Sucking in a breath in apprehension, Temper watched a small, plump woman cross the room, her rotund form garbed in a slightly out-of-fashion gown.
‘Mr Newell, well met!’ she said, curtsying to them, her pleasant face wreathed in a smile. ‘And Miss Lattimar! So you are the angel of mercy who is enlivening my dull life by providing me a Season in London. And a complement of lovely new gowns, as well! Thank you! I intend to enjoy myself exceedingly—and, I promise you, to chaperon with a very light hand.’
Temper smiled back at the friendly gaze and open, honest countenance of Angela Moorsby, her fear of having to deal with an incompatible chaperon melting into an instant rapport.
And a sharp stab of guilt, to doom this pleasant, innocent lady to the criticism and censure she expected her presentation would heap on the head of her hapless chaperon. Looking over at Lady Sayleford, she said, ‘Have you warned her what my Season will likely entail?’
‘Oh, no, my child. I thought it better to allow you to do that.’
So you can listen to me explain one more time before giving final approval? Temper would not be at all surprised, should she express something to incur Lady Sayleford’s disapproval, to have the offer of sponsorship revoked on the instant and the great-niece sent back to rural obscurity.
‘Are you acquainted with the...circumstances of my family?’ she asked Mrs Moorsby.
‘Yes, Lady Sayleford related to me the...unusual nature of your upbringing and the reason why you are in need of a chaperon.’
‘So you know society expects me to be ill behaved, amoral and capricious. Although I am none of those things, neither am I interested in marriage, so while my behaviour will give no credence to the first two traits, I am perfectly happy to play up the latter. In fact, I may take a few strategic actions to reinforce my reputation as an ungovernable woman no respectable gentleman would have as a wife. Acting as chaperon to such a creature may well be accompanied by...an unpleasantness that may make you wish you had remained in Portsmouth. Are you sure you want to take me on?’
‘So that you can fulfil your father’s requirement that you have a Season and go on to become a lady explorer? What a marvellous thing! If I hadn’t grown so fond of my snug hearth and my comfortable little Portsmouth community, I would almost be tempted to go exploring again myself. I was never the Beauty you are, but I was rather adventuresome myself as a girl, marrying a merchant captain over my family’s objections and going to sea with him.’
‘How wonderful!’ Temper declared, delighted. ‘You must tell me about your travels!’
‘Some other day, perhaps,’ Mrs Moorsby replied.
She looked up to find Lady Sayleford smiling and was struck again by her shrewdness. You sly old lady, she thought. You chose the perfect chaperon for me.
‘I’ve never held with mealy-mouthed females who haven’t the wit to form their own opinion or who constantly look to some man for guidance.’ Mrs Moorsby winked at her. ‘My aunt warned that you will likely kick over the traces. I shall enjoy watching you.’
Temper smiled wryly. ‘I hope it may prove entertaining. However, you may well have your judgement and your competence questioned, or find yourself pitied, when I prove to be...less than conformable.’
Mrs Moorsby shrugged. ‘What do I care for the opinions of people I shall never see again, once the Season is over? As long as you enjoy shopping, theatre, concerts and—’ she winked at Giff ‘—the company of handsome gentlemen, I’m sure we shall get on splendidly.’
Harris returned then, intoning, ‘Lady Spencer-Woods, Mrs Dalworthy, Lady Wentwith and Mrs Dobbs-Henry.’
‘You know what you are to do?’ Lady Sayleford murmured as they all rose to greet the newcomers.
‘Perfectly,’ Mrs Moorsby said with a conspiratorial smile.
‘Welcome, ladies,’ the Countess said after the exchange of bows and curtsies. ‘I wanted you to be the first to meet my protégée, Miss Temperance Lattimar, who makes her debut this Season. Her chaperon, Mrs Moorsby, and my godson, Mr Newell.’
The pleasant smiles of greeting on the faces of the newcomers froze as Lady Sayleford spoke. Four heads turned as one to fix surprised, then horrified, then offended gazes on Temperance.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened and gazed straight back, a smile fixed to her lips. Is this how you do it, Mama?
