Willowswood Match

by Gayle Buck

  Miranda lowered her eyes to the mending in her lap. “Since you ask, my lord, I take leave to tell you that I feel much as my cousin. I believe your place to be more properly here at Willowswood. One day that will surely change, but for now I think that the boy must be of primary importance. But you must decide for yourself what is best,” she said, her voice calm and almost neutral in tone. But inside she quivered so that she was nearly on the point of nausea.

  Lord Townsend felt unaccountably disappointed. “Nevertheless, your opinions are always of interest to me. Miss Wainwright,” he said shortly.

  Miranda’s eyes flew toward him, but he was already crossing the drawing room to the door, leaving the ladies alone by the fire. Miranda wondered exactly what he had meant by his last remark. Surely he could not really place such emphasis on what she thought.

  “Andrew is not very patient these days. I fear that all this trouble has greatly vexed him, especially Richard’s death,” said Anne sorrowfully. “I only wish that he could discover a lady to share his life with. Then he wouldn’t feel so overwhelmed.”

  The thought of Lord Townsend becoming wed to some unknown lady struck Miranda with strong revulsion. “I would not be overly anxious about his lordship if I were you, Anne! He seems a capable gentleman, well able to handle his own problems,” she snapped. She spoke more sharply than she intended, earning a look of astonishment from her cousin. She ignored Anne’s surprise and calmly continued to darn the garment she held. But she thought she would do better to watch her tongue. It would not do to give Anne the impression that she cared for the viscount as anything more than a cousin. She had difficulty enough in persuading herself of that.

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  Chapter 17

  A visitor arrived in the neighborhood. There was a buzz of speculation and comfortable anticipation, for the guest at Willoughby Hall was a young naval officer. He was said to be the commander of a sloop-of-war, which seemed a thoroughly romantic occupation in the minds of the young ladies and unquestionably exciting to the young gentlemen who had visions of derring-do on the high seas. He was also said to be well-favored in face and person and, what was most important, unattached. Those with marriageable daughters geared up for a round of entertainments in honor of the new arrival.

  Captain William Daggett, not long since severely reprimanded and temporarily relieved of his duties for seizing an American vessel under false charges, was extremely gratified by the flattery and honeyed words that he was served. When he had sought out an old school acquaintance, Angus Willoughby, it had been only with the thought of burying himself somewhere where he was not known for the period of his disgrace. He had not actually anticipated any enjoyment from his forced exile even though his host went out of his way to make him welcome.

  Mr. Willoughby was known to be somewhat of an eccentric. He was a bit vague at times and his relationships with people reflected an appalling forgetfulness and lack of insight. But he did remember a William Daggett from the old public school and he thought it vastly kind of this obviously successful career naval officer to descend upon him. If he wondered at all at the fact that William Daggett had never before shown him much notice or was bothered at the strangeness of the officer’s sudden appearance on his doorstep, he dismissed it with the vague reflection that he was not one himself for the intricate formalities that society expected of one. Therefore Mr. Willoughby accepted both Daggett’s unexpected presence and his glib explanation of being given holiday leave and wishing to spend it renewing his acquaintance with an old friend. Though Mr. Willoughby knew himself to be entirely unsuited for polite society, he nevertheless made an extraordinary effort to introduce his guest into neighborhood society. Once that task was successfully accomplished, he happily returned to his usual routine and left his guest to his own devices.

  Captain Daggett was hardly disappointed by Mr. Willoughby’s eventual desertion. He regarded Willoughby with all the remembered contempt of their school days. But nothing of that showed in his manner when he spoke of a thoroughly fictitious friendship of long standing between himself and Willoughby to those who were curious enough to wonder at the connection between the reclusive eccentric and the dashing naval officer. The neighborhood was favorably impressed with Captain Daggett and he began to receive invitations which he was not behind in accepting once he realized the pleasantness of his situation. His wounded pride and embittered hatred of one Jeremy Wainwright, Esquire, answered well to the soothing balm of social prominence in a small district.

