June Calvin

by The Jilting of Baron Pelham

  Her maid seconded the opinion. “Oh, yes, miss. It is just right for you. Simple, yet elegant.”

  Davida smiled. “Well, I hope I will do.” She turned around in front of her mirror, and privately thought she looked very fine, indeed.

  Pelham apparently agreed. When he called for her and her parents to go to the ducal mansion for dinner, he whispered in her ear, “Exquisite.” She smiled up at him, her spirits high.

  They received a further boost when Sarah met them at the door, crowing, “Papa has come after all. He just arrived two hours ago. He will be down shortly.”

  Most of the dinner guests were assembled by the time the duke joined them. He looked, as usual, like the very pattern card of a duke. If there were lines of strain around his eyes and in the set of his mouth, only those who knew him best were aware of them. As Davida drew Monty over to introduce the two, she felt a pang of sympathy. Her father’s old friend had been forced at last to return to the house where his wife had died, and it was clearly costing him.

  But nothing of this showed in his manner as he acknowledged Pelham politely. Turning to Davida, one eyebrow arched, he said, “Then I take it I am not to have to marry you after all?”

  Davida was surprised to find that he did indeed remember his teasing remark. She grinned pertly at him. “No, Your Grace. Are you not vastly relieved?”

  “Vastly,” Harwood intoned dryly. “But you are a fortunate young man, Pelham, as I hope you know.”

  “Indeed I do, Your Grace, I thank you.”

  At that moment dinner was announced. Pelham’s table arrangement seemed to work, as all went smoothly, and the elaborate meal was much praised. By the time it was over, it was time to take up their places in the receiving line for the ball, so the men did not linger over their port.

  Davida had smiled so much her cheeks ached by the time she had greeted, it seemed, the entire ton except the Prince and his party. They were not expected to arrive until after supper.

  At last the duke suggested that they go in. The ball would be opened by himself and Sir Charles, dancing with their daughters in a minuet. Davida had been practicing the stately older dance so as not to disgrace herself, and from that moment until the supper dance never knew a moment’s rest, as partner after partner claimed her.

  The supper dance was a waltz, and she went happily into Pelham’s arms. “What did I tell you, love? Un succes fou!” he whispered triumphantly as he whirled her around.

  “Oh, I do hope so. At least it is a squeeze. If Prinny does not appear, we shall be in the suds.”

  “He rarely fails to show when he has committed himself, I’m told. I’m pleased to see you’ve changed your mind. You were upset when he first accepted, I seem to recall.”

  “Well, it is a little daunting, entertaining the one who is, to all purposes, one’s sovereign. I was afraid I’d make a mull of it.”

  “Never did I doubt your ability to cope.” Pelham smiled down at her. “You will make a fine political wife, though Prinny may be less than pleased to find you on the Whig side. I shall rely on you to turn him up sweet. Perhaps we can return him to the Whig fold.”

  Davida shook her head. “If I can just get through without disgracing myself, I shall be relieved.”

  Pelham smiled tenderly. “You underestimate yourself. But I was funning, actually. I don’t want you having anything more to do with that old libertine than absolutely necessary.”

  The train of thought this engendered made Davida’s pink cheeks rosier than ever, and she looked away in embarrassment—to see Lady Elspeth standing at the edge of the dance floor, staring at them. “Oh!” She missed a step.

  “What is it?”

  “When did she arrive? I hadn’t supposed she would attend.”

  Pelham followed her gaze and then snorted. “Elspeth stay away form the ball of the season, with Prinny coming? How little you know her! Do you dislike it?”

  Davida looked up at him. “Of course not. I know we must meet often. It would be unwise of me to let my sensibilities be affected.”

  “Wise as well as beautiful.” He gave her a swift whirl just as the music was ending, then led her from the floor with a flourish.

  Sarah’s face glowed with pleasure as she and her father welcomed Davida to their table. Her pleasure was partly for the success of the ball, but mostly because beside her was Gregory Allensby, who had come up with the duke for the ball. A shy, quiet young man, he had not joined them until the party was in full swing.

