Dangerous to Know

by Christina Boyd (ed)

  “Four years this month, in fact.”

  The 36th Regiment of Foot had left the Isle of Wight in ‘64 for our new station in Jamaica at the conclusion of the war with France. After harrying the French along their coast and then defeating them on Belle Isle, we had found ourselves adjusting to a different duty in the steamy heat of a Caribbean tropical island.

  “It was jolly well good of the colonel to send you back for regiment business so you might witness Longtown’s nuptials.”

  “Indeed. Longtown was most insistent. His letters claim we have snubbed him since we left school and put on our regimentals.”

  Courtenay guffawed. “Poor Longshanks! Only son and heir to great estates and wealth—made low in spirits because his papa would not buy him his colors.”

  “It was not the colors. It was being separated from his friends, he stated.” I smirked because Lord Longshanks Marston, as Longtown was then, was miserable because he could not join his friends for a “ripping, good time” in the army.

  “Oh, aye. Mama was sharp set against the army until Sinclair persuaded her to let me go. He knew I was disinclined to any other gentlemanly career. She always marveled that your father easily signed the papers as you are his only son and heir.”

  “My father abhorred the thought that I might become one of the dissipated, idle first sons waiting for him to stick his spoon in the wall while emptying the family coffers.” And, my father did not have a regard for his son.

  Courtenay knew something of my troubled history with Father and kindly turned the subject. “Do not think I am not wise to the fact that you wheedled the colonel and so timed your arrival to coincide with the Season and the return to Town from the country of a certain fair-haired, blue-eyed beauty not long returned to the home shores from Jamaica.”

  “You notice too much.”

  “When the incomparable Miss Freethy and her brother graced Jamaican society, you did not hide your interest in the lady. It was much talked about that our exacting Major Tilney set his sights high in the pursuit of a viscount’s sister. I presume that you have decided then?” Courtenay flattened his lips with distaste. “Is this part of your plan to advance in rank and marry for connections?” Courtenay answered his own question, shaking his head. “No, even you, at your most ambitious, must at least respect, if not esteem, your partner. I think you might do both with Miss Freethy. Pity that.”

  “Why pity?”

  “Oh, Prissy had hopes.”

  “Miss Dent, your betrothed, had hopes of me? You must be drunk.” I leaned in to sniff how much wine my friend had imbibed at the captain’s table only to be pushed away with a laugh.

  “No, gudgeon! Not for herself. Prissy hoped to introduce you to her cousin, Miss Drummond. You have heard me mention over the last few years about her shy cousin who is a frequent visitor since her dear mother died.”

  “Pray, do not plague me with your country misses before I even have had a chance to make my way down Marylebone Road.”

  Courtney laughed and said, “I won’t throw a rub in your way in regard to your Birds of Paradise. But Prissy—”

  “As memory serves, you first described her as a countrified, little mouse with no conversation and Miss Dent struggled to draw her out, having little hope for her. When did you turn matchmaker?”

  “Prissy writes Miss Drummond is much improved now though not long ago there was some trouble with an unscrupulous fortune hunter. Prissy says she is ready to take her place in society at her father’s behest, but only requires confidence. She thought the attention of a dashing officer might do. Prissy is our matchmaker.”

  Courtenay cleared his throat and continued. “Mama is concerned that my younger sisters Pat and Let will miss the beginning of yet a second season and chances to make good matches. Let had the measles their first season and Pat would not have her presentation to the Queen without her sister. Mama will get them through the Queen’s Drawing Room and she depends upon the oldest, Cat and Bet, to host dinners and balls for the girls when they leave off their mourning clothes. She expects me to separate the wheat from the chaff while squiring my sisters about. Maybe even drive off masqueraders with my sword.”

  Courtenay’s younger twin sisters, vixens both, were Patrice and Lettice. Pat and Let, along with two older sisters, Bet and Cat, were fondly so named by their brothers. They were all lively ladies with not much beauty among them. Charm and connections carried them where beauty could not. Bet had become the Baroness Elizabeth Markham and Cat snared the second son of a duke. Lady Catherine Deveril, or Lady Cat as she was now known in her intimate circles, was apparently a leader in London Society these days.

