His mother wanted him to return to Yorkshire to learn from Jeremy Stiles, the estate manager, the skills he needed to take over the responsibilities of the estate. This idea did not appeal to Vincent in the slightest. He enjoyed his London residence, the gentlemen’s clubs he frequented, his curricle and pair of horses, his friends and the many social gatherings to which he was invited. He did not feel ready to go home, and did not see any urgency to do so as he knew that his mother and Mr. Stiles would have everything in hand.
Vincent discussed his predicament at length with his friend, Robert Bright. Robert did not have any other ideas than the obvious. “You will have to return home and live on the income from your estate or get married, dear chap.”
Neither of these options appealed to Vincent. “I will die of boredom if I have to spend the next three years at Maudley. And I’m certainly not ready to be leg-shackled—although at least if I marry I can remain in London, even though I would be burdened with a wife.”
Robert came up with a suggestion. “Well, if marriage is in the offing, perhaps I can help. I am going to Bath to join my parents, who have rented a house there for the summer, and you could accompany me.” Robert knew that his parents would make Vincent more than welcome and Vincent would provide him with good company. “I am told some ladies prefer Bath if they have been ‘out’ for a number of years and are still single. I would think, then, that these ladies would be less demanding and therefore less expensive for you to woo.”
After giving the matter a great deal of thought, Vincent had finally decided that a wife would perhaps be the quickest, if not the most desirable option. He needed to find a wife who would not be demanding of his time and would not interfere with his current lifestyle. The lady, of course, would have to be from a good family; if he could find one who also had some wealth, it would be even better, although not essential. How hard could it be? He knew that women found him attractive because until recently he had had to spend considerable effort making sure that he did not fall into the matrimonial trap.
Vincent had noticed that since his father’s death, whenever he attended social gatherings in London, he was plagued by mothers trying to find a suitable husband for their daughters. The young women themselves were very forward and flirtatious in their approaches to him and he found this disagreeable. He certainly had not yet met anyone to whom he wished to pay special attention, let alone to offer marriage. But as Robert said, he had nothing to lose. If he returned from Bath without having found a suitable wife, he would then go to Maudley as his mother wished.
One of the first places everyone visited when arriving in Bath was the Pump Room, and Vincent and Robert were no exception. The morning after their arrival in Bath they dutifully presented themselves there. As they entered the room it became quite clear that Robert was correct in his assessment of the young ladies who were in Bath at that time of year. They both noticed quickly that very few of the ladies at the Pump Room could be considered even tolerably attractive and certainly no one who could be considered beautiful. To Vincent’s dismay he found the mothers who queued up to make his acquaintance were even more desperate about pushing their daughters at him than those in London.
He and Robert spent about an hour in the Pump Room making polite conversation and each taking a glass of the very unpleasant spa water.
“I hope we have more luck at the Assembly Rooms with my search for a wife. I do not need a great beauty, but I want someone pleasing to look at and young enough to be moulded into what I need from a wife,” Vincent commented, a little disheartened, as they left the room.
As he said this he was walking past a row of chairs that were placed for use by the elderly and infirm. A pretty young lady with cornflower-blue eyes and shiny fair hair, dressed in a simple but stylish grey gown, caught his eye. His attention was drawn to her for a number of reasons: one, she was seated on a chair and looked decidedly out of place with the older people who sat around her; two, she looked bored; and three, she did not seek to catch the eye of other people, as was commonplace for most young ladies. She certainly did not even spare a second glance at him.
Although he often protested his dislike of the interest he usually sparked in young ladies, he did not expect to be overlooked. With his tall, athletic frame and thick, wavy, shoulder-length dark hair, he was considered a fine-looking young gentleman and was used to attracting female attention, even before he had inherited his title. “Is the fair-haired young miss seated over yonder of your acquaintance?” Vincent casually asked Robert.
“No, never seen her before,” Robert replied, and with that, neither gentleman gave her another thought.
