“That remains to be seen, sir; your daughter is not impressed with my presence so far. As to my wealth, well, our partnership will, I hope, prevail, whatever the outcome.” John smiled, and Sir Edward relaxed, nodding.
“Of course, dear boy, of course. However, you are, I am sure, wrong about Linnet’s opinion of you. Why, only this morning I overheard her speaking to her maid, Lottie. She said you were a most handsome man and that if she could take a hand in your choice of dress, she would soon have all the ladies swooning at your feet.”
Both men laughed.
Sir Edward had not been quite truthful with his account of eavesdropping, for what he failed to add was that the young lady in question had also said, “The ladies would swoon at his feet but no doubt he would simply glare at them for getting in his way. I assure you that would be the only notice he would take of them!”
Linnet was the only daughter of Sir Edward and his late beloved wife, Arabella. She was so named for her maternal grandmother and had been extremely over-indulged by her father. Even the servants were inclined to spoil the bewitching little Linnet. Her mother had been the toast of London during her coming-out season. A stunning young woman with classic pale beauty, Linnet had inherited her mother’s loveliness, along with her amazing green eyes. Her hair was much darker than her mother’s, a deep burnished copper. From her father, she had inherited something of a temper, along with his stubborn determination. She could outride all her friends and many young gentlemen of her acquaintance. She loved her horses.
When she was ten, she and two stable lads had stolen four old nags from the local horse fair. Actually, the stable lads were unwilling accomplices, coerced by an avenging Linnet. The poor animals were in a terrible condition, they would probably be sold to a knackers’ yard. Linnet, however, seeing the beasts tethered the day before, determined to liberate them from their plight. In the dead of night, she and her accomplices crept from the estate and rode into the village. There was nobody about. Certainly the owner of the ancient nags did not expect anyone to steal what he had been unable to sell, dragging the sorry creatures from fair to fair, eventually resenting them any kind of care. The ‘horse thieves’ simply unfettered the ponies and led them home to Lavenstock Hall.
Even after the experienced care of Sir Edward’s stable hands and a goodly diet of oats, the poor animals failed to thrive, eventually succumbing to old age. They died one after the other. Linnet consoled herself with the fact that the poor things had known some comfort at the end of their lives. Sir Edward had bawled his daughter out after the escapade, but even she could tell that he was rather proud of her action. Sir Edward had admired her courage; he told everyone of their acquaintance the tale of her rescue and always ended by praising her ‘pluck.’
Meanwhile, Linnet was preparing for that night’s ball, her maid Lottie was helping her to dress. “Lottie, do you prefer the green silk or the cream?” She held up the cream gown adorned with tiny pearls, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. Her head was tilted to one side, the tip of her pink tongue caught between her front teeth in concentration.
Lottie stood behind her. “I really cannot say, miss, both are lovely. Hold up the green again, only this time I’ll hold the cream next to it, that way we can compare them both, maybe that’ll help us decide.” She lifted the beautiful green satin up against her mistress and they both gazed intently into the mirror.
“I just don’t know,” Linnet mused. She glanced sideways at her plump little maid. “What do you think?”
“The green do bring out your eyes, miss. I know you always like to wear green because of your eyes and this gown do make them all glittery an’ bright. Wear the green, please, miss!”
Linnet was pleased with the compliment. “All right,” she agreed as she twirled around with the chosen gown.
“Come, miss, let me help you into your hoop and petticoats.”
“Oh, I do hope he is there tonight. I know he received an invitation because Lady Margaret told me so.”
"Mr. Foster, miss?" Lottie laid the green silk upon the bed. Moving across the chamber, she opened the jewellery casket on the dressing table and withdrew an emerald and pearl choker.
“No, of course I don’t mean Mr. Foster! I was talking about Lord Charles. Oh, where is my fan?”
“Here it is, miss, I have it!”
“Lottie, why did you think I meant Mr. Foster?” Linnet asked.
Lottie giggled. “He’s that handsome miss! I naturally thought it was him you meant.”
