A Match for Mother

by Mona Gedney, Kathryn Kirkwood, Regina Scott

  Hers were long and graceful, Claire decided, gazing at them critically in the glass. And her very appearance at the ball this evening should apprise every guest of that fact. It should be regarded as a scandal of the highest magnitude, but she could not dwell on that at this late date. All should be lost if her courage failed her now.

  “Please, madame. You must reconsider!” Claire’s dresser stood to the side, wringing her hands anxiously.

  Claire glanced at her image once again, and then she shook her head firmly. “No. I am required to wear this. Nothing else shall do.”

  Her dresser’s fingers trembled as she clasped the doubloon pendant around Claire’s neck and made a final adjustment to her coiffeur. She looked ready to collapse in tears and Claire was reminded of another old saying that her late husband had been fond of repeating.

  “It matters not whether I am hanged for a goat or for a lamb. The end result is the same.” Claire reached out to pat her dresser’s hand. “Fetch my silver cloak, Elise. It will conceal my costume until such time as I make my appearance. And tell Jennings to have the coach brought round.”

  “Yes, madame.”

  The dresser dipped her head and hurried to do Claire’s bidding. Once the cloak was brought and fastened round her shoulders, Claire turned to face the glass again. Its voluminous folds covered her costume from head to toe, just as Claire had thought it would. None would know of her scandalous intentions until she removed it at the ball.

  Claire swept down the stairs, her head held high and the color bright on her cheeks. She had sent Willow and Philip on without her, preferring to arrive unescorted. Willow had assumed that she desired only the material contained in Philip’s set of formal clothing, and since neither of them had been permitted to glimpse Claire’s finished costume, they had no suspicion that she should appear actually wearing Philip’s breeches.

  As Claire was handed into the coach, she took care that her cloak did not open. Once they were on their way, she leaned back against the squabs and drew a deep breath for courage. When she arrived, Willow and Philip should be every bit as scandalized as the other guests. It would be apparent to all that observed their shocked expressions that they had played no part in her disgrace.

  It was only a short distance to Lady Bollinger’s mansion and Claire forced a smile as she was granted admittance. She quickly sought out Marcella’s dignified butler and handed him the urgent message that she had written earlier, requesting a private audience with her hostess.

  “What is it, Claire?” Lady Bollinger rushed into the salon where the butler had secreted Claire. “You are dreadfully late, my dear, and the dancing has already commenced. You are well, are you not?”

  Claire nodded quickly. “Yes, Marcella. But I thought it best that I show you my costume before I entered the ballroom. You must prepare yourself for a shock.”

  “Nothing could shock me more than my nephew’s appearance here this evening.” Lady Bollinger began to frown. “I have never seen him look so poorly. He smiles, but his smile does not reach his eyes. And when he dances, he merely goes through the motions of enjoying himself. You have quarreled, have you not?”

  Claire nodded, beginning to unfasten her cloak. “Yes, and most dreadfully. He does not believe that I love him, Marcella, and I fear that I have lost his good opinion of my character. It is the very reason that I must wear this costume.”

  “Your costume cannot be any more ludicrous than his! My dear nephew is most dignified, you see, and for him to wear...”

  Lady Bollinger stopped speaking abruptly and she gasped in shock as Claire drew off her cloak. Her mouth opened and closed several times in an attempt to speak, but all she could do was sputter helplessly. “Claire! But you cannot ... Do you realize what ... Oh, dear!”

  “Please sit down, Marcella.” Claire led the older lady to a chair. “I would spare you this outrage if it were possible, but I fear it is not. I will go to any lengths to regain John’s regard for me. And wearing this costume is the only way I can prove that I love him above all else.”

  Lady Bollinger stared at Claire for a long moment and then she did something that caused Claire to fear for her sanity. Her lips quivered and a startled giggle emerged from her throat. Tears of mirth gathered in her eyes and then she threw back her head to laugh most uproariously.

  “Marcella! Are you quite all right?” Claire rushed to the table to pour her hostess a glass of sherry. “I fear I have given you a nasty shock, and I apologize most sincerely.”