That afternoon Vincent hired a suitable horse and spent a pleasant couple of hours riding through the streets and thoroughfares of the city of Bath and admiring the architecture. The weather was pleasant and he found riding around on such a day relaxing. As he was riding past the entrance to Sydney Gardens, he noticed a young lady accompanied by her maid driving past him in a splendid-looking open barouche. He was so engrossed in examining the equipage that it was only at the last moment that he recognized that the young lady in the carriage was the same pretty young lady he had seen sitting at the Pump Room earlier in the day. Their eyes met briefly before she looked away, but in that instant, Vincent felt as if he’d been pierced by a tiny dagger. Shrugging off the feeling, he made a mental note to find out more about her. Judging by the crest on her carriage, she was from a family of some wealth and status. She should be easy to find.
On his return to the Bright household Vincent and Robert were informed by an excited Mrs. Bright that she had managed to procure the two gentlemen tickets for the Assembly Rooms, and the following evening they were to attend the Dress Ball.
Chapter Three
The Dress Ball
Vincent and Robert were dressed in their finest apparel to accompany Robert’s parents to the Dress Ball at the Assembly Rooms.
Robert’s parents stood in the hallway waiting for them.
“My Goodness!” exclaimed Mrs. Bright. “You two young men have taken longer to dress than I have. Are you trying to outshine Beau Brummell himself?”
“God forbid!” laughed Robert, who was used to his mother’s teasing. “But we fellows do have to put some effort into our dress. It took my valet three attempts to perfect this Mathematical Tie.” He theatrically gestured to his elegant neck cloth. “Vincent is sporting a Ballroom Tie, the knot of which is so complex I’m surprised he is ready this early.”
Vincent, however, felt the time spent on his appearance had been worthwhile. He wore a pair of close-fitting breeches in a light tan, and his shirt had a fashionably high collar, which was set off with a white waistcoat, gold pocket watch and the aforementioned white tie. His boots were highly polished and a dark brown double-breasted frock coat finished off the outfit in style. Vincent knew his dress style complemented his six-foot frame.
Robert, although not as tall as Vincent, also cut a dashing figure with tight breeches, white frilled shirt and a striped waistcoat, drawing attention to his broad shoulders and slim hips. So satisfied did they both seem with their appearance that Mr. Bright felt obliged to compare them quite unfavourably to strutting peacocks, which made them all laugh. They set off to the Assembly Rooms in good spirits.
By the time they arrived at the magnificent building with its imposing stone entrance, the Dress Ball was already well underway. The sounds of the orchestra and the noise of people talking floated through the air. They made slow progress towards the ballroom as Mr. and Mrs. Bright, who had been in Bath some weeks now, kept stopping to chat with friends and acquaintances and introduce the two young gentlemen. Vincent despaired of ever getting through the area known as the Octagonal and reaching the ballroom.
Eventually they entered the ballroom and Vincent immediately spotted the young lady he had seen the day before in the Pump Room and again in the carriage by Sydney Gardens. Tonight she was seated beside an ornately dressed older woman. The yo
ung lady was certainly very pretty, and he did have a particular liking for fair hair, so he casually asked Mrs. Bright if these people were of her acquaintance.
Happily, Mrs. Bright could claim a slight acquaintance with Mrs. Beatrice Knightly and she was eager to make the necessary introductions. “Mrs. Beatrice Knightly, may I introduce my eldest son, Robert, and his good friend, Vincent Mount-Parker, the Earl of Chantry. They are currently residing with Mr. Bright and myself in Bath.”
“I am delighted to make your acquaintance,” gushed Beatrice, whose ears had pricked up at the mention of an earl. “May I introduce my niece, Miss Miriam Knightly.”
Both Vincent and Robert, as politeness demanded, enquired if Miss Knightly had any spaces on her dance card that they may fill. When this offer was firmly declined Vincent was so surprised that he did not have a ready response. Mrs. Bright, aware of the uncomfortable situation, engaged Mrs. Knightly in conversation regarding the weather and the aspect of the rooms within the building and the two men quickly moved on.
