Miss Sonia was growing fond of the Warebourne girls. Wouldn’t she feel guilty about loving her own children better? Worse, what if there was not enough love to share so many ways? Benice, Gen, and Tina needed so much, perhaps Miss Sonia wouldn’t care about having her own babies? I could have been flattened by a barrel for nothing!
No, I dare not take a chance. ’Twas better to nip this relationship in the bud now, than have to nip a butt later. I will play with the children when we meet in the park. I will play with them so hard and so rough, we’ll never be allowed near them again. They’ll all thank me someday.
*
Sonia took an inordinate amount of time selecting an outfit to wear to go for a romp in the square with her dog and some children. Goodness, she chided herself, she wasn’t trying to fix Lord Warebourne’s interest or anything, she just wanted to be friends with the man. Besides, he mightn’t even come. She finally selected a rose-colored walking dress with its fuller skirt and higher neck than many of her new clothes. She pinned a bunch of silk violets under the brim of her chip-straw bonnet, and tied its pink ribbons along her cheek. She took her maid along with her as well as Ian, the footman, so she broke no minor rules, on her way to break major ones. She also brought a ball, so Fitz and the girls could play on their own. She sat on a bench near the Ware House side of the little park, Fitz at her feet, and waited.
He came, following slowly behind the excited children, who immediately ran laughing and tumbling after Fitz and the ball. Darius bowed stiffly, then took a seat on Sonia’s bench, as far from Miss Randolph as possible without toppling off. He did not look in her direction. To a casual observer, they would appear chance-met strangers enjoying the day. Ian stepped behind a tree with the nursemaid, Meg, but Maisie Holbrook very properly kept vigil from the next bench over, keeping Miss Randolph quite in view if not exactly in hearing, while she mended a bit of lace in her lap.
Sonia studied the major while he observed the noisy game of catch. He seemed even more careworn today than she remembered, older, harder. He sat rigidly erect, military fashion, only his injured leg angled for comfort. Sonia could feel his disapproval and wondered if she had made a mistake, asking him to come where he had no wish to be. She never meant to add to the officer’s discomfort.
She was about to call to Fitz, to leave Major Conover to his solitude, when he frowned, then spoke, still without looking at her. “The dog does not seem to be in a decline, Miss Randolph. He hardly favors the leg at all.”
Sonia looked to where Fitz was barking and jumping, chasing the ball. “No, sir, and I am sorry the children told you such a bouncer. I did want to thank you properly for saving him, however, and to apologize for that scene at Atterbury House.”
“No need, I am sure.” He cleared his throat. “Miss Randolph, I appreciate your attention to the children. They are in alt over their new friends. I don’t know which impressed them more, your kindness or Fitz’s repertoire of tricks. Now they won’t be so miserable until I can find them a puppy of their own. Or a kitten. There is some disagreement among the ranks, so the decision is still pending. I do thank you, ma’am, but this”—holding his hands out to encompass the park, the bench, his own presence—“was not well done of you. You must be aware by now that I am not fit to be in your company. I heard your own grandmother make that plain.”
Sonia raised her chin. “I make my own friends.”
“You are very young and foolish, then.”
“I am eighteen, and old enough to know when someone has done me a great service. Fitz means the world to me, you see.”
“He is a lucky dog to win such affection.” He stood to leave. “Still, I cannot let you—”
“Please, don’t go yet,” she pleaded. “At least tell me how you found Fitz. The children’s tale was all full of brave derring-do, mixed in with monkeys and schoolboys and opera singers. That sounds like quite a bumblebroth, even for Fitz.”
Darius could not resist the appeal in her voice. He made the mistake of turning to her. Deuce take it, he knew he shouldn’t look at those blue eyes, or catch a hint of those adorable dimples. Or note how the pink ribbons of her bonnet brought up the tinge in her velvet cheeks. And those silly violets nestled in gold curls. Gads, he loved violets. He was lost. He’d tell her about the dog’s addlepated exploits, then he’d leave. For good.