  Lady Bollinger waved the glass aside and struggled to regain control of her laughter. She succeeded, in part, though fits of giggles still caused her to sputter helplessly. “My dear, Claire! This is ... Oh, my! It will be a ... a scandal, of course. And your name shall be on ... on everyone’s lips.”

  “I know that, Marcella, and I think it best for you to claim that you had no prior knowledge of my intentions. I should not like your name to be linked with mine in this scandal.”

  “That is kind of you, Claire, and I suppose you are right.” Lady Bollinger sobered quickly. “You say that you are obliged to appear in this particular costume?”

  Claire nodded. “Yes, indeed. None other will suffice.”

  “Then you must do it, of course, and hang the consequences.” Lady Bollinger rose to her feet and made her way to the door. She was about to open it when she turned back for one last word. “Your costume may be scandalous, dear Claire, but I must say that you do look undeniably ravishing in it.”

  John glanced around the ballroom once again, peering over the shoulders of several guests as he searched for Claire. He had danced with the two young ladies who had accused him last Season and thus silenced the tongues of the gossip-mongers, but Claire had not been present to see him perform this duty. And though the dancing had commenced nearly an hour ago, his presumed fiancée had not yet seen fit to put in her appearance.

  He was about to avail himself of a glass of champagne from a passing footman when Aunt Marcella arrived at his side. John smiled politely, but his aunt merely nodded, an anxious frown upon her face.

  “I must speak to you immediately, John.”

  John quickly led his aunt to a secluded spot behind a stand of potted palms and turned to her with some alarm. “What is it, Aunt Marcella? Do not tell me that Claire has sent her excuses!”

  “No, indeed. Claire is here and she should be joining us very shortly. But it is most urgent that I speak with you before...” John frowned as his aunt stopped speaking abruptly. A dreadful hush had spread over the ballroom and he turned to his aunt in alarm.

  “I am too late!” His aunt’s voice was a mere whisper. “There is no doubt that Claire has arrived.”

  John rushed out from behind the green fronds and the sight that greeted him made his eyes widen in shock. Claire had indeed arrived and she was dressed in a set of gentleman’s formal clothing!

  As he watched, Claire entered the ballroom, moving quite regally onto the dance floor. The dancers scattered without a word, gentlemen pulling their partners back with great haste as if they were about to encounter one infected with the plague. The dance floor was deserted in a matter of seconds, leaving Claire as the sole occupant of the large space.

  John’s mind spun in shocked circles. Whatever had possessed Claire to dress in this scandalous manner? Though it was a costume ball and a certain laxity was enjoyed at affairs of this nature, she knew full well that ladies were not allowed to appear in breeches.

  It was at this precise moment that John remembered the last angry words he had hurtled at Claire. And I will marry you when ladies wear breeches to a formal ball!

  This was a formal ball. And Claire was wearing breeches. John stepped forward, into the wake of the dreadful silence that hung like a pall over the ballroom. He smiled at the woman who had risked certain censure to make clear her tender feelings for him, and bowed most genteelly to her.

  Claire’s eyes were fixed on the very top of the French doors that led to Lady Bolli
nger’s formal gardens. She dared not look into any of the shocked faces for fear she would whirl on her heel and run from the ballroom to escape the scene of her disgrace. She had vowed to maintain her dignity at all costs, though it should be of no consequence to anyone but her. She should be shunned by polite society from this day forward.

  The orchestra ceased playing abruptly, in mid-measure of a waltz. The utter stillness that enveloped her was dreadful, for none uttered a single word. As Claire moved through the crushing silence, she prayed that her knees would cease their trembling and the polite smile would remain in place upon her lips.

  Small sounds became magnified in the absence of the usual noises. Claire heard the whisper of fans unfurling as proper ladies hid their eyes from the scandalous sight. There was the scrape of a chair, pulled out hastily for one who had grown faint, and more than a few startled gasps of outrage.