‘Ah, here is Harris with our tea. Won’t you be seated?’
Under the Countess’s direction, Temper found herself on the sofa next to Lady Sayleford, Lady Spencer-Woods in a chair adjacent to them, while Giff and Mrs Moorsby sat with the other ladies in a grouping of chairs closer to the hearth.
After the initial shocked silence, with a murmur of voices and clink of cups emanating from the group near the fireplace, Lady Sayleford said, ‘So, Elizabeth, I expect you will give your usual ball, now that Parliament is in session.’ She turned to Temper. ‘Lady Spencer-Woods’s Opening Ball is the premier entertainment of the Early Season, attended by everyone of importance in society.’ Looking back at her guest, she continued, ‘You will certainly send Miss Lattimar and Mrs Moorsby a card.’
The guest shifted uncomfortably, shooting Temper a pained, faintly contemptuous glance, ‘Really, Emily,’ she said in a low voice, leaning forward as if speaking with the Countess alone, ‘I know you are somehow...connected to her family, but this is outside of enough! You may amuse yourself, inviting the Vraux woman to your entertainments, but you cannot expect me to recognise a daughter of that...creature!’
Temper didn’t need the Countess’s subtle warning glance to know she must remain silent. As if I weren’t right here, listening to every word, Temper thought, outrage filling her and the tea turning bitter on her tongue. You must accustom yourself to hearing this and worse. Was that what Lady Sayleford meant to teach her, by compelling her to witness this exchange?
‘Leaving aside any commentary on Lady Vraux’s character, the child is not her mother.’
Lady Spencer-Woods gave a thin smile. ‘She might be worse.’
‘I’ll let that indictment of my judgement pass,’ the Countess said mildly, but with a frigid look that saw her visitor’s defiance collapse. ‘It would please me mightily to have you send Miss Lattimar and her chaperon a card. And see that all your friends do, as well. However, if you wish to be...disobliging, I might suddenly recall a certain incident with a dancing master that happened in our debut Season.’
The matron paled. ‘I hardly think society would be interested in...in a silly contretemps from so many years ago.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. When a lady is one of the premier arbiters of society, whose judgements about the character of young ladies have made or destroyed reputations and Seasons, I expect there might be exceptional interest in the story of a—’
‘Never mind,’ Lady Spencer-Woods interrupted, bright spots of colour blooming in her cheeks. ‘I don’t think any further details are necessary.’
Not with a highly interested witness sitting in, Temper thought. Lady Sayleford, how clever you are indeed.
‘For a woman, “incidents” are never truly past and forgotten, are they? Even when one has lived blamelessly for thirty years.’
‘Felicia Lattimar has hardly lived “blamelessly” for thirty years!’
‘She might have, had her idiot of a husband paid her any attention. And might have still, had that cad Hightower not spread his malicious stories all over town. In any event, you will invite Miss Lattimar to your ball—won’t you? Ladies of power and influence should present a united front.’
Lady Spencer-Woods held her hostess’s unflinching stare for a moment, before dropping her gaze. ‘I suppose so.’
‘Then we understand each other. Excellent.’
Lady Sayleford smiled serenely, as if she hadn’t just manoeuvred her outraged guest into checkmate. ‘You need do nothing more than receive Miss Lattimar. I shall n
ot hold you responsible for her ultimate success, or lack of it. Unless, of course, I learn you’ve said or done something disparaging to compromise it.’
‘I shall not forget this, Emily,’ Lady Spencer-Woods said, looking back up at the Countess, her expression a mixture of resentment and reluctant admiration.
‘I don’t expect you will. Now, I know you’d like to become better acquainted with Mrs Moorsby, who will be accompanying Miss Lattimar to all her entertainments.’ She gestured towards the other group, a clear sign of dismissal. ‘I shall look forward to seeing you at your ball.’
‘I shall be delighted to welcome you. And your lovely protégée,’ she added with a resigned glance at Temper. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed. ‘Emily, what a trickster you are! One never knows what outrageous thing you will do. Have no fear, I shall play my part.’