  “At least it relieves Mrs. Courtenay’s mind from her grief, a little.”

  A quiet “yes” was his only response. The Courtenays adored one another. When the letter about Sinclair’s death reached him, Courtenay was bowed down with grief for a time. Remaining at his side, I had made sure my friend did not grieve alone. “Work and duty will pull us through. Speaking of duty”—my companion turned to me—“have you informed your father that you are courting a fine lady?”

  My father had raged before I left England how he required an heir and how I was a disappointment who would likely end the family line by catching a bullet and good riddance.

  My worst nightmare was not to die of that predicted bullet but that I would become like my father. Thus, when my parent frothed at the mouth about duty, pushed the daughters of his friends at me, and attempted to goad me into taking a wife, I had resisted. None would serve me well for the elevated world I would occupy. I would be so much more than the bitter, old man in Gloucestershire.

  “No, he has not sent me even one line since our quarrel in ’64. And because Miss Freethy is not known to him...well, he is a stubborn, old man. According to my mother’s last letter, he has been much occupied with his building project. He is adding a modern wing to the Abbey.”

  Courtenay’s blond brows smoothed and he carefully inspected his gloves, and wished to address something particular so I said, “Out with it.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Your countenance betrays you. You have something to say that you think I will not like.”

  “Now that you bring it to mind, you could do me a favor—that is you might do Prissy, erm, rather her cousin, Miss Drummond, a service. Not that you can let on that you are doing her a service—defeat the purpose.”

  With dread, I ventured, “And just what is this service that I can do the lady?”

  Courtenay rushed his fences and blurted, “During the Season... Solicit Miss Drummond to be her dancing partner. Do the pretty with compliments. Be the gallant. Draw her out.”

  A whole evening with a wallflower… God grant me strength.

  Courtenay looked at me expecting my adamant refusal, no doubt, but still hopeful. I was not one to be of service to damsels in distress, let alone the plain ones. Chivalry was more in Courtenay’s line. And yet, introductions to young heiresses could never be much a hardship and I would acquit myself of a good deed for my friend and his betrothed. There was nothing that my oldest friend might ask that I would refuse.

  “Very well, consider it done. I will go with you to call upon the ladies. And, if we find ourselves at the same assembly or ball…”

  “You will”—his face brightened. “Prissy will make the arrangements and you will receive invitations.”

  “I hope to be in attendance elsewhere.”

  “I am full aware.” Courtenay had dimmed a little.

  My friend had not approved of Miss Freethy. Courtenay rarely spoke ill of others, but he admitted that the Freethys were part of a fast set. He also did not approve of Lord Wearne, Miss Freethy’s brother, trying to pull me into risky business schemes or how Miss Freethy thrived on drawing so many admirers into her circle—even after singling me out. As for the last, neither did I.

  I could only shrug. I did not disagree entirely with Courtenay, but the nobility lived by a different set of rules
. It would do much good to court a lady sure to advance me into the highest circles where men with powerful influence were to be found.

  “Still”—Courtenay drew another deep breath—“it will be good to be home.”

  MAY 1768, LONDON

  I bowed over Lady Cat’s hand, wearing a perfectly fitted, light blue and silver ornamented long coat, waist coat, and matching breeches. My hair was styled and powdered in the high kick of English fashion, out of the usual military-style club, disdaining the hair dresser’s offer to turn me out like a Parisian courtier.

  “Lord, Tilney, what a handsome devil you are now! Do you still have devilish ways, I wonder? Should I make you turn out your pockets for fear of a mouse or snake being loosed among my guests?” Courtenay’s older sister, the evening’s hostess, laughed at my frown.

  Courtenay’s older sisters were the bane of my existence over the school holidays, which I often spent with their family. “You may rest assured that I am past the age when I need resort to small creatures in response to a tormentor, Lady Cat.”

