Urging his sister to consider marriage only to a man who would treasure her uniqueness and want to make her happy?
Was that what she expected for her own marriage, once she decided she could put it off no longer? Or had she only expressed that rosy view to encourage Maggie? Perhaps she hoped marrying her childhood hero engineer would guarantee her happiness. He only hoped she didn’t end up being disappointed.
His sister’s frankness reminded him of his unusually candid conversation with Miss Cranmore in Bristol. In fact, it reminded him of all their conversations. She hadn’t always been that candid, but she was unfailingly honest. And she’d never attempted, as his sister agreed most unmarried females would, to cast out lures or ingratiate herself in his eyes.
Though she was highly alluring. Desire returned in a rush as he remembered halting beside her in Lady Arlsley’s garden as she gazed up at him admiringly.
He’d been oh-so-tempted to kiss her. He’d been certain she would have welcomed his kiss. Would she have responded as well, urging him to tighten their embrace?
Feeling the wash of heat that prospect evoked, he warned himself that he would need to stay more on guard against the response she so easily aroused in him. Keep his distance and keep their interactions merely friendly. She might not be a lady born, but were he to let lust lead him into doing something compromising, his honour would demand he repair the lapse with the same remedy he would offer if she were in fact a Lady of Quality.
And though the view of marriage put forth by Marcella Cranmore might be more appealing than anything he’d ever envisaged, he had no desire to be forced into testing that unlikely vision for himself.
Chapter Eight
Towards the end of following evening, Crispin entered the ballroom where one of his mother’s friends, Lady Richardson, was holding a rout. A note received earlier that day from Miss Cranmore had informed him that Lady Arlsley intended for them to attend this, the most prestigious society entertainment the evening had to offer.
He paused just inside the entrance, scanning the guests for the heiress. Then spied her at the far end of the dance floor, squired by Lord Charles.
Before she became aware of his presence, he allowed himself a moment to openly inspect her. A familiar heat built within as his gaze roved over the curvaceous body well displayed by the gown’s bared shoulders, rounded bust, tight waist and voluminous skirts, admiring, as well, the graceful elegance with which she glided across the dance floor.
Though he’d need to keep tight hold over his physical response, he still looked forward to claiming his two dances. Being able to hold that tempting body as close as propriety permitted while he looked down into her animated face, his gaze claimed by those sparkling green eyes and beguiling lips. How fortuitous that neither of them was interested in marriage, for if he were in search of a countess, her unique loveliness might have him pursuing her in earnest.
Fortunately, neither of them had any desire to proceed in that direction. He’d simply enjoy the novelty of her conversation and unusual interests for the duration of their bargain, after which they would go their separate ways.
An unexpected wave of sadness chilled him.
They’d go their separate ways...unless he could figure out a means for them to remain friends after they both quit society. He wasn’t sure how he’d manage it, ‘friendship’ between a young man and an unrelated single female from different social classes being virtually unheard of, but it was certainly a prospect worth exploring further. The reward for persistence and innovation would be the prospect of enjoying her company not just for a month, but for the foreseeable future.
His sadness dissipating at the possibility, he headed in her direction. It appeared she had successfully engaged Lord Charles in conversation, for the young man’s eyes were bright and a smile of sheer enjoyment lit his face, making Crispin smile as well. Though Miss Cranmore had more wit half-asleep than her partner fully awake, she was evidently kind and forbearing enough not to let Lord Charles know that.
Just as she’d been kind and forbearing to his sister. Though it didn’t particularly reveal excellence of character to be kind to someone with whom one intended to have few dealings, he knew how annoying it could be to spend time with a lackwit who did little to sustain the conversation. Having suffered through a number of conversations with Lord Charles, he wasn’t sure he could be so tolerant.
She must possess patience as well.
As the last measures of the dance were played, he made his way over to the side of the ballroom where Lady Arlsley awaited her charge. ‘Lord Dellamont,’ the Baron’s wife said, curtsying as she spotted him. ‘How pleased I am to see you in attendance tonight.’
‘Lady Richardson is one of my mother’s oldest friends,’ he replied as he bowed. ‘She would be disappointed if I were not to make an appearance.’
‘Miss Cranmore will be pleased as well,’ she said as, the dance completed, the couples began leaving the floor.
‘I was gratified to learn all about the bay colt,’ he heard Miss Cranmore say as she and the Marquess’s son approached. ‘I do hope that you will be able to purchase him.’
Smiling at her, a slightly besotted look on his face, Lord Charles bowed—only to stop short, frowning, when he spied Crispin. ‘Dellamont,’ he said, his tone aggrieved. ‘I suppose I might as well take my leave, Miss Cranmore.’
‘Thank you again for the dance, my lord,’ she said, giving the young man a curtsy. ‘Lord Dellamont. What a delightful surprise to encounter you tonight.’
Crispin bit back a smile at the irony in her tone. ‘A happy chance,’ he agreed drily.
‘It’s also a happy chance that the dance about to begin is a waltz,’ Lady Arlsley said. ‘I’m sure you’ll want to allow Dellamont the pleasure.’
‘If he invites me,’ she replied pointedly to her chaperon, giving Crispin an eye-roll that once again had him chuckling.
