“Delightful creature, Mrs. Holmsly,” Lord Westwick interjected. “She means to be your friend, I believe, Miss Armstrong. I trust you will bear that in mind, and not think too harshly of her.”
“Of course not. I am very aware of her good intentions, but she had far better exercise them on someone more deserving!” Nell looked pleadingly at Sir Hugh. “My aunt does not appreciate having her will crossed, as I dare say you have noticed, sir. I fear she will make herself most unpleasant to your sister should Mrs. Holmsly appear to be at odds with her.”
“If you think Miss Longstreet has it in her to reduce my sister to a quivering jelly, you do not know Emily,” Sir Hugh teased. Then he added significantly, “And Emily has a husband and a brother to back her up.”
Nell was very aware that she herself had no one to do likewise. But she was accustomed to her aunt’s ways as few others could be. It all made for a challenging balancing act. Across the room Nell could see that the Holmslys continued to converse with Aunt Longstreet, whose vigorous cane-thumping could not be distinguished in such a noisy setting.
A tiny smile quivered at the corners of Nell’s lips. “I doubt she will be caught at such a disadvantage another time,” she remarked ruefully. Her aunt cast a glaring look about the room, and when her gaze lighted on Nell, she beckoned with an imperious hand. “I’d best return to her, if you wouldn’t mind, Lord Westwick.”
The earl paused and regarded her with concern. “If you’re quite sure you wish to return…”
“Oh, yes. Else she’ll become distressed. She is probably ready to leave now.”
“Then I shall accompany you home,” Sir Hugh insisted.
“That would be very kind of you,” Nell said. That disconcerting fluttery feeling lodged in her breast once more, much to her dismay. You’re five-and-twenty, she chided herself. Not nineteen. Behave accordingly. Unfortunately, her inner self wasn’t paying much attention, and her pulse remained quickened as she placed her hand on Sir Hugh’s proffered arm.
* * * *
Miss Longstreet did not wish for Sir Hugh’s escort. She made herself quite plain about this, but the baronet paid her no heed. “Not only will you have my escort,” he told her quietly but firmly, “but you will allow me to see you home in my carriage.”
“I had rather have a sedan chair,” she announced in piercing accents.
“But Miss Armstrong would prefer to be driven in my carriage,” Sir Hugh announced without the least ground for his assertion, “and I have every intention of honoring her wish.”
“Is that true?” Miss Longstreet demanded, glaring at Nell.
“Yes, indeed, Aunt Longstreet. For you know how difficult it was for us to maneuver into a sedan chair with our gowns, and how uncomfortable we were. I feel certain we will be much better accommodated in your godson’s carriage.”
“Humph,” her aunt muttered.
Miss Longstreet at least seemed willing enough to leave the ballroom. She bid goodbye to the Holmslys, but ignored Lord Westwick, who stood aside to let the party pass. Nell extended her hand to the earl with a warm “Thank you!”
Sir Hugh shepherded the ladies through the crowded room to the entrance hall. He had sent a servant to inform his driver that the carriage was wanted, but there had been insufficient time for it to arrive. Even after the ladies’ pelisses had been claimed, the carriage had not appeared.
Fearing that his driver, having earlier been told that Sir Hugh would be two or three hours, had settled into some cozy inn for a brew, the baronet considered the possibility of hiring a hackney carriage. Fortune smiled on him, however, in the person of his friend Hopkins, who arrived in his carriage just as Hugh was considering the tongue-lashing he would receive from Miss Longstreet if he were to suggest a rented vehicle. He left his charges in the foyer and came out to meet his friend.
“Drat!” Hopkins exclaimed. “Knew I should have gotten here sooner. Don’t tell me you’re leaving already, old fellow.”
“Hopkins, you are in the very nick of time. May I borrow your carriage?”
“My carriage?” His friend frowned, shaking his head. “But, Hugh, you have one of your own. Probably more than one. Yes, definitely more than one.”
“But I need a carriage this instant in order to convey my godmother and her niece to their house in Queen Square. Why not come with us and I will introduce you to them?”
