Winthrop Trilogy Box Set

by Burnett, May

  He glanced at a tray of refreshments proffered by a footman, but shook his head. Every Wednesday during the Season, the well-born debutantes favoured by the strict Patronesses repaired to Almack’s for insipid food, overly sweet orgeat, and dancing with the marriage-minded sprigs of the nobility. That did not mean he had to drink this revolting stuff.

  The four patronesses seated on their dais this night had welcomed him cordially, as was only to be expected. The Winthrops were distantly connected to two of their number, Lady Sefton and Lady Jersey. There had never been any question that he and Susan would be on the list to obtain the coveted vouchers. For most others it was a different story.

  Miss Trevelyan was sitting among the wallflowers again. His sister had not done her friend any favours by getting her and that stepmother onto the list. Tonight the girl was not in the best of looks. She appeared wan and depressed, though she valiantly tried to force a trembling smile onto her lips. Quite nice lips, too … but Miss Trevelyan was like a duck among swans, softly rounded when slim Amazons were the current craze. Moreover, her hair was an indeterminate and unfashionable ash blond. Nor did it help that Miss Trevelyan’s dowry was very modest, and that her family had little standing in polite society.

  Jeremy approached his sister’s friend and her chaperon, and asked for the next dance, due to begin within minutes. While he had no interest in the girl himself, he might as well do this favour for Susan while he waited for her arrival.

  “How very obliging of you, Lord Barton ….” The step-mother was toad-eating him in a manner Jeremy particularly disliked, but Miss Trevelyan looked pained and embarrassed by her effusions, proving that she had a better notion of becoming behaviour, possibly even a sense of pride.

  “Abigail mentioned just the other day how much she admires your whole family,” the older woman said. “All so very distinguished, and so handsome!”

  “Is that so?” Jeremy was strongly tempted to use his quizzing-glass, but Miss Trevelyan’s anxious face deterred him from giving the woman the set-down she deserved. “How very gratifying, to be sure.” He noted a slight blush creeping up into those pale cheeks.

  “Abigail herself is an excellent girl,” Mrs. Trevelyan said, as though offering a prize ewe at a farmers’ market. “Obedient, quiet, and pious, just as the Lord expects a maiden to be.” The object of this encomium looked as though she wanted the earth to swallow her up.

  “The Lord? That’s not a word one hears often at Almack’s, I would wager.” Could this woman be a religious fanatic of some kind? That would not reflect well on Susan, whose fault it was that she was present at all.

  “I do not think Lord Barton is interested in my virtues, Step-Mama,” Miss Trevelyan said with an undertone of weary exasperation. “He merely wants a dance, for which I am very obliged.”

  He bowed. “Indeed, and I look forward to your company, Miss Trevelyan. Come, it is almost time – let us take a short turn before we have to take our places.” He held out his arm.

  The step-mother beamed at him as though he’d just offered marriage. His partner rose willingly enough and though the wobbly smile was still in evidence, put her hand on his arm. It felt light, like a little bird.

  “Is Susan not coming? I was very much hoping to see her,” was the first thing Miss Trevelyan said, when they were out of her stepmother’s hearing.

  He looked down on her ash-blond hair, frowning slightly. “Susan is attending a dinner party with our aunt Penelope - Lady Cirrell - but it is still half an hour till the doors close.”

  Maybe he could get some of the information he wanted from Susan from her friend instead. “Since you were at the Collingtons’ house party with Susan, Miss Trevelyan, can you tell me just what happened between her and Fenton? It is already nearly two weeks past, but Susan has been out of town. I have only heard a number of garbled accounts, but so much is clear, I cannot simply let the matter pass.”

  “It was terrible,” Miss Trevelyan said in a low, tremulous voice. “That hateful man! He accosted her right in the middle of a country dance! She was fully justified in dealing him a resounding slap on the cheek. I would have liked to kill him myself.”

  Jeremy looked down into Miss Trevelyan’s face, surprised to see her look genuinely bloodthirsty. Anger lent her animation and made her almost attractive.

