“I’m Lord Silford’s cousin Gareth, the son of his youngest uncle. This is my wife Augusta, and my eldest son Charles.”
“How do you do,” Cromarty said, prevented from rudeness by the embarrassed and somehow gentle eyes of the older man. “I’d offer you refreshment, but I’m already late for an appointment. If your business is urgent, perhaps I could call on you, sir, at some mutually agreeable time?”
Augusta laughed again. “Oh, bless you, Cousin, we have not called upon business but upon family matters. To come to the point, you will have received his lordship’s invitation to the ball at Steynings?”
She left a tiny pause for him to reply. When he didn’t, she charged on. “Gareth, who is the kindest of souls, insisted we come and offer you support.”
Cromarty blinked. “Support for what?”
“Well, you will know no one. The whole world of Steynings and the invited company will be new to you. Gareth is eager to offer his help and counsel. And it would be so delightful to travel down to Steynings together. It will be so much more comfortable for you.”
Augusta Cromarty’s idea of comfort was clearly very different from his own. “I’m sure you’re right,” he said, again prevented from sharpness by the resigned agony of embarrassment in Gareth’s eyes. “And I appreciate the thoughtful offer. However, it is quite unnecessary since I am not going to Steynings.”
The lady’s mouth fell open. Even the bored Charles regarded him in surprise.
“Not going?” the lady repeated faintly. “But Steynings! Silford! The ball… Perhaps I should not say so, but it is in your honor, Cousin, now that you are his heir.”
Cromarty shrugged. “Then he should know better. I told him I would not come.”
“I expect balls aren’t your thing,” Gareth said kindly and received glances of contempt from both his wife and son.
“Ah!” Augusta exclaimed. “You are worried that you cannot dance, that you will not know how to behave. You must come to us and learn. My daughter Selina will make an excellent practice partner. She has been dying to meet you. Shall we say tomorrow afternoon? And, of course, you will stay for dinner, and then you will see how things are done in our world.”
“Sadly, that won’t be possible,” Cromarty said, allowing a hint of impatience into his voice. “Or even necessary. I am very glad to make the acquaintance of my cousins, but I leave town tomorrow. I must beg you to excuse me.”
It was much like herding rowdy sailors out of whatever tavern they had lost track of time in. Good-naturedly ushering the leader—in this case, Augusta—without actually touching her, the rest would follow. And so, it proved. He didn’t even trouble to call for Stephen but showed them out the door himself.
“Bless you, my boy,” Gareth mumbled, and it struck Cromarty that he might actually be a clergyman, though no one had said so.
Beside him on the step, Augusta looked a trifle bewildered as though she couldn’t quite understand how she had got there. Charles, sauntering out after them, cast Cromarty a look of contempt, although he bowed with perfect grace. A bit of a dandy, he favored a bright yellow-striped waistcoat and a cravat of intricate folds that made it positively frothy.
Cromarty laughed and closed the door. He didn’t know whether they had been sent by his grandfather or whether word about him being Silford’s heir was getting out, but either way, he didn’t like it.
Chapter Six
The dinner party at Audley Park was pronounced a great success by all who attended.
“I must say, I was so pleasantly surprised in Lord Verne,” Mrs. Walsh, the vicar’s wife, confided as she finally donned her pelisse and bonnet for the journey home. “I had expected a much rougher, ill-mannered man.”
“Presumably holding some black mass under the dining table with his abducted virgins,” Henrietta muttered to Miss Milsom who sniggered before she remembered to turn her disapproving face in Henrietta’s direction. Interestingly, her eyes laughed while her pursed mouth scolded. Henrietta decided she liked the governess.
“But one would not really expect Lady Cecily to marry a rough, ill-mannered man,” Lady Overton pointed out.
“A most charming young woman,” Mrs. Walsh approved. “So amusing, and yet never straying outside the bounds of what is pleasing. I have to say, if I were invited to Finmarsh House, I now would have no hesitation in accepting.”
“Come along, my dear,” the vicar said patiently. “No point in planning your next engagement before we have left this one!”
