Alissa Baxter

by The Dashing Debutante

  “I say! It is surprising to see Stanford attending an Almack’s Assembly, Miss Grantham,” he was exclaiming. “Oh, Lady Letitia is beside him, so of course he must be escorting his sister to her first ball,” he continued, the puzzled look upon his face disappearing.

  Alexandra slowly nodded her head in agreement. Of course the Duke would escort his sister to her first Almack’s Assembly! How foolish of her to think anything else of his presence. He would in all probability take himself off to White’s within a few minutes and not seek her out at all! Not quite sure why she suddenly felt rather disappointed at the thought, Alexandra chatted animatedly to her young swain, and smiled and laughed with her other dancing partners, until finally returning to Lady Beauchamp’s side when the time for the first of the waltzes arrived.

  The Duke had noticed Alexandra immediately he had stepped into the well-lit ballroom. After Letitia and Mrs Beaumont had greeted Lady Jersey and moved away, the Duke exchanged a few pleasantries with his old friend, before saying directly, “Sally, what do you think of Alexandra Grantham?”

  Lady Jersey looked sharply at the man beside her, her curiosity piqued at the Duke’s unwonted interest in the girl. What was Robert about now? But knowing him as she did, she merely replied, “Miss Grantham seems a charming girl. Full of spirit and wit. And what a face and figure! Usually I would predict that someone like her would become the success of the Season.”

  “What is there to prevent her from being exactly that?” the Duke asked, inscrutably.

  Lady Jersey looked speculatively at him. “Alexandra Grantham has managed to upstage every other débutante in London in the short while she has been in town. Of course, any girl with her looks and her fortune would attract males in droves. But she has another quality — one that is not much appreciated in a woman in our world.” She paused and looked steadily at Alexandra as she went down the line of the country dance. “That girl has intelligence,” she continued slowly. “She is not your ordinary run-of-the-mill débutante. Miss Grantham has brains and she doesn’t bother to hide the fact. That, and her spirited nature, causes her to be the antithesis of the typical simpering young Society miss...”

  “And will, of course, provide all those jealous mamas with a perfect reason to discredit her,” the Duke finished smoothly.

  “Precisely so, my dear Robert,” Lady Jersey said, nodding her head. “As it is, a few piqued mothers have been putting it about, ever so subtly of course, that it is obvious that dear Miss Grantham, brought up in the country as she was, must be unaccustomed to the ways of the ton, because she has actually dared to state an opinion of her own!”

  “Er... what precisely did she say?” the Duke asked, with an amused gleam in his eyes.

  “Oh, at Lady Becksworth’s rout Lord Hardy was giving an account to an enthralled audience about what life is like in India. And Miss Grantham actually dared to correct him on some of his facts! She seemed to recollect herself afterwards, and reverted to the usual manners adopted by Society débutantes, but the damage had been done, as you can imagine! Certain ladies have delighted in saying that Miss Grantham is a little too forward, and perhaps even a little brash, and worst of all — bookish! All said in the kindest possible way, of course,” Lady Jersey finished, giving the Duke a look that spoke volumes. Everyone in Polite Society knew how damaging it was for a débutante to appear to be putting herself forward in any way, and for a young lady to actually disagree with the opinions of an educated gentleman. And in public! That was a social solecism, beyond a doubt!

  Lady Jersey looked across at Alexandra again. Turning back to the Duke, she said with a slight frown, “Another thing — Lady Beauchamp has informed me that Sir Jason Morecombe has been spreading malicious rumours about Miss Grantham, whispered in his ear, no doubt, by that dreadful Morecombe woman. They are scandalous untruths, but can, of course, do irreparable damage to Miss Grantham’s reputation. And, although most of her suitors have not fallen away from her skirts, I know that many of the Dowagers view Miss Grantham with a censorious eye.” Lady Jersey shrugged. “Obviously, their disapproval will damage Miss Grantham’s chances of being an unqualified success.”

