by Lynn Morris
“Don’t you dare speak her name again. As long as you live, scum,” Giles said. “No, I am no blood relation to her. But she and her family—her honorable family—are my closest friends. Her brother is not here, or he would surely defend her honor. I’m glad to do so in his stead.”
“But—but—but—I meant no offense to the lady, I, along with everyone else in London, am an admirer of hers, I assure you, Sir Giles, I may have spoken foolishly, but no offense, none at all, was intended, and I—perhaps I spoke lightly of the lady, but I didn’t mean, I never meant—”
Giles’s face was a picture of disdain. “Be silent. It’s clear that you have no intention of giving me satisfaction. Very well, I won’t attempt to demand it, since obviously you’re a coward and have no honor. I will tell you this. If I hear of you again insulting the lady in any company whatsoever, I will find you, and I will make you pay for your insolence. Do you understand?”
“Ye-yes, Sir Giles, I will certainly be discreet and—”
Giles turned on his heel and walked away.
He had every intention of leaving, but just at the entrance he was stopped by Lord Southam calling, “Knyvet, wait. I need to speak to you.”
Giles turned and saw that Southam had followed him, still stripped to the waist and streaming with sweat, and unwrapping his gloves. “I’m hardly in the mood for polite conversation just now, Southam. Particularly with you.”
“I don’t blame you,” Lord Southam said, mildly for him. “But I’d like to request that you give me the opportunity to explain, and perhaps mitigate my guilt in your eyes, if only slightly. Jackson has offered me the use of his office so that we can talk privately.”
They went into the office, which was as neat and spare as the saloon, and stood facing each other. The tension in the air was palpable. Southam said, “The only thing I despise more than acting a fool is being obliged to confess I’m a fool. I greatly misjudged Lady Mirabella. But I assure you that I made her an honorable offer, and I was so certain of her acceptance that I kissed her. In no way did I assault her, or importune her. The thought that she was anything less than virtuous never entered my mind, as it never entered my mind that it would offend her to seal a betrothal with a kiss.”
Giles crossed his arms and frowned. “As you admit, you misjudged her grievously, and that’s because you hardly know her. Didn’t it occur to you that no respectable woman is going to allow a relative stranger to kiss her?”
Southam said, “Knyvet, I’m surprised that you’re so naïve. I’m thirty-seven years old, I’ve been observing the machinations of the Marriage Market for years. I can assure you that once a couple has settled on marriage, the lady rarely objects to a simple kiss.”
“You were so sure of her, then?”
“I was. All of London knows that she has decided to marry. In the last month she has given me every indication that she considered us to be a suitable match.”
Darkly Giles thought, Suitable match, even I said to Lewin that that’s what Mirabella is looking for. I suppose I can hardly blame Southam, in the same circumstances I might have thought the same.
With some difficulty Giles asked, “And so you were so heartbroken by her rejection that you went out, got drunk, and insanely ran your mouth to a mob of rabble?”
Southam answered evenly, “I was not heartbroken; there was no question of sentimental romantic nonsense between me and Lady Mirabella. Let us say I was enamored of her, she’s lovely, she’s bright and clever and amusing, a most congenial companion. All of the young women I’ve known, it seems, have been mainly concerned with seeking a title and fortune. I knew that Mirabella cared for neither. I had never considered marrying before, and have never made an offer to any woman. It stung me deeply when she rejected me.”
“Your pride, you mean,” Giles said.
“I suppose. But I admit that I was disappointed, too, and perhaps even a little dejected. It’s none of your concern how I happened to fall in with Whitmer and that low crowd, but I was very wrong to be so indiscreet, as I said, I behaved like the worst kind of fool. I regret the pain it’s caused you, Knyvet, and that my actions subjected Lady Mirabella to such filthy gossip. I assure you it will never happen again.”
After a moment Giles reached out and the two men shook hands. Giles turned to walk out, but Lord Southam said, “One last thing, Knyvet. I can’t undo the damage that Whitmer has already done, but I can stop him from continuing to insult me and the lady. I know that you’ve warned him, but he is a deeply stupid man and I believe that I shall be obliged to take harsher measures to ensure that he keeps his mouth shut.”