“Well, that went off very well,” Lady Overton said with relief, having finally waved off the Walshes and seen the front door closed on the darkening sky. “Mrs. Lacey will now be planning an evening party in order to invite the Vernes! Oh, don’t rush off, Miss Milsom. Lady Verne and I were talking, and we have a proposition for you. Would you like another pupil? With a commensurate increase in salary, of course.” Still talking, she led the way back to the drawing room. “Lord Verne’s niece—his ward—lives with her grandmother and has no one to teach her. Apparently, now that he is married, she is coming to live with him more permanently and he would like to bring her over here each day to have lessons with Eliza.”
“Is she a pleasant child?” Henrietta asked doubtfully, for she knew Cecily did not care for the grandmother, Mrs. Longstone.
“Cecily likes her. She’s a couple of years younger than Eliza.”
“I think it will be good for Eliza,” Miss Milsom pronounced. “It might stop her missing her brother so excessively if she has a friend of her own.”
“We should try it,” Henrietta agreed. “But if Eliza doesn’t like her, it won’t answer.”
The plan her mother formed, which Henrietta didn’t much like, was that young Jane should be brought to stay at Audley Park while the Vernes and the Overtons were away at Steynings for the ball. Henrietta would rather have been at home so that Eliza didn’t feel surrounded by strangers with no family present, but Miss Milsom assured her she would keep a close eye on them, and Eliza herself seemed as excited as she was nervous to meet a new friend.
The day before Jane was expected and the adults were to travel to Steynings, Henrietta induced Miss Milsom and Eliza to accompany her to the market at Finsborough, in search of new ribbons for her bonnet and other fripperies.
Eliza, having pronounced the scarlet silk her favorite, quickly lost interest in ribbons and wandered around the other stalls with Miss Milsom, leaving Henrietta pondering between the scarlet, which Mama would almost certainly dislike, and the more decorous pale blue.
The woman whose stall it was kindly produced a hand mirror, and Henrietta tried both colors beside her face and under her chin.
“Why don’t you take a length of both?” the woman suggested.
“I shouldn’t,” said another voice entirely. “One startles and the other is insipid. Try this.”
Her heart bumped as she turned to face Captain Cromarty, who looked almost respectable in town clothes. Only his smart Hessian boots were muddied, which made her think he had been travelling by land, and he wore no hat.
“Captain,” she managed.
“Miss Maybury,” he returned with a hint of gentle mockery, although whether aimed at her or himself was hard to distinguish.
“And what do you know of ribbon, sir?” she challenged, smiling because her heart lit up every time she saw him.
“Nothing,” he confessed. “But I am a good judge of color and beauty.”
“Who on earth told you that?” she teased.
“Oh, many ladies of my acquaintance.”
“Are you being outrageous?”
“Oh no, many of my acquaintances are quite innocent.”
He held up a reel of sunshine-yellow silk to the stall owner who cut a good length. The captain then held it to her cheek, and placed his finger under her chin to tilt her face back to the mirror. Her skin tingled and flushed under his touch, so that she had difficulty concentrating on her appearance.
“That’s how I thi
nk of you,” he said softly. “Like summer sunshine.”
She didn’t know if it was the effect of his presence or the yellow ribbon, but as she stared at her suddenly vital reflection, she knew she looked at her best.
“I’ll take all three,” she said in a rush, thinking of giving the scarlet to Eliza and the blue to Miss Milsom who badly needed something to brighten her dress. She cast a quick glance up at Captain Cromarty as his hands fell away. “Thank you for your assistance.”
“My pleasure.” His eyes danced. “Might I help you with anything else?”
Not used to being so overwhelmed, she lifted her chin. “Sir, are you flirting with me?”
In her experience, such a direct question generally resulted in embarrassed denial and swift retreat. The captain, however, only smiled in a way that deprived her of breath. “Yes, I believe I am. Do you mind?”
“I don’t know,” she managed, honestly, brushing past him to pay for her ribbon. “I think you flirt too easily for it to mean much.”
