Lady Disdain

by Michelle Morrison

  “Of course it is. It’s lemonade.”

  “Yes, well, perhaps your cook should put some sugar in it. Then it would taste like lemon cream.”

  Caroline gave him a look that said she feared for his sanity, but he was long since inured to such looks and finished his impromptu meal with a handful of biscuits.

  “Caroline, you’ll be sure to take care while you’re traveling, won’t you?”

  “What? Why yes of course! Why would you ask such a thing?”

  “Well there are plenty of dubious places throughout Europe. I should know as I publish travel journals.”

  “I hardly think Paris and Rome—which, as I recall, are your only published travel books—qualify as ‘dubious.’”

  “Two published so far,” he clarified. I have several others in the editing stages.”

  Caroline threw her hands up in exasperation. “Yes, Lord Trowbridge and I shall be extremely cautious. Who knows, Vienna might prove to be a hotbed of dastardly plots.”

  Abruptly jumping to what he wanted to know, he asked, “What would you do if something happened to Trowbridge?”

  “Wha—“

  “How would you feel if, say, he were set upon by footpads and they took a dislike to him or he tried to fight them off and they stabbed him. How would you feel if he died?”

  Caroline’s eyes filled with tears and her face was deathly pale. He felt like a cad, but he had to know. He had to know if what he was feeling was like what Caroline felt for her husband.

  “I would—I would wish to die as well!” she exclaimed. “I can’t imagine having to live life without him by my side. Don’t you remember how devastated I was those months before he arrived in Philadelphia when I’d had no word from him and thought he’d forgotten about me?”

  “Yes,” Sam said quietly. The spark had gone out of his vivacious sister for too long. If Trowbridge had not shown up when he did, Sam would have tracked him down and wrung his neck.

  “That was before I was betrothed to him, before I was his wife, before—well before I knew just how vital he was to my happiness. To think of life without him does not bear contemplation.”

  Sam moved to crouch at her knee, taking her cold hands in his own and warming them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wondered…”

  “You did upset me!” she said, smacking his shoulder. “That was a horrible question to ask, and the way you did it?”

  She blotted the tears from the corner of her eyes but dropped her hands suddenly. “Wait a minute. What do you wonder?”

  “It’s nothing,” he said, rising to fetch another sandwich.

  “Don’t you take another bite until you answer me!”

  He dropped the sandwich back on the plate and sat heavily on the sofa across from her, letting out a heavy sigh.

  “Did you know Miss Draper has been held up at knifepoint thirteen times? Or is it fourteen? One of the times was with a broken bottle. Well really, she had the broken bottle so I’m not sure that counts. I can’t remember if—”

  “Who is Miss Draper?” Caroline interrupted loudly.

  “Oh,” Sam said, realizing that not seeing his sister everyday had its disadvantages. “She was the lady in blue you asked me about a few weeks ago. Her cousin is Lady Eleanor Chalcroft.”

  “Wait! Is this the Sarah Draper who runs an aid society?”

  “Yes. In Southwark. The Mint, to be specific.”

  “Ah,” Caroline said, steepling her fingers together and tapping her index fingers against her lips.

  “You look positively diabolical when you do that,” he said.

  “Good,” she replied, sounding more American than she had in months. Now tell me everything. Miss Draper caught your eye at that ball or party, whatever the event was,” she said with a flick of her fingers. “And then she captured your interest when she didn’t immediately fall victim to your famous James charm.” This last was said with no small amount of sarcasm.

  “Now tell me, when did you see her next?”

  Sam gave a condensed account of his visit to Southwark and then their encounter at the Chalcroft party.

  “And you kissed her how many times?”

  “I didn’t say I’d kissed her,” Sam said, because really, there were some things a younger sister did not need to know.

  She gave him a look that begged him to deny it.

  “Oh very well. Twice. Well, on two occasions.”

  “Multiple times each occasion,” she said. It was not a question and he didn’t deign to confirm it.

  “And does she still antagonize you?”

  “I wouldn’t say antagonize,” he argued.