Giles said, “But it’s obvious the man’s a coward, he’ll never come up to scratch to duel. You’re not thinking of some harsher—physical—measures, surely?”
Southam grinned, and Giles thought it looked feral. “He’s not worth the trouble. No, Lord Whitmer is my banker, and was long before he was Baron Whitmer, which title, by the way, he owes to my father. I’ll threaten to have that wretch’s allowance cut off. That will stop his brainless gibbering.”
Giles said, rather stiffly, “I’m grateful that you made explanations to me, Southam. You weren’t obliged to by any means.”
“If you were ready to fight a duel for her, then I think you’re rightly owed an explanation. And also, perhaps, for other reasons,” Southam said shrewdly.
Giles could think of nothing more to say.
* * *
More than a week passed before Mirabella spoke to Josephine about Lord Southam. At the routs and parties and at Almack’s, she was wary of meeting Lord Southam, but she didn’t see him. Although privately Mirabella was confused and upset, in public she appeared as she always did, vivacious and lively. Wisely, Josephine didn’t press Mirabella. Mirabella was close to her friends and trusted them completely, but she confided to them in her own time and manner.
After a very late night at the theatre, Mirabella invited Josephine for a glass of ratafia and a talk. When they were comfortably settled, Mirabella said, “I love music, in particular opera, but I discovered tonight that actually I find Artaxerxes to be ponderous and tiresome. Did you enjoy it?”
“I did, very much, but then it’s the first time I’ve seen it. You’ve told me that it’s been featured every Season for time out of mind, so I’m not surprised that you’ve wearied of it.”
Mirabella nodded. She took a sip of ratafia and stared thoughtfully into space. Josephine waited patiently. Finally Mirabella said, “It was something of a surprise to me that Lord Southam visited our box. I haven’t seen him since that night at Vauxhall.”
“He was very congenial. Sometimes he seems rather aloof, but he can certainly be charming.”
“Yes, when he chooses.”
Quietly Josephine asked, “Mirabella, did he offend you in some manner?”
Mirabella gave her a rueful smile. “I thought he did, but now I don’t know if he did or not.”
“Well, that’s a bewildering position to be in.”
“So it is. You see, he made an offer of marriage to me, and then he kissed me.”
“Oh. Um—and so—you’re confused about whether you should be offended or not?”
“It just all happened so fast, I got the feeling of being overwhelmed, and then, when he kissed me, I lost my temper completely.” She frowned darkly. “I wonder if I overreacted. I’ve been trying to think, to understand, if perhaps he wasn’t actually taking liberties. Do you think that maybe other young ladies wouldn’t have gotten quite so hysterical?”
Josephine said gently, “I have no personal knowledge whatsoever of such a situation, dearest. If I think of it in hypothetical terms, however, it seems to me that when a man proposes marriage, and then kisses his betrothed, most young ladies would not have the hysterics. Unless he treated you with disrespect? Did he injure you in some way?”
“Oh, no, it wasn’t like that at all, he was—respectful. He’s just so—masterful, that I couldn’t gather my wits to respond prop
erly.”
“And what should have been your proper response?”
Mirabella sighed. “I should have remained calm, and simply told him that it was too soon, and that I’d prefer to take more time to consider his proposal.”
Josephine’s eyes grew round. “And so you’re still thinking of him as a potential suitor?”
“No, not at all. After the way I spoke to him, I’m sure he’ll never renew his attentions. But that’s not the only reason I’ve decided that we wouldn’t be a suitable match.”
Mischievously Josephine said, “His chart looked very promising, what are we to add to the contras?”
Mirabella’s eyes danced. “I just don’t want to kiss him again. I didn’t care for it much.”
Josephine grinned. “Oh, really? But I know, in fact I have it in writing, that you consider his mouth to be one of his most attractive features. Whatever could have happened to his mouth that this tragedy has come about?”
“I don’t know, I still like the way it looks, but I just don’t want to kiss it. I suppose that might present a problem to a husband.”
“I would imagine so. By any chance have you contemplated kissing Lord Trevor and/or Denys Aldington? Do you feel a complete aversion to either of their mouths?”
