by Ella Quinn
“Yes.” Matt groaned. “Barely. He also assured me that his father would approve, but in the event the duke did not, you and he could live comfortably on your dowry.”
That was the most ridiculous proposal she had ever heard. Although she tried to maintain her placid demeanor, her lips started to twitch, and soon she was laughing so hard tears started in her eyes. She waved her hand in front of her face. “A book of poetry? To convince me to marry?”
Next to her, Grace went into whoops. Matt attempted a stern look, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him. Augusta did not know how she would look at poor Lord Lancelot and maintain her countenance.
“Shall we move on?” Matt asked, apparently having conquered his jollity. “If you were looking for a husband, the next two gentlemen would deserve some consideration, Lord Ailesbury and Mr. Seaton-Smythe.”
“They are both very nice,” she conceded. “My answer is still no.” Matt opened a drawer and placed the paper in it. She waited until she had his attention again to ask, “Have you made a decision whether or not I may attend the University of Padua?”
“Absolutely not.” Augusta groaned—this was becoming a family habit—as her mother swept into the study. “I would have thought that by now you would have got over this silly notion you have of attending a university in Italy.”
“Patience.” Matt’s tone held a warning note Augusta had never heard him use with her mother. “It is my decision to make.”
“You might be her guardian, but I am her mother.” Mama blotted her eyes with a handkerchief. “I would never, never forgive you if anything happened to her.” She dabbed her nose. “Not only that, but I would do my best to see Richard gained guardianship of Madeline and Theo.”
How unfair that would be to the girls! Augusta slowly breathed in and out. Oh, God! Was it right of her to continue to insist she be allowed to go to Italy when it would harm her sisters? Theo would run away and who knew what Madeline was capable of. Augusta’s heart lurched. Should she give up her desires for the good of her sisters?
Then it occurred to her, Theo was twelve and Madeline was fifteen. They were old enough to choose their guardian. Therefore, Mama could not make good on her threat.
“Patience, Matt has not made a decision one way or the other.” Grace’s calm voice seemed to lower the tension in the room. “And you know that if he allowed Augusta to go, she would have all the protection she required and more.”
At that last part, her mother’s face assumed a militant look. “No.”
This was outside of enough! Mama wasn’t even pretending she would consider Augusta going. Not only that, but Augusta realized that even if her mother couldn’t gain custody of her sisters, she could make everyone’s life difficult. “What do you have against my attending university?”
Mama’s eyes softened. “My decision has nothing to do with your attending university.” For a moment Mama appeared confused. “Although I do not understand your desire; if you could attend Oxford, Cambridge, or even St. Andrews, I would not object. In Italy, you would have no one of influence to protect you.”
No one of influence. Hmm. That might be arranged. Augusta would contact Baron von Neumann. He had been extremely helpful in facilitating her contact with Professor Angeloni in Padua. “Is that your only concern?”
“Yes.” Mama rubbed her forehead. “You seem to think it is an insignificant matter, but it is not. As you must realize, this discussion is at an end.”
“Very well.” Augusta knew her response had been ambiguous at best. “I was preparing to go shopping before I was called down here.” She stood and curtseyed. “I shall see you later.”
“Augusta.” Her mother’s voice stopped her as she reached the door. “Either Lord Ailesbury or Mr. Seaton-Smythe would be an excellent choice. Ailesbury is the heir to the Marquis of Alton, and Mr. Seaton-Smythe is the Duke of Lancaster’s heir.”
She took a deep breath and let it out. “I have no interest in either of them.” She glanced at Matt. “Thank you for informing me of the offers.”
For some reason tears pricked Augusta’s eyes and she blinked them back. She would write the baron immediately. Surely he knew someone who could be a “person of influence” for her in Padua.
* * *
She had just placed the hat pin in her bonnet when a soft knock came on her chamber door. “Augusta, it is Grace.”
The moment she entered the room, Augusta flew into her sister-in-law’s arms. “Why is this so hard?”
