Last Gentleman Standing

by Jane Ashford

  “You mustn’t put yourself to any trouble,” interjected Elisabeth. She felt she must put a damper on these plans before she was engulfed by the powerful personality of the duchess.

  This lady looked at her with greater interest. “So you’re old Elham’s niece,” she said. “You don’t much resemble him. Which is fortunate,” she added dryly. “The man was a clutch-fisted croaker from the time he was twenty. And no beauty.” She directed a sharp glance at Elisabeth. “So you don’t want me meddling in your affairs, eh?”

  Elisabeth felt herself blushing, and she heard a choking gasp from Belinda. “Oh, I didn’t say…I never meant,” she began, but the duchess interrupted.

  “I have a very good idea what you meant. You haven’t learned to guard your tone of voice.” Her expression softened, and she smiled winningly. “And I can understand why you might object to my somewhat toplofty offer. But I know the ton and London pretty well after thirty years, and my position is considerable.” Her eyes twinkled. “You may ask anyone. It would be a coup for you to make your debut under my sponsorship.” She looked wickedly at Elisabeth. “And I understand you know no one else.”

  Elisabeth was beginning to like the duchess, but she couldn’t let this opportunity pass. “Actually,” she answered, brushing a bit of fluff from her skirt with studied unconcern, “I have a small acquaintance. The Viscountess Larenby and her daughter have just this moment taken their leave. She was kind enough to call as soon as she returned to town.” She heard another stifled gasp from Belinda, but Elisabeth looked steadily at the duchess, sternly ordering her twitching lips not to betray her.

  “A hit,” cried the duchess, “a palpable hit. I am quite set down. But this only makes me the more determined to sponsor you, my child. I declare you’re a wit.” The laugh died, and her expression became benevolently serious. “I shan’t try to run you, Elisabeth. I hope I may call you Elisabeth? But I promise I can help, and I should like to, both for Lavinia’s sake and your own.” Her eyes lit again. “If you knew how abominably bored I’ve been these past two years,” she added, “you could not be so disobliging as to deny me a little amusement.”

  Elisabeth bowed her head. “That would be shockingly rude of me,” she replied.

  “Good. It’s settled then. I shall plan my ball.” The duchess’s wicked smile reappeared. “Now where can you have met the Wincannons, I wonder?” she mused.

  Elisabeth smiled. “They are our neighbors in the country,” she replied smoothly. “Their land adjoins Willowmere.” Her gaze met the duchess’s innocently.

  “I daresay,” responded the older woman. She gazed at Elisabeth speculatively for a moment, then turned back to Lavinia. “And now, I must go, my friend. I’m sorry to hurry off, but I’m promised to my sister for tea.”

  “Oh, dear,” answered Lavinia. “I hoped you would stay to take tea with us. Is it Alice or Arabella?” she added, evidently in reference to the sister.

  “Arabella,” was the reply. “Alice has lived in Northumberland these fifteen years, Lavinia.”

  When Lavinia had agreed that she remembered this, they said their farewells, and the duchess departed. It was indeed nearly teatime, and Ames brought in the tray just as Tony strolled into the drawing room. He’d been out all day and was full of news. Not only had he found a stout chain for Growser, he’d fallen in with some fellow canine-fanciers at the shop where he purchased it. They’d exchanged views on the various breeds of hunting dog and the best means of training them, and Tony was completely engrossed in a scheme for educating Growser in the intricacies of the chase.

  Belinda soon grew impatient with this recital. “What can it signify?” she snapped finally. “He will never be more than a mongrel, after all. I don’t see that it matters whether he is trained. But, oh, Tony, you will never guess what has happened to us today.”

  Tony’s lip curled. “You bought a new ribbon, I suppose. Or found some rubbishy novel at the circulating library.”

  Belinda’s chin went up. “No such thing. We met a duchess.” She awaited his reaction; when he said nothing, she added, “And a viscountess.”

  Tony shrugged, unimpressed. “Well, I met a man who runs prizefights,” he replied. “And you may be sure I had liefer go to one than meet some starched-up duchess.”