“I’m not going to think of kissing for a while. I’m going to—to—martial my forces, and regroup. Perhaps I’ve misjudged the correct manner in going about this.”
“Surely not. I mean, we’ve made charts and everything.”
Mirabella yawned. “Josephine, I love you dearly, but please leave me alone and go to bed. I think I can sleep tonight.”
But she didn’t. She lay awake for a long time, staring up at the canopy of her bed with sightless eyes.
In spite of her determination to dismiss him from her mind, Mirabella was thinking of Lord Southam. Aunt Tirel might have been right, about him at least. I think he’s the kind of man that wouldn’t look kindly upon his wife’s best friend being a man. But…that wouldn’t necessarily be true of Lord Trevor, or especially of Denys, he’s such a good friend to Giles, I’m sure we’d see him often.
Although the exact logistics of this scenario refused to make themselves clear in her mind, it didn’t really bother her. She found that she really had grown drowsy, and fell into a deep sleep. By the morning she had forgotten all about her doubts and worries. As she had almost every day of her life, she awoke excited and anticipating the delights of the new day.
Chapter Fourteen
At times Mirabella still tried to analyze her scene with Lord Southam, and her reaction to his offer. She realized that he had, quite simply, unsettled her to the extent that not only had the situation gone far beyond her control, she had also lost control of herself. Ruefully she recalled the conversation with her mother when she had so blithely said, “Don’t worry about the men, Mamma. We can handle them,” and her mother had grimly replied, “We shall see.”
Mirabella had not been capable of “handling” a man like Lord Southam. Perhaps she was not quite so worldly-wise and sophisticated as she had thought. This revelation made her cautious. For more than three weeks she held herself strictly at arm’s length from her admirers. She noted that Denys Aldington was attentive, as he always was, but maintained a respectful distance. Lord Trevor, on the other hand, outrageously flirted with her at every opportunity. Mirabella decided to have one of her alfresco breakfasts and invite both of them, along with other friends. It was so much easier to observe people, and see them in a more personal light, without the crush of balls and Almack’s and the theatre.
On Wednesday night, of course Mirabella and Josephine were going to Almack’s. Mirabella was slightly out of sorts. She was wearing one of her favorite new gowns. The “petticoat,” which was actually an underdress, was of an airy silk of icy lavender. The overgown was the same silk, dyed a lavender three shades darker, and trimmed with gold metallic embroidery. It had a squared neckline with a small stand-up white lace collar on the back and sides, and the newest fashion of long sleeves, topped by puff sleeves. Mirabella wore her single strand of pearls, and her hair was adorned with a dozen of the tiniest white rosebuds. She should have felt that she looked very well, but somehow she didn’t feel quite as confident as she normally did. It was difficult to pinpoint the cause of her unease; the shade of the dress suited her, it fit her superbly, Colette had dressed her hair magnificently, and each rosebud, with its single small leaf, was perfect.
In the carriage she studied Josephine, who looked lovely in a pale-golden-yellow silk gown heavily trimmed and embroidered with white work, and yellow roses in her hair. The frock had the traditional short puffed sleeves, and Josephine wore long over-the-elbow white gloves. Mirabella reflected that she was unhappy with the short gloves she was obliged to wear with the long-sleeved dress. They didn’t seem nearly as elegant as long gloves. Mirabella decided that she would have Colette remove the long sleeves; perhaps she would like the dress better. It didn’t help her on this evening, however, as she still felt oddly uneasy. Impatiently she told herself that she was being frail and missish for no reason, and determined that she would have a fun evening regardless of her long sleeves.
On this night it was just Mirabella, Josephine, and Lady Camarden. Lord Camarden had grumpily said that he’d had a most tiresome day in the House, with arguments all day long regarding the Prince of Wales’s request for an increase in his funds. Lord Camarden said he had no intention of having a tiresome night at Almack’s. They were later than usual, too, as Mirabella had spent an inordinate amount of time fretting over her toilette, so the crowd at Almack’s was already gathered, and the quadrille had begun.