“Ouch,” he said after a short pause, while he took the parcel from the stall owner. “That took the wind out of my sails.”
“Might I help you with anything else?” she quoted sweetly.
He laughed with what sounded like pure amusement. “I like you, Henrietta. I hope you will always put me in my place.”
“It will be my pleasure, though I doubt you will stay there.”
“I like to be unpredictable.”
“You are certainly that.”
“Then may I invite you for luncheon?”
Again, he took her by complete surprise. She stared up at him, wondering if she dared. Even with Eliza and Miss Milsom. Especially with Eliza and Miss Milsom. Her breath caught. Oh yes, she dared.
But before she could speak, he did so. “I’m sorry. That was unfair. Of course, I may not. Your company is too beguiling, but sadly, I must forego it. I’m glad I met you.” And with a quick smile, he bowed and walked away across the square toward the tavern.
Baffled, Henrietta wondered what had happened. Had he saved her or rejected her? It was probably best if she never found out.
*
Although they did not travel together, Henrietta was glad the Vernes and the Laceys were to be at Steynings, too. After her months in London, large parties were hardly a novelty to her, or anything to cause her anxiety, but the things that had once made such events exciting—gowns and jewels and flattering gentlemen—had palled somewhat, and she preferred simply friendly company. Now she would have the Vernes and Matthew to get up to mischief with.
“What has made the old gentleman hold such an event?” she asked Cecily when they met in Finsborough only an hour after she had encountered Captain Cromarty. “My father says it’s quite out of character. Especially while he’s in mourning for a grandson.”
“The rumor is, he is introducing his new heir, who is guaranteed to put other noses out of joint. There is a cousin, a clergyman, who imagined he would inherit. Which, apparently, he cared nothing for, unlike his wife and his large, hopeful progeny. So, the world and his wife will almost certainly be at Steynings in the hope of catching a quarrel between the new heir and the over-presumptuous cousins. There is that to look forward to.”
Henrietta wrinkled her nose. “I think I’d rather stay here and wait for my brothers to come home and fight.”
“But there will be dancing,” Cecily pointed out. “And I know you love to dance!”
*
Almost as soon as the carriage stopped on the impressive front terrace of Steynings, Lord Rudd strolled across to greet them. He had been in Brighton with the Prince Regent. “But I was so desperate to get away,” he drawled, “even this turgid affair seemed preferable. And then I heard you would be present, Miss Maybury, and I could not resist. Ah, here comes Lady Manson, our hostess.”
Lady Manson was the Earl of Silford’s sister and acting as his hostess for the ball. “I used to be so good at large parties,” she confided to Lady Overton, “But in recent years, I have quite got out of the way of it, so you must say if anything is not just as you like. Mrs. Granger here is the housekeeper. She will show you to your rooms and make sure all is satisfactory.”
Behind her back, Rudd caught Henrietta’s gaze and rolled his eyes. Henrietta smiled only perfunctorily, for in truth, she rather liked the wittering lady.
Steynings itself was a large and impressive country mansion, second only to Mooreton Hall in Henrietta’s opinion, though far newer and built on more classical lines. Inside, everywhere was well decorated and furnished, although in the somewhat old-fashioned style of the previous century. Henrietta’s bedchamber was comfortable, with plenty of space to hang her evening gowns.
Almost as soon as they arrived, it was time to prepare for dinner. Since Henrietta still did not have a maid of her own, she managed as best she could, dressing her own hair and choosing jewelry until her mother bustled in with her maid. While her stays were tied and her gown donned, she listened patiently to her mother’s instructions.
“Lord Rudd has distinguished you with his attentions, so there is no harm in a little modest encouragement. Just be careful never to step beyond the line of what is pleasing, for he has a bit of a reputation as a rake, you know. Don’t make things too easy for him.”
“I don’t even know what you mean by that,” Henrietta said. “So, I doubt I will.”
Released from the maid’s ministrations, she stood and bore her mother’s critical survey from head to toe.
