“Look about me for what, ma’am?”
“Why, a prospective husband, of course. Have I not been saying how necessary it is that you should dispose of yourself suitably?”
Marianne balked. “You said it once, ma’am. Moreover, it is hardly the moment for me to be thinking of myself.”
“On the contrary, it is exactly the moment. If Jocasta should contract an engagement, it is highly unlikely Grace will come to Town next season. And once Justin finds a replacement for Lady Selina —”
“He shows no disposition to be in a hurry to do that,” Marianne cut in, the very thought pricking at her deepest wound.
“But he must marry in due course, or have an obscure cousin inherit. He will have his pick of the eligibles, and you may be sure a pack of hopefuls will be thrust at him.”
“They already are, according to Jocasta.”
“Well, there you are. He will not resist forever, and you ought to be just as determined as any of them.”
If only she had the courage! Except Lady Luthrie did not mean for her to set her cap at Justin.
“For a start, you must gown yourself with more appeal, my dear. Not that I dislike that blue gown on you, but coloured muslins are quite out since the century turned. There is no need to go about looking like an ape-leader.”
“I am an ape-leader, Lady Luthrie. I’m almost five and twenty.”
“Young enough to make a suitable wife.”
“For whom, ma’am?”
“Why, almost anyone, if you will but smarten yourself up a little. A fresh look will do wonders.”
Marianne was about to repudiate the suggestion when Lady Luthrie threw her into shock.
“I dare say you would prefer not to be beholden to your cousin, my dear, so I propose to gown you myself.”
“You cannot mean it!”
Lady Luthrie’s beak of a nose was lifted. “Why can I not? I am not without experience. I’ve gowned two daughters, I’ll have you know. Besides, it would give me pleasure.”
“But I can’t possibly accept such generosity, ma’am. It is extremely kind of you and I am grateful, but it would not do. It would be a waste besides, for such a short period of time.”
Lady Luthrie looked regretful. “I suppose that is true. At least promise me you will think of yourself rather than devoting your whole attention to Grace.”
It was easy enough to reassure the matron since Marianne’s attention was in fact taken up with Justin. When she found Lady Luthrie’s son dancing attendance on her, she was rather amused than otherwise. She liked Lord Dymond’s easy manners and had always found him entertaining. Nevertheless, she taxed him with having been egged on by Lady Luthrie.
“Are you your mother’s deputy then, Alex? Do you mean to try and persuade me into looking about me for a husband?”
Alex’s guffaw had made her smile.
“You’re nothing if not shrewd, Marianne. To tell you true, my mother thought it’d break the ice so you’d not be ranged with the chaperons.”
“It’s too late for that, Alex. Not that I object to your company.”
“Nor I yours. Always fond of you, Marianne. Happy to be of service. Will you dance with me?”
But nothing he could say would make Marianne break her habit of propriety. She had no wish to bring further gossip on the family, and she was well aware her cousin’s acquaintance thought of her as Grace’s companion, or her deputy in chaperoning Jocasta. To behave otherwise would bring down censure upon all their heads.
She was not prepared for Justin’s sudden descent upon her, however. She had just ensured Jocasta was fully occupied and was hovering near Grace, who was engaged in animated conversation with Lady Burloyne, when he spoke directly behind her.
“Marianne, I need you!”
Her heart jerked and she turned so swiftly she almost lost her balance.
Justin reached out a hand to aid her, a rueful look crossing his face. “Steady! Did I startle you? I beg your pardon.”
A fluttery laugh escaped her and she was glad of a valid excuse for her trembling hands. “You took me off guard. What’s to do?”
He released her arm and a faint grin lightened the gloom he’d been wearing. “You have to dance with me.”
Marianne’s mind went blank. “Dance with you?”
“Yes, you birdwit. You know, join a set and twirl about the floor? You’ve heard of dancing, I presume?”
She broke into laughter, warmth spreading through her veins. “Indeed I have, but as you well know, I do not indulge.”
