by Jo Beverley
He lapsed into silence, holding his mother’s gaze as the carriage moved swiftly along the deserted streets of Mayfair. Silverton could barely make out the expression on her face, but he could guess how surprised and dismayed she was by the unexpected reprimand. He always treated her with an affectionate respect, but now he deliberately made his voice and manner both frigid and distant to shock her into complying with his wishes.
It worked.
“Oh, of course, my son,” she fluttered anxiously. “I have all the sympathy in the world for those poor, dear girls. You can rely on me to scotch any gossip that may arise from this evening’s events. You are absolutely right. It was most unseemly of Mrs. Drummond-Burrell to make such a fuss about nothing. After all, it was a private ball, and it’s not as if the waltz has not been danced at Almack’s these last two years. It’s too ridiculous!”
“Thank you, Mother,” said Silverton, allowing some warmth to creep back into his voice. “I knew I could depend on you.”
She quickly switched the conversation to another topic. He barely listened. Silverton again felt a surge of weariness and frustration overwhelm him. He leaned back into the velvet cushions and turned the night’s events over in his head, wondering how, exactly, he was going to make everything right again—for Meredith’s sake.
Chapter Fourteen
Meredith hadn’t wanted to get out of bed this morning. In fact, she wished she could lock herself in her bedroom and not come out for a week. Her night had been miserable and restless, and she had risen late with bleary eyes and an aching head. She had just made her way to the breakfast parlor of their little townhouse in Mayfair when the imperative summons from Lady Stanton arrived.
Now she and Annabel were back in her ladyship’s dressing room, but the mood was very different from what it had been last night.
Meredith leaned her head against the window in the bay alcove, sighing as she looked out into the garden. The cool glass soothed her pounding temples. Annabel murmured gently to her grandmother, but Meredith couldn’t find the energy to pay attention to what her sister was saying. Besides, there was nothing she didn’t already know, and nothing that could be said to cast the situation in a more favorable light.
The truth was, she had made a complete fool of herself. She had embarrassed her family, exposed her feelings to a man who would never be able to reciprocate them, and jeopardized her sister’s chances on the marriage mart before they even began.
Even worse, Meredith was now sure that Annabel would have to marry Silverton, whether she wanted to or not. If the scandal was as bad as it seemed to be, it might be impossible to find a husband for her sister as quickly as they needed to. Meredith’s unthinking behavior could either precipitate Annabel’s marriage to a man she might not love or place her at further risk from Uncle Isaac.
And although Meredith could bear anything if Annabel were safe, her heart broke at the thought of Silverton as her sister’s husband.
She sighed again as she turned away from the soothing image of Lady Stanton’s rose bushes to face the questions she hardly knew how to answer. London was a foreign country to her, and she despaired of ever being able to decipher its opaque and unforgiving social codes.
And she had no idea how to explain her own actions without revealing her feelings for Silverton to his aunt. Meredith prayed that she would have the self-control to justify her behavior in some kind of rational manner. She could not and would not betray the Stanton family’s trust in her by acting like a foolish and besotted girl.
Annabel fell silent. She gave Meredith a tiny smile, much calmer now that she had unburdened herself to her grandmother.
Actually, Annabel’s response had been the biggest surprise of the entire affair. After her initial outburst in the supper room last night, the girl had reacted with much less fuss to the unpleasant events than Meredith had expected. She had slept well, and seemed at ease and even cheerful this morning, more concerned for her sister than for herself. Meredith marveled at Annabel’s newfound ability to shrug off something that only a short time ago would have devastated her.
Lady Stanton smiled at Meredith as she patted the seat of her chaise lounge in an invitation to sit next to her.
“You needn’t say anything more, my dear,” she said as Meredith sat beside her. “Your sister and Mrs. Stanton have told me everything.”
The older woman took her hand and held it in her lap. She gently stroked it, as if she were comforting a frightened child. Meredith found the soft touch infinitely soothing.
“I’m so sorry that you had to be subjected to such callous and cruel behavior.” Her ladyship’s faded blue eyes glittered with righteous outrage. “Mrs. Drummond-Burrell is an extremely haughty woman who fancies that only she knows who is socially acceptable and who is not. But as Mrs. Stanton explained to you last night, she is not universally admired, and I feel sure we can weather this little storm with a minimum of fuss.”
She glanced over at her granddaughter, who watched them intently.
“Meredith, I know you never expected to receive a voucher to Almack’s.”
“No, your ladyship. I neither expected nor wished for it. I only hope I didn’t ruin Annabel’s chances to receive one.”
Lady Stanton chuckled, and gave her hand one more pat before she let it go.
“I don’t think we need worry about that. Lady Cowper is a dear friend of mine, and she has quite a talent for smoothing over disagreements among the patronesses. I know she will want Annabel to receive a voucher. And truth be told, Mrs. Drummond-Burrell has always had a soft spot for the general. I’m certain he can be convinced to help change her mind.”
Annabel’s eyes widened in surprise, and Meredith almost laughed at the idea of General Stanton engendering softer emotions in the forbidding woman she had seen last night.
