through eloquence and logic.

  “Do you not agree, Lord Merrick?” Lord Southerner asked, drawing Richard further into the group.

  Richard, busy with his own thoughts, had completely lost the thread of the conversation. “I am afraid I must support Miss Seton in this matter, sir,” he said diplomatically.

  Southerner clearly felt his case was lost. He bowed with a loud creak of his stays and withdrew.

  Richard took the opportunity to extract Teresa from the knot of gentlemen so that she might get a breath of fresh air. It was unfortunate, but many of the people present clearly had not begun to prescribe to the modern style of cleanliness. The smell had grown overbearing.

  Teresa smiled brightly at Richard as he gently led her toward the open French windows. “Thank you for supporting me.”

  For a smile like that, he realized with a start, he would do nearly anything. He became conscious that he was simply staring at her. He quickly curved his lips to return her smile and bowed. “I did nothing. It was you and your arguments that won them over. You are very eloquent, my dear.”

  “Oh!” A pretty pink color stained her cheeks. “I… ah… thank you, Richard.”

  “I must admit to you that I was a little worried. I have heard that you’ve been having some difficulties at parties. Did your aunt not say something about you hiding behind potted plants?” he said, teasing her a little.

  Teresa turned bright pink. “Er… yes, she might have.”

  “But you’ve had no such problems here.”

  “Oh. No. Well, I suppose it is because I need not watch what I say so closely here. The purpose of being here is to discuss politics, so it is less likely that I will make a faux pas than if I was at a ball.”

  He leaned against the window. “Yes, I understand. But if that is the case, then when at a ballyou simply need to remember to not discuss politics. Then you would not need to worry about making a mistake on that account.”

  As a footman passed by, Richard took a glass of lemonade for Teresa and for himself.

  She drained half of it before continuing. “But if I do not talk about politics, what can I discuss? I am afraid that my mother was quite correct. I have no polite conversation.”

  This was said in such a matter-of-fact way that Richard felt like shaking some sense into her. Instead, he shook his head in frustration, forcing himself to speak gently. “Teresa, that is just because you have not practiced. I will be more than happy to teach you what is acceptable conversation at a society event.”

  Teresa’s face lit up at the offer then fell again. “I believe my aunt tried to do that, but somehow it did not stick. When in company, I could never remember what was allowed and what was not. I would always get mixed up and say the wrong thing.”

  He laid a reassuring hand on her arm. “Do not worry, Teresa. A few hours of practice with me and you will be charming the pinks of the ton with ease.”

  Teresa looked at him with such hope in her eyes that he felt his heart give a little somersault in his chest. “Do you really think so?” she asked. “When can we begin?”

  “Tomorrow morning? If, that is, you can keep all your new admirers at bay.”

  Teresa tried her best not to be nervous as she sat down with Richard for their social practice session, with her aunt sitting properly near by with her embroidery. He quickly put her at ease, prompting her with simple topics.

  They talked about the weather (it was a lovely spring, despite the fact that, in truth, it still felt more like winter) and laughed over the fictitious decorations at the ball (the Chinese pagoda in the middle of the dining room, with a Sphinx inside spouting ratafia into a fountain). But then Richard declared that he would provide no more help and it would be up to her to start a conversation.

  Teresa’s heart lept to her throat as she scoured her mind for something acceptable. Silence reigned for a full minute before she finally remembered a topic of conversation her aunt had told her was impeccable.

  “Tell me, my lord, have you recently purchased any horseflesh?” she asked, folding her hands properly in her lap and swallowing down her nervousness.

  “I am so glad that you asked that, Miss Seton. As a matter of fact, I have. He is a prime goer and stands at nearly twenty-five hands tall!” Richard said, a broad smile on his face.

  “Twenty-five hands! My goodness, how would one mount such a beast?” Teresa could not hold back her laughter and thoughts of nervousness fled from her mind.

  Richard, too, was clearly enjoying himself. “Why, with another horse, of course. I mount my trusty old gelding roan, Marron, stand up on his back and from there climb onto my new steed.”

  Teresa’s cocked her head as she tried to imagine such a feat. But then she recalled that it was up to her to keep the conversation going. “An
d please do tell me, my lord, what have you named this fine animal?”

  “I have named him Goliath. I felt that to be fitting.”

  Teresa hid her giggles behind the back of her hand and instead did her best to nod knowingly. “I see.”

