June Calvin

by The Jilting of Baron Pelham

  His friendly manner and his mother’s graciousness did much to put her at ease on this night of trial by ton. Still, her heart raced frantically as they began the ascent of the stairs leading to the Stanhope ballroom. So much depended on this!

  She looked behind her and gathered courage from her father’s encouraging wink.

  The Stanhopes greeted Lady Pelham most courteously and gave Davida a warm welcome as she followed. She was dimly aware of their cordial greetings to the rest of the party as she moved into the crowded ballroom to meet her fate.

  “Stay close to me awhile, child,” Lady Pelham admonished Davida. “I wish to introduce you to Sally Jersey and several other of my friends.”

  As Davida was introduced about, flanked by Pelham on one side and his mother on the other, it quickly became apparent that the ton had made up its collective mind that here was no fancy piece, but a very respectable young lady. Her dance card began to fill, and her father was gratified by the number of titles represented on that tiny scrap of paper.

  Lady Elspeth and her mother, Lady Howard, had already arrived when the Pelham party made their entrance. Davida had been aware, from Pelham’s manner, that he knew exactly where they were, as did she. At last their party made its leisurely, apparently random, way to the Howards.

  “I wish you to know Miss Davida Gresham,” Lady Pelham informed them in a commanding tone.

  Lady Howard inclined her head graciously. “May I present my daughter, Lady Elspeth Howard.” She laid her hand on Elspeth’s arm, calling that blond beauty’s attention from the small court of admirers standing in a half circle around her.

  Davida braced herself for hostility, but either Lady Elspeth felt none, or had herself too well in hand to show it, for she greeted Davida cordially, acknowledging that they had met briefly before. “Was it not at the Wilberforce’s musicale?”

  Davida nodded. “Yes, where you sang so charmingly that difficult aria from Orfeo ed Euridicer.”

  “I feel that we neglect Gluck too much now, in favor of the newer composers, don’t you?” Lady Elspeth beamed at Davida as she nodded in agreement. Her pleasure seemed genuine at the compliment, and she turned with perfect ease to Pelham, who was standing stiffly by Davida’s side.

  “Oh, do stop looking so grim, Monty!” She tapped him on the arm with her fan. “I’m sorry that I spoke so rashly the other night. Your friend is indeed all that is respectable, and excessively pretty besides.” She smiled at Davida and pulled her over to introduce her to the young men standing nearby.

  While they clamored for a dance, Davida noticed from the corner of her eye that Lord Pelham was writing his name on Elspeth’s dance card. She suppressed a brief twinge of pain and told herself stoutly that she was glad to see the reconciliation.

  Sometime later she stood with her mother near Lady Pelham’s chair. Her father had long since taken himself off to the card room. They watched Pelham and Elspeth dance a waltz as if they had practiced for hours. Davida declined all offers to waltz, not wishing to give any cause for rejection by the autocratic patronesses of Almack’s.

  Though Lady Pelham’s rheumatism must have been causing her pain, she smiled mistily as she watched the waltzing couple. She lifted a crippled hand to grasp Davida’s. “Many thanks, my dear. It looks as if your notion of making Elspeth jealous has worked. How good to see them together again, where they belong.”

  “If I was of assistance, I am extremely glad, my lady. It is clear that he adores her.”

  “Yes, and she is so good for him. Such a moral and dutiful girl. She’ll cure him of his wild starts and settle him into an excellent husband.”

  Davida couldn’t help feeling that it would be a pity to tame Lord Pelham too much. He wasn’t so very wild, after all, and she liked that little touch of the rogue about him.

  Just then Sarah’s aunt, Lady D’Alatri, strolled up, leading none other than Lady Jersey, who also commented with pleasure on seeing Lord Pelham and Lady Elspeth together again. Lady Pelham made the introductions, and after a few moments of desultory small talk, Lady Jersey turned her full attention on Davida and her mother. “I would like to call upon you next week, if I might?”

  Heart pounding, Davida heard her mother assure the patroness that they would be at home on Tuesday afternoon. As Lady Jersey left, Lady Pelham looked up at Davida and winked. “You’ll soon have vouchers for Almack’s, my dear. Not a bad night’s work at all, hmmm?”