  “But she challenges you. Keeps you on your toes, so to speak.”

  “Yes,” he said with a smile, remembering the way Sarah found a way to poke holes in his ego when he was a bit brash and made subtle jokes he had to pay attention to catch.

  “You’re in love!” she exclaimed.

  “What? No! Of course—“

  “You are! It explains everything!”

  “And by everything, you mean…” he said, trying to sound blasé.

  She held up a finger. “I haven’t seen you in a month.”

  “Two weeks!” he protested but she ignored him and held up another finger.

  “You didn’t eat all day. That. Has. Never. Happened. Clearly your heart has taken over control of your body from your stomach.

  “And,” she said, holding up a third finger. “You all but asked me how I knew I loved Trowbridge.”

  “I did no such thing!” he said.

  “You asked how I would feel if something dreadful happened to my husband. Which means you’ve been worrying about Miss Draper! Held at knifepoint thirteen times, eh? Sounds like you have plenty to be worried about, brother.”

  Sam slouched on the sofa. His little sister was too smart by half.

  “Oh I wish I’d been at the Chalcroft’s event to meet her!”

  “Yes, why weren’t you? I thought you sent a note round indicating you would attend.”

  Caroline blushed violently and affected an interest in the tasseled fringe on a pillow.

  “Something came up.”

  “Indeed?” he asked sardonically and then shuddered in slight revulsion. There were some things he did not need to know about his sister and her husband.

  She straightened her spine and said, “We are not discussing me. We are talking about you. What are you going to do next?”

  “What do you mean?” Sam wondered if sitting up was worth the last of the sandwiches on the plate. He decided it was and thriftily polished them off.

  “I mean, you have passage booked for home in a week. Clearly you need to cancel your ticket.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, Lady Trowbridge, I have a rather large business to run. I’ve been away from it far too long as it is. There are decisions to be—“

  “Sam, we’re talking about the rest of your life. You have excellent managers. This business will survive another month without you. But if Miss Draper sets your heart on fire, you simply can’t leave yet. You may never get this opportunity again.”

  Sam frowned at his sister’s theatrics. Perhaps he had come to find out if his feelings for Miss Draper were…along the lines of what she felt for Trowbridge. But the idea that he was in love—that notion was too much. It was too—

  He stood abruptly. “I must go,” he announced.

  “But you only just got here,” Caroline protested.

  “I just remembered I have a dinner engagement.”

  “You’re fleeing because you’re uncomfortable,” she said flatly.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said as he bent to kiss the top of her head.

  “You are the one being ridiculous. You’re terrified of love because you’ve never allowed yourself to feel it before.”

  “Terrified,” Sam repeated, struggling to look condescending.

  “Don’t you give me that look, Samuel Joseph James. I know you
better than you know yourself.”

  “I’m sure you think you do,” he said, and dodged the pillow she threw at him. The spoon that followed clunked off the side of his head.

  “Ow!”

  “Oh hush. That couldn’t have hurt that much.”

  He rubbed his head and frowned at her. She visibly relented and came to inspect the damage.

  “You have a hard head. You’ll be fine,” she said, not unkindly. She took his hands in hers. “Remember when you first met Miss Draper and she did not react to you as most women do?”

  “I’m not likely to forget, especially as you keep reminding me.”

  “Remember I said get to know her? Let her get to know you?” When he refused to answer, she went on. “It turned out you very much enjoyed each other’s company. All I’m saying is, she seems special. Give it some time to see what happens. You have your whole life to build your business, but a woman like Miss Draper only comes around once.

  “I never did get the chance to warn Trowbridge you had the makings of a fishwife. Pity, he’s stuck with you now.”

  “Yes, well, you might thank him. He’s saved you from a life of listening to me tell you what to do.”

  “Who are you telling what to do now, darling?” Trowbridge inquired as he entered the room and kissed his wife soundly. “Not leaving yet, are you, James?”

  “I am indeed.”

  “I hope we shall see you before we leave in a few days.”