Lady Stanton shrugged her shoulders at the irony of it. “I know it sounds absurd. It is because they are both such high sticklers. She does not, of course, have the general’s kind heart.”
Despite her misery, Meredith again felt the urge to laugh, but did not dare to under Lady Stanton’s perceptive gaze.
“How will Grandpapa be able to help?” Annabel tilted her head in curiosity.
“Never mind for now. I must think on it some more, but I’m sure we can manage this unpleasant affair to our complete satisfaction. I forbid you, my dears, to waste any more time worrying about it.”
Annabel grimaced, clearly wanting to ask more questions, but evidently Lady Stanton had finished with the subject. The older woman walked over to her granddaughter and patted her cheek.
“Now give your grandmother a kiss and go down to the general in the library. He is waiting for you. I want to speak to your sister for a few minutes.”
Annabel hesitated, her brow creased with concern as she looked at Meredith.
“Go on, Annabel,” Lady Stanton ordered in a gentle voice. “Meredith will join you shortly.”
“Do go down, dearest,” urged Meredith. “There are a few things I would like to discuss with her ladyship. Everything will be fine.”
Annabel stared suspiciously at them for a moment longer and then reluctantly capitulated.
“Well, don’t be long,” she said. “You promised we could go to the millinery shop this afternoon, remember?”
Meredith smiled at the obvious warning in the young girl’s voice. Annabel adored her grandmother, but she would not allow anyone, even Lady Stanton, to distress her beloved older sister. Annabel’s loyalty was a comforting balm poured into the bruised recesses of her heart.
After the girl left the room, Lady Stanton turned her full attention to Meredith.
“Annabel loves you very much.”
“Yes, your ladyship. Her affection and loyalty mean everything to me. My life without her would be empty.”
Lady Stanton gazed at her for an endless moment, her eyes piercing Meredith with a discomforting shrewdness.
“Yes, I know,” she finally replied, sit
ting once more on her chaise.
Lady Stanton did not invite her to sit with her again. Meredith began to feel as if she were a disobedient child about to be lectured. She clearly remembered standing in her stepmother’s bedroom, waiting for a gentle but firm reprimand after committing a childish prank. Her ladyship had the same look on her face as Elizabeth Burnley had on the numerous occasions when Meredith had misbehaved.
The memory of her much loved stepmother, combined with the guilt she felt over her own behavior, overwhelmed her. Tears prickled behind her eyelids, but she forced herself to blink them back. She would not act like a child. She would accept, with good grace, any criticism, and agree to whatever actions were required to rectify her mistakes.
Lady Stanton suddenly laughed. “Meredith, please, you look like a schoolgirl who is afraid she will be sent to bed without supper. I assure you, the situation is not as dire as you think.”
Meredith stared at the older woman in surprise, but when she saw the genuine amusement on Lady Stanton’s face, the tension in her own shoulders began to ease.
“If you say so, madam.” She tried to smile in return, but knew she failed miserably.
Lady Stanton’s amusement faded as she shook her head. “It is I who owe you an apology, Meredith. It is truly not your fault. I was not there to watch over you, and, after all, this was your first appearance at a ball. There were bound to be some missteps.”
The lines on the older woman’s face became stern. “I must say, however, that I’m sadly disappointed in Lady Silverton. From what Annabel tells me, she seems to have abandoned you for the evening. I expected better from her.”
Lady Stanton’s warm eyes turned a wintry blue. They looked so like Silverton’s that Meredith felt briefly disoriented. The same expression had been on his face when he had stalked toward her in the supper room last night. At the memory of it, a tiny shiver trickled down her spine.
She remained silent. Although she could not bring herself to defend the marchioness, the woman was mother to the man she loved, and Meredith would not criticize her.
“What I really can’t understand, however,” continued Lady Stanton in a musing tone of voice, “is why Silverton asked you to waltz in the first place, since he knew the patronesses of Almack’s had not yet given their approval. I find his behavior completely inexplicable, and I intend to ask him why he did it when he arrives here this morning.”
Meredith didn’t know what she found more appalling: that Lady Stanton would ask her partner in crime why he had danced with her, or that she might have to face him so soon.
“Oh, no, my lady,” she gasped, her heart beginning a panicky tattoo, “I’m sure he simply wasn’t thinking. We were all conversing and standing about when the orchestra began to play the waltz. It was just an idle and spontaneous request. No harm was meant by it.”
Lady Stanton’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Meredith had an overpowering desire to open the window and throw herself down into the rose bushes. A few broken bones would be infinitely preferable to the mortification she felt right now.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt you, but it’s quite obvious he wasn’t thinking clearly,” retorted Lady Stanton. “I have no wish to make you uncomfortable, my dear, but I think it necessary that my nephew explain his actions to my satisfaction.”
Meredith started to protest again, then bit her tongue, willing herself to be quiet. She would only expose herself if she continued to make objections that would be ignored anyway.
“Meredith, there is no way to pose this question without distressing you, so I will just ask. Have you developed an attachment to my nephew?”
Meredith closed her eyes. She should have known she couldn’t escape Lady Stanton’s keen observation, any more than she had been able to hide childhood secrets from her stepmother. Or else, she thought bitterly, her feelings for Silverton were so obvious that it was apparent to anyone who looked closely enough.