As soon as they had greeted the Lady Patronesses, Mirabella searched the room and gladly saw that Giles was there, talking to Barbara and Harry Smythe. She grabbed Josephine’s arm and hurried through the crowd to them. “Gracious, is tonight more of a crush than usual?” she asked as they exchanged greetings, bows, and curtsies.
“It certainly is,” Giles said. “We’re honored tonight with a most distinguished and sought-after personage, Lord Wellington. He’s over there, completely surrounded by that enormous knot of people, including my friend Captain Rosborough, who callously forsook us as soon as the great man walked into the room.”
“I’m sure he’s thrilled,” Josephine said. “He told me he’s seen Lord Wellington twice from afar, apparently very afar. He never imagined he might have an opportunity to meet him.”
“For my part, I’m happy to finally see you, Sir Giles,” Mirabella said with mock sternness. “Talk of callously forsaking your friends, Josephine and I haven’t seen you and Lewin for days. For your penance you must give me the first waltz, and take me in to supper.”
Giles bowed slightly. “A thousand pardons, my lady, but I am engaged to Miss Smythe for the first waltz, and have already requested that she allow me to escort her to supper.”
Mirabella was taken aback for a moment; she was not at all accustomed to Giles not being, as it were, at her beck and call. But quickly she smiled brilliantly at Barbara Smythe, who looked slightly distressed. “Barbara, you must forgive me, I have a tendency to regard Giles as my own personal dance master and dinner partner, it comes of our comfortable routine at Camarden, I fear. Giles, I’m happy if you would politely request another dance from me. As far as supper, you have two arms and I doubt that Miss Smythe would object to you escorting us both.”
Barbara hastily said, “Please do accompany us, Lady Mirabella. We haven’t had an opportunity to talk at all this Season, I’d love to visit with you.”
“There it is,” Giles said wryly. “I’m escorting two lovely ladies to supper, and they’re already planning to ignore me.”
“You’re still a lucky dog, Knyvet,” Harry said, “if I do say so myself of my own sister. And Lady Mirabella, it’s always such a pleasure to accompany you on any occasion. May I beg the honor of the first waltz?”
“You may, sir,” Mirabella said.
He turned to Josephine. “Miss Rosborough, would you do me the honor of the second waltz? And since such detailed supper plans are being made, would you give me the pleasure of escorting you tonight? Perhaps we may engage Knyvet in conversation while my sister and Lady Mirabella neglect him.”
“I should be happy, sir,” Josephine calmly replied.
Mirabella saw that though Josephine maintained her usual serene demeanor, her eyes were sparkling and she looked pleased. Mirabella again felt an odd, unfamiliar sense of uncertainty. Am I imagining things? Surely if Josephine were becoming attached to Harry Smythe, she would have confided in me. But no, that’s not her way at all, now that I think of it, she’s so reserved. But it does seem there is something…how is it that I haven’t noticed? Have I become so selfish and self-absorbed that I’m not paying attention to my closest friends?
And Giles…and Barbara…?
The quadrille ended and there was a general shuffling about as the couples left the dance floor and rearranged themselves. Denys Aldington came to bow to Mirabella. “My lady, I was searching for you earlier, but one can barely find one’s own feet in this rout.” He sighed theatrically. “I assume that, as always, your dance card is already filled?”
“Alas, it is not, sir. I’m afraid that I dawdled so at dressing this evening that I made our party arrive shamefully late. Miss Rosborough and I have scarcely had an opportunity to seek out partners.”
“As if you and the lovely Miss Rosborough should ever be obliged to do such a thing,” he said gallantly. “May I have the honor of this dance, Lady Mirabella?”
“Gladly, sir.”
In the long line of dancers, Mirabella noted that Harry Smythe was dancing with Josephine, Barbara was partnered with a young gentleman whom she slightly knew as Mr. Eberhardt, and Lord Trevor Brydges was dancing with Rosalind, Lady FitzGeorge. Giles was not dancing. Mirabella couldn’t help but contrast the delightful enjoyment on Harry Smythe’s face with the rather somber smile that Mr. Aldington occasionally gave her. In past years it had seemed that Denys found much more pleasure in the Season than he did now.