The spinster and the wastrel

by Louise Bergin

  She managed a tolerably cool greeting. "Good evening, sir."

  He bowed. "Good evening, Miss Courtney. I hope you saved a dance for me."

  "I have promised so many," she replied with honest regret.

  "All?"

  When she looked up into his brown eyes, she knew more than anything, she wanted to dance one set with this London society man. "There is still the supper dance."

  "Excellent! I not only have the chance to dance with you, I may take you to supper."

  A thrill sparkled through her at the prospect. The fact that he greeted it with pleasure only deepened her anticipation.

  The musicians struck a warning chord, announcing the start of the next dance. Annette's partner, the widower Mr. Deschamps, approached, and Sir Gerard started to turn away.

  Afterwards, Annette did not know how she came to be so daring as to stop the baronet with the request, "Please, wait."

  Sir Gerard halted. "Yes?"

  Annette swallowed and then spoke in a rush, almost slurring her words together. "My companion, Mrs. Lucille Downes, she does not have a partner for this dance."

  At his surprised look, heated mortification flushed her cheeks and spread through her. Then she remembered how eagerly Lucille had looked forward to this night. Her friend had never anticipated being a wallflower, and now her expected pleasure had been disappointed. Previous hints to other partners had not worked, so Annette had made her request plain.

  "You want me to dance with her?"

  Annette heard surprise in his voice, though not an instant refusal. "Lucille is not usually a wallflower. She can be so charming and witty that usually partners cluster around her."

  Sir Gerard held up his hand as if to halt the flow of words. "You have already convinced me, Miss Courtney. I will do as you ask."

  There was no more time to speak. Her partner stood by, an eager expression on his face, and his arm extended to lead her onto the floor. As she went, Annette noticed Sir Gerard bowing before Lucille, and then her friend's face lightening with pleasure.

  The dance was a vigorous reel. As she swung around, Annette was able to catch glimpses of the other couple. Once she heard Lucille's giggle above the music. Laughter was as much her friend's partner as the baronet.

  Annette noticed Sir Gerard, too, seemed to take pleasure in the dance. He smiled and paid attention to his partner's remarks. One of his sallies earned him a light tap of reproof from Lucille's fan. His answering smile showed it did not appear to bother him. Even from across the dance floor, Annette could tell that Lucille did not mean it.

  A warm glow spread within Annette that had nothing to do with the vigorousness of the dance. For her friend's sake, she was glad she had been so bold.

  When the dance ended with a flourish of music, Annette realized she had paid more attention to Sir Gerard and Lucille than to her own partner. To make amends, the smile she bestowed on Mr. Deschamps was warmer than she intended. He responded with a squeeze of her hand. She remembered he had one wife in the graveyard and four lively children. As much as she wanted a family, his was not the one she desired.

  The eager approach of her next partner saved her. Since he was a married man, he wanted to talk about money to improve his lands. The topic interested Annette because she knew how cruelly the cold winter and rise in prices were hurting the people of the area. Still, she could not linger with him. The next dance set and partner awaited.

  And so it went throughout the evening. A brief partnering and then a switch. She almost became dizzy with the pace of it. She noticed that after the initial dance with the baronet, Lucille snagged several more partners and her friend's face now wore its typical happy expression.

  Annette also managed to keep track of Sir Gerard. After dancing with Lucille, he partnered several other ladies, both married and single. However, he never danced more than once with any of them. Nor did he head for the card room and the betting games going on within there.

  As her feet flew in the steps of the cotillions and polkas, she puzzled over the baronet's behavior. The story of his wastrel reputation was well entrenched, but he did not act in any such manner.

  She had not satisfactorily resolved the problem by the time the supper dance arrived. Like all her previous part-

  ners, Sir Gerard appeared promptly at her side to claim his turn with her. "I believe this is our dance, Miss Courtney."

  The breathlessness Annette felt had nothing to do with the amount of unaccustomed dancing she had done. Still, she managed to respond, "Indeed it is, sir."