“You do with me. Or at least you will.”
“Will I? Why is that?”
“Because Jocasta says I must dance or be doomed and you’re the only woman who won’t immediately assume I’m ready to lay my heart at her feet.”
As if she had ever dared to assume any such thing! He had spoken in the light teasing way she knew and loved, but the strain was visible in his eyes. An effort she understood, for she was under just the same pressure. Her heart ached for him all over again and she spoke with real regret. “Justin, I can’t.”
His smile was a trifle awry. “Yes, I know you range yourself with the tabbies past the age of dancing, but this is me, Marianne.”
An even more telling reason why she should not break her own rule. How could she dance with Justin and not give herself away?
“Exactly so. It would look too particular.”
“Good God, what does that matter?” Impatience was in both face and voice. “People are bound to talk whatever I do.”
“But not about me.” An arrested look took the place of impatience and Marianne drove the message home. “As long as I remain the shadow in the background, I excite no undue interest. If I’m seen dancing — especially with you — I will be held to be putting myself forward unbecomingly.”
And thought to be setting her cap at him like all the other wretches who were plotting to steal him from her. But this she kept to herself.
He was frowning. “Why especially with me?”
“Now who is being a birdwit? Because you are an object of considerable interest already.”
The frown did not abate. “I don’t see that at all. All anyone would think is I’m only willing to dance with females of the family. And they’d be right.”
“Then why dance at all? Other than with Jocasta, I mean.”
Mischief flitted across his face. “Truth? Alex challenged me to succeed where he failed.”
The fluttery feeling returned at the thought he’d been discussing her and she gave a shaky laugh. “Wretch! If you think I’m going to win your wager for you, think again.”
“It wasn’t a wager, merely a cousinly dare.”
“Well, whatever it was, you will be obliged to go back and report failure.”
He leaned a little closer, the teasing glint pronounced. “If we weren’t in public, I’d be tempted to tickle you into submission.”
Marianne took an involuntary step back as her heart gave a sudden thud. She struggled to keep the treacherous rise of anticipation out of her face.
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh, wouldn’t I?”
“Justin, behave! You’re embarrassing me.”
She’d spoken in an urgent under-voice and he jerked upright, looking quickly around. Had he forgotten where they were for a moment?
His smile looked mechanical as the erstwhile trouble crept back into his countenance. Marianne’s heart dipped. Impelled, she uttered fatal words.
“Very well, I’ll dance with you.”
Justin’s eyes lit and a flush of heat shot through her. In a dim part of her mind, common sense made frantic passes in a bid to reassert its authority. But Marianne’s dreams swam too giddily to respond. She gave her hand into Justin’s and allowed him to lead her into one of the sets then forming, oblivious for a brief moment to her surroundings.
When she took her place next to Justin in the square of four couples, however, she came to her senses in a bang. Wha
t in the world was she doing? The female of the couple opposite was staring in a fashion as insolent as it was curious. A quick glance about sufficed to tell Marianne she was not the only one.
Thus exposed, she felt all the force of Lady Luthrie’s comments upon her gowns, convinced the striped silk gauze petticoat and scarlet polonaise she’d hitherto thought pretty, made her look dowdy instead.
An abrupt sensation of being trapped possessed her. Wild ideas of escape screamed through her mind, even to pretending a swoon.
Too late! The musicians struck up and the dance began.
Justin kept up a flow of remarks whenever the figure brought them together, but Marianne answered him at random. It was purgatory to be unable to take pleasure in being where she’d longed to be, partnered at his side with his smile and his touch directed only at her. Aware throughout of envious or disapproving female faces, she moved through the motions of the dance with all the grace of an automaton. She certainly felt like one, barely able to recall which way she must turn next, and grateful for Justin’s guiding hand. She had to make an especial effort not to cling to his fingers as he took her hand for the ronde.
As the last note sounded, she sighed with relief and sank into her curtsy on the final chords.