“Sweetheart, it is never easy when a lady wishes to do something the rest of the world does not wish her to do.”
She stood there for awhile in her sister-in-law’s comforting embrace. “I suppose not. I thought perhaps Baron von Neumann could help find a sponsor for me.”
“Is he the one at the Austrian embassy?”
“Yes. I cannot think of anyone else.”
Setting her back, Grace’s lips tipped up. “We will call upon Lord and Lady Thornhill. They have traveled all over the world. They might know someone.”
The Thornhills were considered odd by some, but their status was such they were allowed to do as they pleased. Other than when she spent time with Phinn, Lady Thornhill’s salons were the only place Augusta did not have to hide herself. “That is an excellent idea! If the baron can’t help me, she will surely be able to!”
“Tomorrow she is having another salon,” Grace said. “We shall attend.”
“Thank you so very much.” The fear and tension that had gripped Augusta fled. Truly, she had the best sister-in-law anyone could ever have. “You seem to be the only one who understands how much this means to me.”
Grace gave a wry smile. “I think Cousin Jane might have a good idea.”
“You’re right.” As a young woman, Jane Carpenter fell in love with Hector Addison. Her father refused to allow them to marry, and Hector was sent to India. Jane defied her father and at the church altar rejected the gentleman her father wanted her to wed. Three years ago, Hector returned and they married.
“Now,” Grace said, “put some cold water on your eyes and go shopping. Send the bills to me.”
“Am I correct in thinking that Mama cannot take Madeline and Theo away from you and Matt?” That possibility was the one thing that could make her give up her scheme.
“Naturally, no one can predict the future, but first she’d have to convince Richard, and he knows as well as anyone that we could keep this in the courts until they were both married. The only reason Matt was able to move your guardianship along was due to my uncle.”
“Thank you.” Augusta hugged her sister-in-law again. Somehow, her dream would come true.
After several successful hours of shopping at Phaeton’s Bazaar, in Bruton Street, and at Hatchards, Augusta had acquired new gloves, fashionable clocked stockings, several colors of ribbon, four new reticules, and three bonnets. Grace had been right. Shopping did make one feel better. Her friends had had similar luck. The day was pleasantly warm, and the sun was shining. Yesterday’s rain seemed to have cleaned not only the air but the streets. Lilacs were in bloom and the trees green with new leaves.
“Shall we take a stroll in the Park?” Henrietta looked at her pin watch. “It is almost five o’clock.”
“Not with our packages.” Augusta glanced at their servants loaded down with their purchases.
“If I may, my lady.” Augusta nodded to acknowledge Durant’s query. “If you ladies would like to visit Gunter’s, Fred”—he nodded to Henrietta’s footman—“and I shall take the parcels to Worthington House and make arrangements for them to be delivered to the various houses.”
“What a clever idea.” She smiled at him. “Thank you.”
One of the maids took out a pencil and marked the packages. Once that was accomplished, the footmen left. The rest of them were finishing their ices when the servants returned. She slipped Durant two guineas. “For ices after we return home. I’m sure Fred will want one as well.”
“Tha
nk you, my lady.”
Her little group was halfway around the Park when a massive white stallion raced at them as if he was out of control. Other strollers scattered.
“Run!” Augusta yelled as she and her friends dashed behind the trees to keep from being trampled. Durant darted to her. “Stay where you are!”
Before she could even register there was a rider on the beast, Lord Lancelot threw himself to the ground and grabbed her hands. “My lady, you must allow me to address you. I have loved you—”
As she opened her mouth to give him a good set-down, the dunderhead rose in the air and landed several feet away. Lord Phineas stood over the recumbent form of Lord Lancelot with his booted foot planted squarely on the other man’s chest, scowling. “You wet-behind-the-ears, knocked-in-the-cradle puppy.” Lord Phineas’s voice was as hard as stone. “When I allow you to rise, you will apologize to Lady Augusta for not only accosting and embarrassing her, but putting her life in danger with your reckless and abominable actions. Then you will go home and tell your father that you are too green to be allowed upon the Town. If I see you again, I shall not be nearly as kind as I am now. In that event, after I give you a little taste of home brew, I’ll do myself the pleasure of calling upon your father and telling him what a spectacle you made of yourself.” Lord Lancelot’s face was red, his eyes were bulging with fear, and his lips moved like a fish. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes.” He nodded his head several times. “I do. I-I was—”
“I have no desire to hear excuses from you.” Lord Phineas’s words were a low, icy, growl.