Hopkins regarded him suspiciously. “This the old harridan from Westmorland?” he demanded.
“Mind your tongue! She’s no more than six feet from here.”
“Probably has ears as sharp as a dog’s, too. You may take the carriage, but I’ll not ride along, thank you.” Hopkins was conveying these instructions to his coachman when Hugh brought the two ladies out into the light of the flambeaux on the areaway. He blinked in astonishment at their old-fashioned costumes, but gave a very creditable bow nonetheless. “Servant, ma’am,” he said to Miss Longstreet. “Honored to offer you the use of my carriage.”
Rosemarie Longstreet regarded it with a disparaging sniff. “Wouldn’t have needed it if my godson had any control over his servants,” she snapped as she allowed herself to be handed into the vehicle.
Coming directly behind, Hugh saw Nell give one of her charming, slightly apologetic smiles to Hopkins. Hugh said, “Miss Armstrong, may I present my friend Horace Hopkins.”
“How do you do?” Nell gave a little curtsy. “It was kind of you to accommodate us, Mr. Hopkins.”
Hopkins, a rather short man, found himself looking up at the young woman. “Pray don’t mention it,” he insisted. “My pleasure.”
After he had handed her into the carriage he turned to Hugh and said in a low voice, “My word, she’s the goddess Juno! You have the most remarkable relations, Hugh.”
“I’m not related to either of them,” Hugh reminded his friend, sotto voce.
“Those gowns…”
“Years out of fashion, I know, but I rather thought Miss Armstrong’s suited her. Fanciful of me, perhaps.”
His friend gave him an odd look but merely asked, “Shall I look for you back here in an hour?”
Sir Hugh shook his head. “I believe I’ll call it a night. Thanks for your assistance, Hopkins.” And so saying, he climbed into the carriage and closed the door behind him.
Chapter Six
Nell was intensely aware of the baronet, sitting opposite them during the short ride to Queen Square. Since her aunt seemed lost in her own thoughts, Nell took it upon herself to converse with Sir Hugh. She mentioned that they had looked through the Peerage and found it wonderfully entertaining.
In the dim light that filtered through the carriage windows, Sir Hugh looked bemused. “Entertaining?”
“Well, yes, for Aunt Longstreet remembers some of these people from her coming out many years ago. It fascinates her to find what has become of them, who married who, and who had which children. Then she tells me stories of them from their youth—and decidedly amusing stories they are.”
Sir Hugh regarded his godmother, still deep in her own thoughts, with something akin to disbelief. “Somehow I find it difficult to picture the two of you bent over the Peerage, doubled over with laughter.”
Nell grinned, relieved to find herself relaxing in his company. “Well, they are seldom stories to anyone’s credit, Sir Hugh, as you might imagine. But in light of the time that has passed, and the respectability of their current situations, we find the incongruity most delightful.”
“Give me an example,” he suggested.
“Ah, well, naming no names, but Aunt Longstreet told me of a certain peer of the realm, a viscount I believe he was, who had a penchant for…um…lifting small objects from the very best homes in London. This gentleman has been married three times, has nine children, and is a member of the present government!”
“Ah, I see what you mean. Do her stories shock you?”
“Oh, no. Eccentricity runs in my family, and I can only be comforted by finding that it is rampant
even amongst the most well born.”
Sir Hugh laughed. Nell warmed to the rich sound. He seemed genuinely delighted, the light in his eyes dancing with his enjoyment. How different a laugh could sound!
One of the gentlemen at the Assembly Rooms that evening had brayed when he laughed, an exceedingly irritating sound. Especially as she was not at all certain that effete fellow hadn’t been expressing his amusement at her costume. And Sir Hugh, after his first glance of astonishment, hadn’t betrayed the slightest hint of criticism. Which further endeared him to her.
She had almost gotten up her courage to ask Sir Hugh about his sister’s problematic intentions toward her, Nell, when the carriage drew up in front of the house in Queen Square. She waited while he handed Aunt Longstreet down onto the pavement. When he took her own hand, she was forced to grasp his firmly as she maneuvered the stiff bustled gown through the narrow doorway.