‘I never doubted it. I know just how...ingenious you can be, Elizabeth,’ the Countess replied, amusement in her eyes as her guest’s cheeks once again went rosy.
* * *
And so it went with each matron in turn. Lady Sayleford immediately demanded support for Temper, countered any objections about her and her mother, then moved in for the kill with a hint about some questionable event in the lady’s past the Countess might just happen to recall, should her guest not prove accommodating.
After the guests took their leave, Temper turned to gaze in awe at her sponsor. ‘You really do know everything about everyone!’
Lady Sayleford chuckled. ‘The benefit of a long life spent building such a reputation for discretion, every bit of scandal finds its way to my ear.’
‘Still, I regret that you had to play so many of the trumps you’ve kept close in hand. I hope giving them up—and the animosity you may have incurred for playing them now—won’t come back to harm you.’
‘You needn’t worry, my dear. I have enough other trumps tucked away to be in no danger of losing whatever game I choose. Now you are privy to some of that knowledge, too.’
‘And you made sure all those ladies knew it!’
‘I don’t intend to go everywhere with you. But they all know their secrets will. Shall we join the others?’
‘How well you work your magic!’ Mrs Moorsby said to the Countess as she made room for Temperance on the sofa beside her. ‘After chatting with you, each lady came back to express her delight in making my acquaintance and her hope that my charge and I would be able to attend the entertainment she intended to give later in the Season. Bravo, Aunt Lilly!’
‘One does one’s possible,’ Lady Sayleford said, a satisfied smile on her lips. ‘The two of you did well, too, keeping your group from listening in—though, after each one finished her session, she must have known something similar was being said to the others and been agog to discover what lapse that lady had committed.’
‘Have you made out a social schedule for us yet?’ Mrs Moorsby asked.
‘Not yet. We shall do that together, once the invitations begin to come in.’
‘With Mr Newell present, as well? I imagine he has duties in Parliament, and we will want to make sure the entertainments we attend will not conflict.’
‘Why would they?’ Temper asked. ‘Surely with you on hand to provide protection and assistance, Mr Newell’s part is finished—and I sincerely thank him for his efforts!’
‘Unless I’m mistaken, it’s not at all finished,’ Mrs Moorsby said. ‘I may be your chaperon, but the Countess believes that Mr Newell should act as a sort of...guardian. Don’t you, Aunt Lilly?’
The Countess nodded. ‘You must admit, Miss Lattimar, that if some...unscrupulous man tried to take advantage, a female chaperon would be of limited assistance. Having everyone know there’s a gentleman nearby, watching over you, will ensure that no blackguard makes such an attempt.’
‘And while standing guard, Mr Newell shall have a chance to review the field of prospective brides,’ Mrs Moorsby added.
‘But wouldn’t his being in my company compromise his reputation—limiting his chances of meeting eligible young ladies? For their mamas will surely want them to avoid me,’ Temper countered.
Lady Sayleford waved a dismissive hand. ‘If he were seen as a suitor, perhaps. But as my godson, delegated to look after the young lady I’m sponsoring, society should expect him to be in your company.’
Her chaperon’s bright smile indicating how entirely unaware she was of the consternation this alteration in plan had just evoked, Mrs Moorsby stood up. ‘I will leave you now to take my rest, but I understand we are to do some shopping later, Miss Lattimar. I shall look forward to it! A pleasure to meet you both.’ After dipping them a curtsy, she walked from the room.
‘Lady Sayleford, you cannot mean for Giff—Mr Newell to...to dance attendance on me at every social event I attend!’ Temperance cried as soon as her chaperon exited. ‘I would never have consented for him to consult you had I any notion you might require such a thing! You must release him from that obligation, or I shall—’
‘What?’ Lady Sayleford interrupted. ‘Cancel your Season? Kick about the house in Brook Street for another year, or go bury yourself in the country at Entremer? Or do you think making a second attempt to convince your father to fund you will have better success than the first?’