  Lady Jersey called on Tuesday afternoon as promised, bringing with her Mrs. Drummond Burrell. When Davida, nervously chatting with two young men with whom she had danced at the Stanhope ball, heard Mrs. Burrell announced, she nearly fainted. As if it was not enough to have the talkative, seemingly affable but often unkind Lady Jersey. Oh, no! She also had to pass inspection by the haughtiest, most top-lofty of the patronesses, Mrs. Burrell.

  To her surprise, her mother brightened when this exalted personage was announced. All became clear when, after the usual stiff courtesies, Lady Elizabeth reminded Mrs. Burrell that the Westburys were related to the Duke of Ancaster, who was Mr. Burrell’s uncle.

  The two patronesses and Lady Elizabeth quickly became involved in a convoluted genealogical discussion from which Davida was largely excluded. Finally Mrs. Burrell turned to her just-discovered connection’s daughter. “Now I think of it, you have something of the look of the Ancasters,” she informed Davida.

  Davida was suitably thrilled to be informed that her heart-shaped face had such a distinguished lineage.

  “But the Ancasters always have a widow’s peak,” Mrs. Burrell intoned dismissively.

  “Amazing. We have often wondered from whence Davida got hers. Dear, push the curls off your forehead and let Mrs. Burrell see.”

  Davida suppressed a surprised laugh. Her parents had often told her that her heart-shaped face and pronounced widow’s peak were an inheritance from her paternal grandmother. Now her mother was attributing it to the very distant maternal relationship with the Burrells!

  Dutifully Davida exposed her widow’s peak for the patroness’s interested evaluation. “Just as I said, blood will tell,” the grande dame announced pugnaciously. “You should style your hair to show off that distinguished feature, young lady.”

  Davida assured the patroness that she would do just that.

  The three older women, now bosom beaus, began to discuss Princess Charlotte’s interesting condition, while Davida turned back to converse with her young gentlemen callers.

  When their distinguished guests had left, and the last gangly, eager suitor had inhaled the last piece of lemon cake, kissed her hand, and departed, Davida looked anxiously to her mother.

  Whether they had succeeded or failed with the patronesses of Almack’s, Davida could not guess, but her mother was supremely confident. “We’ll have the vouchers in time to attend tomorrow, mark my words!”

  Davida’s father was regretful at what he regarded as Davida’s folly in “tossing back” Lord Pelham. But when the coveted vouchers for Almack’s arrived as her mother had predicted, sent by special messenger Tuesday evening, he grunted in satisfaction. He was equally pleased that many of her partners at the Stanhope ball had not only paid duty calls on her, but sent her flowers, and she was besieged with invitations to go driving or attend various events.

  “Any of those young bucks catch your fancy, Davida?” He looked hopefully at her across the dinner table as they discussed her increasingly full social calendar.

  “I don’t know any of them well, yet, Papa.” That sense of panic that Davida often felt rose up, closing her throat.

  “The season is passing swiftly, m’dear.”

  Davida crumbled a croissant restlessly. “Yes, Papa, I know. But two or three months is not long to choose something so important as a husband. You would not wish me to err by acting in haste?”

  “No, but I would not wish you to dally, either. This season business costs the earth, and your mother and I detest all these balls and folderol. I hope to see you
safely riveted so I don’t have to endure a second season.”

  “Charles.” There was a warning note to her mother’s voice.

  Anxious to avoid a confrontation, Davida essayed a mischievous grin. “Why did you not just sell me to old Lord Tarkington, then?” That ancient roué had astonished them all by offering for Davida at the first of the season. At the time her father had swiftly declined; he wanted a title for his daughter, but not at such a price.

  “The nerve of that old, disease-ridden rake,” he had exploded, half apoplectic at the thought of giving his beloved daughter to such a creature, titled or not.

  But tonight he chuckled and reached across to tousle Davida’s short black curls. “Don’t tempt me, you cheeky little baggage,” he growled.

  Davida was surprised and pleased when Lord Pelham called the next afternoon. “I understand you have your vouchers for Almack’s,” he began, a rather impish look on his face.