As she took Justin’s proffered arm to lead her off the floor, a low murmur reached her. “Forgive me, Marianne. That was ill-advised.”
“It’s too late now for regret. The damage is done.” She felt him stiffen beside her and at once regretted the tart note. She tried to backtrack. “Never mind it. I dare say I shall survive.”
There was time for no more. Lady Luthrie loomed up before her.
“Excellently done, Justin. A very good beginning. Now you must dance with Alexander, Marianne.”
Aware of Justin’s frowning stare, Marianne spoke in a lowered tone. “I doubt I could endure it, ma’am.”
She came under fire from the matron’s beaky nose.
“Nonsense, my girl! Are you afraid of a parcel of busybodies?”
“For pity’s sake, Aunt Pippa, let her alone!”
Lady Luthrie’s masterful eye turned on her nephew. “This does not concern you, my dear Justin. You’ve done your part. And a very good thing you’ve taken to the floor with someone other than your sister. Now you may gratify some other young lady with a turn.”
Justin’s face of baffled fury threw Marianne into a desire to dissolve into hysterical giggles. She was obliged to exercise severe self-control to suppress it, which at least served to pull her back into a semblance of her customary calm.
Before she could say anything, however, Alex appeared. Oblivious to the prevailing mood, he clapped his cousin on the back.
“My compliments, old fellow! Said you’d do it and you did. My turn now, Marianne.”
“I don’t —”
“Now don’t say you won’t stand up with me, for I’ll take it in snuff. Dashed insulting to refuse me after you’ve danced with my coz.”
Marianne was left with nothing to say. A glance at Justin found him tight-lipped, a smoulder at his eyes.
“Quite right, Alexander,” approved his mother, ignoring her nephew altogether. “Off with you, Marianne.”
“But Grace — Jocasta—”
“Neither needs you at this moment. See, people are taking their places. Now, go.”
Since Alex was steering her back onto the floor, Marianne had little choice. One could not cause a scene by refusing to enter the set. That would make tongues wag even more.
As she took her place, she caught sight of Grace’s face, directed upon her in an expression of blank astonishment. Dismay flooded through her. How in the world was she to explain?
The evening began to assume the aspect of a nightmare.
Chapter Twelve
A simmering atmosphere over the breakfast cups did nothing to settle Justin’s disordered senses. Since such talk as was embarked upon centred in an oblique fashion on the events of the previous night, he was glad of the presence of the servants.
Marianne was looking pale and was, he guessed, as discomposed as he. She appeared calm on the surface, but regarding her narrowly, Justin detected a tell-tale quiver in her cheek and a hunted look in her eyes.
For the rest, Jocasta was gleeful, the Dragon bewildered and Grace sullen. He was tempted to demand the reason, but shrank from precipitating a scene. It was evident there had been words between his stepmother and Marianne. They were avoiding each other’s eyes and Grace addressed her remarks in the main to Miss Stubbings, who had been absent from Lady Colgrave’s ball.
He’d been informed by his sister that since Jocasta was firmly established, and both Grace and Marianne were at hand, the Dragon was unnecessary. He had refused her request to turn the creature off, however.
“She might have outlived her usefulness to you, my dear sister, but one can’t throw an elderly governess out at a moment’s notice. She must be given adequate time to find another post — if she can at her age.”
“That’s what Marianne says, but I wish you would at least tell her I am no longer under her jurisdiction.”
This he had refused to do, on the score that if Grace was ill and Marianne occupied, she might still be required to chaperon her charge.
Her presence this morning was proving useful, since it prevented Jocasta’s more outrageous utterances. She was too used to being under her preceptress’s thumb to break the habit of minding her tongue in the woman’s presence.
Justin was inclined to lay the blame at his aunt’s door. But for her intervention, his ill-fated dance with Marianne would have been the sum of it. Alex would not have taken his turn with her, and the devil on his shoulder would not have urged him to carry out Aunt Pippa’s suggestion he favour some other female.