  “I shall make a point of it,” Sam said, shaking his brother-in-law’s hand. He headed for the door, and paused in the opening. “Oh and Trowbridge?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  Walking down the hall, he grinned as he heard Trowbridge asking Caroline what he had been thanked for.

  Chapter Seven

  If Sarah had been preoccupied after her first kiss from Samuel James, she was so distracted after last night’s garden encounter that her small staff at the kitchen commented on it.

  “You must be feelin’ puny to be starin’ off into the distance like that,” said Cora, the young woman who washed dishes.

  Ida bustled into the kitchen carrying a load of empty plates. “She did the same thing last week. You did,” the woman said when Sarah glanced over her shoulder.

  “I’ve a great deal on my mind is all,” Sarah said. “Miss Eleanor and I have received some additional funding and I’m trying to figure out how to make the best use of it here.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Ida said, and then in a stage whisper to Cora, “The only thing sets a woman to day dreamin’ like that is a man. Ain’t no thought of new pots and pans gonna give a girl that far off look.”

  Cora’s eyes widened and she hid a smile behind her hand.

  Sarah frowned but realized the more she denied it, the more convinced Ida would become. Besides, the woman was completely right. With a sigh, she turned back to the list she’d been making of various supplies the families she helped needed. Decent clothing was always on the list as were shoes in every size. Blankets and bedding constantly needed replacing, and food was never in sufficient quantities.

  “Poor Mrs. Sampson still shows no signs of delivering that baby anytime soon,” Eleanor announced, dropping her basket and wrap on the wooden worktable and putting a kettle on to boil.

  “Put a knife under the bed to cut the waitin’,” Cora piped up.

  Ida shook her head. “No, the knife is to cut the labor pain. Set her on a horse to bring on the pangs.”

  Eleanor looked alarmed at both suggestions but pasted a game smile on her face. “Thank you, ladies, for your advice. She’s not so late yet that I’m overly concerned.”

  Reaching into her basket, Eleanor pulled out a letter sealed with an impressive crest.

  “What’s this?” Sarah asked.

  “It’s from Lady Trowbridge.” At Sarah’s blank look, Eleanor clarified, “Lady Caroline Trowbridge. The newly wed Lady Trowbridge?” When Sarah lifted her palms in question, Eleanor said, “Goodness, you don’t know very much about your Mr. James, do you? Caroline Trowbridge is his sister, you ninny.”

  “Oh. Well. We haven’t talked much about our relations.”

  “No, too busy kissing, I’d wager,” Eleanor whispered.

  Sarah glanced at the other two women, but they were busy bickering over the best way to scrub burnt porridge out of a pot.

  “Whyever would she write me? We’ve never even met.”

  “Clearly someone has mentioned you to her.”

  “How did you come by the letter? And what does she want?” Sarah asked.

  “As I have met her recently, she thought to ask me to deliver it since she wasn’t sure of the reliability of having letters delivered in Southwark. As to what’s inside, I have no idea. And trust me, I tried to look, but the seal is affixed too tightly.”

  With uncertain fingers, Sarah broke the crested seal and unfolded the expensive stationary. Her eyes scanned the short missive and then she read it again.

  “What does it say?” Eleanor asked.

  “She wishes me to join her for a stroll in Hyde Park. She is most interested in learning more about our organization and the ways she and Lord Trowbridge might help.”

  “Is that all?” Eleanor asked, looking disappointed.

  “She says Lord Trowbridge will escort us, as will her brother.”

  “Ahh,” Eleanor said with a satisfied smile.”

  “I don’t understand,” Sarah said. “If she’s interested in contributing to our organization and she knows you, why not just ask you?”

  Eleanor grinned. “Because that’s just an excuse. She’s arranging a way for you to see Mr. James since it’s nearly impossible to get you to attend society functions. Plus, I’m sure she wishes to meet in person the woman with whom her brother is enamored.”

  “Enamored? I wouldn’t say—“

  “I would,” Eleanor interrupted.

  “So you don’t think she wishes to donate then?” Sarah asked with a frown.