  Belinda sniffed. “You are such a fool, Tony. I can’t think how I came to have such a brother. Don’t you see that this could be the making of us in London society?”

  Her brother shrugged again. “I don’t care. I’m not certain I mean to go about in society as yet. Frankly, I find it a dead bore.”

  With an angry shake of her head, Belinda turned away. Tony grinned at Elisabeth. “I shall take Growser to the park tomorrow,” he told her. “There are several things I wish to try. Elkins says one may teach a dog to keep the scent with beefsteak. Do you think I might borrow some from the kitchen, Cousin Elisabeth?”

  Elisabeth laughed. “No. Under no circumstances can you borrow it. But you may tell Cook I said you could have a bit, if there is any to spare. Don’t tease her to death, mind.”

  “Oh, no,” answered Tony gratefully, showing signs of wishing to descend to the kitchens immediately.

  “Such a splendid notion,” put in Lavinia, “educating your dog. My father abrocated education for every member of the household, you know. He felt it to be absolutely vital. I remember I had a cat when I was small. A beautiful tortoiseshell. So affectionate. Well, my father would have it that she was lazy, though she was nothing of the kind, I assure you. But he held that she must be trained as a mouser. Well, at first, he was at a loss. I mean, how does one teach a cat, after all? Such indivertible animals, are they not? But at last, he hit upon a scheme. He procured two field mice, you see, and cunning little things they were, too, so tiny, and he put them…”

  Elisabeth gradually ceased to attend to her cousin’s chatter. She let out a deep sigh, leaned back on the sofa, and sipped her tea meditatively. Her final problem appeared to be solved in a manner far beyond her modest expectations. She now had two exalted acquaintances in London, one of whom threatened to overwhelm her with kind attentions, and the process of entering society seemed assured. Why then did she feel so breathlessly unsettled? She shook her head. Perhaps because it had all happened so fast, she thought. Events had begun to have a momentum of their own, and the independence her inheritance was to have brought her seemed to have vanished in a single day.

  Seven

  The following morning, as Elisabeth sat in the library puzzling over columns of figures, Ames entered the room. “Pardon me for disturbing you, Miss Elisabeth,” he said. “I know you left orders that you were not at home to visitors, but a gentleman has called who appears to be very anxious to see you. I told him you were not receiving, but he insisted upon being announced. It is…”

  Elisabeth, at the end of a long addition, had lost count once already and had had to start from the beginning, so she hardly looked up as she interrupted Ames. “Show him in, then. It is probably the draper Mr. Tilling is sending round. But tell him I am very busy and have little time today.”

  “But miss, it is not…”

  “Never mind, Ames, just send him in,” said Elisabeth impatiently.

  “But, Miss Elisabeth…”

  “Oh, piffle. I have lost it.” Elisabeth glanced up, annoyed. “I shall have to start it over again. Please, Ames, just do as I ask.”

  Ames’s expression stiffened. “Yes, miss,” he said.

  Well into the column of figures for the third time, Elisabeth heard someone enter the room. “Sit down,” she said distractedly. “I shan’t be a moment.”

  But it was several minutes before she cried, “Aha!” and looked up triumphantly from the account book to find Derek Wincannon sitting in the armchair opposite her desk and watching her with bland amusement. “You!” she exclaimed. “I thought it was the draper.”

  He laughed
. “So your butler told me. I persuaded him to let me in quietly. My mother raked me down so pitilessly that I wished to apologize to you at the first opportunity.”

  Elisabeth smiled. “Well, it was too bad of you to sit there and say nothing. You might have announced yourself.”

  “On the contrary,” he replied. “It was much more amusing to observe your struggles with your accounts.”

  “Unfeeling man. I’ve been going over and over them all morning, and though I believe I have mastered them at last, the process was extremely unpleasant. I was never fond of arithmetic, but until today, I thought I understood it, at least. Is it possible that I have spent five hundred pounds for wallpaper, do you think?”

  Mr. Wincannon laughed more heartily. “I’ve found that anything is possible in one’s accounts. Many of my friends have given up looking at them altogether.”