  She had only to reach the French doors. Claire kept that encouraging thought foremost in her mind. Once she reached the sanctuary of Lady Bollinger’s veranda, she could escape down the stone steps that led to the gardens and end this dreadful ordeal.

  “My darling Claire. You have arrived at last.”

  A deep voice spoke, causing Claire to startle and drop her gaze. John was standing directly in her path, at the far end of the room, in the shadow of a stand of potted palms.

  He was smiling, his knee bent in a bow, and Claire came disastrously close to attempting a curtsy in return. At the very last moment, as she was about to reach for the edges of her skirt, she realized that this should be quite impossible. She settled for dipping her head in acknowledgment, and stood frozen to the spot, gazing at him uncertainly.

  “How lovely you look this evening, my dearest fiancée. I am most proud to be your escort.” His words were proper, just the thing a gentleman might say to his fiancée, but Claire heard the hint of laughter that lurked in his voice. And then, as he moved forward, out of the shadows, she caught her first glimpse of his costume.

  He was wearing a boar’s head as a hat, and a pair of wings stuck out from the sides from his coat. Marcella had been right. John’s costume was most ludicrous. Such things as flying boars did not exist, even in myths and legends. It was at this moment, as she was pondering the question of why he had worn such a ridiculous costume, that Claire remembered the last angry words that she had spoken to him. She had said, I shall marry you when pigs fly! And John had dressed as a flying pig.

  “No doubt you have surmised the reason for my costume.” John smiled, and as he began to walk toward her, he turned to the side and flicked an appendage that was pinned to the back of his coat. “You see, my dearest, I have even gone so far as to wear the tail.”

  It was more than Claire could endure. Though she struggled vainly to maintain her composure, the sight of John’s costume caused her to become quite undone. She gave a joyful whoop of most unladylike laughter and ran across the floor to his arms.

  As they embraced, the silence in the ballroom was broken by a buzz of distraught comments. In a matter of moments, the noise grew to a roar, but Claire heard nothing but John’s sigh of supreme contentment as he gathered her into his embrace.

  “Does this mean that you will marry me?” His lips were warm against her ear.

  “Oh, yes!” Claire’s answer was a joyous exclamation. But then, as she realized the enormity of what she had done, she drew back with an anxious expression. “But I am ruined, John. The ton shall never forgive me for the scandal that I have caused here tonight. Are you certain that you wish to marry a social pariah?”

  “Yes, my darling Claire. I should never allow such a small thing as a scandal to keep us apart. But you will not be ruined, my dearest. Before the conclusion of this ball, all shall come to regard you as a lady of great courage and supreme loyalty. I have a plan, you see, to turn our mutual disgrace into a great entertainment, one that shall be the talk of the ton for years to come.”

  “You do?” Claire’s spirits began to rise as she looked up into his smiling countenance. “How will you accomplish that?”

  “I shall confess to our guests that we had quarreled and broken off our engagement by mutual consent and you shall tell them exactly what you said to me.”

  “I shall marry you when pigs fly?” Claire’s eyes widened and an impish smile crossed her lips.

  “Precisely. And I shall repeat my answer to you, that I would marry you when ladies wore breeches to a formal ball.”

  Claire nodded quickly. “That will explain our costumes, but will they forgive me the scandal?”

  “Yes, indeed. Most members of the ton have grown jaded and they continually seek new amusements. Our unusual reconciliation shall amuse them greatly and they will be even more delighted when I invite them all to be guests at our wedding tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Claire gasped.

  John gazed down at her fondly, a smile on his lips. “Now that I have you in my arms once more, I intend to keep you there. Will you marry me tonight?”

  Claire felt a smile of pure joy flood across her face. “Yes, John. Are we all to travel to Gretna Green?”

  “There is no need. I procured a special license and if you agree, we shall exchange our vows at the conclusion of the ball.”

  “In our costumes?” Claire began to giggle. “You do look quite ridiculous, you know.”

  “And you look quite fetching. But there will be ample time for us to dress for the occasion. Willow has offered to fetch any gown of your choosing and Philip will accomplish the task of obtaining suitable clothing for me.”

