Cupid's Choice: She's a shy beauty in distress. He's a chivalric gentleman.

by Buck, Gayle

  Sir Frederick wondered what he had gotten himself into, concluding that if Miss Holland meant to discourage him, or any other gentleman, for that matter, she was going about it just right. It was no wonder she did not have any names on her dance card, which could perhaps explain in part her mother’s open irritation.

  However, he was not one to give up on even a lost cause. When the music brought them together the next time, he remarked, “You are supposed to at least pretend to enjoy my company, Miss Holland.”

  At that, her eyes flew up to meet his smiling gaze. A painful flush leaped into her pale face. “I-I am so sorry! Pray forgive me!”

  “I shan’t eat you, ma’am,” said Sir Frederick with a slight grin. He had the satisfaction of seeing her acute embarrassment change to an expression of confusion as the dance once more separated them.

  When they came together again, he said, “You need not be afraid of offending me, Miss Holland. I have a very thick skin. I should like to think it comes from running in diplomatic circles, but honesty compels me to admit that I am simply too obtuse to recognize an insult.”

  He was rewarded with the smallest of smiles, one that brought a sparkle into Miss Holland’s extraordinary eyes. Sir Frederick considered it to be quite an improvement. He did not know how old she was, but if he was any judge of the matter, she could scarcely be out of the schoolroom. Miss Holland’s ill-ease testified of her youth, as did the simple gown she wore. Her dress was dusky blue, and the modest neckline boasted only a touch of white lace. A gold chain and locket around her slender neck were her only ornaments.

  “I shouldn’t think a diplomat could be at all stupid,” said Miss Holland in a soft hesitant voice. She glanced up at him, a half-scared, half-speculative expression in her eyes.

  Sir Frederick was satisfied. He had at last cracked through whatever was imprisoning the young woman’s spirit. “Ah, but you would be surprised, Miss Holland,” he said lightly. Thereafter he addressed such remarks as were calculated to put a very self-conscious miss at ease. By the time the country-dance came to an end, Miss Holland behaved almost as naturally as any other young lady in the ballroom. She had lost her woodenness and all of her movements were gracefully executed.

  “Would you like to go to the refreshment room for an ice or shall I escort you back to your mother?” asked Sir Frederick. Instantly he regretted the question, for all animation fled from Miss Holland’s face.

  Her eyes cast down, she murmured, “Oh, I must return at once to Mama.”

  “Of course,” said Sir Frederick politely. He walked as slowly as he dared, speaking pleasantly on this and that. Once or twice, Miss Holland’s eyes rose to his face but just as quickly sank again. Her small gloved hand lay limply on his arm, and she did not remark at all on anything that he said. Sir Frederick noted that though she gave little indication of enjoying his conversation, she did not seem averse to remaining in his company, for her pace was just as lagging as his own.

  When at last they returned, it was to find Mrs. Holland’s cushioned chair vacant and only the earl waiting for them. His lordship looked keenly at his sister’s apprehensive face. With a wonderfully casual air, he said, “Mama is enjoying a mild flirtation with an old beau. I assured her that I would look after you, Guin.”

  Miss Holland’s countenance lightened at once. “Thank you, Percy.” She turned to Sir Frederick and demurely held out her hand. Her eyes met his steadily, though with a hint of timidity in their depths. “And thank you, Sir Frederick. I have never enjoyed a dance more.”

  Sir Frederick was astonished. Miss Holland spoke with perfect sincerity and without even the hint of a stammer. He took her hand for a short moment, studying her beautiful countenance. She was an enigma to him and therefore of interest. “The pleasure was mine, Miss Holland. I shall look forward to our next meeting.”

  A blush stole into Miss Holland’s face, and a shy smile touched her naturally pink cupid’s bow lips. The thought flitted into Sir Frederick’s mind that Miss Holland had a very kissable mouth. He was startled. What maggot had got into his brain that such an extraordinary thing should leap to life about this insignificant little creature?

  His expression showing nothing of what was passing through his mind, Sir Frederick bowed to the lady. He said a polite word or two to the young Earl of Holybrooke and sauntered away. He did not see how Miss Holland’s eyes rose to follow him, the glow of gratitude in their brilliant blue depths.

