by Buck, Gayle
Chapter Six
Sir Frederick left Lady Smythe’s ball still shaking his head in amazement over how her ladyship had misinterpreted his remarks. However, the demands of the remainder of his evening engagements sufficed to put it all out of his mind. He gave no more thought to Lady Smythe’s eccentricity, nor to the peculiarities of Miss Holland’s position, until the following morning when he sustained a visit from Henry Duckwood.
It was just short of dawn when the door was opened to Mr. Duckwood by Sir Frederick’s amazed porter. Upon a demand to see Sir Frederick, the servant showed the gentleman upstairs and then went away, shaking his head.
Sir Frederick was fortunately an early riser, so he had already put off his frogged dressing gown in favor of a dark green riding coat and buff breeches when Mr. Duckwood was ushered into his chambers.
“Henry! You are just in time to join me for breakfast,” said Sir Frederick, waving his hand in the direction of the covered dishes on the sideboard. With a knowing eye, he had already assessed his friend’s condition and judged that a good meal might do wonders for Mr. Duckwood’s state of minor inebriation.
“Don’t mind if I do,” said Mr. Duckwood, setting aside his ornamented cane and helping himself generously to steak and kidneys. He was still attired in full ball dress, and his eyes showed signs of bloodshot. Otherwise, he was remarkably untouched by what had obviously been a night spent gaming.
“It’s an early hour for you, isn’t it, Henry?” asked Sir Frederick, eyeing his friend’s heaping plate and the large tankard of ale which Mr. Duckwood carried to the table.
Mr. Duckwood sat down. He replied around a mouthful of steak. “I haven’t been to bed yet, Freddy. I just popped around when I left White’s, hoping to catch you before you went riding.” He swallowed the steak, washing it down with ale. “Ah, that’s the ticket! My head was swimming a bit, you know.”
Sir Frederick regarded him with deep amusement. He watched while Mr. Duckwood made swift inroads on what was on the plate. “This isn’t like you, Henry. I never knew you to leave the cards before cockcrow.”
Mr. Duckwood shook his head. He took another swallow of ale, before saying, “Don’t I know it! And I was having a run of luck, too! But I felt compelled to come round this morning. A matter of friendship, you see. I came to warn you, Freddy.”
Sir Frederick was startled. He stared at his friend’s somber expression in liveliest astonishment. “Warn me? Of what?”
“Why, Caroline Richardson, of course. I thought and thought about it all night over the cards. I asked myself why did she let me and Peregrine go so easily?” Mr. Duckwood waggled a wise finger. “I’ll tell you why! She has lowered her sights on you, dear fellow, that’s why!”
Sir Frederick laughed. “Perhaps you’re right, Henry. In fact, I suspected as much for all of ten minutes. But I’ve got her measure, believe me! I’m not one to be cajoled and maneuvered to the altar.”
“So you say, Freddy, but I’ve seen it happen before,” said Mr. Duckwood, shaking his head. “That’s why I’ve come, to give you fair warning.” He sat back from the table, the plate in front of him showing little of its original overburdened state except for a few bits of fat.
“I shall keep it in mind,” promised Sir Frederick. He rose, picking up his riding whip and hat from where they had been laid on a chair. “I’m off to the park. Do you care to join me?”
Mr. Duckwood shook his head. A yawn caught him unawares. “I never ride in the mornings, as you know. Besides, I’m not dressed for it. I am unaccountably sleepy, to boot.”
“You’re welcome to bed down here,” said Sir Frederick hospitably. “My man will take care of you.”
“Very kind of you, Freddy. I think I will rest a few minutes on your sofa, if that is all right with you,” said Mr. Duckwood with another prodigious yawn.
Sir Frederick assured his friend that it was quite all right, and before he left the room, he had the satisfaction of seeing that Mr. Duckwood was curled up on his sofa and stentoriously snoring.
Mounted on a well-gaited hack, Sir Frederick guided his horse to the park, where he meant to have a good gallop. It was early in the day, the sun barely brushing the treetops with gold, so he was confident of meeting little traffic or other equestrians.