Linnet gazed thoughtfully at the little maid. She mulled over the time they had spent together. She saw John as an arrogant, darkly forbidding man, not at all the type of gentleman she would consider as husband. The stern, hawk-like profile of his hooded pewter gaze unsettled her. She remembered his self-assurance astride his horse, the powerful shoulders, sturdy thighs clad in fawn riding breeches, muscles that bulged as he’d controlled the restless movement of the beast between his thighs. She shivered at the very thought of enduring such a man as her husband. Her taste ran to an altogether different breed of gentleman—one man in particular, a gentleman with merry blue eyes that held humour and sparkle.
“You think him handsome? He is so dark and forbidding, not to my taste at all. Why, when you compare him to Lord Charles, he seems like an old man, always so critical. Have you noticed his frown?" Linnet pulled a horrible grimace as she plumped down onto the bed.
"Mind your dress, miss!" Lottie gave her mistress a hard shove and retrieved the lovely gown Linnet had just crushed.
Maid and mistress had known each other for a very a long time. Their relationship had developed into a friendship that went beyond their societal roles. Lottie, a pretty, but rather plump girl, had grown up on Sir Edward Wainwright’s estate; her father was one of Sir Edward’s tenant farmers. She was one of six children and, being the eldest; she was sent into service up at the ‘Big House’ when only twelve years old. She was a bright and capable girl and soon caught Sir Edward’s eye. He was very aware of Linnet’s wild streak and thought a young, intelligent girl would have more influence over her more extreme behaviour than an older, duller maid. So far, his judgement had been sound and the two girls, similar in age, had quickly become friends.
Lottie shook out the crumpled green silk and, pushing her arms into it, held it up high. “Come on, miss. Let’s get you into your gown now.”
Linnet stood up and bent her head into the dress opening. “Lottie,” she spoke from the depths of green satin, “have you heard any talk of marriage between this John Foster and myself?”
“Talk, miss? Why no, miss.” Lottie pulled the ball gown downward, holding out each sleeve in turn for Linnet to push her arms into.
“It’s just that Father keeps on and on about him, continually asking me what I think of him. I feel sure he is planning a match for me, despite my refusal to countenance one. Oh, I do wish Charles would hurry up and propose to me. It would take care of this John Foster problem that Father is fixated upon.” Linnet sighed heavily but youthful exuberance meant she quickly forgot her woes as she twirled delightedly about the room. “Do you know, Lottie, you are quite right about this gown. I agree it does make my eyes more noticeable, even though I say so myself! I look quite stunning! Surely Lord Charles won’t be able to resist me tonight?”
Chapter 4
Linnet descended the wide staircase. Her hair was piled high, arranged in an artful array of loose curls. Her swan-like neck was adorned with the emerald and pearl choker. The green gown swirled and shimmered around her shapely form. John could see Linnet’s uncanny cat’s-eyes glinting from where he stood in the hall, waiting for her to descend. When she reached the bottom stair, he stepped forward and offered her his arm gallantly. “You look absolutely beautiful, my dear, your gown is exquisite.”
She took his proffered arm, glancing up at him coyly through her lashes. “Mr. Foster, you do surprise me. Such pretty words! Who would have thought you actually capable of flirting? Certain
ly not I… So, are we ready to depart? My cloak, ah, thank you, Lottie. Do not wait up for me, I shall manage on my own tonight.”
Lottie slipped a long, fur-lined hooded cape around her mistress, then curtsied to the group before turning away back up the curved staircase. The merry little entourage, consisting of Linnet, John Foster and Sir Edward, made their way outside to the waiting carriage.
On the short journey, the two men attempted conversation that included Linnet but she wished to be left alone with her thoughts and gazed out of the window. John and Sir Edward eventually reverted to discussing business. They continued their exchange until the coach swept up to the entrance of Sir Henry James and Lady Margaret Peabody’s imposing residence.