  “You are not alone in that desire. I have been looking for Lord Fenton, but am told he is still out of town. You have not met him anywhere since your own return?”

  She shuddered. “No. I would prefer to never see that man again.”

  That seemed a somewhat exaggerated sentiment, as it had not been she who suffered the forced kiss. Still, when Jeremy considered Fenton’s size and bulk, he could understand how a timid female like Miss Trevelyan might be fearful of the man. His sister was of stouter fibre, of course, like all the Winthrops.

  Their country dance began and Miss Trevelyan proved to move gracefully, as good a dancer as any of the debutantes around her. Several of those young ladies appeared surprised to see her dancing at all, and with one of the most eligible bachelors in the room.

  Jeremy had no illusions about the light in which they looked at him. His future wife would eventually be a countess and mistress of several estates. He was always careful not to raise expectations he had no intention of fulfilling, at least at present. At only twenty-five and with two healthy younger brothers, there was no hurry whatsoever for him to secure the succession.

  The dance ended soon enough, and Jeremy extended his arm again, to take his partner back to her chaperon. What must life be like for Miss Trevelyan, whose mother had died of consumption, as Susan had once mentioned? Her father was a captain in the Navy and gone for years at a time. No wonder his sister was taking the girl under her wing. She had always exhibited a strong tendency to assist the less fortunate.

  Somewhat less pale after the exercise, Miss Trevelyan was still grave as they were walking in the direction of her place near the wall. They had a good view of the entrance, and thus observed the arrival of Susan and his aunt, Lady Cirrell. Their gowns exposed the top half of their white bosoms to the evening air, as was the current fashion. Susan’s dress was of antique white with gold embroidery, and gold-coloured slippers peeped out under the elaborately decorated hem. Lady Cirrell wore lilac-coloured ostrich feathers in her coiffure. Heads swivelled to take in the sight. Miss Trevelyan brightened visibly, far more so than when he had asked for a dance – not very flattering, that.

  By the time he had led Miss Trevelyan back to her place, Susan was approaching. He watched his sister’s passage through the crowds, not unlike his yacht crossing churning waters on her way to harbour.

  “Jeremy! How unexpected to see you here,” she greeted him, before saluting Mrs. Trevelyan politely, and kissing her friend on the cheek. The two girls seemed inclined to put their heads together then and there, disregarding him completely, a somewhat disconcerting experience. But Susan had not reckoned with the crowd of admirers eagerly converging on her.

  “Susan, I would like a word with you.” Jeremy’s words were drowned out by the arrival of these eager swains, all clamouring for dances with Lady Susan. Miss Trevelyan, whom none of the men asked for a dance, though she was standing right next to Susan, looked as frustrated as he. He could not have asked for a second dance himself without giving raise to unrealistic expectations, so he withdrew from the crowd and resolved to wait with what patience he could, till Susan had a free moment.

  When he saw her moving to the dancing floor with one of her suitors, he asked Miss Lennox for that dance. She was already engaged to a baronet, and therefore safe.

  It was not until some forty-five excruciating minutes later that he had a chance to confront his sister. Susan had moved towards a corner with Abigail Trevelyan, and the friends were talking together in low voices. Jeremy was too far away and the noise was too great to hear what they were saying, but he knew his sister very well, and something her friend said greatly upset her. For a moment, s
he almost seemed to sway on her golden slippers. By the time he made his way through the crowd, less than a minute later, she was fully composed again.

  “Susan, I have been more than patient, but we must talk.” He grasped her arm, determined not to let her escape again. Miss Trevelyan sketched a curtsey and tactfully vanished, still looking unhappy.

  Susan’s next partner approached for his dance. “My sister is feeling fagged from the heat,” Barton informed that hopeful young man, “she’ll dance with you some other time.”

  Susan inclined her head. “Yes, I beg your pardon, Sir Robert, indeed I am not feeling well. My brother will take me home.”

  They took their leave of Lady Cirrell, and left the unpretentious building.