Vincent could not help but wonder about this young lady’s lack of interest in him as it had been quite obvious that Miss Knightly had not even checked her dance card before declining both his and Robert’s request. It seemed unlikely her card was fully booked as she had not been dancing prior to his being introduced and he had not noticed her on the dance floor subsequently. She had broken all the rules of etiquette by giving them such a direct cut. He found himself rather piqued by this and resolved to find out more about her.
Meanwhile Vincent enjoyed the dancing and he and Robert had no lack of partners; as soon as word had circulated around the Assembly Rooms that Lord Chantry was in attendance, every mother who had a daughter of marriageable age sought him out. They made themselves known to him even where evidence of a previous acquaintance was not clear.
Vincent took the opportunity to dance with many different partners but unfortunately he did not take to any one in particular. Eventually he had a break in his dancing commitments and met up with Robert and Robert’s parents as they made their way to the tea room for refreshments. Vincent took this opportunity to satisfy his curiosity and ask Mrs. Bright what she knew of Mrs. Knightly and her niece, Miss Miriam Knightly.
There was nothing Mrs. Bright liked more than demonstrating her knowledge about the people who were in Bath for the season.
“Miss Knightly is a poor creature,” she informed him. “Her father, Viscount Knightly, died some months ago and, as she has no brothers, her cousin, who is Mrs. Beatrice Knightly’s son, has inherited the title and the estate. Miss Knightly, I understand, has been left a substantial sum of money in her own right, but I have heard rumour that her cousin does not invite her to remain in the family home.”
Vincent had every sympathy for Miss Knightly’s bereavement, having himself recently experienced such a loss. He did, however, question why she was described as “poor Miss Knightly” when she had apparently inherited a good sum of money.
“My dear boy, I should have told you before I introduced you both,” Mrs. Bright hurried to explain. “Miss Knightly is lame. She cannot walk for any distance and when she does walk for long, she has a dreadful limp. If I had thought to tell you before, you would never have asked her to reserve a dance. All who know her are aware that she prefers not to dance. The next time I talk to Mrs. and Miss Knightly I will apologize for any embarrassment you and Robert may have unwittingly caused. The blame is all mine.”
Vincent now understood why Miss Knightly had been seated with the old and infirm at the Pump Room and why she had turned down his request for a dance. What a shame when she was so pretty.
“I feel it would be more fitting to apologize to her myself regarding this,” Vincent said, “rather than allowing you to do it on my behalf. I would never have requested a dance had I of known the full circumstances.”
No sooner had he uttered these words than he began to ask himself why he had done so. Was he still a little piqued because she was the only woman in the room who did not appear to have been in the slightest way flattered by his attention? Other than her refusal to reserve a dance, she had not attempted to make any conversation with him. Perhaps she was simple, as well as lame? He would find out soon enough.
Now that he’d committed himself to this task, he wanted to undertake it as soon as possible, and he asked Robert to join him.
“I would come with you, but I am engaged to make a fourth at the card table within the next five minutes, so could I trouble you to present my apologies, as well?”
So much for getting support from his friend, Vincent thought, but replied, “Of course, Robert. Good luck at the table.”
Vincent walked back into the ballroom to find that Miss Knightly and her aunt were no longer sitting where he’d previously seen them. He looked around the ballroom, but there was no sign of them, so he gave up his task and wandered into the tea room for some refreshment. It was here that he spotted the Knightlys seated in a corner at the far end of the room.
He approached and made a slight bow. Mrs. Knightly smiled in obvious pleasure at his attention. Vincent stifled a grin as he noticed the way that she looked about the room to see who was watching. In contrast, although Miss Miriam Knightly smiled and nodded in acknowledgement to his bow, he had the feeling that she was smiling more at her aunt’s reaction to him than smiling directly at him. Observing that they did not have refreshments, he gallantly offered his assistance.
“I find it exceptionally warm in here. Would either of you ladies care for me to bring you a drink or an ice?”