  Maybe it was the London tailoring that made him appear so elegant. Maybe it was the way the candlelight shadowed and illuminated the planes of his face. Maybe it was the smile that curved his lips that made her heart race faster. There was no time to study the phenomenon.

  When Sir Gerard extended his arm to escort her to the floor, she lightly placed her hand upon it. She was proud to be his partner. After all, he was a London gentleman, and a very elegant one at that. He knew the steps and guided her confidently but vigorously without breathing heavily. Once again, the discrepancy between his card-playing reputation and what she observed disturbed her.

  The dance moved too fast for her to gather her thoughts. The bits and pieces she knew about him whirled around with the same intensity as the reel she danced. Conversation was not possible as they switched partners in the set. Still, every time she glanced at him, he had a smile ready to bestow on her. The charm she had seen him use on his previous partners, he now lavished upon her twofold. Her feet flew beneath her skirts in the lively pattern of the reel, but her heart flew even faster.

  When the musicians struck the final notes of the reel, Annette panted to get her breath back. Sir Gerard looked as alert and elegant as ever. His starched cravat appeared in no danger of wilting. It was a talent surely cultivated by attending years of London parties.

  Annette plied her fan with more vigor than grace in an effort to cool herself. "Thank you for the dance."

  "You are a most pleasant partner. I find I am enjoying this Assembly far more than I expected." He offered his arm to lead her to the supper table.

  To avoid being distracted by the strength beneath her hand, she attempted to take him to task for his words. "You feared we were not as sophisticated as your London parties?"

  "You are not." Before she could bristle at the implied affront, he continued, "I think that is part of the attraction. One can have fun without worrying about one's place."

  "But surely, sir, you know we are all studying the new baronet in our midst so we can learn about London's ways and fashions."

  He laughed, and she was surprised at how flirtatious she felt. "I am far from being an arbitrator of society," he told her.

  "But here in Upper Brampton you are."

  Curious, he glanced at her. "Are you trying to convince me to stay, Miss Courtney?"

  The thought had not entered her mind, but now that he expressed it, she found she would be disappointed when he left. Not daring to speak such a thought, she plied her fan again. "Do you intend to stay?"

  A tense look crossed his face that she had no chance to study. He drew her attention to the array of food spread before them. Oranges from the hothouse stacked like pyramids lay between the plates of sliced ham and sweetmeat balls. Tender rolls of bread were piled on the serving platters. Sliced pineapple surrounded flaky lobster tarts.

  Impressed, Sir Gerard eyed the delicacies. "Miss Courtney, if this is a sample of how the people in Upper Brampton frolic, I will be very tempted to stay."

  She laughed at his reply, yet she wondered at the mo-

  mentary strained expression she had spotted when she had mentioned his returning to London.

  Displaying another one of the talents he must have learned during his London rounds, Sir Gerard lead her to a small table where only the two of them could sit.

  Once they were seated, Sir Gerard asked her, "Are you planning a trip to London soon?"

  She shook her h
ead. "No. My school will keep me busy."

  "I would think a chance to shine in London would be a greater attraction than a village school."

  "The school has been a dream of mine for years. London has not."

  "I fear I must disbelieve that," he protested. "Every young girl must dream of making a shining debut in London."

  Shrugging, Annette picked up a roll and buttered it. "Perhaps, if I had had a debut as a young girl, I would think differently." At the interest she saw on his face, she continued, "My father was the vicar here before the Reverend Brown. My mother was not very strong, so I discharged many of the duties regarding the poor in the parish."

  "Including weaning money from my uncle."

  She glanced cautiously at him, but the ghost of a smile curving his lips made her smile in response. "Most definitely including getting money from Sir Nigel. There is great need around here, especially with the rise in prices and the harsh winter." She shivered at the memory of the drafts in her own home. Disregarding the tempting food before her, she leaned towards him to convince him of her sincerity. "I know I have the fortune, and I can use it to ed-

  ucate the children. It will help them in the future, but you must take care of the estate's needs now."