“Well,” Dorie murmured. “I must say, I do not believe I have ever witnessed anything this impressive.”
Augusta had to agree. “I am sure I have never seen anything quite like it.”
“Only in books.” Henrietta stared at the two men.
“Where the hero saves his lady love.” Adeline sighed.
Augusta was very sure Lord Phineas did not love her, but he obviously had a chivalrous streak.
“But I love her,” Lord Lancelot sputtered.
“You haven’t even been introduced.” Lord Phineas’s tone was so dry she wanted a drink of lemonade. “Yet another reason you should not be allowed in Polite Society.” Not permitting the young man to rise by himself, Lord Phineas grabbed Lord Lancelot’s cravat and yanked him up. Lord Phineas then took the horse’s reins and handed them to her footman. “Escort his lordship and his horse to the Duke of Kendal’s house in St. James’s Square. I shall ensure Lady Augusta arrives safely home.”
Durant glanced at her.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “If need be, my sister shall provide an escort home.”
“Yes, my lady.” He gave Lord Lancelot a disgusted look. “Come along, my lord.”
It was not until they were walking away that she noticed the crowd that had gathered. A landau with four older ladies, including Lady Bellamny, had stopped. “Disgraceful.” Her jet gaze followed Lord Lancelot. “I shall make a point of having a word with his mother.” She glanced at Augusta. “He will not be welcome at any event this Season.” Her ladyship surveyed the group of people gathered. “You may all depart.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” She watched as the carriage drove off and the on-lookers scattered.
Lord Phineas bowed. “I am sorry you had to be subjected to that worthless fribble.”
“I must thank you for interceding.” He did not even look as if he had exerted himself. “To be honest, I was not quite sure what to do.”
“That’s not surprising.” He grinned, and his silver eyes sparkled with laughter. “I don’t suppose they have lessons in what to do if an uncontrollable puppy in the shape of a man tries to propose in the middle of the Park.”
“No.” Augusta laughed. What a way to put the matter. He managed to take a bad situation and make it seem like a farce. “There was no relevant instruction.”
“Shall I see you home or do you have sufficient company?” His eyes roamed her features as if to satisfy himself she was well.
“As I said before, I will return to Grosvenor Square with my friends. My sister shall see me home from there. Thank you for your assistance.”
“My pleasure.” He bowed again before strolling away as if nothing had occurred.
What a remarkable man. It was almost a shame she was not in the market for a husband.
Chapter Ten
Phinn’s heart had jumped into his throat when that stupid cawker Lord Lancelot rode straight at Lady Augusta and the others. Fortunately, the women had the presence of mind to get out of the horse’s way instead of wasting time going into hysterics.
But when the damned paper-skull leaped off his beast and grabbed her hand, Phinn had wanted nothing more than to plant the man a facer. That, however, would have just created even more of a scene. He’d half expected Lord Lancelot—whoever had given him that name in the first place should have expected trouble—to issue a challenge. Phinn was very glad when the halfling didn’t seem to think about it.
He hoped the duke would send his errant offspring where the boy couldn’t do any more harm to himself, others, and his family. Come to think of it, the idiot probably needed a profession. Nothing good ever came of allowing a young man to get up to his own devices.
Once Phinn got rid of the stripling and could turn his attention to Lady Augusta, he was amazed to find her unperturbed. He shouldn’t have been. In their short acquaintance, she had always appeared perfectly rational. An excellent trait in a lady, especially one so young.