  “Indeed I do, my lord, I thank you. And do you have your belle idéal safely in your pocket again?”

  “No, because she persists in trying to put me in hers! I think she needs another dose of medicine.”

  “I hope you don’t intend me as physic, sir!” Davida had decided she did not relish the false role she had been playing. It was dangerous for her, as the near disaster they had just weathered clearly showed. And it might be dangerous for Lord Pelham as well, for he could have been worse off than before with Lady Elspeth. And she could not like her father’s continued notion that Pelham should be considered a suitor. But Pelham evidently didn’t share her doubts.

  “In a manner of speaking. I would like to escort you to Almack’s this evening.”

  Davida was silent for a long moment, wondering how to refuse without insulting him. Her mother, who sat nearby with her tambour frame, rushed into the breech. “How very kind of you, my lord. Our first night there will be much more comfortable with a handsome and popular member as our escort.”

  Pelham lifted a questioning eyebrow at Davida’s silence and her serious look. “Miss Gresham?”

  “One of the first rules of the physician is to do no harm. Are you sure it is wise for us to continue this pretend-courtship? For your sake, I fear not.”

  A stubborn set to his mouth warned her of his determination. “I am not now engaged to Lady Elspeth, so I am free to escort whom I please. It would please me very much to escort you.”

  Davida sighed and smiled slightly. “If you really think it best. But I . . .”

  At this moment, Lord Threlbourne was announced. He was one of the young men Pelham had introduced her to during their drive in the park.

  “Gil, why are you plaguing Miss Gresham at this hour,” Pelham joked as he shook hands with the gangling viscount.

  Threlbourne flushed under his mass of freckles until his face was almost as red as his hair, but he stood his ground. “Miss Gresham wanted to see the Elgin marbles again. You know I can’t stay away.”

  “As much as you like antiquities, you ought to go to Greece. In fact, why don’t you start right now. I wanted to take Miss Gresham for a drive.”

  “Not me! After hearing about the hardships of travel that Hobbhouse and Byron experienced, I’ll just let others bring its treasures to me, thank you. But come, Miss Gresham. We must be off.”

  Threlbourne hastened Davida into the foyer and helped her into her pelisse. It was an overcast, rather cool day, threatening rain, so she accepted the umbrella which Perry gravely offered her.

  “Shouldn’t let this ham-handed fellow drive you, you know,” Pelham called after them as she was handed up into the viscount’s high-perch phaeton.

  Davida grinned down at him. “I’ve heard his grays beat your bays in a certain race, however.”

  Pelham made a fist and banged the wheel as Threlbourne laughed. “It wasn’t a fair race. I had a passenger and Gil didn’t.”

  “Then we must have a rematch, Monty. I know, I’ll take along Miss Gresham as ballast.”

  “Well, I like that,” Davida choked out over her laugh.

  “No, it’s not safe for her. You’re too cow-handed. We’ll race without passengers and then we’ll see.

  “You’re on.” Threlbourne pumped his hand. “Name the time.”

  As Threlbourne mounted the carriage beside her and gave his impatient grays the office to start, Davida’s excited voice carried back to Pelham. “Are you really going to race? I should so like to see it.”

  Pelham smiled to himself as he watched them drive away. He couldn’t imagine Elspeth entering so enthusiastically into such a venture. Davida is up to every rig, he thought. A pity Elspeth can’t have a bit of her adventurous spirit.

  Chapter Five

  For her debut at Almack’s, Davida was careful to dress demurely in a pale shade of pink. When she came downstairs, her father approvingly examined her frothy, high-waisted gown of pink lace over a white satin slip. It was cut lower in the front than the gown she had worn to the Stanhope ball, and Davida felt just a bit self-conscious at the swell of bosom it revealed. She wondered if her father would order her upstairs to find a more modest dress.

  Sir Charles seemed undisturbed, however. He kissed her cheek and handed her a small, narrow box, a sly grin on his face.

  “Carved coral—carved into roses! They’re exquisite!” she exclaimed, drawing the necklace from the satin lining. Excitedly she let her father replace the pearls she had donned earlier with the brilliant coral necklace, since she had put matching coral earrings in her ears.

