“I should very much like to see her again,” he said wistfully. “I have been looking forward to it, even though I no longer have any hopes in that direction.”
“You must not give up all hope,” Connie said, patting his hand softly. “Young ladies have been known to change their minds before, and you are so eligible, Reggie! She will be very tempted, you may be sure.”
He was not in the least sure about it, but still, this conversation left him with a glimmer of optimism, and his heart quickened at the thought that before long he would be in Miss Chamberlain’s company again. But as the hour approached, he found himself uncharacteristically nervous. They had parted in anger on her side, and regret on his, and his feelings since that moment had not diminished. He had come to think of her as the most captivating and desirable woman of his acquaintance, with both beauty and a ready wit, and it grieved him to consider that she could never be his. He went to his bed thinking of her, he dreamt of her at night and hers was the first face to coalesce in his consciousness when he woke. She was his delight, and her loss weighed on him like a heavy lump in his stomach.
But he would do his duty, and so, after only a little extra time expended on his toilet, he descended the stairs to the newly refurbished Chinese saloon and opened the door.
It was akin to entering an aviary of exotic birds. The entire room seemed filled with colour and movement and high-pitched twittering, feathers waving and jewels glimmering in the light falling from the stained-glass roof. For a moment he was too dazzled to move. But he was not unused to such spectacles, so within moments his eyes adjusted and he spotted Connie across the room. She swiftly made her way to his side, and drew him around the room, introducing him. And inevitably almost the first person they came to was Miss Chamberlain and her godmother.
“Lady Cotter, do you know my brother-in-law, Lord Reginald Marford? Reggie, Lady Cotter is cousin to Baron Tipton.”
Reggie made his bow. “Lady Cotter. How delightful to see you again. I believe we have not met since Miss Elizabeth Tipton’s ball of three, or was it four years ago?”
“Delighted, dear boy, quite delighted,” she boomed, her voice resounding above all the chatter. “And what an excellent memory you have.”
“And you know Miss Chamberlain, of course,” Connie went on.
“Miss Chamberlain.” Another bow. “I trust you left your parents in good health?”
She rose and curtsied to precisely the correct degree. “Thank you, my parents always enjoy excellent health.”
And then Connie drew him onwards with great determination, and settled him between two formidable matrons, whose befeathered turbans added two feet to their height. As they talked and the feathers waved here and there above his head, Reggie felt as if he had wandered into an overgrown shrubbery. Across the room, Carrbridge was surrounded by giggling young ladies, none of them much above seventeen. He had a panicked expression on his face, but his wife was, by design or otherwise, ignoring his distress and refusing to rescue him. Elsewhere, Monty was almost invisible behind a sea of beribboned bonnets. Reggie sighed. He and his brothers in their dark coats were as conspicuous as lobsters in white soup. Men had no place in such a gathering, but if Connie wanted them there, the least they could do was to oblige her, no matter how uncomfortable it made them feel. So he smiled, and let the ladies talk and after a few minutes moved on to another group.
He was cautiously making his way around the room, avoiding even glancing at Miss Chamberlain, when he saw a stout young lady waving at him, and smiling in appeal. She patted the seat next to her and waved again. The face looked familiar, but although he was usually good with names, his mind was blank. Nevertheless, he answered her call, and took his seat beside her.
“Lord Reginald! How delightful to see you here today. I had thought it would all be ladies, so it is vastly pleasing to discover it is not so. Is it not kind of Lady Carrbridge to invite us all? We are supposed to make new friends and so forth. Well, Violet is. This is supposed to be her season, really, for I had my turn three years ago, although I was not a great success. Not that I expected to be, to be truthful. I do not show to advantage in larger groups, so Mama says, although Papa says it is because I talk too much.” She paused. “I beg your pardon, Lord Reginald. I believe I am talking too much now. I should confine myself to comments on the weather, Papa says.”