The telling of the story, the vegetables, the herring, the scattered newspapers, softened the major’s features and even brought a twinkle to his brown eyes. Sonia was pleased to see the years and worries slip away. She was also happy to have her own instincts confirmed: He was a good man. Sonia couldn’t begin to imagine Lord Berke or any of his friends stopping for a half-dead dog, much less soiling his hands to help the filthy animal.
“I truly am in your debt,” she said.
“No, I think I am in yours.” Darius smiled and gestured to where Fitz and his nieces were frolicking. The ball long lost, the dog and the girls seemed to be taking turns rolling in a mud puddle. Then they went wading in the decorative fountain, splashing water on an irate matron with a beady-eyed mink tippet draped about her neck. Next Fitz took Baby on a ride through the public flower beds, scattering blossoms for the older girls to make into neck chains and hair wreaths. “I have never seen them so happy”
“And I have never seen Fitz behave so badly. Goodness, he knows he’s not supposed to go near the fountains or the gardens. I’m sorry about the little girls’ clothes, Major. I don’t know what’s got into Fitz these days.. Perhaps it’s spring fever. I’ll just whistle him back before someone calls the Watch.” Fitz was now digging a hole in the soft dirt with his powerful front legs, spraying debris on the girls and a clerk who hurried past, cursing. Benice found a stick and came to help dig. Gen and Tina just used their hands.
“No, leave them. I’ve never seen the girls act so…childishly. Especially Benice. They don’t laugh enough.” Just then Fitz turned and nosed Baby right into the hole. Darius laughed out loud at the stunned expression on the little girl’s face.
“Nor do you, I think,” Sonia murmured. She hadn’t meant him to hear, and blushed when he turned back to her.
“Miss Randolph, you are very kind. Your compassion does you credit, but you mustn’t let your tender heart lead you astray. For your own sake, I must go. I can see you have a strong will under that sweetness, but you must not exercise it on my behalf. I am not a charity case.” He spoke gently, to discourage her, not to insult the enchanting young miss. “Truly I do not need your sympathy.”
Sonia stared at the reticule in her lap. “I had hoped to enlist yours.” She untied the strings and withdrew a white envelope and handed it to him. “Tomorrow night is my come-out ball. I wish you would come.”
Darius looked at the envelope and read his name neatly inscribed, Major Darius Conover, Lord Warebourne. He laughed harshly. “Haven’t you heard anything I said, Miss Randolph? Not even the title will keep me from being tossed on my ear.”
“Not at my ball, my lord, not if I invite you myself. I am acquainted with so few people, you see, I should like to have someone familiar there. Everyone else will be Grandmother’s friends.”
“Deuce take it, my girl, you’ll know fewer and fewer if I sit in your pocket. You’ll be cut by them all.”
Her lips formed a determined line. “I am not asking you to sit in my pocket, my lord, just to stand my friend. One dance is all I wish.”
He gave that same humorless laugh. “I cannot even dance, Miss Randolph, with this blasted leg. A fine figure of fun that would make of us, were I to try and fall on my face in front of you and half the ton.”
“I am not permitted the waltz yet, so I shall not be dancing every dance, even if I am asked.”
“Even if you are asked? Are you fishing for compliments, Miss Randolph? You are beautiful, charming, and well dowered. There will be bucks and beaux lined up along the sidewalks of Grosvenor Square just waiting to ask you!”
Sonia’s face was as pink as the ribbo
ns on her bonnet. “I never meant to be so forward, my lord, truly I did not. I just do not know many of those…bucks and beaux, and thought I might be more comfortable sitting out a waltz with someone I know. I’m sorry. It was very improper of me to ask.”
“Miss Randolph, your being here in the park with me is improper, and you dashed well know it. Your handing me an invitation your guardian didn’t issue is deucedly irregular. Asking a gentleman, and I use the term loosely, for a dance would set you beyond the pale. I am beginning to think there is the heart of a hoyden under that demure exterior,” he said sternly, until he caught the beginnings of her dimples. “Are you really comfortable sitting with me?” She nodded.
“Every other respectable female goes off in a swoon if I half nod in her direction. Why aren’t you afraid?”
She countered his question with one of her own: “Do I have any reason to be afraid?”
