But tonight she cared nothing for any of them. Only one man could quell the heated ardour in her bosom. She paced restlessly about the almost empty ballroom, turning with excitement every time the butler banged his staff to announce another arrival. The room began to fill, the musicians tuned their instruments, the first set began to form and still he did not come. Several young men tried to claim her hand for the dance, but she turned them all away. How could she dance with anyone else? Only one man would do and she would wait all evening for him if necessary.
“What are you about?” Lady Cotter hissed to her. “Why do you not dance, you silly girl?”
“I do not wish to dance,” she said haughtily.
“Then come and sit quietly with me for a while. It looks so particular in you to be standing here by the doors in that foolish way.”
“Then I shall stand elsewhere.” Robinia spun away from her, and stalked around the room. But now she was far away from the entrance doors, and could no longer see the arrivals, or hear the announcements over the music and bursts of raucous laughter around her. Her agitation rose, as she stood on her toes to scan the line of arriving guests and strained her ears to listen for his beloved name. Was it possible she had missed him? The room was excessively crowded already, so perhaps he was already here and was even now looking for her. Her eyes flew hither and thither, looking for the familiar colours.
“He is not coming.”
Lord Reginald. Of course, he would be the one to gloat at her discomfiture. “You know that?” she said coldly.
“I regret to tell you that Captain Daker was not invited. Miss Chamberlain, I do not like to see you not taking your rightful place in the dance. May I—?”
“No!” she cried, turning her head away so he would not see how close to tears she was.
“Then let me find you a seat in a quiet spot. Look, there is an alcove over there where you may escape the crowds. May I fetch you a glass of lemonade? Or some punch?”
After a moment’s thought, she saw the sense in withdrawing from such a public place, so she let him lead her to the alcove, partly sheltered by potted palms. But she declined the lemonade, for she was boiling with righteous indignation and had no wish to cool her anger.
“This is your doing,” she hissed, waving him to the seat beside her. “You have made sure he received no invitation, even though I expressly said I wanted him here, and now you are spreading all these foul lies about him, and everyone will ostracise him and I shall never see him again and it is all your fault, every bit of it! I believe you are jealous of him! Just because I would not have you, you are trying to keep me away from him.”
He looked startled, but when he spoke, his voice was irritatingly calm. “This is none of my doing, I assure you. Oh, but pray do not cry, Miss Chamberlain. Here — borrow my handkerchief.”
She snatched it from him, and mopped ineffectually at her eyes, for somehow the tears would keep flowing.
“Nonsense!” she sobbed. “Of course it is your doing, and if not directly, then it is being done on your behalf because the Marfords are such an important family and everyone wants to please you. Well, I do not, and I do not like you interfering in that high-handed way.”
“But I have done nothing!” he said indignantly. “Nor have any of my family interfered even though—”
“Even though? Oh pray, do not dissemble now! You are about to tell me that he is a fortune hunter, I suppose? But you had best not, for what else are you?”
He flushed but did not deny it. “I was only about to say that he is not worthy of you,” he said quietly. “But then, who could be?” He was silent for a moment, then he said thoughtfully, “I see that I cannot convince you, but the truth is that I have neither said nor done anything against Captain Daker, nor would I. My only desire is for your happiness, Miss Chamberlain.”
“Oh!” she cried in frustration. “This is so like you! I rail and rant at you, and you are always so insufferably correct, always offering to dance with me, whether I want you to or not, always ready with a handkerchief. You never say or do anything to make me uncomfortable, and yet I am uncomfortable.”
“I am very sorry for it.” He chewed a lip, frowning. “Yet I do not quite know what I can do about it. What do you wish me to do, Miss Chamberlain?”
“Go away! Leave me alone! I want you to disappear so that people are not constantly comparing Captain Daker to you, and finding him deficient. Hide away in the country and leave me in peace.”