Temper hesitated, torn. As Lady Sayleford was quite aware, none of those options was attractive. But to embroil Giff in a round of social activities he was sure to view as an outrageous imposition? As keenly aware as she was of her vulnerability, she couldn’t repay his friendship by saddling him with that!
While she struggled to think of an equally safe and reasonable alternative, Lady Sayleford turned her attention to Giff. ‘You did ask me to sponsor Miss Lattimar’s Season, didn’t you?’
He gave her a pained smile. ‘Yes, but I didn’t anticipate becoming quite so...involved in every event of it.’
‘Gaining Miss Lattimar a sponsor was only part of the job. If you applied half the intelligence I know you possess to considering what will transpire once she actually embarks upon a Season, you must realise she can’t be left with just a lone female for protection. You must know she is more vulnerable than an ordinary young miss. So, Gifford, do you truly wish to help Miss Lattimar? Or was your offer to intervene just a casual gesture taken without much thought, something you’re prepared to back away from if implementing it will require additional time and effort from you?’
‘Of course it wasn’t casual or thoughtless,’ he retorted, a touch of anger in his tone. ‘I may not have anticipated that her having a Season would require additional time on my part, but I was—am—entirely committed to making that Season happen.’
‘Very well. So, knowing the cost, you are willing to proceed?’ With a wry smile, she added, ‘Thereby proving the adage that “no good deed goes unpunished”?’
Gifford sighed. ‘Let’s proceed. I suppose you will instruct me on my additional duties as we move forward.’
‘I shall, once our plans are made. But now I, too, must rest before the evening’s activities. Manipulation is so wearying! Miss Lattimar, Angela will keep me informed of your progress with shopping and such, and inform you about which activities you are to attend.’
Temper couldn’t help feeling that somehow, everything had gone awry. She wanted independence and a future lived on her own terms—but she’d never imagined seeking that goal would embroil Giff in a round of society functions he couldn’t possibly wish to attend.
Accurately reading her expression, Lady Sayleford said, ‘Don’t look so regretful, my dear. Gifford may lose a few evenings with his doxies, but getting a closer look at the females available to become the wife he must eventually take will more than make up for it.’
‘I only hope he finds it so,’ Temper muttered.
‘In any event,’ she said briskly, ‘it’s a waste of emotion to regret the necessary. You wanted your chance and now you sh
all have it. What you do with it is up to you.’
Lady Sayleford stood and perforce Temperance and Gifford stood as well. As conflicted as she still felt, the Countess had made it unmistakably clear that the presentation would be done on her terms, or not at all. If Giff could stomach being part of it, she had little choice but to go along.
‘If I cannot promise to appear to your credit,’ she said with a sigh, ‘at least I can promise to end the Season unharmed.’
Lady Sayleford nodded. ‘I’m sure you will. Gifford will see to it.’ Giving them a regal nod, she swept from the room.
* * *
Temper sank back on to the sofa. ‘Giff, I’m so very sorry! You know I never meant to involve you in this escapade, but the Countess seems adamant about having some male to watch over me. I wish I could think of some alternative! And I truly don’t want to wait another year. Are you sure you won’t be furious if we go forward with this?’
Giff gave her a wry smile. ‘I can’t pretend to be delighted, either. But neither can I dispute the truth of what she said. Your reputation—however undeserved—does make you more vulnerable than the usual unmarried maiden. Even a respectable man knows he could probably get away with compromising you without having marry you and a borderline scoundrel... Well, he might feel free to try with you what he’d never dream of attempting with any other innocent miss. Now that I’ve thought about it, I have to admit I’d feel...uneasy about you proceeding with only Mrs Moorsby for protection. Since I’m responsible for involving Lady Sayleford—and her rules—in your presentation, it’s only right that I see it through.’
‘So...you won’t resent me for ever?’
‘If I’m angry at anyone, it should be at myself, for jumping into this without fully considering all the implications. It won’t pain me too much to attend society soirées.’ He smiled. ‘It might even be amusing—especially if you discover a man who changes your mind about avoiding marriage.’
The Earl's Inconvenient Wife Page 6