“Beyond fearing to be tarred with the same brush? No, Miss Randolph, you never need to be afraid of me. Never.”
“There. I knew Fitz wouldn’t befriend a bounder.” She called for the dog and turned to leave, kissing the muddy children and giving Darius one last brilliant smile. “Will you at least please consider the invitation?”
He nodded. That was all he could do, considering Miss Randolph’s smile turned his brain to mush.
*
Darius did contemplate the invitation as he carried two exhausted, grimy children home. Blister it, where was that wretched nursemaid anyway? Benice could hardly drag his cane, while he suffered along with both Gen and Tina in his arms. Gen was smiling at him, which was worth a walk to the Isle of Wight. He knew he had Miss Randolph to thank for that, and again considered the engraved card. He thought about the ball, picturing Miss Randolph twirling in some lucky devil’s arms, laughing up into some fortunate chap’s eyes. Then he thought what a wretched mull he’d made of his life. Heaven seemed to be waiting just out of reach behind a locked door, and everyone but Darius Conover had the key.
*
Sonia and Fitz, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, made two stops on her way out of the park. First she checked with the flower girl to make sure lots of violets were on order for the ball. Most of the flowers and greenery for the formal arrangements were coming from Lady Atterbury’s favorite florist, but Sonia saw no reason her friends shouldn’t profit from the party, too. The pieman was already providing a quantity of gooseberry tarts to augment the Atterbury kitchens.
Sonia’s last stop was by the bench of the silver-haired man feeding the squirrels, where she sat down before the elderly gentleman could struggle to his feet. Fitz sank to the ground next to them. A squirrel ran right over the snoring dog, and he didn’t move. Sonia took another card out of her reticule and handed it to the old man.
“I already got one, missy,” he rasped.
“I know, and I already got your refusal. I am hoping you’ll reconsider and accept this one.” She proceeded to tell him why. He shook his head no. She teased and cajoled until he nodded yes, then she kissed his cheek and went home humming a waltz.
*
So much for the best-laid plans of mice and mongrels.
Chapter Ten
Tonight I stand guard like Cerberus, watchdog of the underworld. I wish I had three heads like mighty Cerberus, to keep better vigil at the ball. Marston, the butler, defends the front entry against indignity, calling off the guests’ names and honorifics with resonant cadences. I have been assigned the rear garden. I was told, “Fitz, you stay outside tonight.” That is a lot of responsibility. I patrol the yard to make sure no intruders come over the walls. I watch the lantern-lighted paths to guarantee no young couples go beyond the line. I pace the balcony outside the ballroom to keep rakes from taking advantage of the darkness and a miss needing fresh air. Mostly I try to keep sight of Miss Sonia as she dances and strolls about, meeting this handsome youth, smiling at that likely lad, granting a quadrille to a paragon in puce satin.
I wish Muffy were here. She could imitate a wig and sit atop one of the footmen’s heads and guard the refreshments. Tippy assures me there are always leftovers, but this is my first London ball. I admit I am nervous.
I am not apprehensive that Miss Sonia will not “take.” She has been considered an Incomparable since the receiving line. From the drawing room window I hear Miss Sonia discussed in glowing terms, thank St. Francis. She is described as no niminy-piminy girl, but not too coming either. She has fresh charm, not airs and affectations. She is just right, and her dowry is nothing to sneeze at either. We are a success. I am worried, however, that she will be taken with the wrong man. Lady Atterbury says that the crème de la crème of society is here tonight. What if its dregs arrive, too?
I wonder if he will come, this lord who would be a soldier. If he likes Miss Sonia, he will come, because he wants to be with her and because she asked. If he likes her, though, he won’t come, lest he hurt her chances and disturb Lady Atterbury. More complications. Sometimes I think my life would be easier if they were like trout, the females laying their eggs in one place and the males coming there to leave a token of their affection before going about their own business.
Major Conover or not, tonight is a turning point. I can feel it in my belly. Maybe that’s the wine I tasted with Ian earlier, just to make sure it hadn’t turned. But Miss Sonia’s beau ideal might be here tonight. He might be kissing her fingertips this very minute, while I make fog-breath on the glass doors. Rats!