“Leave London? But it is the height of the season! I have commitments… obligations… engagements. Miss Chamberlain, if my presence disturbs you, then of course I will withdraw from your company, but I cannot withdraw from society without attracting exactly the sort of comment we would both wish to avoid. And it seems to me that two people of good sense ought to be able to meet with perfect civility, even if deeper feelings run below the surface. London society would fall apart entirely if one were to avoid all those one has taken in dislike. You have met my two aunts, Aunt Patience and Aunt Agnes — perfectly affable to each other in public, but they have been at outs for years. Decades, even. They hate each other, yet you would never know it. That is one of the essential skills of the ton, to mask one’s true feelings.” A long pause, while he took two or three ragged breaths. But then he went on in exactly the same level tone, “As I do every time I meet you, Miss Chamberlain.”
She raised her eyes to his face. Perhaps to the world he appeared quite calm, but she knew him well enough to see the depth of emotion shimmering in his eyes, and his struggle for composure. She dropped her gaze, rather shaken.
He went on, “I will go and find Lady Cotter to come to you, and then I shall importune you no further with my company. After the season ends, I daresay we shall meet no more.”
“You will not follow me about, and turn up at every house I visit?”
“I promise you I will not. More than that, since my person is so distasteful to you, I give you my word that I shall not even speak to you from now on, unless the requirements of courtesy make it unavoidable. Good evening to you, Miss Chamberlain.”
15: After The Ball
Reggie hardly knew how he got through the rest of the evening. He danced, but he could not remember with whom. He smiled and spoke to acquaintances, and escorted a young lady into supper, and then danced again, and it was all a miserable blur. All he could see was Robinia’s tear-streaked face accusing him of being jealous. ‘Hide away in the country and leave me in peace!’ she had said. And yet he could not. Duty compelled him to stay in London and attend the social round. He was not a firstborn son, with a title and a fortune in his hand, but he was still somebody, still expected to dance with the debutantes and converse rationally at endless dinners and make up the numbers for whist or the theatre or an outing to Vauxhall Gardens. He could not do as he pleased, and what would he do in the country at this time of year anyway? There would be no one there and nothing for him to do but brood, and dream of her lovely face.
At least Robinia had recovered her composure. He had found Lady Cotter, extracted her from her game of silver-loo and sent her off to tend to her goddaughter. Later, he had seen Robinia dancing with a duke’s son with every appearance of pleasure, so he assumed she had recovered from her fit of pique. Or perhaps it really was his presence alone that drove her into a frenzy, and if he kept well away from her, she would be able to maintain her equanimity.
A sleepless night and an early morning ride in Hyde Park did nothing to compose his feelings. He avoided breakfast, knowing that Miss Chamberlain might be there and not wishing to put his promise not to speak to her to the test just yet. For the whole morning he mooched about town, visiting a shop here or calling on an acquaintance there, until he felt it safe to return to Marford House.
“Lady Carrbridge would like a word, my lord,” the butler told him, before he had taken two paces across the threshold. “Her ladyship is in her dressing room.”
Reggie knew perfectly well that w
hen Connie wanted a word, she would have that word sooner rather than later, and woe betide anyone who dallied. So he made his way directly to her dressing room, where he found her fetchingly arrayed in a carriage dress, while her maid arranged her hair.
“Thank you, Annie, that will do for now.”
The maid scuttled out, shutting the door behind her.
“This is serious indeed, for you to send your maid away,” Reggie said. “Have I made a faux pas?”
She spun round to look at him, her face unusually serious. “Oh Reggie, whatever did you say to Robinia last night? Maria Cotter found her in tears, and it was some time before she rallied. It is not like you to upset a lady.”