  The Duke said calmly, “I have met Alexandra Grantham, Sally, and find her to be a refreshingly different kind of girl, which is why I have decided to launch her into high fashion and effectively silence the old tabbies.” He paused, and raising his quizzing glass to his eye, surveyed the crowded ballroom through it. His eyes eventually came to rest on Sir Jason, who was standing in conversation with Lord Sheldon at the other end of the room. The Duke looked briefly at the man, then lowered the quizzing glass. Returning his gaze to Lady Jersey, he said impassively, “The ton will follow my lead, I believe. But, in order to launch Miss Grantham successfully, Sally, I need a little help from you.”

  Lady Jersey raised her brows. “My dear Robert. You are the acknowledged leader of the ton. How could I, a mere Patroness of Almack’s, aid you in any way?”

  “You are being much too modest, my dear. You know very well that only a Patroness of Almack’s can give a débutante permission to dance the waltz.”

  “And you, of course, wish me to present you as a desirable partner to Miss Grantham, I suppose?”

  “Of all your remarkable traits, Sally, the one I admire most is your astuteness. That is precisely what I wished. How ever did you realise that?”

  “Wretch!” Lady Jersey said, laughing up at him. “All right, your grace. I shall do as you wish. I have a feeling that Miss Alexandra Grantham, once launched successfully, will brighten up the London scene considerably!”

  “Yes... she certainly seems to possess that particular knack,” the Duke commented dryly.

  When he turned away from her a short while later to greet one of his numerous acquaintances, Lady Jersey smiled a secret smile to herself in contemplation of the battle of wits which was bound to take place between the Duke of Stanford and the spirited young heiress he was about to launch into fashion. What marvellous entertainment that should provide! And one never knew, Lady Jersey pondered, perhaps Miss Grantham would even be successful in taking the arrogant Duke down a peg or two! After a moment’s thought, however, she put that delightful notion regretfully aside. It was doubtful that any woman could be impervious for long against Robert Beaumont’s brand of deadly charm, least of all a girl of the tender age of nineteen years. Still one could only hope, she thought philosophically — miracles were known to happen!

  Alexandra was conversing with her grandmother when Lady Jersey approached her with the Duke of Stanford at her side. After greeting Lady Beauchamp politely, Lady Jersey turned towards Alexandra. “My dear Miss Grantham, I wish to present to you in the Duke of Stanford a most desirable partner for the upcoming waltz.” Lady Jersey darted a roguish look up at the Duke as she said these words, before continuing, “This means, of course, that you now have permission to dance the waltz here at Almack’s.”

  Alexandra, most surprised, quickly curtsied and thanked Lady Jersey before taking the Duke’s proffered arm and walking onto the dance floor with him as the first strains of the waltz sounded. Her mind was a whirl of fragmented thoughts, and it was in silence that she stepped into Stanford’s arms and began the dance. The thought had not even entered her head that his grace might ask her to dance this evening. Beyond the fact that he hardly ever attended an Almack’s assembly, it was unheard of for the Duke of Stanford to ask a débutante to dance with him — and a waltz at that! Alexandra rapidly came to the conclusion that Stanford’s singling her out in this manner had to be his method of launching her into fashion — but why he should wish to do so was beyond her comprehension. It was not, she reasoned with herself, as if she had set out to ensnare him in any way on the occasions when they had met. Alexandra’s mouth twisted wryly as she remembered how she had been positively rude to him! However, for some obscure reason, known only to that enigmatic gentleman, Robert Beaumont, the Duke of Stanford, he had decided to launch her into high fashion. And Alexand
ra, not being a girl to enter a dangerous situation with her eyes closed, resolved that the best thing she could do was make the most of the Duke’s enormous influence while being careful not to take his undoubtedly flattering attentions at all seriously. To do so, Alexandra knew, would only serve to invite disaster.

  Becoming aware that Stanford was saying something, Alexandra abruptly broke free from her reverie to look up at her partner as he enquired of her whether she found London to her liking. “Very much so, your grace,” Alexandra responded with a smile. “Or perhaps I should not admit to that,” she mused.

  “Why ever not?” The Duke asked, looking at her in surprise.