Reggie laughed, having had long enough to recall her name. “But the weather is such a dull subject, do you not agree, Miss Salmond?” He affected a prim voice. “‘Such a lovely sunny day we are having — but it rained yesterday — and it may rain again tomorrow.’ What shall we talk about instead? Yesterday’s debate in the House? The rumour about Lady Camberwell? Although I am sure it is not true — no, it cannot be true. Perhaps you would like a tip for Newmarket? Or should you like to give me your opinion on the slavery question?”
She giggled, hand across her mouth as much in delight as shock. “Oh, how wicked you are, Lord Reginald! But I confess, I should very much like to be able to discuss such things, instead of being restricted to the most insipid topics imaginable. Papa will not even let me read the newspaper, in case I should become a bluestocking, but I do not imagine that is very likely, in my case. Still, I should like to know what is going on in the world, and talk about more than bonnets and gowns and shoes and how to be demure. For I am not very demure, and I do not think I wish to be, so I suppose I shall never marry, and will be condemned to live with one or other of my sisters and help raise their children, like a good maiden aunt.” She sighed. “Violet will do very well, I am sure. She has already had three offers at home, and if she does not find a husband in London she will marry one of them and she deserves it too, for she is very demure, and all the things young ladies are supposed to be. Unlike me.”
At that instant, Reggie was struck by a very pleasant idea. Connie was not the only one who could make matches, for why should he not look about for a husband for Miss Salmond? He knew everyone in London, and he could think of half a dozen young men who would be delighted to have a wife who took an interest in more than domestic matters. Yes, it would be famous if he could pull it off, and it would provide some distraction in his gloom. He smiled, greatly pleased with his benevolence.
At that moment, he happened to glance across the room and his eye fell on Miss Chamberlain, watching him with a curiously intense expression on her face. As soon as she saw him looking at her, she turned away and began talking animatedly to her neighbour. But it was odd, all the same, and left him quite unsettled.
~~~~~
Connie laughed and laughed at the idea of Reggie matchmaking.
“I do not see what is so amusing,” he said huffily. “I thought it was very charitable of me, frankly, for I do not see how else she is to get a husband.”
“You are not sweet on her yourself?” Connie said, suddenly serious, then added hastily, “Not that there is anything at all wrong with her, but you can do very much better.”
“Of course I am not sweet on her,” Reggie said crossly. “Great heavens above, all that chatter would drive me wild. I merely hope to be useful to her. But I do not quite know how to go about the business, and if you would stop laughing for two minutes, Connie, you might show me how to get started.”
“I beg your pardon. I will endeavour to be serious. First you must make sure there is enough money involved.”
“Money? I am looking for someone to fall in love with her. What has money to do with it?”
“Everything, for even when one is in love, life is a great deal more comfortable when one has enough to live on. Now, Ursula has five thousand, so you would like a man with eight hundred a year at the very least. Although she is a practical girl, so perhaps she could manage with less. Then, having chosen a likely candidate, you contrive to introduce them, and now that I think about it, a man may do so in the most natural way imaginable. You may dance with her yourself, and then, as you leave the floor, you take her to whichever man you have chosen and int
roduce her to him as a partner. And there you are.”
“That does sound easy,” Reggie admitted.
“She will be at the Framptons’ ball on Friday,” Connie said. “You may begin your career as a matchmaker there, but do remember that I shall be exceedingly cross if you have more success than I do.”
The marquess put down the newspaper he was reading. “But you are never cross, my sweet,” he said plaintively. “I should not like anything to make you cross.”
“Then you must help me with my own matchmaking plans, my love, so that Reggie does not put me in the shade.” And she began to laugh again.
The Framptons’ ball, the first major occasion of the season, was as hot and crowded and noisy as it was possible to be, and was therefore instantly declared a great success. The theme was Egypt, so there was gold paint everywhere, and wooden replicas of the Sphinx, while the ceilings of the main rooms were artfully draped with cloth to look like the interior of a pyramid.