  Before the second half of the ball began, Davida and Sarah decided to go to the withdrawing room set aside for the ladies. They found the room a very busy place as young and not-so-young women put hair to rights or touched up cheeks with pinches or rouge. Just as they were leaving, Lady Elspeth entered. She rushed up to Davida. “Miss Gresham, I must have a word with you.”

  Alarmed, Davida replied, “We cannot, not here.”

  “Come with me, then. There is a small study just this way.” Davida reluctantly followed, ignoring Sarah’s hissed advice to refuse. When she entered the room behind Elspeth, the latter turned on her. “You promised me you would break off with him. You promised!”

  “I said I would if it was what he wanted, Lady Elspeth. But he doesn’t. He insisted we continue our engagement. We are to be married in . . .”

  “I know when, but you mustn’t. He loves me, I tell you! I went to see him the day after the Duke of Ormond’s ball, to tell him you were willing to cry off. He refused to allow it. He told me it would be dishonorable and might damage your chances of making a match. He didn’t want to hurt you. His very words were, ‘I could never do anything so shabby to Davida.’ ”

  A wave of agony washed over Davida. Was Elspeth telling the truth? Before she could think of a reply, the door burst open behind them. Pelham entered swiftly, followed by Lady Howard and Sarah. Elspeth retreated a step. “Come, dear,” her mother said in a tone that indicated she would take no refusal. “Your partner is looking for you for this dance.”

  Pelham glared at her retreating form as Elspeth left the room, eyes downcast. “What did she say to you?”

  “She wants me to cry off.”

  “The devil! You’ll do no such thing. I take it you told her?”

  Just then the music suddenly stopped, and a fanfare was heard. “Oh, no, the Prince!” With Pelham right behind her, Davida fairly flew to the front of the house, finding her place in the receiving line just in time. She watched His Royal Highness greet the Duke of Harwood, exclaim with pleasure over his daughter, whom he pronounced lovely, and then greet her father. “Sir Charles, it is a pleasure. I remember reading your name in the dispatches when I was a youngster trying to learn my future duties. A brave soldier!”

  Obviously pleased, Sir Charles gave him another deep bow, then presented his wife and daughter to the rotund Prince. “Enchanting,” the Regent exclaimed as her mother sank into her deepest court curtsy. “I am sorry I have not met your family before, Sir Charles.” He raised her mother, looking her over with pleasure as he did so.

  Davida, still somewhat breathless, also curtsied deeply and then smiled as the Prince, all affability, raised her. “I must have a dance with each of these three ladies,” he informed them. “Lady Sarah, will you do me the honor?”

  Davida watched in awe as the Prince led her friend onto the dance floor. The Prince signified that the duke should join them, so he gave his arm to Lady Elizabeth and the four began a minuet. After several moments other dancers joined, and Davida turned to Pelham, limp with relief. “Thank you for rescuing me, Monty. What a disgrace if I had missed his entrance.”

  “I would like to wring Elspeth’s neck, but I shall do something much better, which is ignore her entirely.” Pelham’s brow knit as if worried. “I hope that aging roué doesn’t ask you to waltz with him.”

  “Monty, you can’t be jealous of the Prince! And I don’t think you should speak of him so. He is all that is kind.”

  “Oh, I don’t deny that he can
be charming. Too charming, in spite of his girth!”

  They quarreled amiably until the dance was over. The Prince then led her mother into a set for a quadrille. Davida’s partner was Threlbourne. “A smashing ball, Davida. And you look absolutely radiant.” Gil’s freckled countenance was lit with pleasure at her success.

  “Thank you, Gil. It is so much different from what I expected. To think a few short weeks ago I knew hardly anyone in London.”

  “And now the cream of the ton is here in your honor. You’ll be quite unbearable.”

  She dimpled up at him. “’Tis every young lady’s dream—to be such a success she can be unbearable!”

  “And yet you won’t be. You are too fine a person.” Gil looked at Pelham, further along in the set with another partner. “Hope he appreciates you.”