He was a good deal surprised, then, when he saw two other riders out so early. As they cantered toward him, he recognized the Earl of Holybrooke and Miss Holland. They were mounted on good-looking geldings and both appeared at home in the saddle.
As he came abreast of them, Sir Frederick drew up. “Good morning, my lord, Miss Holland!”
“Sir Frederick!” The chance-met riders also reined in and entered into polite conversation with him. Eventually the commonplace gave way, upon the earl’s reference to a particular function that they were attending, when Sir Frederick said courteously, “I shall hold myself honored if you will hold a dance for me, Miss Holland!”
A tinge of color rose in her lovely face. She threw a swift glance toward her brother before saying somewhat hesitantly, “I will gladly do so, Sir Frederick.”
Sir Frederick smiled and turned to Lord Holybrooke, engaging him in a discussion about horses with a casual question about his lordship’s mount. Before many minutes, Sir Frederick and Lord Holybrooke were on the best of terms. Sir Frederick asked Lord Holybrooke and Miss Holland to extend their ride and join him.
The earl and Miss Holland turned their horses to accompany Sir Frederick back into the park, Lord Holybrooke assuring him of their mutual pleasure in accompanying him.
“How do you like London?” asked Sir Frederick as an opening gambit.
Lord Holybrooke’s expression immediately became animated. His gray-blue eyes sparkled. “Oh, I like it above all things! I have been very well received, and I have done any number of things that had not previously come in my way.”
Sir Frederick encouraged the young earl to expound in this vein for a few minutes before turning to the silent lady who rode between them. “And you, Miss Holland? Is there anything of note that has struck you about London?”
“The metropolis is very large and quite noisy,” said Miss Holland in a polite voice.
Sir Frederick’s mobile brows rose, and he said sympathetically, “Yes, and it is filled with any number of personages with whom one really does not wish to converse, isn’t it?”
Miss Holland’s eyes flew to meet his understanding gaze. Her color heightened, she said with the slightest of smiles, “How did you guess, sir?”
“Oh, but I am a well-traveled diplomat. I quite understand the drawbacks of an evening spent in company when what one really wishes is to be with one’s closest family or friends,” said Sir Frederick flippantly.
“Sir Frederick has characterized you perfectly, Guin!” said Lord Holybrooke, laughing.
“Indeed he has,” said Miss Holland, also laughing. She glanced across at Sir Frederick and the previous tension that he had discerned in her expression was gone.
“I trust that I may be considered one of your friends, Miss Holland,” said Sir Frederick with a quick disarming smile. “I should not like to think that I am to be lumped together with all the rest!”
“I should like that, Sir Frederick,” said Miss Holland with a rising blush.
Sir Frederick considered that he had played the gallant enough. It was his intention to draw the young lady out of herself, not to cause her to develop a tendre for him. He casually changed the direction of the conversation into safer channels, and Lord Holybrooke quickly followed his lead.
Though Miss Holland did not converse as readily or as easily as Lord Holybrooke, she did not neglect to put in a word here and there. Her former stiff manner had vanished. She seemed quite comfortable as they rode leisurely through the park. Sir Frederick took note that she never stammered nor betrayed more than the normal hesitancy that a shy young lady might feel when engaging in conversation with a new acquaintance. His curiosity was even more piqued by this girl who possessed such a
contradictory manner.
Just then, Miss Holland turned her head to reply laughingly to something her brother had said, offering Sir Frederick an opportunity to study her. Her lovely face was lit by animation, and her deep blue eyes glowed with liveliness. She had a touch of rose in her cheeks that could not all be attributed to the sedate equestrian exercise. Miss Holland was an undoubted beauty, he acknowledged to himself. She appeared to be altogether a different young woman than the timid mouse he had met the evening before.
Sir Frederick wondered whether Lady Smythe’s notion of turning Miss Holland into the toast of the town could actually be done. From that idle thought, it was an easy step to feel the unexpressed hope that he could watch it happen.
When he actually made the decision to aid and abet Lady Smythe he could never afterward recall, but by the time he had parted company with Lord Holybrooke and Miss Holland at the gates of the park, Sir Frederick had decided he would pay a call on that redoubtable old lady.