  Eleanor laughed. “I’m sure if you make a good impression on her, she will give you her blessings as well as her money.”

  “Blessings? That is assuming quite a bit, Eleanor.”

  “Fine. How about friendship?” At Sarah’s hesitant nod, Eleanor continued. “Now I shall ask Juliette to loan you a walking gown. I shall bring a bonnet and pelisse. Or perhaps a Spencer. It hasn’t been terribly cool lately, has it?”

  “No. I shall wear my own gown.”

  “Sarah! Your gowns are practically threadbare.”

  “Nonetheless, a walk in the park does not require specific clothing as a ball does.”

  “Fine, but I’m still bringing you a bonnet. It’s fine to look humble, but your current hat has seen better days and none of them recent!” Eleanor finished with a meaningful glance at the battered headgear hanging on the wall.

  “It’s never been the same since I was caught in that hail storm last fall,” Sarah admitted, and allowed that the loan of a bonnet would be useful.

  Two days later, Sarah found herself once again in Eleanor’s plain coach, this time headed to Hyde park. Eleanor had insisted she wear the bonnet and Spencer she’d brought by this morning and as her fingers fidgeted, Sarah wished Eleanor had loaned her some gloves. These had a hole in the seam of the left index finger which Sarah hadn’t noticed until the carriage was underway.

  “Well,” she announced to the empty seat opposite her, “At least the bonnet is cunning. I doubt anyone will notice my gloves.”

  Sarah had long since overcome any pangs of vanity caused by her meager wardrobe—it was a consequence of her vocation, after all. However, she couldn’t suppress the thrill she received at wearing this hat. Finely braided straw was lined in a plum silk. A small feather plume and flower cluster matched the rich color as did the wide satin bow tied jauntily under her left ear.

  Plum was also the color of the linen Spencer jacket and she had to admit, it rather brightened up her somber grey gown.

&nb
sp; Sitting on her hands so she would stop picking at the hole in her glove, Sarah forced her attention to the carriage windows. They had crossed London Bridge and were making their way west along the Strand. It was a route that had become familiar in the time since Eleanor re-entered Society to save their funding. Once on Piccadilly, the buildings grew grander as they skimmed the edge of Mayfair where Eleanor’s parents lived.

  Sarah grew ridiculously nervous as the carriage pulled into the Knightsbridge entrance to the park.

  “It’s just a meeting with a potential donor,” she told herself reasonably. Except that she knew that wasn’t true.

  “At least act like it is,” she said sourly to her fluttering heart.

  The carriage drew to a stop and Sarah waited impatiently for the coachman to open the door. Hopping down, she saw another, more elaborate carriage stopped ahead with a very fashionable couple standing outside of it. As Sarah approached, the gentleman stole a kiss from the lady and she rapped his arm with a fan, but judging from her laughter, she was not at all upset. The gentleman saw Sarah and at his word, the lady turned, a wide, welcoming smile on her face.

  “You must be Miss Draper,” Lady Caroline Trowbridge said, walking forward with both hands extended. She took Sarah’s hand in a warm clasp and said, “It is so lovely to meet you! I hope you will forgive this rather unorthodox meeting spot. Having you to calling hours just seemed so formal.”

  “As I am a rather unorthodox woman, I don’t mind a bit,” Sarah said with a genuine smile. There was no way not to instantly like Caroline Trowbridge.

  “And I quite admire you for it!” Lady Trowbridge said, linking her arm through Sarah’s and guiding her to the gentleman who could only be Lord Trowbridge.

  “Darling, allow me to present Miss Sarah Draper. Miss Draper, my husband, Lord George Trowbridge.”

  “Enchanted,” said the handsome man, bowing over Sarah’s hand and offering a smile, if not as effusive as his wife’s, certainly as friendly.

  “Shall we walk?” Lord Trowbridge invited, offering an arm to each of them.

  “Oh darling, it’s too hard to talk with you between us. Do be a dear and follow along.”

  Lord Trowbridge laughed shortly but acceded indulgently. Sarah glanced around but still saw no sign of Mr. James.