Loving Protector

by Sally Quilford

  The morning was spent in a flurry of activity, as Lady Bedlington took Calista first to a dressmaker, then to a milliner and then on to luncheon at a fine restaurant. Calista could not help noticing that the dressmaker was not the same one that Blanche used, despite Lady Bedlington saying they would meet them at some point.

  “I thought we were only buying a ball gown,” said Calista when they sat down to luncheon.

  “You do not like your new morning dress?”

  “I like it very much only…”

  “Do you think your step-sister notices anything you wear, Calista?” asked Lady Bedlington.

  “No, I do not suppose she does.”

  “Then the extra dress will be our secret.”

  “I think she might notice it is finer than all my other clothes,” said Calista with a smile. “I am very grateful,” she added hastily. Not only had Lady Bedlington bought her two new gowns, but also new under garments and other accessories such as ribbons and bows, and a reticule to match her ball gown. All Calista could do was obey meekly as Her Ladyship gave orders to the dressmaker and milliner to measure her.

  Despite her reservations about accepting the clothes, she could not deny the pleasure of choosing new gowns and accessories. Or at least choosing as far as she were allowed. Lady Bedlington knew instinctively what was right for Calista and was not shy about sending the dressmaker back to find something more suitable. When the dressmaker emerged with one particularly bright-coloured gown, Lady Bedlington snapped, “You are dressing a decent, well-bred young woman, not an actress.” The tradespeople were clearly terrified of her, and she seemed to actively enjoy their fear, having them scurrying all over the shop to find the correct attire. “When you get to my age,” she had murmured to Calista, “tormenting tradespeople is one of the few pleasures in life.”

  And yet, despite Lady Bedlington’s sometimes waspish tongue, everyone seemed to adore her. Perhaps because she was never unfairly sharp. She would often follow up a tongue lashing with a charming and well-deserved compliment, to the point that it was sometimes impossible to see the join.

  It was the same in the restaurant. There were other diners there, some of whom Calista recognized as being higher up the nobility than Lady Bedlington. Yet it was for her that the waiters dashed around, making sure everything was perfect. She rewarded them with a dazzling smile and, before they left, a big tip. The other diners also came up to talk to her whilst they awaited their food.

  One man, a rather jowly nobleman in his fifties, came over to the table, his legs wobbling dangerously as if he had had far too much to drink. “So, Agatha, who is this young filly?”

  “This is my relative, Calista Haywood. Calista, this is the Earl of Garton.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, my lord,” said Calista. She felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny, and only vaguely noticed Lady Bedlington describing her as a relative.

  “And I am very pleased to meet you, young lady.” The Earl leered at her, still rocking back and for on his toes. “What brings you to London? Husband hunting no doubt. Well, I’m looking to take a new wife. May I call on you, tomorrow?”

  “I … er…” Calista looked at Lady Bedlington, terrified of saying the wrong thing, but knowing that she did not want anything to do with this horrible, drunken man.

  “You may not,” said Lady Bedlington.

  “Let the girl answer for herself, can’t you?” said the Earl.

  “Calista has not yet reached her majority, so any protestations of affection you wish to show will have to come via me. I assure you, I intend to choose very well for my little cousin.”

  “Dash it, Agatha, I am on ten thousand a year, and have a title. She could not do much better.” The Earl looked at Calista. “You would do well to consider my offer, girl.” He wandered away from their table, and almost crashed into a group of diners at another table.

  “I do not want to marry him,” Calista whispered. She was gripped by the fear that if Lady Bedlington decided it was a good match, then she would have no choice but to say yes, out of gratitude for what Her Ladyship had done for her.

  “Of course not. He’s an old man, and a drunk at that. Do not look so afraid. He asks a dozen women a week to marry him when he is drunk. No doubt he will wake up tomorrow morning and forget having asked you. ah, here is someone to put the smile back on your face.”

  Calista turned in the direction that Lady Bedlington was looking and saw the colonel walking towards them. “You are late, Brook.”