  He stiffened, and she recognized the wary look on his face. It reminded her of his uncle whenever she met him.

  "Where do you think the money for the estate will come from?" he asked.

  Puzzled, she blinked at him. "Why, from your own funds I would expect. And the estate will continue to produce an income."

  "You already have this quarter's rents," he reminded her.

  "Yes, but the end of March is only two months away."

  His fork pushed a piece of ham around the rim of his plate. "If the need is so great, perhaps you should return my inheritance to me now, or even a portion of it, instead of forcing me to wait the two months."

  Disappointed, she sank back against her chair. "I am not forcing you to wait for anything. It is the people under your care whom I am concerned about."

  He stabbed at a piece of ham with his fork. "You have a big heart for everyone in need, don't you, Miss Courtney?"

  "I try to," she replied.

  "Perhaps I need the money more than they do." His brown eyes looked straight into hers. For an instant, she almost believed she saw desperation in their depths.

  Then she gave herself a little shake, breaking the momentary bond between them. He certainly had the skill to charm her into believing what he wanted. Yet he acted like a miser, just like his uncle, unwilling to spend a shilling on those in desperate need. Obviously he had money. She had only to look at his elegant, and very stylish, coat, and the gold watch chain dangling from his waistcoat pocket. A

  signet ring adorned one finger. Back in his stables, she remembered, waited that magnificent gray stallion she had seen him riding. If she gave him the fortune, she doubted he would spend it as wisely as she would.

  She laughed lightly. "If you were truly in need, perhaps I would help you."

  The beginning bars of a dance melody sounded as the musicians reminded the company the supper was over. An immediate bustle filled the room as people pushed back their chairs.

  "I will hold you to that." Sir Gerard stood and prepared to escort her back to the ballroom floor. Her time with him was over. Pasting a smile on her face, she joined him.

  Soon the dance whirl caught her in its grip again. Somehow, even as she danced and laughed with her partners, she could not forget that glimpse of desperation she thought she had read in Sir Gerard's eyes.

  Her gaze kept straying to the baronet. Sir Gerard was not a man who should appeal to her, yet she could not ignore him. Too frivolous claimed his reputation, but it occurred to her that all stories she had heard about him came from Sir Nigel. She spotted him looking at her and glanced away quickly. Soon though, she looked at him again.

  She noticed the baronet had not disappeared into the card room throughout the entire evening. Certainly a man given to a life of dissipation could not so completely ignore the temptation. The contrast disturbed her because she was unable to pigeonhole him. Therefore, neither could she forget him.

  For his part, Sir Gerard kept eyeing the spinster. Although he partnered other matrons and young girls, it was the annoying Miss Courtney who held his attention. She

  was so eager to do good according to her ideas that she overlooked his need.

  When he made a trip to the punch bowl to fortify himself to continue with his social duty, he met his friend Linton.

  "There you are!" he hailed Sir Gerard with a toast of his glass. "You must try this punch. These locals know how to make it."

  The glazing of the other man's eyes hinted at the punch's potency, but its strength still surprised Sir Gerard. This arrack recipe plainly called for more than the usual amount of brandy along with its spices. The vintage was a good one, probably smuggled from France. He had discovered another reason for the popularity of the Upper Brampton Assemblies.

  Sir Gerard felt the punch warm him as it slid down his throat. "This is good," he agreed. "Are you doing much dancing?"

  "Some," Linton admitted. "I am trying to spot the dowered lasses."

  "Don't be too obvious about it, or you will be labeled a fortune hunter."

  Linton shrugged. "That's what I am—and you are, too."

  A spurt of anger flashed through Sir Gerard. "Not by choice!"

  His friend shrugged again. "Does anyone ever choose such a position?" He sipped from his glass. "Now that she has inherited, that Miss Courtney is the best plum available. This is probably the first time she has ever been the belle of the ball—and at her age, too."