Mr. Duckworth was gone when Sir Frederick returned to his lodgings, which was just as well because his friend would have demanded to know why he was changing his raiment to that of a Bond Street beau. However, Sir Frederick knew just what was due to an elderly lady. When he sauntered forth again he was attired with all modishness in a blue superfine frock coat, a lightly colored waistcoat and biscuit-colored pantaloons. His Hessian boots were polished to mirror-brightness and he carried an elegant cane.
It occurred to him that he would not ingratiate himself by calling too early on an elderly lady who had spent the night hostessing a ball. Sir Frederick’s facile mind instantly suggested an alternative. He changed his direction and walked around to the Richardsons’ town house.
He was fortunate enough to catch Mrs. Richardson just as she was coming out of her front door. Her carriage was waiting at the curb, and the coachman stood ready to hand Mrs. Richardson into it. With a comprehensive glance at the carriage, Sir Frederick realized that Mrs. Richardson was on her way to run some errands or to make her social calls. Otherwise she would have called for a phaeton and driven herself if she intended to tool around.
“Caroline! I am glad that I chanced to catch you before you left,” said Sir Frederick, running up the few narrow steps toward her.
Mrs. Richardson looked surprised to see him. “Freddy!” Then she took in his attire, and she blinked at his sartorial elegance. “My word, Freddy.”
Sir Frederick grinned up at her, one knee bent and his booted foot resting on the top step where she stood. With exaggerated formality, quite ruined by the amusement dancing in his eyes, he said politely, “Good morning, Caroline. May I have the favor of a few minutes or are you all in a rush?”
“No, of course not! Come back in with me,” said Mrs. Richardson. Very curious, she turned to him at once after she had led him into the sitting room. She tossed aside her silver-knotted reticule and ermine muff without a thought. “What is toward, Freddy? You’re very early today.” She glanced again at his attire, a question in her eyes.
Correctly interpreting her look, Sir Frederick said, “I am making a visit to Lady Smythe this morning.”
Mrs. Richardson at once understood. She sank gracefully down on a settee and made a civil gesture toward the chairs opposite her. “I see! Pray sit down, Freddy. Have you breakfasted? Shall I call for refreshment?”
“No, thank you. I shall not keep you many minutes when I know you are going out,” said Sir Frederick, availing himself of his hostess’s invitation to be seated and settling in a wing chair. “The thing of it is, Caroline, I’ve come to ask a favor of you.”
Mrs. Richardson’s brows rose and there was genuine interest in her green eyes. “Really! Of course I shall aid you in any way that I might, Freddy. What is it about?”
“What did you think of Miss Holland?” asked Sir Frederick baldly.
Nonplused, Mrs. Richardson stared at him. “Why, I don’t know! What should I think about her? She is a pretty thing, of course, but atrociously backward. She’ll never make a success of this Season, I fear, not when she is so desperately afraid that she might make a slip in front of that mother of hers!”
Sir Frederick nodded. “I, too, pitied her. I suspected you did as well.”
“Well, naturally I did! Anyone of sensibility could see that she is horridly browbeaten,” said Mrs. Richardson. She paused, her gaze holding mingled curiosity and speculation. “Why do you ask, Freddy?”
“I am going around to Lady Smythe’s this morning because her ladyship told me last night she intends to bring Miss Holland into fashion. Her ladyship says it will be a gratifying challenge,” said Sir Frederick in a bland voice.
Mrs. Richardson looked at him in speechless astonishment. She could only shake her head at his revelation.
Sir Frederick stood up, taking a few steps away and coming back again. With a straight look, he said, “Caroline, if her ladyship is of the same mind, I should like to help her to do just that. What do you say? Would you be willing to lend your support to such a harebrained scheme?”
“Harebrained indeed!” exclaimed Mrs. Richardson, finding her voice. “What claim does Miss Holland have on Lady Smythe? Or indeed, on any of us! What possible reason could Lady Smythe have for taking on such a thankless task? And believe me, it would be thankless where Mrs. Holland is concerned.”
Sir Frederick flashed his quick grin. “I don’t pretend to understand the workings of Lady Smythe’s mind, Caroline! As for myself, I am urged to action simply because I cordially dislike Miss Holland’s parent.”