  Miller, Lady Swinborne’s butler, coughed discreetly, interrupting whatever Teresa was going to say next. “My lady, Doña Isabella is here to see you.”

  Chapter Ten

  Teresa’s mother blew in like a hurricane, complete with water and howls. She stood still for only a moment, in order to locate her daughter, and then burst afresh in torrents of tears and cries of suffering. As she threw herself on to Teresa’s neck, she cried piteously, “Querida!”

  As Doña Isabella began pouring out her woes on to her daughter’s shoulder, Teresa could not help but think that she could not remember the last time her mother had embraced her. She also had not remembered how strong her mother’s perfume was. Her nose itched and she was hard put not to sneeze. But then she began to listen to what her mother was saying.

  Life had been so hard since she left, her mother told her in her native Spanish. It was too much to expect that she could handle everything alone. She could not, so she had sold everything and come to her only child — the only person she had left in the world. She knew that her dear, sweet Teresa would take care of her. It was all that kept her together throughout the long arduous journey. She knew that her dear, sweet Teresa would take care of everything.

  Teresa murmured words of encouragement and strength while her mother cried on her shoulder. Even if she thought could, she did not attempt to stop the flow of tears.

  When Doña Isabella finally ran out of words, Teresa dared to ask the question that had been gripping at her heart ever since her mother entered the room. “Papa?”

  This sent Doña Isabella into a fresh wave of tears. Teresa felt her knees collapse under her. Luckily, strong hands guided her back onto the settee.

  It was true. He was gone. Her father. The one person who had given Teresa unconditional love and support throughout her life. She thought bitterly of the promise she had made to him to marry for love. What a mockery she had made of it.

  Now all she was left with was her mother. She loved her mother very much, but she had finally freed herself—or thought she had freed herself—from the constant criticism she had endured for as long as she could remember. But now her mother was here and there would be no one to buffer Teresa from her harsh words. There was no escape.

  Teresa realized that she was now weeping as much for herself as she was for her father. She was ashamed and immediately began to pull herself together. She had begun to dry her tears with the back of her hand when a large white handkerchief was pressed into it.

  She looked up to see Richard standing next to her. The look of deep sorrow in his eyes almost made her start to cry once more. He understood. Here was the one person who would understand her sorrow, but would he understand her feelings toward her mother? She thought not.

  Perhaps her mother would not criticize her if she learned of Teresa’s engagement to a marquis. Surely that would raise her up in her mother’s estimation? She had to try.

  She used the handkerchief in her hand and then turned to her mother, who was still weeping into her own handkerchief. “Mama, please,” she said in English for Richard and her aunt’s benefit. “Mama, you must stop crying now. I… I have someone… that is, here is…”

  Doña Isabella sniffed delicately, and turned from her daughter to the man standing next to her. Doña Isabella was the only person Teresa knew who looked even more beautiful after she had been crying, she thought bitterly.

  The unshed tears still in her mother’s beautiful eyes not only made them look larger, but also magnified their intense blue color. Her olive skin was slightly flushed and a few stray blue-black curls had escaped from the knot of hair on the top of her head to frame her lovely heart-shaped face.

  “Mama, this is Richard Angles, the M-M-Marquis of Merrick. We… we are to be married,” Teresa managed to say as Richard bowed to her mother.

  “Please accept my most sincere condolences, Doña Isabella,” he said smoothly.

  Her mother inclined her head graciously. “Gracias, my lord.” Then she turned to her daughter. “Did you say married, querida? You are engaged to marry the Marquis?” she said softly, in her beautifully accented English.

  Her mother was as predictable as ever. Teresa knew that she would respond to both his title and to the fact that her ugly little daughter, who she had despaired of ever being married at all, was actually engaged only a short time after arriving in London.

  “I am sorry I did not write to properly seek your permission, madam, but I understood that you were busy tending to Mr. Seton’s health,” Richard said, in his deep baritone.

  Teresa was afraid for a moment that her mother would succumb to her tears once again, but she simply pressed her handkerchief to her pretty bow-shaped mouth and nodded.

  “So good of you to consider my difficulties,” she said in a strained voice. “I must admit that I am quite surprised to hear that my Teresita has secured your interest, my lord.”

  “M-M-Mama…” Teresa began, but her mother interrupted her.