  “Well you must know, your grace, that it is only rustics who admit to enjoyment of any kind. It is de rigueur to appear bored and languid, and totally disinterested in any thing,” Alexandra replied knowledgeably.

  “Ah... but in your present position, ma’am, you can set the trend, rather than just follow it.”

  “Indeed?” Alexandra questioned. “Because you have just, most obligingly, launched me into fashion by dancing with me?”

  “Precisely, my dear.”

  With a rather pensive expression on her face Alexandra said, “Odd expression that — being launched into fashion. It always makes me think of a ship about to set sail.”

  The Duke gave a crack of laughter, and said with a smile lurking in his eyes, “To make sure, Miss Grantham that you do not, shall we say... go off course, and for Society to fully realise that you have my firm seal of approval, I think it would be best for me to take you driving in the park tomorrow morning.”

  “I shall look forward to that with great pleasure, your grace.”

  “I had expected you to raise some kind of objection, Miss Grantham, in the face of the fact that you view me with such marked... what was it you said... ah, yes — indifference,” he said, smiling mockingly down at her.

  Alexandra returned his smile, and said sweetly, “But, your grace, I could never live with myself if I passed up the opportunity of driving behind your pair of matched greys. You must be aware that they are almost as well known as you are!”

  “You disappoint me, Miss Grantham. I had thought that it was my humble self that you were so looking forward to seeing again,” he commented dryly.

  “Oh, and that too, of course,” Alexandra said politely.

  “Putting me properly in my place, Miss Grantham?” the Duke asked, a deceptively bland expression on his face.

  She smiled guilelessly up at him. “Not at all, your grace. How ever did you receive that impression?”

  The decidedly naughty twinkle in Alexandra’s eyes, however, did not escape the Duke’s notice, and it was with an amused chuckle that he brought their dance to a halt at the edge of the ballroom, as the music of the waltz died away.

  The Duke returned Alexandra to her grandmother’s side and, after a few minutes conversation with Lady Beauchamp, took his leave of the two ladies. He left the ballroom a short while later, having accomplished what he had set out to do, and sure in the knowledge that Miss Alexandra Grantham was about to become the most sought after young lady in London.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The news that the Duke of Stanford had set his firm seal of approval on the dashing Miss Alexandra Grantham spread like wild fire throughout the ton. Gentlemen flocked in even greater numbers to pay court to Alexandra, vying amongst one another for her approval. Forbidding matrons unbent sufficiently to say that Miss Grantham was a charming girl — full of gaiety and wit. Possibly, a little outspoken — but the poor girl had grown up without the wise guidance of a mother so this was perhaps excusable. And Lady Beauchamp, a most sensible woman, would of course curb any high spirits that might lead to behaviour that could be deemed the least bit unseemly.

  It was also noticed, and remarked upon, that Alexandra Grantham had struck up a close friendship with Lady Letitia Beaumont, and if Amelia Beaumont, the strictest of chaperones, could find no fault with Miss Grantham and had disregarded the rumours spread about by Edith Morecombe, then the girl, they decided, must surely be an acceptable acquaintance for their own daughters. Invitations to various routs, balls and musical evenings, therefore, began to roll into Lady Beauchamp’s townhouse in ever increasing numbers — Alexandra had become, as Lady Beauchamp phrased it later that week, “an official success”.

  With the advent of this increased popularity, Alexandra found herself the object of the attentions of gentlemen of a distinctly different calibre from those of the youthful admirers who had dogged her footsteps on first coming to London. Sophisticated men of the town, who invariably avoided the company of youthful débutantes fresh from the schoolroom, noted the Duke of Stanford’s interest in Alexandra, and, following his lead, paid court to her. These gentlemen, somewhat unexpectedly, found themselves rather enjoying the company of the spirited young beauty who held London in the palm of her hand. Alexandra, in turn, found the company of these men far more stimulating than that of her youthful swains. At the same time, however, she recognised them for what they were — rakish Corinthians, wise in the ways of the world, and not safe company for an inexperienced girl from the country.

  Consequently, she held them all at arm’s length, determined not to give any of her suitors the least bit of encouragement. This, had she but known it, far from detracting from her appeal, only added to it as her suitors began to look upon her more and more as a challenge, and as a prize to be won.