  Remembering Elspeth’s words, Davida suppressed a little shudder.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Somebody walked on my grave, I think.”

  “Now, none of that. Let me tell you about the new team I’ve just purchased.”

  “Another one?”

  Before she knew it, Davida was standing up with the Prince, and it was a waltz. Casting a quick glance at Pelham, who was frowning on the sideline, Davida smiled up at her sovereign as she turned with him. He was surprisingly, agile and light on his feet, considering his size, and charming as well.

  He began by praising her mother’s beauty in fulsome terms that left Davida somewhat uneasy. The Regent’s penchant for mature ladies was quite openly discussed in ton drawing rooms. How terrible it would be if the Prince developed a tendre for her mother.

  Her mind continued in this alarming whirl when the Prince went on to boast of her father’s war record. “We need loyal Tories like him. Backbone of the realm. I’m going to try to persuade him to stand for Parliament.”

  Davida tried to imagine her home-loving country farmer of a father as a member of the House of Commons, but she couldn’t. Baffled, she gave her head a little shake. “I would be truly amazed if he should do so, but he certainly casts his vote for our Tory member, as you may well know.”

  After the dance, the Prince led her to her parents and Pelham, and chatted with them for a while. He invited them all to join him in Brighton for the summer. The invitation was general, but his eyes were on Lady Elizabeth. Davida’s mother calmly deferred to her husband, who excused them on the grounds that he was involved in an extensive project to drain a marsh.

  With an inward sigh of relief Davida realized that her father was more than able to fend off the Prince Regent’s interest in his wife.

  As for Pelham, he thanked the Prince graciously for his invitation, but indicated that he had already planned an extensive honeymoon to be spent showing Davida around his various estates.

  The Prince took the refusals affably, and after a few more minutes of trivial conversation, left the dance. The rest of the ball went by in a happy blur, and it was an exhausted Miss Davida Gresham who returned to her home and fell into her bed almost the minute the maid took off her gown.

  She fell asleep immediately, but awoke with a start early in the morning from a terrible dream in which Pelham and Elspeth were dancing together as Davida watched. In her dream everyone was staring at her accusingly and saying, “A shabby thing, a shabby thing,” over and over.

  As she lay there trying to shake the unpleasant dream and get back to sleep, Elspeth’s words came back to taunt her. She seemed so utterly convinced that the only thing keeping Pelham in their engagement was a sense of honor. She had quoted him as saying it would be shabby to cry off. Did that mean he wished to do so? Was Pelham only pretending to be happy about their engagement?

  She sighed and sank back into the covers. Surely no one could pretend so well, and so long. She could swear he felt some affection for her. But what did he feel for Elspeth? Perhaps nothing, as he claimed. But the very passion with which he expressed his anger toward her Suggested otherwise. People rarely wanted to wring the necks of those for whom they felt nothing.

  Eventually, sleep reclaimed her, but not before she had firmly made up her mind to dwell only on the pleasant memories of the success of her come-out ball. Any presentiments of trouble were firmly suppressed.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Davida and Monty were to be wed on the first Wednesday after the third and final crying of the banns. Their last ball as an engaged couple was to be the Raleigh ball, held on Friday at the Raleighs’ palatial country estate just an hour’s drive from London. It was to be a huge event, with everyone who was anyone being invited.

  The Raleighs liked to entertain on a grand scale, so not only the ball room, but several drawing rooms and card rooms were filled to capacity indoors. The extensive gardens had been decorated with fairy lanterns, and refreshment tents had been set up to hold the overflow, as not all could possibly fit in the dining rooms.

  As Pelham escorted Davida through the crowds, he contemplated the gardens beyond the windows with pleasure. “We must go outside after we have danced awhile. Mayhap we can find a dark path in the garden, and . . .” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and Davida felt that surge of warmth that so often overcame her around her fiancé. “Sounds delightful,” she murmured, giving him a dreamy smile.