  The older personages offered him warm welcome and courteous deference in view of his patriotic calling. If his manner seemed at times somewhat arrogant and his glance a little cold, it was put down to an admirable reserve for a gentleman still in his thirties. The young gentlemen fawned over him and lapped up any farrago about the sea life that he chose to spin for them. At first taken by surprise by the younger set’s interest, Daggett adjusted quickly to the unfamiliar role of hero. It amused him to see how far he could lead on those he thought of as stupid, thick-headed bumpkins with the most outrageous tales that he could possibly contrive.

  As for the young ladies, they gazed upon him with adulation and shy invitation. Looking about him with the cold calculating eyes of a bird of prey, Daggett speculated that he could easily manage to bed a goodly number of the ripe little creatures before his exile was done. The very thought was mildly erotic and he tightened his arm about the neat waist of the maiden he danced with. She gasped faintly in surprise. Her eyes swiftly met his, then dropped as soft color rose in her face. Daggett smiled. It might be that he would begin tasting the fruits of the district that very evening, he thought. He began to calculate how he could maneuver his timid little dove into the garden for what he intended to be a very pleasant interlude.

  Then he chanced to glance across the dance floor and all thought of seduction was driven from his head. “My God!” he breathed. The young lady that he partnered looked around to discover the cause of the gentleman’s violent exclamation. Her pretty face lengthened when she saw that the neighborhood’s acknowledged beauty had arrived, late as usual.

  Miss Burton paused just inside the doorway of the ballroom and allowed her glance to slowly scan the company. For a second only her eyes paused on Captain Daggett, then her gaze swept on. She was looking for Viscount Wythe’s unmistakable figure, but he was not to be found. A frisson of irritation ruffled her composure. How dare his lordship not be present when she made her entrance. It did not immediately occur to her that it would have been unseemly for Lord Townsend to attend a full-fledged ball so soon after his brother’s death.

  Miss Burton knew that she had created a sensation and accepted it as her due. She acknowledged the profuse greetings of her court and deigned to accept the invitation of one of the gentlemen who rushed toward her as though they were of one mind.

  “Who is that exquisite creature?” asked Daggett of his partner, his eyes still on the incredible beauty.

  The young lady gazed miserably at one of the large shining brass buttons on his coat. “That is Miss Mary Alice Burton. She is reputed to be our local beauty,” she said.

  Daggett gave a short bark of laughter. “I should say instead that she is a diamond of the first water!”

  “Should—should you like to meet her?” asked the young lady. Civility demanded that she make the offer, but she felt as though she would really rather cut her heart out instead. It was so very frustrating to have all one’s chances with the eligible gentlemen fly out the window whenever Mary Alice Burton happened to float into view. It was the burning hope in the breast of every young lady in the district that Miss Burton would soon be discovered by some old earl or other and be whisked off, leaving her rivals from childhood to at last enjoy their own small triumphs.

  Daggett hesitated. All his inclinations urged him to go at once to the beauty’s side and discover himself to her. But the way Miss Burton had made her entrance, her haughty carriage, the arrogant expression in her eyes when they had bri
efly met his own, told him that to introduce himself now would be fatal. In that single glance he had perceived far more about Miss Burton than she would have liked anyone to know. Daggett had immediately recognized the total self-assurance of a young woman who had never been refused. Miss Burton had but to crook her little finger for a score of gentlemen to kneel at her feet, panting to satisfy her least whim.

  Daggett thought it would suit his purposes far better if he were to hold himself aloof. Such a one as Miss Burton would not be able to resist any hint of disregard. She would come to him, as surely as the moth flies to the candle flame. Daggett wanted her. And he meant to have her. Daggett could hardly bare the ache in him at the thought of the pleasure to come. But he made the massive effort necessary to control his instinctive desire to go to the beauteous Miss Burton’s side. Deliberately, he smiled down into the young lady’s eyes. “It would be vastly rude of me to rush away just upon the entrance of another lady, do you not think?”