  Unfortunately, a few of Alexandra’s more rapacious suitors came to the erroneous conclusion that she was somewhat more experienced in the art of dalliance than the average débutante. Why else, they reasoned, would the Duke of Stanford — that most notorious of libertines — pay such particular attention to her? Alexandra, therefore, to her dismay, increasingly found herself pursued by a few predatory gentlemen who had the singular misconception that she would willingly indulge in the kind of loose behaviour only practised by members of the daringly fast set. The rather frightening attentions of these sophisticated suitors not only distressed her, but also bewildered her, and at first she felt herself rather at a loss as to how to dampen their ardour. She was relieved to discover, however, that even the most persistent of her admirers turned sheepishly away from her when she failed to respond to their brand of suggestive conversation. These gentlemen, who were somewhat embarrassed when it became clear to them that the object of their salacious attentions was in fact a virtuous innocent, attempted to atone for their previous ungentlemanly behaviour by treating her with a mixture of deference and protectiveness instead.

  However, one of her more persistent suitors, a Mr Thomas Kendle, continued in his familiar behaviour towards her, and Alexandra began to suspect that he held very little claim to the title of “gentleman”. Mr Kendle pursued her with the tenacity of a terrier, frequently appearing by her side at balls and routs to press his unwelcome suit on her, to the extent that Alexandra began to dread attending parties in the evening. Instead of being deflated by her cool manner towards him, he seemed to view it as marked encouragement of his attentions. Alexandra began to feel rather like a hunted animal, cornered on all sides by a predator with the express intention of tracking her down.

  One evening, at Lady Bradshaw’s soirée, Alexandra was standing in conversation with Sir Charles Fotherby when she saw Mr Kendle threading his way through the throng towards her. Panic-stricken, she hurriedly excused herself from a rather surprised looking Sir Charles, and looked around in desperation for Lady Beauchamp, hoping that her grandmother would consent to leaving the party forthwith, if she asked her. Eventually, she caught sight of Lady Beauchamp engaged in conversation with someone across the room, but her relief at seeing her grandmother was short-lived when she noticed that it was Lady Jersey to whom she was speaking. Alexandra knew that that avenue of escape was definitely not an option! She had no intention of laying herself open to the prying questions that the sharp-eyed Lady Jersey would be bound to ask her if she descended breathlessly upon the
m, asking to leave the party immediately.

  Alexandra chewed nervously on her bottom lip, wondering what she ought to do. Looking around the room, she breathed a sigh of relief when her eyes alighted on a pair of French doors, partially hidden by heavy rose-pink silk curtains, that led out onto a balcony. Hurrying towards the doors, Alexandra darted a quick look over her shoulder, before silently opening them and stepping outside. Breathing in the cool night air, which came as a welcome relief after the stuffiness of inside, she congratulated herself on a narrow escape. Nevertheless a frown marred the smoothness of her brow when she thought of her lecherous suitor. She knew that she would have to think of some way in which to discourage the man from pursuing her, because dashing out unaccompanied onto conveniently situated balconies whenever he approached her was surely not the ideal solution! Lady Beauchamp would not approve of her actions in the least. Alexandra’s frown deepened when she looked around her and realised that she was alone on the darkened balcony. She certainly had no desire to incur the wrath of the Duke of Stanford once again were he to discover her out here unaccompanied! Alexandra shuddered at the very thought.

  Hearing a sound behind her, Alexandra spun around to see Mr Kendle step out onto the balcony and close the doors behind him. Alexandra stared at him in absolute horror, realising, with a sick feeling in her stomach, that she had laid herself open to a very compromising situation. Her eyes darted to the closed doors, but she knew that it would be impossible to run past Mr Kendle and return to safety, because he was standing directly in front of them.

  Alexandra shrank back as Mr Kendle sauntered over to where she stood and took her hands in his. She tried to pull her hands away from his, but Mr Kendle’s grip only tightened. Finally, glaring up at him, she said in a forceful voice, “Kindly unhand me, Sir!”