  Elisabeth sighed, gazing at the columns of numbers again. “I can certainly understand why. I wonder if perhaps I preferred being poor.” She looked up at him with an enchanting, mischievous smile. “I suppose not, all in all.”

  “I must say I agree,” he answered, returning her smile. “But I called this morning to apologize. You must allow me to do so.”

  “For sending your mother and sister to me? It was only what you said you would do, after all. Indeed, I am the one who should apologize. It was my fault for stupidly forgetting the incident.”

  His answering smile was a little wry. “I should have told my mother to send a note, of course. I hoped you might allow me to make amends for my misdeeds by taking you driving in the park this morning. And now that I see how you have spent the first part of your day, I insist upon it. A drive will clear out your head.”

  Elisabeth looked at him. His town dress was as elegant as his riding clothes had been the day they met in the country, but his shirt points barely reached his chin, and there was nothing of the dandy in the single fob chastely hanging on his waistcoat front. The intricate folds of his neckcloth would have sent any young sprig of fashion into agonies of jealousy, yet he wore his modish outfit with ease and no sign of vanity. Elisabeth’s first impression of him was confirmed.

  As she hesitated, he spoke again. “If you refuse, I shall have to believe that you’re angry with me for thrusting my family upon you. Am I not to be forgiven?”

  Elisabeth laughed. “How ridiculous you are. All right, then. But I must fetch my hat.”

  In a few minutes, Elisabeth was sitting beside him in his high-perch phaeton, a groom hanging on behind.

  “Your team is beautiful,” she said as they turned the corner at the end of her street. “I have never seen bays so perfectly matched.”

  “Thank you. I bred them myself at Charendon. I’m quite proud of their form.”

  “Oh, you’re a sportsman. My cousin Tony will be eager to meet you.”

  He smiled down at her. “My mother says that you have two cousins living with you. Tony must be the one with the large dog, I collect?”

  “Yes. But your mother should have said three cousins. She didn’t meet Cousin Lavinia.”

  “You seem well supplied.”

  “I am indeed,” replied Elisabeth feelingly. “And they have turned out to be much more than I bargained for, I promise you. Only yesterday, I discovered that my cousin Lavinia boasts an old friend who is a duchess. I was never more surprised in my life.” She caught herself. “Oh, dear, my tongue is beginning to run away with me again. What is it about you that makes me talk nonsense?”

  “Do you call it nonsense?”

  “I do indeed. I still blush to recall the excessively foolish things I told you when we first met. How idiotish you must have thought me.”

  “On the contrary. I thought you one of that exceedingly rare breed, a sensible woman. I have no patience with milk-and-water misses; they’re not worth speaking to, though they litter our drawing rooms today.”

  A gurgle of laughter escaped Elisabeth. “Litter? What an expression.”

  “There. That is exactly what I mean. Now, let us have no more apologies. Which duchess?”

  Elisabeth eyed him narrowly, half inclined to take exception to his high-handed manners, but the humor of the situation overcame her. “The Duchess of Sherbourne,” she answered. “A charming lady, but a bit overpowering.”

  He nodded. “So I have heard. I don’t know her well.” They had by now reached the park and turned down an avenue within it. Elisabeth fell silent as she gazed at the crowds and was surprised to hear her own name called.

  Mr. Wincannon pulled up near the edge of the roadway, and Elisabeth saw that Belinda and Amelia Wincannon were walking toward them.

  “Oh, Cousin Elisabeth,” said Belinda, “Amelia has asked if I may return with her to luncheon. You do not object, do you?”

  “Not at all,” replied Elisabeth.

  “I shall have her sent home in the carriage,” Amelia assured her, and Elisabeth nodded again.

  “The girls appear to have struck up a friendship,” Derek said to Elisabeth, as they continued their drive.

  “Yes, I’m pleased to see it. Belinda needs a friend who shares her interests.”

  “Is Belinda then as much of a widgeon as my sister Amelia?”

  “What a shocking thing to say about your own sister.”

  He shrugged. “I find bores difficult to tolerate. It’s one of my besetting sins, I admit. And my sister is one of the most boring girls I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. Talk of milk-and-water misses! Indeed, I am always hard put to explain it. The rest of my family is quite needle-witted.”