  Sir Frederick danced several more times, accomplishing his duty with graceful ease. When at last he was satisfied that he had fulfilled his obligation as a dutiful guest, he sought out Mrs. Richardson. He had a small score to pay off, he thought with a hint of mischief in his grin.

  He found the lady standing beside a well-breeched gentleman, whom Sir Frederick nodded to with a casual air. “Hello, Richard, old fellow. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Oh, did Caroline tell you that I was off on a medical call? Fortunately, it was a small matter, so I was able to come and lend support to my wife after all,” said Richard Richardson cheerfully, exchanging a hearty handshake with Sir Frederick. He wore his ball dress with careless ease, as though he set no great store by his appearance. Indeed, the gentleman’s time was taken up with many more important things than fashion. His glance was keen and assessing as he looked at Sir Frederick. “We don’t see enough of you, Freddy.”

  “I fear that if your wife has her way, you’ll see me at the altar,” said Sir Frederick suavely, sliding a glance at Mrs. Richardson.

  Mrs. Richardson was not at all put out of countenance by his pointed reference, as he had hoped. She laughed, her eyes alight with adoration as she glanced up at her husband. “You know how firmly I believe that every gentleman deserves to be wed to a good woman, Richard.”

  “It was certainly true in my case,” said Richard Richardson, returning her smile in full measure. He covered her hand, which lay possessively on his arm. However, curiosity had entered his gray eyes. “But what’s this? Have you decided on someone for Freddy, my love?”

  Mrs. Richardson shook her head with a small laugh. “No, I haven’t. I merely asked Freddy to be kind to the poor Holland girl. I told you about her, Richard. Freddy very dutifully stood up with her. Isn’t Mrs. Holland frightful toward her, Freddy?”

  “I rather thought so,” said Sir Frederick, nodding. “If I am not mistaken in the matter, Miss Holland has a lively dread of incurring her mother’s displeasure. That’s the cause of that awful stammer.”

  “Do you think so?” asked Mrs. Richardson, interested. She wondered how he had come to that conclusion. She smiled warmly at Sir Frederick. “However, I feel positive you were able to charm her.”

  “Whom, my dear? Mrs. Holland or Miss Holland?” asked Richard Richardson mildly.

  “Both, of course,” replied Mrs. Richardson promptly. “Freddy is the consummate diplomat.”

  Sir Frederick and Richard Richardson laughed, while Mrs. Richardson twinkled up at them, an attractive smile curving her full lips.

  “I fear my powers are vastly overrated,” said Sir Frederick. “Actually, I came over hoping you could point me in the direction of Lady Smythe, Caroline.”

  “Freddy! You’re not leaving now! Not before supper!” exclaimed Mrs. Richardson in dismay, almost dropping her fan. “Why, I made sure that—” She recovered herself quickly at the expression of polite inquiry on Sir Frederick’s face. “Well, it is your own business, after all.” She held out her hand to him in civil leave-taking.

  “Why, thank you, Caroline,” murmured Sir Frederick, taking her hand and saluting her with a flourishing kiss. “And I promise to be more accommodating the next time you wish to set me up to dance with Miss Holland or some other colorless girl!”

  Richard Richardson cracked a delighted laugh, while Mrs. Richardson had the grace to appear slightly ashamed. Nevertheless, the quiver of a dimple touched her smooth cheek. “I shall hold you to that promise, Freddy,” she said lightly. She gestured wi
th her fan. “I do believe I last saw Lady Smythe over near the west windows.”

  Sir Frederick excused himself in a casual fashion and went in search of his formidable hostess. He found her soon enough, just turning away from some of her other guests. Lady Smythe was a tall, spare woman. She carried herself with all the assurance of one who had always possessed wealth and breeding. An elegant dresser and an outstanding hostess, her ladyship had ruled her social bailiwick for decades.

  When the elderly dame’s gaze lighted on Sir Frederick, her expression became one of gracious welcome. She held out a blue-veined hand, diamonds flashing in the candlelight. “Sir Frederick! I am glad to see you. In fact, I am always glad to see you. You know how to pay court so handsomely to an old woman!”

  Sir Frederick made a deep bow, one hand clasping hers while the other well-shaped member was pressed over his heart. “My dearest lady, I perceive you are in fine trim.” As he straightened, he cast an awed glance upward at the lady’s elaborate headdress, which consisted of several blond ostrich plumes and a purple turban encrusted with emeralds and diamonds.