Not that he’d done it at her behest. The sight of Marianne being squired by his cousin had galled him. He’d looked around for the nearest available female and found Delia Burloyne almost at his elbow. She had been only too willing to oblige him, her face lighting up in a way that brought his senses crashing back. Too late he realised he was raising expectations. Exactly what he’d taken care not to do. As he and his partner joined the last set being formed, he’d known he must lead out at least two more debutantes in order to damp any notion of his having singled Delia out.
He finished his repast with a sense of relief and rose from the table.
Grace cast him a look of reproach. “I hope you do not mean to go out, Justin. I would like a word, if you please.”
Nothing could please him less, but he could hardly say so. Aware of Jocasta’s gaze, brimful of mischief, he flicked a glance at Marianne and found her staring at the coffee cup held between her hands.
“Certainly, ma’am. Shall we go into the morning room?”
Grace got up, swishing to the door in her round morning dress of imperial pale blue silk, but before he could lead her out of the room, the door opened and his aunt walked in.
“Ah, I am glad you are all still here. I came on purpose to catch you.”
Grace was positively glaring. “Philippa! What brings you here, I should like to know?”
His aunt raised her brows at the peevish tone, but made no answer. Her gimlet gaze swept to the butler. “You may give me a cup of coffee, Rowsham. And then leave us, if you please.”
Wholly ignoring Grace’s face of chagrin, she then sailed to the chair Simon set for her next to Marianne, her magnificent pelisse of scarlet velvet swirling as she sat.
Faint amusement lightened Justin’s sombre mood. Typical of Aunt Pippa to assume authority in his house, usurping both himself and Grace. He knew Rowsham would not stir from the room until he received assent from his master.
Justin therefore resumed his seat, took another cup of coffee for himself and then nodded dismissal. He turned to his aunt as the door closed behind the butler and footman.
“A family conference, Aunt Pippa?”
“Something of the sort.”
She looked acros
s the table at the Dragon as she spoke. Formidable as she herself was, Miss Stubbings was no match for Lady Luthrie. She rose.
“I will leave you, dear Lady Purford.”
“Stay where you are, Amelia,” said Grace, in an unusual attempt to resume control. “If you are come to talk of last night, Philippa, it will be as well for Miss Stubbings to be fully acquainted with the matter. My health has suffered and I cannot guarantee to be well enough to take Jocasta about.”
Justin cast a look at Marianne, but she did not raise her eyes from her cup. It struck him that her fingers were rigid. His aunt was eyeing him, clearly in the expectation he would send the Dragon away. But ruffling Grace’s feathers would serve no useful purpose.
“Do sit down again, Miss Stubbings.”
Jocasta gave him a dagger look, which he ignored. He turned his attention to his masterful relative. “Well, Aunt?”
She gave a snort, gazing about the table from under the scarlet cap, trimmed with sable like the coat. “It is just as I suspected. An excellent turn has been relegated to the status of a tragedy, I perceive.”
Her eyes turned on Grace as she spoke. His stepmother flushed, the glare at her eyes increasing.
“Excellent? Pray how is it excellent, when Justin and Marianne between them have set the whole Town talking again?”
Marianne looked up at last. “I have apologised over and over again, cousin. I would I might undo it, but I cannot.”
Her tone, both weary and dejected, threw Justin back into disorder. He wished the rest of the room at Jericho, but his aunt took up the gage at once.
“Undo it? I should rather think not. My dear Grace, I cannot imagine why you are taking up this nonsensical attitude. Justin has shown himself to be back on the market.”
“Have I indeed?”
“Yes, you have, big brother, and a very good thing too. I’m so glad you took my advice.”
“Jocasta! Do you mean to say this is your fault? How dared you interfere?”
“Come down off your high ropes, Grace, for heaven’s sake,” cut in Lady Luthrie. “If Jocasta had the sense to urge her brother to behave like a normal man, she has a deal more common sense than I had supposed.”
A Chance Gone By (Brides By Chance Regency Adventures Book 2) Page 9