He would have rather remained with her, yet she didn’t appear to need him. In keeping with his plan, Phinn never danced twice with Augusta at the same event over the past few weeks. He wished he could say the same about some of the other gentlemen. He chatted with her, but never longer than was proper, unlike Lytton, who appeared to be enamored with the sound of his own voice. Phinn waited for her to notice him as opposed to Bottomley, who raced up to her the moment he entered a room or garden. Seaton-Smythe had begun propping up walls and columns while he watched her every move, and someone had placed a wager at White’s that Ailesbury was about to make an offer.
Phinn might have been concerned she was growing attached to one of the other men if not for the same expression of polite attention she wore with all the gentlemen except him. His chest swelled like a rooster’s. When they were together, she talked about everything under the sun except for inane matters such as the weather. Very little did not interest her, and she never forgot what he or anyone else said. He’d thought that was great fun when she pointed out mistakes others made . . . until it was his turn. Then it was disconcerting.
After bidding her adieu, Phinn was making his way back to the curricle he’d been driving when a thought stopped him. He’d been very glad she was not panicked, but he did not like the fact she didn’t seem to need him.
Giving himself a metaphorical shake, Phinn began walking again. He had to get Augusta out of his mind at least for a while. He was due to present his paper to the Royal Society in less than a week. He’d also been asked to present his findings to the Royal Institution.
Why was he even thinking about getting married? His brother had agreed that if he did not meet a lady he wanted, he could leave. Maybe the problem was what he had agreed to without thinking about it. Did his feelings—for lack of a better term—for Augusta mean he had to stay and see whatever it was through?
Part of himself thought this back-and-forth was ridiculous. Europe was waiting, and there was no reason he should not proceed as planned. Unlike many explorers, he had his own funds and was not required to find sponsors. The other part of himself knew if he were to marry, Augusta was exactly the type of lady who would hold his attention. To be truthful, she was the only lady he had ever met who engrossed him beyond a night of carnal pleasure. And he might not meet another lady like her.
In effect, his choices were between giving up a long-held dream and possibly not marrying a woman with wh
om he’d be happy.
* * *
A week later, after giving his paper to the Royal Society, Phinn arrived back at Dorchester House determined to find Boman and discover how the arrangements to depart were coming along. Phinn was no closer to making a decision than he had been earlier. But if he decided to wed, plans could be cancelled if need be. Yet, as he passed his sister-in-law’s parlor, he heard a gut-wrenching sob, then another.
Damn him for a fool and an eavesdropper. Phinn did not want to know what could make the indomitable Helen cry.
Just then his brother walked out of the door, a grim look on his face.
Why had he stopped? He should have just gone to his room. “What’s wrong? Is Helen ill?”
“Only if being sick at heart could be considered an illness.” Dorchester regarded Phinn with a steady gaze. “In not providing me an heir, she feels she has failed me and the family. No matter how I try to persuade her that it is not her fault, she cannot be sanguine.” His brother glanced over Phinn’s shoulder. “Every once in a while, it becomes too much for her.”
Bloody hell-hounds in Perdition! “I understand.”
“Do you?” His brother raised a brow. “The fact that there is no next generation to carry on the title is tearing her apart. She has cause for her concern. Her father’s title was almost lost due to the lack of an heir. It was nothing short of an act of God that after her father’s death and eight daughters her mother gave birth to a son.”
If only to lighten his brother’s mood, or make himself feel better for planning to run off again, Phinn wanted to make a flippant reply. Yet it would not do. What he considered an unnecessary nuisance was for Dorchester and Helen a very real concern.
“Yes. I do.” As much as Phinn would like to go on his merry way, there was his family to think about. What would happen if his brother and sister-in-law did not have a son and he died on his travels? There were cousins. But none of them were up to snuff and would most likely make a shambles of the marquisate. Well, there was nothing for it. However much he wished to wait, he had responsibilities to his family that surpassed his own desires. He would have to wed. “Now if you will excuse me. There are some matters to which I must attend.”