“That would be delightful,” gushed Mrs. Knightly. “I would very much like a Ratafia, and what can Lord Chantry fetch for you, my dear Miriam?”
Now, thought Vincent, he would find out if Miss Knightly could answer for herself or if she was indeed simple.
Miriam fixed him once more with that remarkably blue gaze of hers. “I am sure Lord Chantry need not trouble himself on my behalf.”
Vincent smiled his most charming smile with no answering smile from Miriam. Did the chit ever smile? “Not at all, my lady. It would be my pleasure.”
“I would not dream of depriving you of pleasures then, my lord. A glass of lemonade would be nice, thank you.”
What the devil did she mean by that? Vincent wondered. Her voice was firm, and although she looked directly at him, he still did not see any of the usual flirtatious reactions that many ladies had. Young ladies usually blushed, simpered or simply hid behind their fans if he singled them out. He chided himself for becoming vain and reminded himself that he did not find that kind of behaviour attractive. With wry insight he realized that although he had always thought he did not like such attention he had come to expect it. Was he that arrogant?
When Vincent returned with their drinks, he asked if he might join them. Mrs. Knightly agreed without hesitation. Miss Knightly’s plump and—he was startled to find himself thinking—rather kissable red lips curved upward at the corners ever so slightly, and he felt sure he saw her raising an eyebrow at the same time as if to question his motives. Indeed he was not wrong. After he had spent time exchanging some inconsequential pleasantries with her aunt, it became clear that Miss Knightly had tired of inane chitchat and she addressed him directly.
“To what purpose do we find ourselves honoured by your company, my lord? You have already ascertained that I do not wish to dance and you have seen us refreshed with drinks.”
Aunt Beatrice, mortified by Miriam’s question, turned a rather purplish shade of red.
Startled by such a straightforward question, Vincent paused, gathered himself and responded gallantly, “I have come to apologize for my earlier behaviour, Miss Knightly.”
“To what do you refer?” Miriam’s lovely blue eyes maintained contact with his as she spoke.
Again Vincent was caught off guard; he had not expected to be further questioned. Mrs. Knightly was beginning to make a garbled acceptance of the apology, but Miss Miriam Knightly continued to look at
him expectantly. He felt uncomfortable and obliged to explain.
“Miss Knightly, when Robert and I approached you regarding your availability for a dance, we did this without knowledge that you were a cripple. Mrs. Bright only informed us of this following our meeting.”
As soon as the apology left his mouth, Vincent cringed at his using the word cripple. He had seen her wince as he said it, but he could not, for the life of him, even now, think of a more appropriate description for her condition. He belatedly realized that he should have given more thought to what he was going to say before he spoke. Miriam thankfully was very gracious in her reply. “You cannot have known this and I did not take offence.”
Vincent, still embarrassed, now felt that he had been dismissed, and so he stood, gave a short bow and returned to the ballroom to seek out his partner for the next dance. As he walked away he knew that he had handled things badly. The thought that he might have insulted or upset Miss Knightly did not sit comfortably with him.
The rest of the evening was uneventful. Vincent was in demand and danced every set, making sure he had a different partner for each and not singling out any one of them for particular attention. He saw that Mrs. Knightly and Miss Knightly had returned to the ballroom and wondered how it must feel to be unable to take part in the dancing.
He found that his eyes were often drawn to look at Miss Knightly. Sometimes she was in conversation with other young ladies, presumably of her acquaintance. Once when he looked over at her, a portly middle-aged man had joined her and her aunt. On only one occasion when he glanced over did he think she may have been looking in his direction, but he could not be sure of this.
By the end of the evening he was disappointed to find that he had not met anyone who provoked any particular interest as a potential wife. When meeting up with Robert to return to the house, he did concede, “My dear friend, I feel you were correct in your observations. Many of the young ladies in Bath do appear more desperate in their search for a husband than those in London, and their mothers are certainly no less forward in promoting their cause.”
In Pursuit of Miriam Page 2