  She dropped a curtsey with mocking acknowledgement then turned to her husband, a friendly man ten years his wife’s senior, who looked on Lady Cat with indulgent affection. “Francis, you will recall my mention of Major Tilney. Felix’s oldest friend? Tilney, this is my lord and master, Lord Francis Deveril.”

  “Of course! Welcome, Major! Lady Cat is pleased to have Felix returned from the army and we are happy you could accept our invitation this evening. You must come to us for dinner one evening and regal us with your heroic exploits during the Battle of Belle Isle and share about your doings on Jamaica.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  Lord Frances then leaned in conspiratorially tapping his nose. “She is always looking out for eligible men to make up her numbers. Have a care that she does not arrange more than a dinner or dancing partner for you.”

  Lord Francis enjoyed his wife’s affected effrontery, but she did not deny this and tugged me to her side, speaking in hushed tones that I greatly mistrusted. “Felix informs me that you have been drafted to partner sweet, little Miss Drummond tonight. And, Felix explained where your real interest lies and how you made considerable progress while the Freethys were in Jamaica. Miss Freethy is having a successful Season and is presently the darling of Society. Of course, I had to send round an invitation to do my part for our Tony’s Freethy Campaign, as Felix dubbed it. There she is, near the fireplace, a vision in apricot gold.”

  Finally, I was in the same room with my quarry after several unlucky attempts at an encounter. Miss Freethy was invariably out when I called or not attending the same evening activities when I knew her family to have received the same invitations. If I had known better, I might think she was avoiding me. As it was, I was impatient to secure Miss Freethy’s hand and apply to the viscount for his consent. All of which I had determined to accomplish before the London Season was over.

  “Here are Sir John and Lady Dent with Miss Drummond and our incorrigible Felix.”

  I knew I looked smart in the blue and it would likely be wasted on a female whose acquaintance would advance me little. Her large, celebrated dowry—knowing it originated from trade—gave me little satisfaction. What maggot had entered my head to give way to Courtenay’s request for this favor?

  “And here is Major Tilney. Prompt as usual, ma’am.” Courtenay spoke to Lady Dent, with his Miss Dent on one arm and Miss Drummond on his other, and so, I made a leg.

  “Dear Courtenay has assured us that we need not worry a jot about our niece as you come of a fine, old family from Gloucestershire, Major,” Lady Dent said in form of a greeting then turned to her niece speaking sotto voce. “Did I not promise there would be handsome, eligible men when we came to London, my dear?” I observed that the red-dyed feathers in the lady’s passé coiffure were as alive as her hands and speech. She continued whispering to her niece’s acute mortification, if the rapid fanning and high color were any indication. “Fortune hunters are thick on the ground in Town so you must be vigilant. Not that Lady Cat would invite any such persons and we are grateful to Major Tilney for making up our numbers tonight. He will keep you safe as houses.”

  “My pleasure,” I said, baring my perfect teeth.

  It was then, I recognized the calculated expression on her face. I had seen many a mama with a daughter to fire off looking much the same when coming upon a potential suitor. Courtenay’s silent plea was unnecessary. I had given my word so I would not retreat forthwith or offer the bothersome matron a set down with my caustic tongue.

  I turned from Lady Dent to her niece, Miss Drummond, prepared to do my duty. I bowed over her hand, catching a glimpse of a gold gown and the sound of familiar, sweet laughter beyond Miss Drummond in her ivory gown. I rose to my full height and my eyes found Miss Freethy, my true object in participating in all this fuss. Now, here was a creature endowed with beauty, charm, wealth, and family connections—and well worth my efforts.

  From across the room, limpid blue eyes stared from over her fan. Miss Freethy arched her brow as she slowly looked me over from head to toe.

  Brazen. However, I remembered she liked an edge of danger during our few meetings under the moonlight back in Jamaica.

  I took a step toward her before recalling myself. Sir John Dent’s conversation with Courtenay about drainage and crops could not draw my interest any more than Lady Dent’s observations to the two younger ladies about Cat’s newly arriving guests.