In her eagerness to find herself firmly on the ground, she slid slightly on the stair and the baronet’s other hand came instantly to her waist to support her. His aid lasted only a moment, as she was soon safely on the ground. Oh, it was the smallest of actions, but Nell chose to tuck it, along with the sensation it aroused in her, away in her mind. It was the sort of detail one needed to embellish a daydream, and she might have great need of daydreams when they returned to Longstreet Manor.
* * * *
Nell was convinced that Aunt Longstreet had some devilry afoot. It was not so much that her mood was low; in fact, if anything there seemed to be a suppressed excitement about her. The day after the assembly Nell happened upon Rosemarie in the study with a volume of the Peerage open. When the older woman heard her niece enter the room, she quickly snapped shut the book she had been perusing and slid it away.
“Can I help you find something?” Nell asked cautiously.
“Nothing! I was just paging through in the hopes of coming upon a familiar name.”
Though Nell did not believe this for a minute, she merely nodded. Since the two women had gone straight to bed the previous evening, Nell now asked, “Did you enjoy yourself last night, Aunt Longstreet?”
Rosemarie Longstreet scowled, but said in only a slightly disparaging tone, “What is there to enjoy in such a crush of people? It was hot and the wine was watered, just as one would expect. I trust you do not cherish the ambition to attend any more assemblies.”
“Oh, I don’t know. There was such a festive air to it,” Nell said dreamily. “The ladies looked so pretty in their finery—and the gentlemen so handsome. I thought Mrs. Holmsly’s husband particularly fascinating.”
Her aunt eyed her speculatively. “Seemed a dull dog to me. Talked of nothing but the condition of the roads.”
“I saw them dancing as we were waiting for the carriage. They make such a fine looking couple.” Nell paused, drawing her hand absently across a volume of the Peerage. “Aunt Longstreet, does your dislike of Lord Westwick have its root in the past?”
Her aunt’s face took on a fierce, determined look. “That is none of your business, missy. You are not to be making friends with him, either, do you hear? I was most displeased to see you stroll off on his arm, let me tell you.”
“Unless you can give me a reason for being anything but pleasant to the man, I shall have to decide for myself, ma’am.”
“Don’t be impertinent!” Rosemarie snapped. “If I tell you he is to be shunned, you must accept my word.”
“My dear aunt, there are so few people of whom you approve that I would be without any acquaintance if I followed your strictures!”
“This is quite different.”
“In what way?”
Rosemarie pursed her lips stubbornly. “You don’t need to know.”
Nell turned away. “Very well. Shall I bring you a cup of tea now, aunt?”
“Yes.” And though she rarely said it, she added, “Thank you, Helen.”
* * * *
Sir Hugh discovered, when he waited on his sister the following day, that she was at work again hatching plans.
“I inquired last evening, after your Queen Square ladies left, if any of the matrons present had hired a dancing instructor for her children.” Emily’s eyes twinkled. “People are always so ready to tell you these things. I think it has something to do with their delight in talking about their own children. Remind me not to constantly rattle on about Walter when he is older.”
“You feel it is acceptable to ‘rattle on’ about him now, do you, Emily?”
She laughed. “Of course I do. He’s only a baby. But when he is—oh—ten or eleven, and has acquired some real skills beyond smiling, I shall be forced to button my lips about him, for I refuse to embarrass him by telling the world at large what an elegant dancer he is, or how well he rides a horse.”
“Well, perhaps he won’t be an elegant dancer, or ride a horse well,” Hugh consoled her.
“Fustian! Of course he will,” she assured him. “With his father and you as examples, I do not see how he can possibly manage to do otherwise.”
“And yet, some of us are grave disappointments to our parents.”
“Walter shan’t be. Anyhow, that is beside the point, Hugh, and I wish you would not distract me this way.”
“Beg pardon.”
“Now, Mrs. Gorton was the most helpful of the ladies with whom I spoke. She has two daughters and three sons, all of an age to be instructed by a dancing master, though the youngest is under ten, I believe.”