“That alone is certainly enough,” agreed Mrs. Richardson with a distasteful grimace. “I have never met anyone quite like Mrs. Holland.” She quickly made a decision. “Very well, Freddy. If Lady Smythe is of the same mind, I shall help. But what is it exactly that you wish me to do?”
Sir Frederick frowned because his thoughts were only half-formed on this point. He had sought out Mrs. Richardson on the spur of the moment and had no very clear picture of what he actually wanted of her. Slowly, he said, “I pitied Miss Holland from the bottom of my heart, Caroline. She is an entirely different person when she is not influenced by her mother. My fear, perhaps irrational, is that Lady Smythe may indeed bring her into fashion, and then where will she be?”
“I am not certain I am following you, Freddy,” said Mrs. Richardson
Sir Frederick shook his head as his conclusions came sharper into focus. “Caroline, what will be accomplished by a social success if nothing comes of it? I should think it would only point up a starker contrast for Miss Holland between what could have been and the reality of her life when the Season is over. What she really needs is to escape the tyranny of her mother and become mistress of her own establishment.”
Mrs. Richardson broke into surprised laughter. “Freddy, are you asking me to scheme on this girl’s behalf?”
“Yes, I am. Think of it, Caroline. Here is a challenge worthy of your scope.” He flashed a grin. “Besides, if you are working on Miss Holland’s behalf, you will be too caught up in it to bother with anyone else. I shall be able to reassure poor Henry that he will escape your toils yet one more Season!”
Mrs. Richardson laughed again, her eyes dancing. “Horrid, Freddy! What if I should decide Miss Holland will be the perfect wife for Henry Duckworth? Or for you, even?”
Sir Frederick laughed and shrugged his broad shoulders. “We shall have to take our chances, of course!”
“All right, Freddy, I shall help Miss Holland make a respectable match,” said Mrs. Richardson, rising and holding out her kid-gloved hand to him. “It will be amusing, in any event.”
Sir Frederick bowed over her hand. When he straightened, he smiled at her. “Thank you, Caroline. I thought I could count on you. You are the best of friends.”
“Abominable creature! Now, do go away, for I must fly if I am to make my appointment,” said Mrs. Richardson, shooing him toward the door.
Chapter Seven
Sir Frederick left the Richardso
ns’ town house fairly well pleased. He was just a few doors away from his original destination, and he sauntered down the walkway, nodding to acquaintances as he met them.
At Lady Smythe’s residence he sent in his card and was immediately shown up to her ladyship’s private parlor. Lady Smythe reposed in style in a large stuffed chair with her feet propped up on a padded stool and her gaunt figure wrapped in several Norwich shawls.
It could not be said that Sir Frederick’s pains over his wardrobe stood him in the least stead, for her ladyship’s expression did not lighten on perceiving his handsome figure. Instead, Lady Smythe welcomed him with a somewhat acid smile. “What, pray, brings you here at such an ungodly hour, sir? I’ll have you know that I have not yet had my Bohea tea and toast.”
Without a blink, Sir Frederick said, “I would be delighted to join you in tea, my lady.”
Lady Smythe gave a short bark of derisive laughter. “Oh, aye! And no doubt you take weak tea and toast every morning.”
“Only when I have a head,” said Sir Frederick blandly and quite untruthfully.
Lady Smythe stared at him very hard. “You do not appear to be foxed, nor suffering from the effects of a late night. And I know very well you have not come to enjoy my company, for I am a tartar before noon and I always look a fright, besides. Very well, Sir Frederick! You have made me curious. You may stay.”
“Thank you, my lady,” said Sir Frederick meekly. He seated himself in a wing chair appearing completely at ease.
Lady Smythe regarded him suspiciously for a moment, but then snorted. By the time she had finished with her tea and toast, and somewhat maliciously watched Sir Frederick politely choke down some of the same, her good humor was completely restored.
Lady Smythe waved away her servants and prepared herself to be entertained. She rearranged the expensive shawls which she could reach and settled more snugly into the chair’s soft cushions. “I can now see why you are so highly regarded in diplomatic circles, Sir Frederick. There aren’t many gentlemen who would be able to stomach Bohea tea and toast,” she said in congratulatory accents.