  The young lady’s soft pink mouth formed a soundless “oh.” Her drooping expression lightened magically. “I should like a lemonade, Captain Daggett, if you would be so kind,” she said happily.

  “Of course.” Captain Daggett leisurely escorted his partner across to the refreshment table. He glanced down at her, his eyes now critical where before he had seen only fresh loveliness waiting to be harvested. The girl’s figure was still slight, her small rounded bosom yet immature. Her bubbling giggle, before so charmingly virginal, now fell on his ear with irritating childishness. He found that he no longer had a desire to take her into the garden. His desire was directed at quite another target, one of lush and smoldering passions, if he did not mistake the matter. His thoughts dwelled on Miss Burton and his thin lips curled. Miss Burton would be well worth the effort, he thought.

  That evening became something of an occasion. After Captain Daggett had escorted her back to the protection of her beaming mama, the young lady lost little time in recounting the extraordinary event that had just taken place. A gentleman had actually declined the honor of an introduction to Miss Mary Alice Burton. Instead, he had finished out his set with one of Miss Burton’s rivals and from thence had gone on to request the honor of leading out still another young lady. The story swiftly made the rounds and soon the room was filled with low exclamations of wonder and amazement.

  It was not long before the tale reached Miss Burton’s exquisite ears. At first she was inclined to dismiss it as so much nonsense. No gentleman would dare behave in such a cavalier manner as that toward herself. But as the evening wore on and Captain Daggett never did present himself to her, she was forced to realize that a gentleman had so dared. Her temper was not of the best and it was further exacerbated by the glances of malicious amusement that were thrown her way. Miss Burton was vexed to discover that she had actually dug furrows in her palms with her long shapely nails.

  One of the squire’s daughters, a squint-eyed freckled creature whom Miss Burton had always contemptuously brushed aside as no rival at all, had the audacity to approach her. “Isn’t it a marvelous evening, Mary Alice? Captain Daggett is such a handsome gentleman and so chivalrous, too! Why, he has stood up with me three times this evening. And I am not the only lady so honored. I am in a positive whirl, I assure you, and so is every other lady here who has had the pleasure of his company,” said Tabitha, enjoying herself hugely. She had longed for ages for the chance to set down the odious Mary Alice and at last her dreamed-of opportunity had come. Her voice, never at any time fashionably low, carried quite dearly and her comments were widely heard.

  There was a laugh, quickly changed to a cough, but Miss Burton’s hearing was acute. She trembled with rage. Her lovely mouth stretched into a gracious smile. “Indeed, Tabitha. One must certainly wonder at it. There are not many gentlemen who have such a high tolerance for self-inflicted boredom,” she said.

  Tabitha’s green eyes narrowed and the temper bespoken by her carroty hair flashed out with devastating accuracy. “It has not gone unnoticed that Captain Daggett has yet to lead out yourself, Miss High-and-Mighty! Perhaps he draws the line at selfish, haughty butterflies.” She swept away with a giddy feeling of sublime and long-anticipated retribution.

  Miss Burton stood alone. She was aware that the exchange between herself and Tabitha Earlington had been listened to with avid and malicious interest. Even the gentlemen who counted themselves honored members of her loyal court were not above enjoying her discomfiture. She had ruled too haughtily and too capriciously for it to be otherwise. Of course the incident would soon be forgotten by the gentlemen and there would be no change in their adoration. But for Miss Burton, there would always be a raw memory of public humiliation.

  Her eyes stared daggers at Tabitha Earlington’s back and she vowed revenge, but she found that the majority of her anger was directed at Captain William Daggett. He had been the engineer of her humiliation. He had dared to ignore her, Mary Alice Burton, the toasted beauty of the district. He would soon learn an excruciating lesson in manners. Before I am done he will crawl on his knees and beg for my favor, she thought vengefully.