‘It would be my honour, Miss Cranmore.’
‘Then it will also be mine,’ she replied, offering her hand.
As he led her out on to the dance floor, she sighed. ‘Could Lady Arlsley be any more blatantly encouraging? If we hadn’t already made our bargain, I’d be horribly embarrassed.’
‘You can rest easy. I find her directness amusing.’
‘What an interminable evening! Thank heaven you arrived at last! I’d about given up hope.’
‘Sorry, I should have warned you that was my plan,’ he told her as he moved her into the rhythm of the dance—forcing himself to concentrate on her conversation and ignore the warmth of the tempting body under his gloved fingers and the distracting scent of her rose perfume. ‘Even if I seem to be dangling after you, we’re only allowed to share two dances—any more, and society will expect us to be calling the banns. So I decided it would be better to arrive later in the evening, when I thought your patience with all this would be wearing thin.’
‘It certainly is. Honestly, what do people see in events like this? Granted, despite my extravagant dowry, I’m an outsider and can’t expect to be treated like one born into this select group. Still, I can’t imagine spending four or five months in London every year enduring nights like this. Based on my admittedly limited observation, they consist of the same dances punctuated by the same conversations with the same inane topics—fashion, whose entertainments are the most superior and gossip about the latest scandal. How is everyone not bored to flinders?’
‘There are other activities,’ he countered, amused. ‘Ladies make calls on one another and spend a great deal of time shopping for gowns, shoes, pelisses, shawls, and other feminine fripperies. Gentlemen gather in clubs to gamble and gossip and visit their tailors and go to Tattersall’s to buy horses. All this frantic activity is interspersed with attending the occasional opera or theatre where one can show off the afore-mentioned finery.’
‘Opera or theatre perfor
mances where I’m betting they ignore the stage and continue gabbing about fashion, entertainments, and the latest juicy gossip.’ She huffed in exasperation. ‘I’d go mad in a month. I will go mad in a month, so it’s fortunate that I didn’t promise myself to stick with it longer than that.’
‘What would you be doing if you were not here?’ he asked, genuinely curious about what life was like in a stratum of society so different from his own.
‘Besides working with Father, I’d be attending my mother. Assisting in parish visits to the poor, the sick and those in need. Tending the herb garden, riding, visiting friends. Reading and studying. Papa often brings home to dinner associates from work. And yes, from time to time, there would be dinners and musical evenings with other families.’
‘Doesn’t that amount to a social round very similar to London society?’
She shook her head. ‘Not really. There’s nothing as formal as the London Season, more gatherings of friends and family punctuated by cotillions in town. But the subscription Season is short, and opportunities to attend private balls or the theatre is much more limited.’
‘How do families fire off their daughters, then?’
‘Through connections among families rather than formal presentations. Often the young couple has a good deal of choice in the matter, which from what I’ve overheard thus far, often does not happen in your world.’
He nodded. ‘Very true. Marriages in the ton are generally made to enhance status, add wealth to the family coffers and to form links of blood to people with power. Surely families in your world want that for their children as well.’
‘To some extent,’ she admitted. ‘First and foremost, they want daughters to wed men who can comfortably support a family, and sons to marry amiable girls trained to take care of that family. Beyond that, if business links can be solidified through marriage, that’s all to the good. And I suppose there is gossip—people are people, whatever their rank—but it doesn’t seem so malicious.’
‘You seem to find the entire aristocracy rather repellent,’ he observed, thinking it made it even more interesting that she’d agreed to this foray into society.
‘I told you I spent a year at an exclusive ladies’ finishing school. The most miserable year of my life! Almost all the girls were gentry born and they never let me forget I was not. Aside from me, the few students from wealthy merchant class families toadied to the others, tolerating the slights and condescension, always trying to ingratiate themselves and make connections they thought would help them marry into the gentry. A highly unlikely outcome, in my opinion. I tried to be cordial to everyone, but I had so little in common with any of them, I mostly stayed to myself. Even at that, I received all the condescension, insults and ostracising I needed for a lifetime. After the warmth and closeness of my family, I felt dreadfully alone.’
‘Why did your parents insist you remain, if it was that awful?’
She sighed. ‘I never told Mama how bad it was. She was so excited to send me there! She wanted the best for me, and thought exactly like those merchant class girls—that by attending the school, I would make social connections that could assist me in marrying well and perhaps help Father’s business, too. My father knew the truth, but as he did in this current situation, for my mother’s sake he asked me to endure it for as long as I could, after which he would support my desire to leave. So I managed to finish out the year. Neither of us wanted to disappoint Mama, and she would have felt terrible if she’d known how bad it truly was.’
‘You made no friendships at all?’ Ton females must be more shallow and snobbish even than he’d thought if they were able to overlook this intelligent, interesting person in their midst.
Or perhaps, recognising she added wit, beauty, and charm to her wealth, they were jealous of her advantages in the deadly serious competition for the most prized marriage prospects.
Miss Cranmore laughed. ‘I’ve not yet encountered any of my former fellow students in London. If I should, I suspect the only reason they wouldn’t give me the cut direct would be their shock at finding me sponsored by a baron’s wife and elevated into their midst.’