  “I’m sorry Aunt Agatha … Miss Haywood. The work on the house has just started and I wanted to be sure that the builders know what they are doing. Mr. Benedict is supervising them now.”

  “Well come and sit down and order otherwise we shall never eat.”

  The colonel sat between Calista and Lady Bedlington, and was immediately given a menu. “Has everything been sorted out?” he said to his aunt.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  “Sorted out?” said Calista.

  “Just some private business between us, dear girl,” said Lady Bedlington.

  “Oh. I am sorry. I did not mean to pry.”

  “You had every right to. It is ill-mannered of Brook to start a conversation in which you can have no part.”

  “Yes, it was,” said the colonel. “Please accept my apologies, Miss Haywood.”

  “May I ask you what changes you decided upon in the house?” asked Calista, assaulted by the intense feeling that she wanted to change the subject. Although she could not be certain, she had a feeling that the cryptic conversation between the colonel and his great aunt had something to do with her and also that it had something to do with her new dresses.

  Was it possible that the colonel had insisted she be better attired for the ball at St. James Palace? And if so, did that mean that he had noticed her clothes and found her wanting?

  “Aren’t you longing to tell me all about your new ball gown and pretty new hat?” said the colonel, his lips forming into a wry grin.

  “I am sure you would find that very boring,” said Calista.

  “He is teasing you, Calista. Take no notice. Now tell Calista all about your house or I shall send you home at once.”

  “Actually I won’t,” said the colonel. “I want it to be a surprise. I’ve already promised Miss Haywood she can be amongst my first guests.”

  Calista was about to answer, when she noticed the Earl of Garton approaching them again. “So this is the way the wind is blowing, is it, girly?” he said to her.

  “I am not sure I understand what you mean.”

  “You’ve got your eye on this young upstart.”

  The colonel stood up slowly, standing a full head and shoulders taller than the Earl. “I think you are in your cups, sir,” said the colonel. “And as such are causing my great aunt and Miss Haywood offence. I suggest you go and sleep it off.”

  “Your days are numbered,” said the Earl. “Everyone is talking about what happened at Almacks and how the Duke of Midchester denounced you as nouveau riche. Soon you will not be welcome anywhere.”

  “You say that as if it matters, Lord Garton. To me it does not. However, I am sure that for you it does matter, so I suggest you behave with more propriety in future.”

  The Earl was outclassed and he probably knew it, but before he left, he had one more volley. “Do not think, Windebank that the His Majesty’s admiration for your war record will protect you forever. He is, as you know, notoriously fickle with his friendship.”

  “Once again,” said the colonel, coldly, “you say that as if it matters.”

  “Brook,” said Lady Bedlington in low tones, when the Earl had staggered away and the colonel sat down again, “please be careful. If what you just said is related to the king, you may well find yourself out of favour.”

  “I think I’ve made it plain I do not care,” said the colonel.

  “Perhaps you do not, for yourself, but I hope you care for Calista’s sake. After all,
it was you who wanted her to be presented to the King. Are you going to spoil it for her before she even has the chance to be presented to him?”

  “You are right, as always, Aunt Agatha,” said the colonel. “Now, let us eat lunch and forget all this unpleasantness.”

  The colonel and his aunt exchanged a meaningful glance, and Calista felt, not for the first time, that she was a spectator, coming into a theatre half way through the play.

  “I do not mind if I do not meet the King,” said Calista. “I would much rather live in a society where a man is judged by his actions rather than by his birth.”

  “Nevertheless,” said Lady Bedlington, sternly but kindly, “you shall meet him and Brook will behave. Really, child, it is bad enough that he comes out with reactionary statements. People forgive him because he’s a soldier and they’re allowed to be blunt. But I fear his influence on you is a malign one and that we shall all be thrown in the tower.”

  Calista laughed, because Lady Bedlington was quite clearly joking. “I promise I will not tell the King that I did not care to meet him.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it. Now if I could just extract the same promise from my great nephew, I can attend the ball without feeling on tenterhooks.”