“Not like me to—!” Reggie paced across the room, raking his hands through his hair. “Good God, Connie, surely you cannot think that I—!” For a fleeting moment, anger rose up and almost choked him. It was bad enough to have Miss Chamberlain accusing him of all manner of bad behaviour, but to have even Connie, the fondest of sisters in law, taking the same line was beyond a joke. “I will have you know,” he said through clenched teeth, “that Miss Chamberlain blamed me entirely for Daker not being present, and called me all sorts of unpleasant names as a result, and despite all that, I was excessively restrained and did not argue with her. She cried without any provocation from me and I gave her my handkerchief, so do not go blaming me for her miseries, for it was no such thing. Really, Connie! I thought you were on my side.”
“So I am, but you make it so difficult when you never do the right thing.”
“Never do—!”
“Now do not protest that you always behave correctly, for that is just the trouble. Here was a lady in distress and Daker nowhere to be found, the perfect opportunity for you to make your move. You have been far too restrained altogether, Reggie. Anyone would think you do not care for Robinia at all. You do care for her, do you not?”
“Of course I do! How can you doubt it?”
“Because you never show it, that is how. You always keep her at arm’s length, so how can she possibly know the strength of your attachment to her? Ladies need a little encouragement, a little passion. You should have swept her into your arms and kissed her.”
“In the middle of a ball?” he said, scandalised.
“Why not? You nearly kissed me once at a ball.”
“But that was different,” he said, his temper abating a little. He smiled, remembering the moment fondly. “We were supposedly betrothed, and I was pushed onto you by some bosky revellers and there you were, in my arms, and I had never been so enticingly close to a lady before. In any event, I did not kiss you. It would be quite wrong to kiss a lady without her permission, Connie, you must see that. I would never force myself upon a lady. That would be quite shocking.”
She sighed. “You are right, I daresay. And Robinia called you names? That does not seem as if a stolen kiss would be helpful.”
“She would have slapped my face, and quite right too,” he said with feeling. “I know you want this match almost as much as I do, but it will not fly. She is in love with Daker, and I cannot compete with such a paragon.”
“He is not in the least a paragon,” she said quickly. “I hear all sorts of tales about him.”
“But Miss Chamberlain thinks him so.”
“Then she must be disabused of the notion.”
“It would do no good, for she will not believe it. She is determined to have him.”
“If that is indeed so, then it is best if she hears nothing of his past.” Connie rose from the chair in front of her dressing table and came to stand beside him, resting one hand on his arm. “You have quite given up hope, then?” He nodded. “And are you very disappointed? I can see that you like her very well, but beyond that — you hide your sentiments from all of us, Reggie.”
“It hardly matters,” he said crossly. “Whatever my sentiments, exposing them to public view would leave me an object of derision. Miss Chamberlain has rejected my offer of marriage and wishes to marry another. It is to no one’s benefit to rake over the embers endlessly. The subject is closed, Connie.”
“Very well.” She turned, reaching for her gloves and bonnet. “But do tell me — whatever have you done to poor Ursula?”
“Miss Salmond? Why, nothing! Oh — you mean the three gentlemen I introduced to her?”
“Three? She spent the whole of last night, not in the ballroom, but in one of the card rooms, the centre of a huge crowd of gentlemen engaged in what may most charitably be described as an animated discussion on the slavery question.”
“Oh dear.”
“Indeed. Violet is most put out, for she only danced all evening, while her sister received three offers of marriage and brought two young men almost to blows over her. I shall be very surprised if there is not a duel before too long. Over Ursula Salmond! It seems that some men are very attracted to a woman who can speak forthrightly about politics. Who would have guessed it?”
“I suspect that Miss Salmond speaks forthrightly about everything, and not just politics,” Reggie said. “But you cannot truly be cross with me on that account, surely? If she has received offers — that is a good thing, is it not?”
“Oh yes!” Connie said. “A very good thing for my reputation as a matchmaker. If I cannot find a wife for you, Reggie dear, at least let me take credit for the match if Ursula weds, and I will thank you not to tell all of London that it was your doing.”
He smiled at her. “My lips are sealed. May I escort you downstairs? You will not want to keep the horses waiting.”