  Captain Daggett’s avoidance of the beauty grew too marked to be ignored. When she could not bear any longer the titters and the cattish glances directed her way, Miss Burton made an abrupt exit from the dance, citing a migraine. But even the most devoted of her beaux was not behind in giving his opinion that she was in a towering rage.

  Miss Burton went home to throw a spectacular tantrum that reduced the household staff to abject misery. Her brother Bertram toed the broken crockery that he had ducked but moments before Mary Alice fled in tears to her bedroom. He said bitterly, “I will be the happiest fellow alive when she marries away from Stonehollow.” He was glumly aware that he himself could not look about for a bride until his sister was out of the manor. Any wife of his would be no match for Mary Alice when she was at her worst.

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  Chapter 18

  Lord Townsend learned of the incident that had taken place at the ball when he was at the squire’s place returning the pack of hounds. He was vastly amused by the squire and his wife’s lively recounting of the tale. Mrs. Earlington was particularly proud of her youngest daughter’s triumphant sortie against the beauty. She had long looked upon Mary Alice Burton as the nemesis of every mother who harbored the least ambitions for a daughter’s future happiness. It had done her heart good, she confided to her husband privately, to see the haughty baggage properly rolled up. The squire, who like every other older gentleman in the neighborhood held a soft spot for such a beauteous example of womanhood, was inclined to pity Miss Burton even as he admitted that she had deserved a lesson in humility.

  Lord Townsend was quite able to pick up on these undercurrents, which only added to his amusement. He too admired Miss Burton’s beauty and had been aware the moment that she had set her cap for him. But he was too experienced in sophisticated drawing room games of seduction to fall for Miss Burton’s obvious wiles. Even as he paid her easy compliments and favored her whims when they chanced to meet socially, he was careful to spread his attention to whatever other ladies happened also to be present. His manners were thought to be very good and his ease of familiarity with ladies young and old to be unexceptionable.

  Miss Burton had nothing of which to complain in Lord Townsend’s attentiveness or his obvious admiration of her beauty. But there was a certain amusement in his eyes when his gaze rested on her face, an elusive quality about him, that bothered her. It was as though he was privately laughing at her. Miss Burton was torn between aggravation and fascination. She did not know what to think of her chances with Viscount Wythe and so was careful to treat him to far less caprice than she was wont to do with her other suitors.

  Her feelings about Miss Miranda Wainwright were clearly defined, however. She had frequently observed a degree of easy communication between Lord Townsend and Miss Wainwright that infuriated her. She had warned Miss Wainwright not to position herself as her rival for the v
iscount’s interest, but the colonial had not seen fit to heed her friendly advice, so she had decided to see to it that Miss Wainwright fervently regretted her presumption.

  Miss Burton delivered every snub and insult she could devise to Miss Wainwright, all under the guise of social friendliness. She had been confident that Miss Wainwright would be at once too embarrassed and impotent to retaliate in kind, but such had not been the case. Miss Wainwright had proven rarely at a loss for a stinging riposte.

  As a consequence of the public skirmishes, Miss Wainwright had very quickly been taken up in the neighborhood’s social circles and was to be found everywhere. This circumstance could not but bring great dissatisfaction to Miss Burton, but she was powerless to counter it. Her only consolation was that Miss Wainwright appeared incurious regarding the gentlemen of the district. But that hardly reconciled Miss Burton to Miss Wainwright. On the contrary, she saw Miranda’s aloofness as a sign that her true interest lay in Lord Townsend. It was for this that Miss Burton thoroughly detested the American woman and she treated her with disdainful hauteur whenever they chanced to meet.

  When Lord Townsend was done recounting the latest gossip, Anne turned to Miranda with a laughing expression. “There now, Miranda! Does that not convince you that justice is yet to be found in this world?”

  Miranda was vividly recalling her own public humiliation, the snubs that she had endured at the hands of supposedly well-meaning matrons, and the near segregation from polite society. Miss Burton had not been subjected to such thorough mortification, but Miranda discovered that she could readily sympathize with her. “Actually, I rather pity Miss Burton,” she said.