  Claire’s eyes widened in surprise. “Philip and Willow knew that you planned to marry me tonight?”

  “Yes.” John smiled down at her. “I asked for their assistance this very afternoon and they were most happy to oblige me. The only question was whether you would agree to become my countess, and that was answered most convincingly when you appeared at the ball wearing breeches.”

  Claire laughed and then she reached up to hug him, nearly dislodging his boar’s head hat. “I love you, John.”

  “And I love you, Claire. I shall prove it to you every day of our life together. And now, before we redeem ourselves in the eyes of our wedding guests, shall we afford them the sight of a flying pig waltzing with a lady in breeches?”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  Claire felt her smile take on epic proportions as John signaled to the orchestra and they struck up a waltz. John held out his arms, Claire stepped into them, and they began to dance their very last waltz together before they became husband and wife.

  SWEETER THAN CANDY

  Regina Scott

  To my mother, Rosann Brown—her story on her day with all my love.

  ONE

  Panting, Daniel Lewiston heaved himself up the last two steps to the Kinsle terrace and collapsed onto the stone bench in delighted exhaustion. Voices, young and strident, echoed his name across the emerald lawn and set the swans to fluttering in the placid lake below. His best friend Jonathan Kinsle glanced up from his week-old copy of the London Times. “I trust you’re enjoying this debacle?”

  Despite the fact that he could barely catch a breath, Daniel grinned. “Immensely,” he managed. He grabbed the crystal glass of lemonade Jonathan’s manservant had poured for him earlier and gulped the tart liquid down. That seemed to help the spasms in his chest. He really ought to see about getting more exercise if a brisk game of ball could so wind him. Refusing to allow his state to ruin a perfect summer’s day, he leaned back against the terrace balustrade and tried to pretend he didn’t notice the two small figures stealthily approaching the steps. “You should join us.”

  Jonathan reached out a languid hand to pick up his own china teacup and quirked a blond brow. “Heaven forbid. I wouldn’t dream of spoiling your fun, old man. Duck.” Daniel bent over as a blue cloth ball sailed past the spot where his head had been moments before. Someone cried out in vexation below, only to be quickly shushed. Daniel bent lower to retrieve the ball,
wincing as his stomach protested the compression. Exercise more often and eat less, he amended.

  “You might find you enjoy it,” he chided his friend as he straightened. “These nephews of yours are simply ingenious.” He lobbed the ball over the top of the bushes and heard a quite satisfactory yelp of dismay.

  “Entirely too ingenious,” Jonathan muttered as the bushes shook with obvious plans for revenge. He flicked a displaced leaf from the otherwise immaculate sleeve of his navy coat. “Seriously, Danny boy, if you hadn’t taken such a shine to them, I don’t know how we would have managed these last three weeks with Cynthia in London.”

  Daniel ran a hand back through his already tousled brown hair and shifted his weight along the bench to the right. He heard the protest from the seat of his dun-colored trousers and felt the back of the bush snag on his own navy coat, which was far from immaculate. More exercise, less food, and a new tailor. “It was no great burden, I assure you. I haven’t had this much fun in years. In fact, I can’t remember when I ever had this much fun.” He shot to the left, and the ball neatly missed him again. Feeling a bit more satisfied with his performance, he bent to retrieve it.

  Jonathan chuckled. “Yes, you were the most pitied boy in the neighborhood, growing up with all those sisters and a mother who was determined to protect you against any calamity, especially any that were any fun.”

  Daniel smiled as he rolled the soft cloth back and forth in his large hands. “She was rather over-protective, God rest her soul.”

  “Thank God Cynthia has more sense,” Jonathan sighed. “Although there are times I see the similarities between your mother and my sister. She seems to have kept the boys close, but I suppose that’s natural in a big city like Bristol and so near the docks. Can’t have been a very savory environment, if you take my meaning. It’s a shame our parents weren’t more willing to forgive Cynthia for her elopement. We might have been able to teach them some manners.”