Linnet gazed about in amazement as she entered the ballroom. The magnificent chandeliers twinkled, sparkling in the light of a hundred candles. The large ornate mirrors that hung on all four walls reflected the soft flickering glow as colourful twirling couples danced to the tune of violins and harpsichord. The music was provided by a group of local ladies who had volunteered to play for the ball. The block wooded floor had been highly polished until it gleamed, rich and mellow. The silks and satins of the guests’ clothes shimmered and their jewels sparkled, reflecting the light caught from the sputtering candles in sconces that lined the walls. Linnet gazed about her with delight, one foot tapping in tune with the music. “There you are, puss! My dear, may I present you to Captain and Mistress Pettigrew.” Sir Edward beamed at Linnet as she dutifully smiled and curtsied to the older couple.
“Captain, Madam,” she murmured politely.
“The captain will shortly be leaving to return to the Colonies, Linnet,” her father began, but a cough from behind startled her so she spun around rather too quickly and collided with John Foster. She unbalanced, then tripped sideways over his feet. She stumbled but before she could fall further, she found herself caught up in a pair of strong arms and pressed firmly against a broad chest, a pair of amused grey eyes gazing down into her own.
Linnet felt the vibration rumble deep in his chest as he apologised. “My fault entirely, I believe I may have startled you. Please forgive me. Are you quite recovered, Miss Wainwright?”
She glared up at him and stepped back. “You simpleton,” she hissed. “What do you think you are doing creeping up behind me in such an ignoble fashion? Now everyone is staring. Leave me at once! Oh, and Mr. Foster, do remember I am Lady, not Miss Wainwright!”
Shockingly, he held her fast. He even shook her arm. “Stop this quite unnecessary behaviour. I simply wished to reacquaint myself with the good Captain. I travelled over with Pettigrew from my home, which is in Boston, where the Captain often resides. In a crush such as this, people are bound to fall over one another. Becalm yourself and come dance with me.”
He smiled roguishly down at her and for a moment, she was tempted. He looked rather dashing when he smiled that way. She realised Lottie had been right, he was good-looking and impeccably dressed for the occasion, although he lacked the fashionable touches that Linnet so admired in Lord Charles’s choice of attire. John wore plain knee breeches and silk stockings in white, a plain, high-necked white shirt and stock, topped by a deep wine-coloured dress coat edged with black velvet. His highly polished black shoes were unadorned by fashionable buckles or bows. His dark brown hair was un-powdered and simply tied back in a queue with a black velvet ribbon.
Linnet caught sight of Miss Nancy Trubane, her rival for Lord Charles’s affections. The pretty brunette was giggling and pointing over in their direction. She realised with horror that the person Nancy was chuckling with was none other than her beloved Charles. He stood watching them with one knee nonchalantly bent, one hand lazily swinging his eye glass. A tall young man with fair good looks, twinkling blue eyes and an affable, if slightly affected, nature, he was dressed in the very height of fashion, sporting a tall powdered wig and a beautiful satin coat of pale blue frocked in gold. A large diamond pin in his white silk stock winked and sparkled, catching the light as he turned, laughing and chatting to the dimpling Miss Trubane.
Linnet looked about for a distraction but her father and his acquaintances had wandered away. She swung her attentions back to John, who seemed to have given up the idea that she might agree to dance with him and was about to walk away.
“Stop, do not leave me standing here alone! Quickly, take me over to the refreshment table!” She grasped his arm.
“I thought you wished me to leave you in peace?” He raised a quizzical brow.
“I’ve changed my mind—a lady’s prerogative, you know! After all, it is the very least you can do after knocking into me.” She held onto his sleeve in an attempt to stop him walking away.
“Linnet, for the last time, I did not knock you over, you cannoned into me. Since you have no wish to dance, I shall waste no more of your precious time. I bid you a good evening.” He plucked her hand from his sleeve and strode away, quickly disappearing into the press of people.
“Odious, pig-headed man,” Linnet gasped. “What an objectionable and vile creature!”
“To whom are you referring… surely you cannot mean, moi?” asked an affected, amused voice at her side. Linnet spun around, startled.
“Charles, my dearest, hullo… No, never you! I was speaking of that odious man, John Foster of Boston America. He is my father’s business partner. Such a rude ignoramus! Did you witness him cannon into me? I cannot believe he nearly knocked me over completely.”