  “You include yourself, I suppose?”

  “Well, of course. What a silly question.”

  “I beg your pardon,” answered Elisabeth rather haughtily.

  “Now, don’t fly up into the boughs. If your cousin is not a widgeon, I apologize most sincerely.”

  “It’s not that. I mean, of course she isn’t. Belinda is not precisely needle-witted perhaps, but…”

  He laughed. “Admit that you hate being bored as much as I.”

  Elisabeth sat back in the seat and crossed her arms. “I don’t know that I shall admit anything to you. Has no one ever told you that you have very odd manners? I quake to think what outrageous thing you might say of me if you were to become bored. And to complete strangers, too.”

  “No fear of that. I cannot conceive finding you the least boring.”

  A little nonplussed by this unexpected compliment, Elisabeth glanced at her companion. “It’s no use trying to turn me up sweet now,” she told him. “You’ve shown too much of your true self. I shall be on my guard.”

  Wincannon only smiled.

  After half an hour, they turned back. As he helped her down from the phaeton, Derek said, “I shall see you at my mother’s evening party on Friday, I hope?”

  “Oh, yes. Belinda is wildly excited. It is our first outing in London.”

  He bowed. “I shall look forward to it.”

  Was it possible, Elisabeth wondered as she went into the house, that she had acquired an admirer? Mr. Wincannon had been very attentive, and something in his manner had suggested that he found her attractive. As she thought it over, Elisabeth realized that the possibility unsettled her. After so many years of considering herself on the shelf, she hardly knew how to include the idea of an admirer in her life. In her bedroom, removing her hat, she frowned at herself in the mirror. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she told her reflection severely. “One ride in the park doesn’t mean the man is smitten. You’re acting like a green girl.” She shook her head to banish the thought and went downstairs to luncheon.

  Later that day, as Elisabeth and Belinda sat in the drawing room discussing what Belinda was to wear to the Wincannons’ party the following evening, Ames stepped in and handed Elisabeth two calling cards. “The gentlemen are waiting in the library,” he said.


  Elisabeth looked down at the cards. She thought ruefully of her desperate wish of a week past that they had some friends in London. It seemed to have been granted with a vengeance. “The Duke of Sherbourne,” she read, “and Lord James Darnell.”

  Belinda had risen from her seat and was looking over her shoulder at the cards. “The duchess has sent her son,” she said wonderingly. “How splendid.”

  Elisabeth turned back to Ames. “Ask the gentlemen to come up,” she said resignedly.

  The duke was a small man. His hair and eyes were brown, his skin dull, and his dress, though fashionable, nondescript. In fact, thought Elisabeth to herself with guilty amusement, he was just the sort of man that one would never take for a duke.

  His companion, Lord James Darnell, was more striking—tall and very fair, with hair about the color of Belinda’s and blue eyes. His slenderness gave him a very elegant appearance, which was accentuated by a touch of the dandy in his dress.

  “Good afternoon,” said Elisabeth. “I am Elisabeth Elham, and this is my cousin, Belinda Brinmore. Please sit down.”

  “Thank you,” replied the duke with an embarrassed cough. “Must apologize for calling without a proper introduction. M’mother sent me over, you know. Tried to tell her it wasn’t the thing to call on females one has never met, but she wouldn’t listen.” He paused, his flush deepening. “I don’t mean to say I’m not very pleased to call. But you don’t know me, you know. No wish to push in. That is, m’mother insisted, you know.” He stopped miserably.

  Elisabeth, who had a very good idea of what he had been through with the duchess, took pity on him and smiled. “Indeed, it was excessively kind of you to call,” she said. “Please come in and sit down.”

  The duke bowed awkwardly, and Elisabeth’s pity increased. She imagined that this poor young man was dominated by his formidable mother.

  The duke started toward the sofa where she sat, but Lord Darnell slipped ahead of him. “I shall sit here,” he said. “Go on over there, John.” And he sat down beside Elisabeth, leaving the duke to join Belinda on the other sofa. When they were settled, Lord James turned to Elisabeth. “I have got it right, haven’t I? You are the heiress?”