“And tell me, Emily, why you have developed this intense interest in dancing masters,” he suggested.
“But, Hugh, it is obvious! Miss Armstrong needs one, but that dragon to whom she is companion is scarcely likely to hire one for her.”
“No, she most certainly is not. And I trust you don’t plan to do so, either.”
“Well, I don’t. But I have hit upon the perfect scheme, nevertheless.”
Sir Hugh sighed and shook his head. “Emily, you are way beyond your depth here, my girl. I fancy this all has to do, ultimately, with your master plan to rescue my inheritance. Pray abandon your efforts on my behalf. Miss Longstreet will decide how to dispose of her property without consulting either of us, and I fear any efforts on your part will serve only to irritate her already overburdened nerves. I trust you noticed that she gave poor Lord Westwick a direct cut last evening. So much for your initial moves on my account.”
A tiny frown creased Emily’s brow. “That was most unfortunate. But you must know, Hugh, that my efforts on Miss Armstrong’s behalf are not entirely because of you. I feel for the dear girl, living with that ogre. She deserves better, and I intend to see that she gets it.”
“Emily, you scarcely know her! She may be perfectly content with her lot in life.”
“Surely you jest! No one could be content to spend her entire life caring for that cantankerous relation. It is the worst sort of servitude.”
Hugh made an impatient gesture. “My dear sister, not everyone has the advantages that you and I do. You cannot be so naïve as to think you can right all the ills of society because they distress you! Miss Armstrong is a young woman who strikes me as capable of making the best of her position and not allowing herself to be cowed by my godmother. Anything you try to do for her is more likely to cause her grief than to make her life more comfortable.”
“I cannot agree,” his sister retorted. “And, besides, Hugh, what harm could it do her to learn some country dances with the Gorton children?”
“Is that what you have in mind?” Hugh ran an agitated hand through his thick brown hair, managing to disorder it considerably. “Emily, she’s twenty-odd years old. She would feel foolish dancing with children, to say nothing of the fact that she doesn’t at this moment even know of the existence of the Gortons.”
“What has that to say to anything? She didn’t know me a week ago, either. And I shall accompany her to the Gortons, and play the pianoforte, so she needn’t feel the least out of place.”
Hugh stared at his si
ster. “You will play the pianoforte? Emily, have you lost your mind? You scarcely know the Gortons, and, though I trust you know several country tunes, you couldn’t possibly wish to perform them for a group of children not out of the schoolroom.”
Emily flushed. “Perhaps not. I dare say they have a governess who would serve better than I. But I shall accompany Nell there, and perhaps even take part in the dancing, if they need another female. Don’t you remember what fun those dancing parties were when we were young, Hugh? Mrs. Gorton said she invites a number of young people to join her own children, enough to make up a decent set. It is the only way Miss Armstrong will learn.”
“Emily, you don’t even know if Miss Armstrong wishes to learn.”
Emily’s chin lifted perceptibly. “I shall ask her. And I beg you won’t interfere, Hugh. Allow me to at least offer her the opportunity.”
“Very well. But you will be well served if she dismisses you as a meddlesome busybody!”
* * * *
It would not have occurred to Nell to dismiss anyone as charming as Emily Holmsly as a “meddlesome busybody,” but she was astonished by her guest’s suggestion. “Oh, I am certain I am a great deal too old to learn to dance,” she insisted, her face and voice earnest. “How kind of you to think of such a scheme, though. You have been a great deal too good to me.”
“Pooh! Not a bit of it. And no one is ever too old to learn to dance, Nell, I promise you.”
Emily had asked to see Nell alone after the briefest of greetings to Rosemarie, and Nell could only be glad that her aunt hadn’t overheard the plan. She wouldn’t have hesitated to call Emily a meddlesome busybody! But Nell was shaking her head, very aware that such a plan could not possibly succeed.
“Even if I could learn, there would really be very little purpose,” Nell explained. “After all, we shall only be in Bath for a short stay, and Aunt Longstreet has already declared her intention not to attend any more assemblies.”
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