  “My dearest Teresa.” Doña Isabella turned towards her daughter with a look of wonder on her face. “Why look at you, mi amor. It is a good thing I have come. The color of your dress is all wrong for you and the style is atrocious. Your hair, it does not shine and you must have forgotten how to put it up as I showed you.”

  “Mama…you… you must not…” Teresa knew herself to be blushing. She was deeply embarrassed at her mother’s criticisms. Her dress was new—the material and design picked out by her aunt. Her hair, too, had been styled by her aunt’s own maid. She tried to give her aunt a look of apology.

  “Doña Isabella, I assure you, your daughter is one of the most beautiful young ladies of my acquaintance,” Richard said, with a sweet smile for Teresa.

  Teresa could hardly believe it. He was defending her to her mother. No one, not even her father, had ever contradicted her mother.

  Teresa looked to see how her mother was taking this. It did not look good. Her mother’s beautiful mouth was pulled down, as were her perfectly arched eyebrows.

  The scowl only lasted for a second, however, before her mother smiled sweetly up at Richard once again. “Of course she is, my lord. She is my daughter.”

  Teresa thought she saw Richard’s lips twitch with amusement, but he said nothing.

  Teresa wondered how such lies came so easily to Richard’s tongue. She could never lie, and certainly not to her mother. Her stammers and awkward pauses always gave her away. But Richard was clearly a very accomplished liar. He could lie about his identity, about his whereabouts and now about her looks.

  “Isabella, you must be exhausted. Let me show you to your room.” Lady Swinborne, dabbing at her eyes, broke the silence that was about to threaten them.

  “Oh yes, Catherine, my dearest sister. You are so good! Please forgive me for not paying my respects to you. As you could see, I was quite overcome.” Doña Isabella took her sister-in-law’s hands.

  “Of course, my dear. I completely understand. It is quite all right. Come now.” Lady Swinborne led Doña Isabella out of the room.

  As soon as they had gone, Richard sat back down onto the sofa next to Teresa. She took a deep, shaky breath. It had to have been an extremely difficult quarter of an hour for her. It was hard to imagine the emotional upheaval—and she had borne it so bravely.

  Her mother’s presence clearly had a huge impact on her. She had been so happy, her self-confidence growing as they had conversed easily on silly topics—and then her mother had blown all of that budding confidence out the window with her grand, tear-filled entrance.

  In her wake, she had left a stammering, awkward girl who now could do nothing but sit in silence. Was she thinking of her father? Her loss? Or was she simply so overwhelmed by her mother that sh
e was too afraid to even open her mouth for fear of what faltering words would issue from it?

  Richard didn’t know, but it infuriated him to see her thus and he was frustrated that there was nothing he could do about it.

  Teresa just sat, mute, staring at her hands.

  “My poor Teresa. I am so sorry for your loss,” he said quietly.

  “Thank you, Richard.” Teresa did not look him in the eye, but kept her focus on her own hands. “I… I am sorry to have used you and your title to impress my mother. I felt I had to do something and I… I knew she would respond to it, you see.”

  He tried to coax a smile from her. “I understand. I am glad you were able to make use of my title. I have not often found so many good uses for it myself.”

  His mild attempt at humor worked, but too briefly.

  If only it were now not so very inappropriate for her to come and play on his pianoforte. He was sure it would make her feel better. But he also knew that there was no chance her aunt would let her go to his home alone, and it was unlikely that Lady Swinborne would come along as chaperone. He did not even suggest it for fear of making her feel worse.

  Thinking of Teresa at the pianoforte brought to mind the last time he had seen her there. Then, too, her mother had been the topic of discussion, and Teresa’s insecurities had been at the forefront of her mind.

  Richard had kissed away those insecurities. He was very tempted to do so now.

  “My mother is very beautiful, is she not?”

  The bitterness in Teresa’s voice made it clear how he should respond—with something only close to the truth. He made his face as blasé as possible and shrugged. “Yes, I suppose, if you like dark women. I believe that fair skin is much more beautiful.”

  In fact, Richard had nearly been astounded at the Doña’s beauty. He knew now exactly what it was that had drawn those soldiers to her drawing room throughout the war. Teresa’s mother looked so young that she could have been her sister, and her figure… Richard’s mouth went dry just thinking about those voluptuous curves. He would never had believed Teresa’s mother, or anyone’s mother for that matter, could be so desirable.