  As soon as they had climbed into Jeremy’s coach, he demanded, “I want a full accounting of what went on between Fenton and you. You wrote to me that it was nothing of significance, but no less than five acquaintances have spoken to me about it, and everyone seems surprised I have not yet avenged you.”

  “Meddlesome busybodies.”

  “No doubt, but that is how society operates. Open your budget, Susan, I need to know.”

  She was silent for a full minute. Since the ride would take at least half an hour in the heavy evening traffic, he did not rush her.

  “Fenton is the kind of man who won’t take no for an answer, who sees no limits to his entitlement, and he does not respect women at all. It would be sheer hell to be married to him.” She was speaking slowly, as though analysing a difficult problem of mathematics.

  He puffed out an impatient breath. “Nobody expects you to marry the lout, Susan. Just what did he do?”

  His sister described the scene at the Collingtons’ house party in dry, neutral words. “You see, Jeremy, by slapping him in front of so many witnesses I have already avenged myself quite sufficiently. And he was publicly asked to leave by Lord Collington the next morning. His credit will not easily recover from that humiliation. I do not see the least reason to challenge Fenton at this late date, if that’s what you are planning. As you must have observed at Almack’s, I am as popular as ever, while Fenton dares not show his face in town. If he comes back, I am determined to cut him dead, but that is punishment enough.” She smiled ruefully. “I understand he will also lose five thousand guineas.”

  “Who told you about that?” It was not the kind of thing she ought to be worrying about.

  “One of the members of his Club. I would have preferred to hear it from you, Jeremy. Had I been aware of Fenton’s continued determination to wed me, I might have been forewarned and avoided that odious kiss.” Her blue eyes were fixed on his, wide and serious. Indeed, this was a serious matter, far more so than she seemed to appreciate.

  “Now it’s my fault for not warning you? But nobody would have expected a gentleman of Fenton’s birth to behave in such a despicable fashion. Even knowing about the bet, you could not have foreseen that.”

  “Probably not,” she admitted. “Being a gentleman does not ensure honourable and courteous behaviour in all circumstances, I find.”

  “That’s what duels were invented for, to force the cads to behave better.”

  “You think a bullet will change a man’s nature?”

  “It does seem unlikely,” Jeremy conceded, “but the prospect might give him pause the next time.”

  “Fenton knew that I have a father and three brothers who would avenge me. It did not deter him. His kind of obsession does not weigh consequences. Jeremy, I beg you, do not challenge him, whatever the gossips say. It would bring more notoriety on me, you cannot wish that.”

  He shook his head. “I am sorry, Susan, this is not negotiable. Such an insult can only be washed away with blood. Fenton’s blood, hopefully, but that is up to fate. The moment he comes back to London, my seconds will be calling on him. But you need not worry about it, you should not even know about this.”

  “I suppose it’s early enough to know when they bring back your lifeless body?” Susan was tense as a spring about to snap. She must really feel at the end of her tether.

  “Don’t worry, it won’t come to that.” He made his voice deliberately calm and soothing. Fenton might be reputed a crack shot, but Jeremy was not bad either. And if the man chose rapiers, he was confident of holding his own.

  For a minute they rode in silence. He cast about for another subject, to break the sombre mood. “Poor Miss Trevelyan is afraid of Fenton. Why do you have such a timid mouse as a best friend? You have nothing in common.”

  “Abby is not a timid mouse,” Susan said indignantly. “You know nothing, Jeremy.

  “Well, you owe me for dancing with her. She dances well enough and is quite pleasant, but I was obliged to suffer her stepmother’s flattery, which nearly turned my stomach. And now I come to think of it, why would that woman invoke the Lord at Almack’s of all places? Is she demented?”

  “Mrs. Trevelyan is a bigot,” Susan explained. “One of those hypocrites who cite the Lord’s wishes to get her own way in all things. Poor Abby has a very difficult time with the woman. She is not allowed to read anything but pious tracts, and I have to smuggle other books in and out for her, since the maids are under threat of instant dismissal if they do not report on Abby’s every move.”