  Her response kindled a warm glow in his cobalt eyes. “Indeed, I think we should plan to meet out there, for we are likely to be separated in this crush. As I recall, there is a large fountain at the center of the garden, with dozens of nymphs sporting in the water. If I don’t make it to your side when they begin the supper dance, have your partner bring you there. We’ll take supper in one of the tents.”

  As he predicted, they were separated in the crush after the first dance. Davida’s mother found a comfortable chair among the other chaperons, and her father retreated to the card room. A steady stream of dance partners kept Davida happily entertained, though she would have preferred to be with Monty.

  A brief meeting with Lady Elspeth caused her a few moments of uneasiness. Monty’s erstwhile fiancée stared her up and down and demanded, “Where is Lord Pelham? I am surprised you let him out of your sight, Miss Gresham. The two of you have become inseparable. Do you not fear never to find him again in this crush?”

  Davida wasn’t sure how to respond. There were several people listening, doubtless eager to turn into scandal any hint of animosity. So she just laughed and said, “We’re meeting at the central fountain in the garden for supper. I’m sure he will manage without me for that long.”

  ***

  Pelham tired of dancing and the crowds and found his way to the fountain in time to blow a cloud before supper. As he stood contemplating the drifting couples all around him, some of them exploring the quieter walkways as he meant to do soon with Davida, he heard his name called.

  He turned, irritated, for he recognized the voice. “Lady Elspeth.” He bowed formally but his stance was wary. “Surprised to see you here without an escort.”

  “I wanted to speak to you privately for a moment.”

  “I really have nothing to say to you, Elspeth, at least nothing you would take any pleasure in hearing.” He gave her a stern, hard look. “I said it all that day in my library.”

  “I want us to cry friends, Monty.” Elspeth walked out of the darkened path behind him. “Can we not at least be friends?”

  “Of course.” His expression softened. “I would like that, Elspeth.”

  “Are you enjoying the ball?”

  “These sad crushes are beginning to be just a bit tiresome, I must admit.” Pelham started to turn around to search the walkway leading from the mansion for Davida, but Elspeth stopped him with an urgent, “Wait!”

  “What is it, Elspeth?” He turned back to her reluctantly. “I must watch for Davida. She is to meet me here.”

  “I’d best leave before she arrives. Let us shake hands, Monty.” She held her hand out to him.

  ***

  Davida had danced every dance, and by the time the su
pper dance was announced, she was exhausted. She was promised to Gilbert, and when the redheaded viscount found her, she turned to him eagerly.

  “Gil, my feet feel like stumps! Do let us pass this one up. I am to join Monty in the garden at the end of it anyway.”

  “Naughty, naughty!” Gilbert’s grin was teasing rather than condemning, which didn’t for one second relieve the blushes that sprang so readily to Davida’s cheeks.

  “Beast! We’re going to get our supper in one of the tents. It’s far too stuffy in here, and too crowded as well.”

  “I’ll certainly agree to that.” He helped her maneuver through the crowds and out the massive French doors which opened onto the elaborate garden.

  “That was the simple part. Which fountain?”

  As they stood looking out over the terraced scene, they could see the tops of dozens of fountains above the lush shrubbery. “Oh, my!” Davida wracked her brain. “I think he said it was near the center, and there were nymphs . . .”

  They moved down the garden paths, peering to right and left. “Lost?” A deep voice that she recognized too well caused Davida to jump. “Or getting in practice for a true ton marriage?”

  Gilbert chose to ignore the suggestive comment. “I say, Harry. You wouldn’t know the way to the central fountain, would you? The one with all of the nymphs?”

  “Yes, but I’m not sure you should take Miss Gresham there.” Though he gave his usual emphasis to the “Miss,” there was nothing sportive about Curzon’s tone.

  “Do give over, Harry. You know good and well . . . just escorting Davida to Monty.”

  “My point exactly.” Curzon looked enigmatically at the two irritated, puzzled people before him. “Ah, well, tried to warn you. Continue along this path, then turn to the left when it crosses the next by the Apollo fountain.”