  “I shall be the perfect gentleman,” said the colonel. He was looking at Calista with something like admiration.

  After that luncheon was a lively affair. Both the colonel and his great aunt were tremendously witty, to the point that Calista could barely keep up with them. All she knew was that she smiled and laughed more than she had for a very long time. It was as if a dark cloud had lifted from above her head. Deep down she knew the cause of the cloud, and feared its return, but she would not think about it. Not when she felt so happy.

  Chapter Eight

  The days until the ball at St. James Palace seemed to drag by. The colonel was often absent, overseeing the renovations to his own home. Blanche had half a dozen invitations, insisting Evelyn accompany her, but leaving Calista behind. Not that Calista minded about that. Time without her step-sister was spent happily making the most of Lady Bedlington’s library.

  Both evenings, Calista and Lady Bedlington ate dinner alone, as Blanche and Evelyn had been invited elsewhere, and the colonel and Mr. Benedict returned late from their work. Calista suspected, without proof, that Blanche was deliberately keeping Evelyn and Mr. Benedict apart.

  On the morning of the ball, she looked out into the garden and saw Evelyn and Mr. Benedict talking earnestly. She could not hear what was being said, but Mr. Benedict seemed to be entreating Evelyn over something. Evelyn kept shaking her head, and trying to walk away, only for Mr. Benedict to pull her back and continue his entreaties. Finally, he drew her into his arms and kissed her passionately. Calista backed away from the window, ashamed to have been watching them at such a private moment, only to find that she met with warm, strong resistance.

  “Good morning, Calista,” said the colonel.

  She spun around, and realized she was barely inches from him, but with nowhere to go. Not that she really wanted to go anywhere. “Good morning, colonel.” Unbidden, the image of the colonel taking her into his arms and kissing her, as Mr. Benedict had kissed Evelyn, came to mind. “I was just looking out to see if the weather was fair.”

  “It looked rather stormy to me,” he replied.

  “Do you think so? I really believe we will have sunshine.”

  “Have you ever been caught in a summer storm, Calista? It can be quite exhilarating.”

  Whatever they were discussing, Calista was convinced it had very little to do with the weather. “I cannot say I that have, colonel.”

  “Mr. Benedict and Mrs. Haywood seem to be caught in one now.”

  “I think,” said Calista, happy to change the subject, but still trying to eradicate the image of the colonel kissing her from her mind, “that he wants to be with her, but that I am holding her back.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Not deliberately,” said Calista, hastily. “She will lose papa’s annuity if she remarries and she is afraid I won’t be provided for.”

  “Then we shall have to find you someone to marry, so that she can be happy.”

  Her heart dropped then. How could he talk so casually about her marrying someone else? The answer was simple. He had no idea how she felt about him, and he did not feel anything for her. He had been kind to her, that was all. And she still suspected that the only reason he arranged for her to attend the St. James’ ball was to get back at Blanche for the slight on his character. “I want Evelyn to be happy,” said Calista. “But I could not marry the Earl of Garton, not even for that.”

  “The Earl?” The colonel frowned. “Is he still bothering you?”

  “He says he wants to marry me. He has sent several notes to Lady Bedlington to that effect. And to Evelyn. I do not think he would be kind to me.”

  “No, you are right to refuse. He was not kind to his late wife.” The colonel looked at her for a long time. So long that she became lost in his eyes, and it felt as if something happened between them. Or perhaps she just imagined it had. “I promise with my last breath, Calista, that you will marry someone who is kind to you.”

  “Do I have to marry at all?” The idea of marrying anyone but the colonel was anathema to Calista. She could not begin to imagine allowing another man to kiss and touch her, not when she loved him so dearly. “I wondered … Well, the thing is, Lady Bedlington said I would always have friends and protection. I wondered if I took a job as her companion, then Evelyn would still be free from worry. I have been too shy to mention it in case she thought I was being presumptuous and that she really only being kind. Perhaps you could suggest it to her. Or if not to your great aunt, then to some other well-born lady. I read well, I can sew and …”

  “You most certainly will not be a paid companion.” The colonel sounded so uncharacteristically haughty that Calista feared she had said something outrageous. “Leave things to me. We will find a way for Harry and Mrs. Haywood to be happy and for you to be protected.”