  “Do you have to get involved with such odd people? Everything you said confirms my impression that the woman is an under bred mushroom. You never should have obtained vouchers for your friend, it only makes her miserable to be ignored and ridiculed, hadn’t you noticed? No good comes of mixing classes like that.”

  “Abby herself is perfectly well-bred,” Susan maintained. “Her father is a captain in the navy, fighting for our country, and her mother was the daughter of a general. The only mistake was her father’s remarriage to that awful woman, when he last came ashore three years ago. And even the stepmother, for all her strangeness, is of good family.”

  “Be that as it may - what did Miss Trevelyan tell you tonight, that upset you, Susan?”

  “I don’t know what you can mean, Jeremy.” She was looking at her gloves.

  His sister was hiding something, so much was clear, but he had no way to compel her candour. Jeremy put it out of his mind. These girlish confidences most likely had no particular importance.

  Much more urgently, he had a duel to focus on. The first step was to deliver the challenge his opponent.

  Chapter 4

  For the first time in weeks, the Winthrop family was reunited for a dinner under Lord Branscombe’s roof. Susan had moved back into her father’s house after three lengthy house parties and some additional days in her aunt’s household, and Barnaby had returned from a journey to Paris with a group of young bucks. It was a favourite destination since Napoleon had been defeated at Waterloo three years earlier.

  Although her aunt was present, in her father’s house Susan occupied the position of hostess, opposite the Earl. He had never remarried since her mother’s death twelve years earlier. Susan had placed her aunt at her father’s right side, the place of honour, while Jeremy, the oldest brother, was at her own right side. Barnaby and Theodore, her other brothers, were placed in between. She had had the dining table shortened as much as possible, so general conversation would be possible without shouting.

  She lowered her voice, however, as she asked Jeremy, “Has Fenton come back to town?”

  “Not yet. He’s a coward as well as a cad.”

  “He’s not worth your blade or shot, Jeremy.”

  “Susan, you know this is not a subject I should or will discuss any further with you.”

  Before she could reply, her father said, “Susan, when are you going to pick one of your suitors? I have had three puppies applying for your hand only this last week. It is getting tiresome.”

  “I am trying, Papa, but I have not found anyone I truly like enough to marry.”

  “It is your second season,” Aunt Penelope said, “by now you have met most of the eligible men of the ton. At least half of the unm
arried ones have indicated an interest in wooing you. You are getting the reputation of being hard to please.”

  “Many of those suitors have been hanging around the marriage mart much longer than that, and yet they are not considered hard to please. I do not want to rush into a decision, since it will mean a lifetime of misery if I should make a mistake.”

  “That only makes sense,” Jeremy supported his sister. “I am taking my time too, until I am quite certain I am making the right choice.”

  “And I, fortunately, don’t need to marry at all, unless I choose,” Barnaby said. “Heaven forfend that you take the wrong man, Susan, like Fenton. I would hate to have a cad like that as my brother-in-law.”

  Susan looked at her father. “Are you in such a hurry to lose me, Papa?”

  “No, of course not. Besides, I don’t expect to lose you, simply because you will move into your husband’s home a few streets away. It will be no different from now, when you spend half the time with your aunt or at some house party or other.”

  “And you are so busy with your politics, that you hardly notice if I’m there or here,” Susan said. “I will do my best to make a decision soon.”

  “If you do, I can recommend Paris for the wedding journey,” Barnaby said. “A capital place. The ladies are more fashionable, with that indescribable flair of the Parisiennes, and the boulevards broad and inviting. As for the food, ours simply cannot compete with it. Cooking is an art form in France.”

  “You seem to have added some weight from all that French cooking,” Theodore said to him. “Is that a double chin developing?”

  Susan had to suppress a smile. Barnaby was very conscious of his handsome appearance, and would be checking his chin in a mirror as soon as the dinner concluded. Of course at his age of twenty-two, there was nothing amiss, nor did he look a whit fatter than normal. These days she often felt more mature than her brothers, despite being the youngest.