  Lady Smythe complacently twitched her fine Norwich silk shawl so that it draped more fluidly over her elbows. “Fine feathers for an old woman, you mean!”

  “I would never say anything so deplorably gauche,” said Sir Frederick promptly.

  Lady Smythe chuckled, her shrewd blue eyes twinkling. “Never mind! We’ll not split hairs! Have you come to tell me that you have another engagement to make an appearance at?”

  “Alas, it is true. Otherwise I would not be able to tear myself away,” said Sir Frederick in a mournful voice, taking the hand which she had again held out to him and raising it to his lips.

  “Ah, if I were but twenty years younger! I’d snatch you up, dear boy,” said Lady Smythe, totally disregarding that her arithmetic was off by at least two decades. She gave him a curious look, then dug the folded point of her fan into his chest. “Stay a moment, Sir Frederick. I saw that Caroline Richardson had you in tow earlier. Has she made you her latest project?”

  “Indeed, I hope not, ma’am,” said Sir Frederick fervently. His hostess chuckled wickedly. He responded with a smile. “Actually, I do not believe so, though she did introduce me to a young lady that has not come in my way before.”

  Lady Smythe nodded, causing her plumes to wave majestically to and fro. “The Holland chit. The only reason I invited them was because the boy has gotten the earldom. Lord Holybrooke is well enough. His sister is a nonentity, of course, but what can one expect with such a one for a mother?”

  “Tell me about the Hollands,” said Sir Frederick. He felt a mild curiosity to establish what lay behind Miss Holland’s extraordinary turnabout in manner. It had been like night and day. He had been trained to seek out the cause of mystery, and his interest was borne purely of habit.

  Lady Smythe glanced at him rather sharply. “What maygame are you getting up to, Sir Frederick?”

  “Why, none at all,” said Sir Frederick, shaking his head and smiling. “I just wondered about the family. I had heard, of course, of the scandal attached to the ascension.”

  “Scandal seems to follow the Hollands,” said Lady Smythe, amused, before shrugging her indifference regarding his query. “Very well! It is quickly told, after all. Mrs. Holland was a Caldar, one of our families of the minor nobility. There is a brother who went into the army. From all accounts he was content with his lot and has done very well. He did not come tonight. I have heard that Colonel Caldar is the bear leader of his nephew until the boy gets his feet under him. He sounds to be a sensible gentleman.”

  “What about Mrs. Holland and her daughter?” asked Sir Frederick casually, twirling his quizzing glass between his fingers.

  Lady Smythe shrugged again. “Oh, as for Aurelia Caldar, the present Mrs. Holland, I recall when she had her come-out. She was a diamond of the first water. She had no portion to speak of, of course, but it was nonetheless expected that she would make quite a respectable match simply because she was so very beautiful.”

  “Mrs. Holland is still a beautiful woman,” remarked Sir Frederick, as an unbidden image came into his mind of the lady’s ample charms.

  Lady Smythe snorted derisively. “No doubt, as much good as it ever did her! Aurelia Caldar had high aspirations and made it pretty well-known that she looked for a brilliant marriage. She was a vain, beautiful, spoiled girl and, as I have observed this evening, the years have not improved her.”

  “So I infer that she held out for a title. It seems odd that she did not receive at least one acceptable offer,” said Sir Frederick idly.

  “Oh, there were offers! But none of them came up to Aurelia Caldar’s expectations, and she refused them all, and in such a public fashion that everyone felt quite sorry for her suitors. She became something of a byword as a result,” said Lady Smythe. “At the end of the Season, the beauteous and tiresome Aurelia Caldar had the ignoble experience of returning to her birthplace without becoming betrothed.”

  “How did she meet Holland, then?” asked Sir Frederick. “And why did she choose a younger son if she was so set on a title?”

  Lady Smythe smiled, a trifle grimly. “The outcome of a bad progress, I fear. Her second Season was quite uncomfortable for her. She had already spurned the most eligible gentlemen, quite out of hand, and the rest wanted little to do with her. Imagine what she must have felt when she was left, function after function, with scarcely a name to her dance card when others possessing only a tenth of her physical charms were solicited to stand up.”