“Lady Stanton,” she said, hating the tremor in her voice, “I hardly know how to answer such a question. Both Annabel and I owe Lord Silverton a tremendous debt of gratitude. His friendship means the world to us.”
“Yes, yes, I know all that.” Her ladyship cut her off impatiently. “You are not a child, Meredith. You know what I am asking. Have you formed an attachment to Silverton?”
If someone had put a pistol to her head, Meredith knew she still would not answer the question. She could hardly explain her chaotic feelings to herself. Besides, her foolish infatuation would never amount to anything, anyway. There was no point in discussing the situation with another soul—not Lady Stanton, not even her sister.
“My lady.” She looked the other woman directly in the eye. “Annabel and I will always be grateful for your nephew’s friendship.”
She sealed her lips, vowing silently that she would never utter another word on the subject.
As Lady Stanton continued to examine her, her brows arched slowly up. Meredith returned her gaze with an impassive expression, determined to hold on to the last few shreds of her battered pride.
Quite unexpectedly, Lady Stanton nodded, seemingly satisfied by her answer.
“Very well, my dear, I will respect your privacy. But as the nearest thing to a mother that you have in this world, I am compelled to give you a word of advice.”
“Of course, my lady,” Meredith replied as she tried not to grind her back teeth.
“As a general rule, a lady should never reveal her feelings for a man until she is able to ascertain his feelings for her. It is the safest way to guard her own heart and to protect herself from unwelcome comment.”
Although Lady Stanton looked sympathetic, Meredith wished that the imaginary person holding the pistol to her head would simply shoot her and get it over with.
“I mean this, of course, as general advice and not specifically applicable to you.”
“No, of course not,” Meredith sighed.
“Well, that is enough on that subject!” Lady Stanton exclaimed briskly. “As I said before, you are not to worry about last night. I will take care of it, and you may be sure that Annabel will come to no harm as a result.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
Meredith tried to sound appropriately grateful, but all she wanted was to flee the room as quickly as she could. If it were only possible, she would walk right out of Stanton House and keep on walking, getting as far from London and Silverton as she could.
An impatient rap sounded on the door. Her stretched nerves practically snapped at the unexpected noise.
“Enter,” said Lady Stanton, looking vaguely surprised.
The door swung open and Silverton strode into the room. He approached his aunt and executed a correct but hasty bow.
“Please forgive the interruption, Aunt Georgina,” he said in a clipped voice. “I told Tolliver I would show myself up.”
Silverton halted in his tracks when he heard the small, stifled gasp behind him. He spun on his heel, his eyes immediately capturing hers. But Meredith ducked her head and quickly looked away.
That she still refused to meet his gaze made him both immensely frustrated and determined. Enough was enough. He had let her go without a word last night, but today he would make her see that she had no reason to avoid him.
“Stephen!”
His aunt’s warning tone recalled him to his surroundings. Without realizing it, he had started to reach for Meredith. Silverton forced himself to turn back to Lady Stanton, whose features were cold with disapproval.
“Forgive me, dear Aunt, I have forgotten my manners this morning.” He bent down to kiss the hand she extended.
“Good morning, Nephew. Thank you for responding so quickly to my note. I hardly thought to see you so early.”
Silverton reflected on the imperious nature of his aunt’s summons. He had already surmised the extent of her irritation from the coldly correct tone of her missive. Now she addressed him as nephew, something she only did when she was seriously displeased. K
nowing he was in for a scolding, he only hoped that it would not take place in front of Meredith.
Not that he would blame his aunt one bit if she rang a peal over him. The recollection of his behavior at Lady Framingham’s ball had kept him awake much of the night—a good part of it in his library imbibing a generous amount of brandy in the hope that it would help him sleep. That had resulted in nothing but a dull headache. He awoke this morning feeling more restless and irritable than he could ever recall.
Silverton mustered what he hoped was an ingratiating smile; he must have failed miserably, because Lady Stanton continued to scowl at him.
“Dear ma’am, you know that I am always yours to command.”
She gave an uncharacteristic and grumpy hrumph, and glanced over at Meredith.
“Stephen, you may bid Miss Burnley good-morning,” she ordered.
He walked slowly over to Meredith, who looked ready to escape from the room at the first opportunity. When he stopped directly in front of her, she finally lifted her head. She met his gaze with a resolute and wounded dignity that wrung his heart.
“How are you this day, Miss Burnley?” He had to struggle to keep the roughness out of his voice, because the pain in her eyes made him want to break something.
“I am well. Thank you for your concern, my lord.”
Her voice was so soft and distant that he wanted to shake her and crush her in his arms all at the same time. He fleetingly touched her chin.
“I think not,” he said. “You look very pale to me.”
At the touch of his hand, her eyes slid away and fastened at a point somewhere over his shoulder.
“No indeed, sir,” she said very formally. “I am quite well.”
He dropped his hand.
“And how is Miss Annabel this morning? I hope she suffered no ill effects from the events of last evening?” The thought of Annabel and her fragile health had been one of the things keeping him awake all night.
She glanced at him, managing a small but genuine smile.