Lady Overton nodded. “You will do.” She hesitated, then dismissed the maid. “He is different with you, Henrie. Several people have remarked upon it. He would be a good match for you.”
“But you no longer need the money, do you?”
“Not desperately, as at the beginning of the year. You bring a decent dowry with your hand, and Rudd will make a decent settlement upon you. Your father will see to that. A match with Rudd will be quite a feather in your cap, for any number of females have cast out lures to him in the past, and he has never taken the bait. To use your father’s vulgar phrases,” she added hastily, “which I beg you will not.”
Henrietta glanced at her reflection in the glass. “I think Charlotte was right all along. The whole business of the marriage mart is vulgar. And yet, we look down our noses at those of lesser birth who do things differently.”
“No, they don’t,” her mother argued. “It is all a question of degree and the taste with which the matter is managed. You know perfectly well we would not tie you to a man you did not like.”
“But what if I liked a very different man?” She cast around in her mind for someone quite ineligible and came up, inevitably, with Captain Cromarty. “A merchant sea captain, perhaps, or a banker’s son, someone who worked in the city. If he was my choice, would you let me marry him?”
“Of course not,” her mother said, scandalized. “Stop being ridiculous. You will never even meet such a man! Come, it is time to go down.”
Henrietta smiled wryly and followed her mother.
It was a large party who had gathered in the gallery, too many for everyone to be introduced to everyone else, although Lord Silford and Lady Manson welcomed all their guests as they appeared. As Henrietta and her family passed through the throng, Lord Rudd glanced over from a group of friends and bowed, but didn’t immediately excuse himself to join them. Henrietta was relieved and hoped her mother was wrong about his intentions.
Her mother paused to greet Lord and Lady Verne, and her father moved on to speak to some old friends he recognized. Presented with a glass of ratafia, Henrietta gazed around the elegant throng.
“We could easily be in London,” she observed. “Everyone looks familiar, even if I have never met them.”
“An invitation to Steynings is rare enough,” Cecily replied. “Even without the incentive of meeting the new heir, who is to be produced, presumably, from behind a screen at some point in the evening. I was disappointed not to see him standing with the earl
as we came in.”
“Perhaps he is mingling with the guests already,” Henrietta suggested, pleased to have a puzzle to solve. “Which of the gentlemen could he be? Is there anyone here you don’t know?”
“I don’t know any of ’em,” Verne said sardonically, leaning his shoulder against the wall.
Henrietta swept her gaze around the gallery for likely candidates, and found a young, blond, arrogant-looking man whose expression was so discontented, he appeared to pout like a child about to burst into tears. “What about him?”
“Oh, excellent guess,” Cecily approved, following her gaze. “He is in fact family, but his nose has been put out of joint by the discovery of this missing heir. It is his father who is next in line for the earldom.” Cecily broke off to exchange nods with a passing lady who made Henrietta’s heart lurch unpleasantly.
The lady who had kidnapped Matthew in mistake for Captain Cromarty. A little more formally attired, perhaps, but otherwise she looked exactly the same. From her fashionably riotous golden hair to her shimmering gown, so fine it should have torn at one touch of her beringed fingers, she was quite unmistakable.
With relief, Henrietta remembered that she did not look anything like the hoyden dressed as a boy who had turned up to demand Matthew’s release that day. Hastily, she adopted her most aloof smile and tried to look as if she had never seen the lady in her life before. Thank goodness Lady Overton was engrossed in conversation with another matron and was paying little attention.
The lady, having exchanged bows with Cecily, let her gaze linger a little too long on Lord Verne. She smiled.
“My husband, Lord Verne,” Cecily introduced him. To Henrietta, she sounded reluctant, despite the perfect civility of her tone. “Verne, Lady Carew.”
The lady offered her languid hand, and Verne took it. “My lady.”
As he released her, she made to pass on, her disinterested glance barely acknowledging Henrietta. But before Henrietta could breathe a sigh of relief, that bored, blue gaze came back to her with a hint of puzzlement.
The Unmarriageable Collection (Books 1–3) Page 50