  Sir Frederick whistled soundlessly, fully cognizant of the ramifications. Most gentlemen were civil enough to stand up even with the plainest or most boring of ladies. His standing up with Miss Holland was but an example. A beauty such as Mrs. Holland must have been in her prime should have been besieged by partners every time she stepped into a ballroom. “She did make of herself a byword, didn’t she?”

  “Quite!” agreed Lady Smythe dryly.

  “How is it, then, that Holland fell into her toils? Surely he was as disenchanted as the rest?” asked Sir Frederick. He was fascinated now by the history that Lady Smythe was recounting simply because it was so fantastic.

  Lady Smythe shook her head. The huge diamond earrings in her ears threw fire. “Robert Holland had not been up the previous Season, you see, having broken his collarbone in a carriage accident. When he returned to town, Holland became utterly smitten with Aurelia Caldar, and she, no doubt because she saw few other worthy possibilities by that time, shamelessly encouraged him. The upshot of it all was that she managed to snare the youngest son of the Earl of Holybrooke and eloped with him. There was a hideous scandal, naturally.”

  “I can well imagine,” said Sir Frederick emphatically, his mind boggling at the thought of what it had meant to the young couple socially. “I don’t see how they dared show their faces in London afterward.”

  Lady Smythe’s smile was thin. “They didn’t. By all accounts, the Hollands found themselves exiled to a minor holding outside a quiet hamlet.” She waved her fan to and fro, looking over the top of it at Sir Frederick. “But this is all ancient history and matters little now. What is your interest in the Hollands, Sir Frederick? Have you a personal stake, perhaps?”

  Sir Frederick glanced swiftly at her ladyship’s shrewd expression. “None at all, my lady. I was merely curious. I met Mrs. Holland for the first time this evening, as well as her children. I was instantly struck by Mrs. Holland’s manner toward her daughter. It seemed to me—” He paused, a frown creasing his well-formed dark brows. “You will think it odd of me, Lady Smythe, but I came to genuinely pity Miss Holland in the few minutes I was in her company.”

  Lady Smythe nodded. “I understand completely, Sir Frederick. It is a pity, of course. I expect the girl will languish through the Season and at the end sink out of sight, no doubt to become one of those faded female relations who are afraid to open their mouths for fear of offending the ones who keep them.”
/>   Sir Frederick’s frown deepened with his reflections. “And yet there was something about Miss Holland—”

  Lady Smythe laughed. Over the top of her languidly waving fan, her eyes showed tolerant amusement. “Never say you have been smitten, sir!”

  “Not that,” said Sir Frederick with a swift smile. “At least, not in the sense you mean. I was struck by the difference in her expression, her whole demeanor, when she was not beside her mother. It was like a sleepwalker had opened her eyes, just for an instant, and recognized her surroundings.”

  Lady Smythe stared at him, her fan stilled. “My word, Sir Frederick. You have made Miss Holland sound as though she is a Sleeping Beauty.”

  “Perhaps she is just that,” said Sir Frederick slowly, turning it over in his mind. “Perhaps, if given the opportunity, Miss Holland would surprise us all.”

  Lady Smythe’s eyes took on a speculative gleam as he had spoken. “You think the nonentity could be turned into the toast of the town? Despite the handicap of that woman for a mother? And that I could do it?”

  Sir Frederick was startled. He looked at her ladyship, his brows quirking upward with his surprise. “You, ma’am?”

  “Why ever else would you gabble on about it to me?” asked Lady Smythe reasonably. She closed her fan with a decisive snap. “I have always delighted in a challenge, Sir Frederick. Ah, I had resigned myself to a Season as dull as any other, and now I perceive how it could be quite otherwise! We shall have to disengage the girl from her mother, of course, to test your theory properly, Sir Frederick.”

  “But my lady—!” exclaimed Sir Frederick, astounded at the way his reflections had been taken up and stretched out of all shape.

  Lady Smythe tapped her fan against his forearm. “Leave it to me, Sir Frederick. I know how to get around a woman like Aurelia Caldar. An appeal to her vanity will do quite nicely, I should think. And then we shall see whether this Sleeping Beauty of yours has the stuff to become the toast of the town.” She swept away, leaving Sir Frederick to look after her with a good deal of astounded consternation.