  Miss Freethy caught my eye beckoning me with her fan. I shook my head, all at once contrite that I was engaged at present whilst reluctant to hasten to join her throng of admirers.

  “She is generally regarded as a great beauty,” Miss Drummond said wryly, interrupting my thoughts.

  I deigned no reply but then offered my full attention to Miss Drummond.

  I had done the lady a disservice when I was predisposed to think her an insipid dowdy. In truth, she was a small woman with delicate bones, arresting features, and moderately high spirits which were evident beneath the paint and powder. A clever mantua maker had gowned her in pearls, lace, and ivory brocade, reminding me, despite her lithe figure, she was no longer in the schoolroom.

  It was the eyes that most captured me. Those eyes—innocent and warm like a doe’s when I was first introduced to her earlier in the week with Courtenay—but now full of sparkle. She raised a fan painted with flowers and hid her rosebud lips while slowly moving the air with the pretty item. It irked me to be a source of her amusement.

  “Do you care to take our place for the minuet, Miss Drummond?” I offered my arm, retreating from that knowing gaze. This lady may be quiet in manner and speech, but I was as lief to differ with Courtenay when he asked his favor of me that she was shy or in need of bolstering her confidence. It remained to be seen, however, if she could dance without mishap.

  She closed her fan with a snap and took her place beside me. “Rest assured, Major, I will not tread upon your shoes or give you reason to blush.”

  Her words had echoed my thoughts and I could barely utter, “The thought never occurred to me.”

  She hummed a non-committal sound, but her reddened lips curled up delightfully. “I understand from Major Courtenay that you are returned for a friend’s nuptials and will be visiting with family and acquaintance for the first time these many years.”

  “And I will also be recruiting more men to bring the regiment to full strength.”

  “Was it difficult to be away from England so long?”

  “One grows accustomed to living abroad. It has its compensations in traveling to places exotic in nature but also having the comfort of familiar duties and tasks.”

  “But is it not lonely? I cannot abide the thought of having to leave all those I know and living a half a world away.”

  “I did not leave all those I know. I had Courtenay, my fellow officers, and duty for my King. I encountered new acquaintances and now I see them...again...here.”

  “Yes, I
think I see how it is.” Her eyes drifted to Miss Freethy. She arched her brow. “The regiment is like a family. The general is the papa, the colonel is the mama, and—”

  “And majors are the elder brothers?” I smirked.

  “To be sure.” As the figures separated us, she regarded me over her shoulder, encouraging me in her little joke.

  I had barely noticed our movements, the music, the other couples, and now I bit back a laugh as I imagined curmudgeonly Colonel Wright as a “mama,” especially with his old-style wig, stains from long-time snuff use, and his horsey, stentorian voice.

  * * *

  Between sets, I had enjoyed the conversation as it halted and progressed with the dance and after as we took a turn about the room. The pleasure of her company had been unexpected and she partnered me in the dance well, in spite of our great difference in height.

  While awaiting Miss Drummond’s return from the retiring room, I espied Miss Freethy nearby smiling over a Macaroni in his ridiculous choice of fashion and poetry. The outlandish youth became dreamy-eyed when she thanked him for his blithering ode to her nose and he bowed over her gloved hand. “I will now procure the nectar of the gods for you, divine Miss Freethy, and, if none can be had, then I will go to the ends of the Earth for such a lovely nymph.”

  I brushed past as the callow admirer slinked away in his ridiculous evening coat with the exaggerated buttons, the eye-searing striped waistcoat in yellow and green, and the extreme heeled shoes with the large flowers instead of decent buckles. I bowed to her deep curtsey, giving me plenty to appreciate in her generous décolletage before I looked up to her carefully painted and patched face. “Rather than nectar, he should settle for punch, which may be had on the far side of the room instead of the ends of the Earth.” I had no time for besotted fools and was not pleased to witness Miss Freethy encouraging them. “I missed you at Mrs. Ames’ musicale.”