  Sir Gerard frowned. She had worn the violet perfume again, and he was discovering it a clue to the sweetness of

  her nature. The meanness in Linton's words besmirched the memory. "Let her enjoy herself. It is a small enough pleasure to begrudge her."

  Linton's eyes had trouble focusing on his friend. "I say. You have certainly changed your tune. Don't you remember she cheated you from your uncle's money? I'm the one on your side."

  "Cheated seems too strong a word. I think she was as surprised by the bequest as I was." He remembered the compassion for others he had heard in her life story. Knowing what had been left unsaid, he realized she had sacrificed her girlhood to care for her mother. In a lower tone, he added, "Unless you mean that perhaps life has cheated her."

  "What's that you say? I didn't hear you."

  Sir Gerard did not answer Linton. Instead, he grabbed the man by the arm and pulled him towards the dance floor. "Come. We need to find some partners for this next set."

  G/iaptet &i&

  The punch had been potent, but Sir Gerard discovered a brisk ride the next morning on Silver Shadow chased away the wisps of its effects. After a quick canter across a fallow meadow, he reined in his horse and filled his lungs with the sharp tang of a winter morning in the woods. The rising sunlight shone through the barren branches of the surrounding trees, causing the air to warm and cool as he passed in and out of the shade. The smell of the rich earth stirred up by his stallion's hooves promised winter was only temporary.

  Like his current problems. He patted Silver Shadow's neck. "What do you think, boy?" he asked the horse. "After all these years of living by my wits, am I going to be reduced to being a fortune hunter to regain my own wealth? Linton said it was the only way, but I cannot believe him. Marriage is not the solution. There must be another way."

  The horse nickered as if he understood but offered no solution.

  Sir Gerard stayed a moment longer, surveying the meadow with its tall brown grasses swaying in the slight

  breeze. This clearing, at least, was his. Part of the nearly two hundred entailed acres his uncle could not snatch from him. A pride of ownership swelled within him. This was his.

  With renewed confidence, he nudged the stallion to head home. What he was going to do, he did not know, but an opportunity would
arise. It always did.

  After seeing to Silver Shadow's care in the stable, Sir Gerard strode into the house. The dimness of the hall caused him to blink after the bright sunlight, but the brisk coolness of the morning seemed to cling to him even after the butler took his overcoat and gloves.

  Still enjoying the invigoration of his daybreak exercise, Sir Gerard asked, "Is Mr. Linton awake yet?"

  "I believe he is in the library, sir."

  The baronet started in that direction, when Newton's harrumph signaled he had more to say.

  Sir Gerard paused. "Yes?"

  "Sir, I wanted to remind you about the trustees' visit to the new village school for this afternoon."

  He had forgotten all about it in the three weeks since Miss Courtney's visit. "Yes, of course. I will be there." He would have to be, if he intended to keep an eye on the school's expenditures. One could only hope that spinster knew enough to keep the costs under control.

  His good mood banished, Sir Gerard stalked into the library. It was a little room, with a sense of closeness caused by the shelves crammed with books. Small tables stood near several chairs scattered about on the green rug. They were meant to hold the light for reading, but Sir Gerard spotted a brandy decanter on the table next to the chair in which Linton slumped.

  His friend had obviously changed from the formal

  clothes of the evening before, but a night's rest had not restored his outlook. He cast a bleary glance at the baronet and raised his glass in acknowledgment. The scent of the brandy wafted to Sir Gerard's nose, and he wrinkled it. Striding over to the table, he picked up the decanter. "Didn't you have enough of this stuff last night?"

  "Apparendy not," Linton mumbled. "My future looks just as bleak this morning."

  Looking at the man, Sir Gerard could well believe that if not bleak, his friend's outlook was certainly blurry. Linton's drinking disappointed him. He set the decanter on a table out of Linton's reach. "I am sorry I cannot help you with your financial difficulties. I truly meant to."