~~~~~
That evening, Reggie threw himself into the social whirl with greater than usual vigour. He dined with a duke, then stayed long enough to lead the youngest unmarried daughter in the first set of her coming-out ball. Then it was on to a masked ball, followed by yet another ball. He mingled, he danced, he smiled, and hoped no one could see that beneath the veneer his heart was silently breaking. At the third ball, he glimpsed Miss Chamberlain dancing composedly with a viscount, and his heart jumped so violently he could not think straight and his partner remonstrated with him for making so many missteps. He made his escape as soon afterwards as he decently could. Oh, the pain of seeing her, and knowing that he could not dance with her, could not even talk to her!
He realised now just how much he had depended on these brief moments. A half hour of gentle conversation during a cotillion or country dance, as she told him all that she had seen and done in her own inimitable style, her gloved hand resting softly in his, as if it belonged there — these had sustained him through many a grey hour when he had had to watch her dazzling smile turned on Daker, seeing her reduced to blushing inarticulacy by him. He did not resent Daker’s success, for he sincerely wished Miss Chamberlain to be happy, as she deserved, but he could wish she had chosen a more worthy specimen for her adoration.
After this, he had no heart for female company, so he took himself to one of Humphrey’s favoured gaming dens, in the hope that watching his brother’s success at the table would distract him from his fit of the dismals. He was unlucky with Humphrey, hearing from the doorman that he was not there, but almost the first person he saw was Captain Daker, lounging against a wall, watching a game of faro. Daker saw him and nodded in recognition, with almost no smirk at all.
Reggie knew he should probably leave well alone, but his promise concerned only Miss Chamberlain, and he had some thought in his head that it would be interesting to get to know Daker in a masculine environment, away from the distracting lady they were both in love with. So he ambled over to Daker’s patch of wall.
“Daker.”
“Marford.”
“You are not going to this rout at Kingsley House either?” Reggie said amiably, ignoring Daker’s over-familiar use of his name.
“Not invited,” Daker said curtly. “Not one of the charmed circle.”
“You are not missing anything,” Reggie said. “Dreadful squeeze, always, and not even any dancing to liven things up.
Is the play good tonight?” He gestured towards the faro table. “Shall we join them?”
Daker hesitated. “There’s a lot of money changing hands, if that’s what you mean. Mostly towards the bank. Makes me wonder if the box is rigged.”
“This is one of my brother’s haunts, and he never plays anywhere that rigs the games, so I would say not,” Reggie said. “I can see they are playing high, though — too high for me. Would you like a game of something quieter, for guineas, perhaps? Piquet or vingt-et-un, perhaps?”
“With you?” Daker said, turning to look at Reggie fully for the first time.
“Why not? Oh, perhaps you think I play as well as Humphrey? You may disabuse yourself of the notion at once, for I cheerfully lose to everyone. I should be happy to lose to you as well, Captain.”
Now, while this was quite true as far as it went, Reggie was far from inadequate at the game. Although he had not his brother’s extraordinary skill, he had watched Humphrey play many times, and learnt from him the art of winning or losing, as he pleased. And it pleased him now to lose to Captain Daker, and perhaps relieve him of some of the debts now besetting him. It was an expensive business moving in the seas of London society, even the shallow waters where the Captain Dakers of the world were admitted, and easy enough to run up a few debts without realising quite what one was about.
They found an unoccupied table in a quiet corner, and began a game of piquet, at first for crowns and then, as Daker began to win steadily, for guineas and tens of pounds. It was hard work, for Daker was not a good player and sometimes played so ill that Reggie could not help but win. And then Daker smirked whenever he won a trick, which was excessively irritating. Still, in an hour or a little less, Reggie had contrived to put two hundred pounds into Daker’s hands, and he could only hope it would be used wisely, and not gambled away again as quickly as it had been won.
Lord Reginald (Sons of the Marquess Book 1) Page 14