Reggie had not had much luck finding likely prospects for Miss Salmond, for many of those he considered suitable were not yet in town, two turned out to be recently married and one had inconveniently died. But he had rounded up three who were known to dislike the usual insipid, simpering type of debutante. One of them was tolerably good looking, one was rich and one was known to be actively hanging out for a wife, and they were all agreeable to becoming acquainted with the lady, so he was moderately hopeful.
At first, his plan ran smoothly. He danced with Miss Salmond, then introduced her to the first of his candidates, who at once led her back onto the floor. But while he was looking about him for a suitable partner for himself, his attention was caught by the sight of Miss Chamberlain, gazing at him with such an adoring expression that for an instant his heart almost stopped beating. Could it be — had she really begun to think better of him? A rush of joy flooded through him — at last!
Almost at once he realised his mistake. She was not, after all, looking at Reggie but at someone behind him, someone slowly descending the stairs to the ballroom. He spun round, but the stair was so thronged with people that he could not discern which of many men had caught her attention. So he drew back to half-conceal himself behind some most un-Egyptian ferns and watch matters unfold.
She blushed crimson, and dropped her gaze, and the throng flowed on, hither and thither. But only one man strode steadily towards her, deviating neither to right nor to left, until he stood before her, making a deep bow. Regimentals, Reggie saw disgustedly. No wonder he was out of favour, for what man in a dark coat and plain shoes can compare with a man in uniform? He watched Miss Chamberlain curtsy, still blushing, and then give her hand to the stranger for the next dance.
Reggie began a circuit of the room, one eye watching the couple engaged in the dance, while with the other he scanned the clusters of matrons for the turbanned head of Lady Cotter. He heard her before he saw her, holding court with three other matrons at the far side of the ballroom, all four of them gazing at the nearest set.
“…not two pennies to rub together,” Lady Cotter was saying in ringing tones. “Met him in York, apparently. Wrote to her, can you believe it? A letter! And they are not betrothed— Ah, Lord Reginald.”
“Who is he?” Reggie said, too agitated for polite greetings.
Lady Cotter did not pretend to misunderstand. “Daker,” she said crisply.
“A Captain Daker from Newcastle,” one of the others whispered. “Very handsome, is he not?”
“Never heard of him,” Reggie said.
“No one has ever heard of him,” Lady Cotter boomed.
The question of Miss Chamberlain’s affections was now resolved. She could not prevent herself from blushing every time Captain Daker spoke to her or even looked at her, and said almost nothing to him, while he, for his part, smirked in the most irritating manner, and spent the rest of the evening by her side, or staring at her if she was obliged to dance with another partner. Where had the forthright Miss Chamberlain gone to, who had so willingly crossed swords with Reggie in the past? This simpering miss was no one he knew.
He claimed one dance with her himself, and although the last person he wanted to talk about was the strutting captain, nevertheless, his curiosity was burning.
“Have you enjoyed the dancing so far, Miss Chamberlain?”
“Oh yes! Thank you.”
“I trust you have been fortunate in your partners?”
“Oh, indeed. Very much so.” But her answers were absent-minded and her eyes strayed to where the regimental colours lounged against a pillar.
He needed to be more direct. “Your partner in the quadrille was particularly energetic.”
“Oh, you mean Captain Daker? Indeed, he is an exceptionally skilled dancer, and makes even the most difficult steps look easy, do you not agree?”
“Oh certainly. He is most adept, and the quadrille is a most trying dance,” Reggie said with feeling, never having quite mastered it himself.
“He plays the pianoforte very well, too, and sings most delightfully. His command of both French and Italian is excellent. There is nothing so charming as a ballad sung in the original language. He has not been in London before, so he is finding it a little strange, as you might imagine. He hopes to hire a horse soon, so that he may ride in Hyde Park.”
“I daresay he is an excellent rider,” Reggie said, already disliking Captain Daker with a hostility he usually reserved for the French or Whigs or anyone who defeated him at whist.