‘Sounds dreadful.’
‘It was—mostly. There was one small group of girls who, like me, had little interest in beaux and balls and talk of advantageous marriages. But they were older, and though they were kind enough when I encountered them, they were gentry born as well, so I never tried to get to know them better. Although Miss Henley was very encouraging.’
‘Henley?’ Crispin echoed. ‘Emma Henley?’
‘Why, yes. Do you know her?’
‘Not well. But Miss Henley—Lady Theo Collington now—is a dear friend of my good friend Gregory Lattimar’s sister.’
‘Lady Theo?’ Miss Cranmore laughed. ‘So much for her intentions to disdain marriage and work on reform causes.’
‘You mustn’t think she abandoned those efforts. She is still very much involved with the Ladies’ Committee on Parliamentary Reform. And the man she married, Lord Theo, is becoming a well-known artist, so she didn’t turn into some conventional society matron.’
‘I’m pleased to hear it. But enough about my sad past. I visited Papa’s office this afternoon, and his solicitor told me you’d invested in the Great Western. Bravo! I think you’ll realise a handsome return.’
‘I hope so. If only to further confound my father.’
‘So you’ll be looking for your next venture. Any idea what it might be?’
‘There are a number of bills before Parliament now. The most promising will link London with areas to the north, south and west.’
‘I told my grandfather that he would soon be able to journey from Newcastle to London by rail, much faster and in greater comfort that he does by riding! Which schemes are being proposed now?’
For the duration of the dance, she encouraged him to describe the bills that interested him, asking about potential routes, elevations and right of ways that would need to be acquired, which landowners would have to be persuaded or placated to have the routes pass through their land. A useful device, for talking about his greatest enthusiasm helped him block out the sensual appeal that might otherwise have his thoughts headed in other directions.
‘When do you plan to ride out and inspect the next potential investment?’ she asked after he’d concluded.
‘Once we decide our bargain is over.’ He laughed. ‘I’ll want to be well away from my father for some time after that anyway. A nice, long ramble around the English countryside should be just what’s needed.’
‘How exciting! I wish I could ride about exploring like that. I so enjoyed accompanying Papa along the way to Bristol. I, too, envision a network of rails that would run from one end of our island to the other, north to south, east to west. A way to move goods and people that won’t be affected by bad weather, the availability of horses or oxen, or the stamina of animals.’
‘And eventually, a more comfortable as well as more efficient means of transport,’ he replied. ‘At present, the wagons that transport people are rather basic. But I can envision entrepreneurs building carriages that are as opulent as the fanciest travelling vehicles designed for the wealthy. Larger ones, too, that could double as dining rooms or gentlemen’s clubs.’
She laughed. ‘Imagine, having a gentleman board the railway in the morning, have his breakfast, read his paper, play a hand of cards with friends, lunch, dine and disembark in the evening at his destination, halfway across the country!’
‘Exactly,’ Crispin said, pleased to find that she shared his vision. Though he knew he’d have to release his hold on her at the end of the dance, reluctant to lose her completely, as the last measures sounded, he said, ‘Thank you for the dance. Can I escort you in for some refreshment?’
‘Please! The longer you can protect me from the attentions of others, the better I will like it,’ she said, putting her hand
on his arm so he might lead her off the floor.
Guiltily aware of how much he relished that touch, he said, ‘Alas, I can’t monopolise you for the entire rest of the evening, but it will be permissible for us to share a glass of punch and have one more dance. Will I be aggravating too many other suitors?’ he asked, interested to learn how her debut was progressing.
‘Only a few have entered the lists,’ she said with a smile. ‘There’s Mr Farnsworth, a widower of good family who is seeking a rich young wife to give him the male heir he lacks and to fund dowries for his five daughters. Lord Tolleridge, whom I understand lost a fortune on a banking scheme and needs a fat dowry to restore his finances. Both are polite, almost obsequiously flattering—but under it all, there’s still that overtone that I ought to feel grateful that gentlemen of their breeding would condescend to court me.’
Though he knew such treatment was probably to be expected—his father’s advice to marry the chit and then relegate her to the country echoed in his head—it still irritated him to hear that she’d been subjected to that indignity. ‘Surely Lord Charles isn’t so snobbish.’
‘Oh, no. I probably like him best of the bunch. To be honest, I feel a little sorry for him. Of course, his real reason for pursuing me is his need of a fortune, but though he hardly has wit enough to follow a conversation from one end to the other, he has a kind heart. From some of the things he’s mentioned, he’s often been made the butt of jokes by cleverer men, which makes him more sympathetic to my position, I think. We share a love of horses, so I’m happy to encourage him to ramble on about his favourite mounts and the ones he aspires to purchase.’
She laughed as Crispin handed her the glass of punch. ‘He declares I’m a “capital good fellow” to allow him to wax enthusiastic about them, since most females aren’t the least bit interested.’
Crispin waved a finger at her. ‘You’d better be careful. He had a rather besotted look on his face tonight. Give him much more encouragement, and he’s liable to make you a declaration.’
The Railway Countess Page 9