Still, I am curious about this diversion they call a ball, a toy, a plaything. I am trying to understand what they find so entertaining about cramming four hundred people in space for three, standing on line for hours to shake someone’s hand, having their feet trod upon, their names vilified behind their backs, and their heads muddled with champagne. They gamble beyond their means, and they dance like performing bears.
At first the men are in groups on one side of the room, and the women on the other. Then some of the braver lads ask the most well-favored lasses for the set. Lady Atterbury and her friends go around forcing other gentlemen to take the floor, but some of them escape to the card room or the balcony to blow a cloud—incidentally obscuring my view. Some of the girls are therefore left without partners, so they take up positions around the perimeter and pretend they are just another flower arrangement.
When the music begins, the dancers all follow the same patterns and movements. Everyone to the right, everyone to the left, as if they are being herded by a Bach-loving collie. The waltz is different, but of course, the young ladies, the ones in whose honor the ball is thrown, cannot take part. They sit and watch their older sisters and widowed aunts snabble the most dashing bachelors while they are left with sputtering striplings.
I am intrigued to see the elite at play. Are they having fun yet?
*
Lady Atterbury was pleased. Not even Sally Jersey or those other rattlepates from Almack’s could find fault tonight. Every surface of Atterbury House gleamed, the staff was superbly and unobtrusively efficient, the refreshments extravagant. The dowager had expected no less.
At first she was annoyed with the floral arrangements, banks of daisies and ferns in the ballroom, baskets of violets on each table in the supper room. Common, the dowager decided, wrinkling her patrician nose. And just like her goosecap of a granddaughter, flaunting her humble country origins. Lady Almeria sent upstairs for another diamond brooch to join the three she already wore, next to the ruby and diamond parure, the blinding tiara, and the eight rings. Heaven forfend anyone mistake the household of Her Grace, the Duchess of Atterbury, for a woodland meadow. Then various matrons came to compliment the dowager on how cleverly the decorations reflected her granddaughter’s fresh charm. Just the right touch, Princess Lieven enthused, for a miss not yet jaded by the Season. A joy to see a gel bright as a daisy, Emily Cowper congratulated, so sweetly friendly and lively, not like one of London’s delicate hothouse blooms. Lady Atterbury commended herself on her excellent taste and grasp o
f the social niceties. She also graciously accepted credit for her granddaughter’s appearance. Yes, the chit did the Harkness name proud tonight.
Madame Celeste had done the impossible: created a white gown that wasn’t white. The slip of a satin undress was white, but the skirt, which began right under a minuscule bodice, was covered with three layers of tissue-thin net in three shades of blue. The gauzy mesh floated at Miss Randolph’s feet, changing colors to reflect the dancing lights in her blue eyes. The white bodice was embroidered all over with forget-me-nots, the center of each flower a pearl. Sonia wore Lady Atterbury’s gift of pearls and, in her fair curls, a sapphire butterfly sent by her father for the occasion. George had sent the matching earbobs, and her younger brother, Hugh, arriving barely in time for the dinner before the ball, brought her a gold filigree fan.
“Bang up to the nines, Sunny,” he told her approvingly as he led her out for the first dance. “Never thought you’d hold a candle to Catherine, but demmed if I didn’t have my blunt on the wrong filly. Your dance card is already filled, and you have the blades lined up two-deep to fetch you a lemonade. By George if you ain’t a success. Little Sunny with her dirty face and skinned knees and mare’s-nest hairdos. Who’d have thought it?”
Sonia chuckled. “Thank you, I think. I just wish Papa was here to see it.”
Hugh looked quickly to make sure she wasn’t getting weepy on him. No, Sunny was a Trojan. “He’d just grumble about the expense and disappear into the card room anyway. Then he’d brag to everyone for days how you looked fine as five-pence.”
“In case I didn’t mention it earlier, you are looking very fine yourself, Lieutenant, in your handsome new dress uniform. In fact, I can see the hopeful mamas ringing Grandmother now, waiting for their chances.”
A Loyal Companion Page 8