“Oh, yes, he rides divinely. I must tell you about one occasion when…”
And not a word was spoken in the entire half hour that did not pertain to Captain Daker and his vast number of perfections. He was unreasonably handsome, too — at least Reggie thought it was unreasonable that a man so well endowed in the matter of other talents should also have a face that made every lady look at him with admiration and every gentleman look at him with envy. He returned Miss Chamberlain to Lady Cotter’s side quite downcast, for surely he could never compete with such a paragon. His case was hopeless.
13: Military Men
When Reggie’s dance with Miss Chamberlain came to an end, the captain was there waiting, naturally, ready to claim the lady’s hand for the next dance. Without waiting to be asked, Miss Chamberlain introduced the two men to each other, with the air of one doing both of them a great favour. The captain merely bowed and looked down his nose at Reggie, for unsurprisingly he was exceptionally tall, too, but Reggie was too polite to avoid a little conversation.
“Are you enjoying your first visit to London, Captain Daker?” he said in his blandest manner.
“Oh certainly. There are many delightful sights to be enjoyed.” He glanced at Miss Chamberlain as he spoke, so that she began to blush all over again.
“Do you have many acquaintance in town?”
“Not many, as yet, but there’s been no shortage of invitations, even to grand events like this.”
He smirked even more, and Reggie forebore to tell him that the Framptons were famous for inviting everyone who asked to their balls, merely replying, “I am very glad to hear it.”
“I’d like to get a card for the Marford House ball, though,” Daker said. “Maybe you—?”
Reggie shook his head, hoping his expression looked sufficiently regretful. “Lady Carrbridge draws up the invitation list, and I have no influence there, I do assure you. But I must not keep you from your charming partner any longer, Captain. Good evening to you, Miss Chamberlain.”
It was some compensation, as he later watched the captain demonstrate his superiority in the dance, to know that there were places and events to which Reggie would undoubtedly be invited but the captain, for all his many talents, would not.
He was so engrossed in observing Miss Chamberlain’s progress down the set that it took a sharp tug on his sleeve to attract his attention.
“What the—? Oh, it is you, Monty. Whatever is the matter?”
“You are wanted, over there in the co
rner beside the sphinx. No, not that sphinx, the very large one with punch pouring from its mouth.”
“But why—? Oh Lord!”
He saw the difficulty at once. Miss Salmond was having a spirited discussion with several young men, in fact, the three possible suitors that Reggie had found for her. As he made his way towards the group, he mentally changed the word ‘discussion’ to ‘argument’. All four were talking rather heatedly and at some volume.
“Miss Salmond, is anything amiss?”
She turned surprised eyes on him. “Amiss? Why, not the least thing in the world, Lord Reginald. Whatever gave you such an idea?”
“There seemed to be some dispute under way,” he said mildly.
“Oh yes! Is it not delightful? We are discussing the use of gas for lighting, and Mr Kemper is of the opinion that it is quite unsafe to use inside houses, although it might be practicable in an outdoor situation, but Mr Cordiner is quite determined to install gas lighting in his own house to prove its worth, and Mr Walters has been explaining how it might best be made. One uses coal, apparently. It is so interesting. Oh, but I see how it was — we were becoming quite animated, and you thought… I beg your pardon, Lord Reginald, I had quite forgot we are in a ballroom.”
“Should you care to dance, Miss Salmond?” one of the young men said eagerly.
“I believe it is my turn to partner Miss Salmond, Mr Kemper.”
“Far be it from me to disagree, Mr Cordiner, but I believe I am next to have the pleasure.”
“Now there you are quite wrong…”
Reggie left them to it. It was clear that Miss Salmond needed no rescue, and he was too disconsolate to stand and watch the sensible Miss Chamberlain reduced to a blushing miss with her captain, so he took himself to the card room and lost twenty guineas very rapidly. As he moved away from the table in search of brandy, he heard a familiar voice.
Lord Reginald (Sons of the Marquess Book 1) Page 12