  The pier glass in the hall armoire told her that this touch of vivid color greatly enhanced her looks. She was hugging her father with gratitude when Lord Pelham was admitted by a footman.

  A look full of approval on his face, Pelham came to her side after greeting her parents. “Trés charmante,” he murmured, bending over her gloved hand. For the first time he let his lips lightly caress her fingertips, and Davida gave a jump as that slight touch rocked her senses. Her wide, startled eyes met his, and the look there perplexed her, being rather knowing and speculative.

  “It is a nasty night out, be sure you are well covered,” he admonished as the ladies’ cloaks were brought. Her father, feeling them adequately escorted, was not accompanying them. He knew that he had served her cause well at the Stanhopes’ ball. Tonight he looked forward to an evening of card-playing at Boodles, his preferred club, where the stakes were not too high.

  The rain couldn’t dampen Davida’s excitement, nor could her first glimpse of Almack’s. She knew it was famous more for the people who came there than for its decor or refreshments, both Spartan at best. But it was the exclusive marriage mart for the ton, and she was frankly delighted to finally become one of its prizes. In fact, her need to find an acceptable husband for herself somehow seemed more urgent than ever when she was in the company of the handsome, charming, but unfortunately unavailable Lord Pelham.

  It was very pleasant to find that she knew many of the young people there, at least slightly, mostly from her brief acquaintance with Pelham. Even more pleasant was it to find that she was greeted cordially by all, and with enthusiasm by some.

  Sarah was there before them and greeted her joyfully. “Davida, you look marvelous,” she whispered. “I love the necklace. Is it new?”

  “Yes, Papa gave it to me tonight.”

  “It’s very wicked for lovely ladies to whisper secrets,” Arnold Lanscombe objected as he lifted Davida’s dance card from her hand. Arnold was correctly attired for the evening in the de rigeur knee britches, white tie, and black long-tailed dress coat. But ordinarily he was outrageously dressed in the dandy mode, complete with wild colors and shirt points so high and stiffly starched that he couldn’t turn his head.

  He had chanced to call one afternoon when her father was in the drawing room, and Sir Charles had been forced to leave, as he explained later, or he would have laughed in Lanscombe’s face.

  “Don’t give that fribble a second thought,” her father had warned her. It co
st Davida no pain to assure him she would not.

  “I say, no fair, Pelham.” Lanscombe used his quizzing glass to examine the dance card. “Down for two already.”

  Davida reclaimed her card, and, after perusing it, shook her head. “One of them is a waltz.”

  Pelham lifted his eyebrow in that challenging way that he had. “The waltz was approved by the patronesses last year.”

  “I can’t waltz. That is, I haven’t been given permission yet,” Davida admitted, feeling more disappointed than she wanted to be. “I shouldn’t like to ask on my very first evening.”

  Pelham only laughed. “A minor obstacle, Miss Gresham. I won’t mind asking at all, and I am sure I can obtain permission for you.”

  When he got that self-assured note in his voice, Pelham seemed to Davida to be older than his twenty-five years, and she was reminded that here was no ordinary young man, but a peer of the realm, with responsibilities to help rule his country as well as to manage his lands and other investments. And how handsome he looked tonight in his stark black-and-white evening clothes, the knee breeches displaying strong, well-developed legs, and the long-tailed coat admirably tailored to display his broad shoulders.

  Suddenly Davida frankly yearned to waltz with him, to be close to him and feel his hands on her for those few short, delicious minutes. The strength of her feelings was unexpected and unwelcome, and she exerted herself to direct her attention away from Lord Pelham, an intention difficult to carry out because he seemed determined to distinguish her with his interest. With a pang she realized all of this attention was for the sake of observers who would report his attentiveness to his true love.

  Lady Elspeth Howard made a late entrance, very near the time when the doors to Almack’s would be firmly shut to all comers, no matter how distinguished. Davida knew the instant she arrived by the change in Lord Pelham, who had not quite succeeded in hiding the fact that he was watching for her appearance.

  They were standing in a set to begin a country dance when Davida saw him look over her right shoulder and light up with pleasure. A slight turn of her head and she could see the Howards entering, escorted by Lord Whitham.