  “You promise that it won’t involve marriage to the Earl of Garton or anyone like him.” Or marrying anyone else for that matter, her heart said privately. Calista did not want to hold Evelyn back, but neither did she want to spend the rest of her life married to a man she could never love. Her heart would always belong to the colonel.

  “You have my word. Shall we shake on it?” The colonel took her hand in his without waiting for a response. For the first time neither were wearing gloves. The feel of his warm hands encompassing hers sent shockwaves through her. Instead of shaking her hand, the colonel raised it to his lips. If she had thought his touch was shockingly pleasurable, it was as nothing compared to the heat of his mouth against her bare skin. “I will see you tonight,” he said. His grey eyes looked strangely heavy, as if he were in the grip of some emotion that Calista could not fathom.

  “Yes.” How one simple word could convey so much, she did not know. She hoped that he took it at face value, and did not realize that she was saying yes to giving him her heart and her undying devotion.

  The rest of the day was filled with visits and final fittings for her ball gown. Standing in front of the mirror, wearing an exquisite dress of white silk overlaid with lace, with a high waist and low neckline, Calista barely recognized the woman in the reflection. Her hair had been set in loose ringlets, piled on top of her head, and then surrounded by a thick band of silk to match her dress. Wispy ringlets framed her face.

  She rushed to Evelyn’s bedroom, wanting her to see the transformation. “Evelyn?”

  “What is it, dear?” Her step-mother was lying in the darkened room.

  “Evelyn, are you unwell?”

  “I have an upset stomach, dearest. I’m sure I will be fine soon. Oh do light the lantern and let me look at you.”

  Calista did as she was bid, then approached the bed. She was horrified to see that Evelyn really did look ill. “Perhaps I should not
go tonight,” she said.

  “You will go to the ball,” said Evelyn with a wan smile. “I would not have you miss it for the world. You look beautiful. Just beautiful.”

  “Is Blanche here?”

  “No, she has gone out to dine with those two sisters. I was invited too, but … I cannot stand their prattling when I feel well, let alone when I feel ill.”

  “If you need me, you are to send for me,” said Calista. She felt guilty because as much as she cared about Evelyn’s welfare, she did not want to miss the ball. Not so much because of the King, but because the colonel would be there and she wanted him to see her new dress. If anyone had told her a few weeks before she would care what a man thought of her attire, she would have laughed at them. Now it seemed to her that everything hinged on what the colonel thought of her tonight. She did not want to let him down in front of the King.

  “He will think you are the most beautiful woman he has ever seen,” said Evelyn, perceptively.

  “Do you think so?”

  “Yes. I am sure of it.”

  Calista rushed forward and kissed Evelyn on the forehead. “I want you to know that if you wish to be with Mr. Benedict, then you may. You do not have to worry about me.”

  “Why? Have you received an offer of marriage from the colonel?”

  “What? Oh no. Of course not. He is going to help me.”

  “In what way?” Evelyn frowned. “If he has not offered you marriage, dearest, then I hope he has not made a less reputable offer.”

  “No. No, I am sure that is not what he meant. I asked him if he could find me a position as a companion to a high-born lady and he said no, but he would make sure that I was protected so that you and Mr. Benedict could be happy together.”

  “Calista … dearest, do take care. You’re a clever girl, but also very innocent in many ways. When a man offers to protect you, but does not offer marriage …” Evelyn paused, leaving the rest unspoken, either out of deference for Calista’s youth, or because she was too embarrassed to be more explicit. “I am being silly, I’m sure. The colonel has always behaved with the utmost respect towards you. But if he, or any other man for that matter, makes you any offer that involves compromising your good name, you are not to even think about my happiness. You say no, and come straight to me. Do you promise?”