“I believe I might have seen something of the kind.” After years of living with a difficult mother, Charles found it advisable to wholeheartedly agree with any female whose ire was up.
“An oaf indeed. I declare, what a crush!” he said. “Come, dear girl, let us dance. I have something I particularly want to discuss with you tonight.”
Charles took Linnet’s hand and led her through the crowd onto the dance floor where they danced a reel. Afterwards, breathless and laughing, they made their way over to the refreshments. Linnet took a lemon drink, sipping the cool, deliciously refreshing liquid. She cast her eye over the dancers, spotting John amongst them. He was partnered with a pretty red-headed girl. Linnet was surprised by the twinge of envy she felt as she watched their progress on the dance floor. John, it seemed, was an accomplished dancer. She wondered how an American trader had learned to dance so well. Charles interrupted her musings. “Miss Wainwright—Linnet—would you care to step outside onto the balcony with me? I do rather need to speak with you.”
This is it, thought Linnet, shivering with excitement. At last, he is going to propose! “Of course, Charles dear, but I rather need to visit the powder room first…”
Charles’s mouth turned down. “Linnet, you look absolutely fine, you have no need of powder or whatnot. Come along with me.”
She found herself propelled none too gently across the dance floor. “Charles, for heaven’s sake, stop!” Lord Charles obviously wasn’t listening. He reached the other side of the dance floor and opened the French doors that led out onto a large balcony. The walls surrounding were covered with roses and honeysuckle, forming an arching bower that gave them some privacy from within. The flowers gave off a deliciously heavy perfume. He closed the doors quietly behind them and then walked to the stone balustrade of the balcony that looked out over the gardens.
Linnet took a deep breath of sweet scented air, leaning on the edge of the balustrade before turning to Charles. “What a heavenly place. It reminds me of the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet, it is so romantic. Don’t you think so, Charles? Charles, are you even listening to me?”
He was distractedly plucking the petals from a pink rose and frowning. “I beg your pardon? Oh, yes, it is quite lovely, I do agree. The thing is this, Linnet… we’ve known each other nearly all our lives and we are good friends, are we not?"
Excitedly, Linnet held her breath, her heart beating a fast tattoo.
Charles finally blurted, “I really value your friendship. I would like to ask your
opinion about something, um, well something rather delicate…”
Linnet’s eyes shone as she cried, “Oh, Charles, yes! The answer is yes! Oh my darling, darling Charles! Charles, is something wrong? Charles!” He had taken a step backwards. There was a look of absolute horror on his face.
He grasped Linnet’s wrists, pulling them from about his neck where she had reached up and entwined them. “I say, old girl… No, Linnet! No, no, huge misunderstanding. Sorry… so sorry! Not us, not you, not you at all, but Nancy!"
Linnet felt her face freeze. Suddenly she felt nauseated. Nancy? Oh, dear God.
“Nancy! Charles… Nancy! For goodness’ sake, you mean to tell me… you dragged me out here to talk about… Nancy?"
Charles looked wretched.
“Yes. I am so sorry, Linny, I thought you’d guessed! My wretched mother has had us paired off since babyhood.”
Linnet knew that Lord Charles was in awe of his forceful mother. She’d even heard that this formidable Lady had decreed her only son should marry her best friend’s daughter, Nancy. This was a match that the two mothers had contrived to bring about since their children were in short skirts but Linnet had assumed—wrongly, it appeared—that she would be able to turn his head and heart in her own direction.
“Nancy’s mother is my mother’s closest friend, don’t you see?” Charles ran a hand distractedly through his hair. He was quite unprepared for what happened next.
He was suddenly propelled backwards over the balustrade, his white satin-clad legs disappearing over the ledge, leaving one shiny black buckled shoe behind on the balcony floor. Linnet leaned out over the edge and peered down into the darkness. There had been a loud splash shortly after Lord Charles had fallen, but since then, only silence.
“My word, but we are out of sorts this evening,” a deep male voice drawled from behind her. Linnet spun about and her hand flew to her mouth in surprise. “Mercy… Oh. It’s you! You scared me half out of my wits!”
Her Match, Her Mate, Her Master Page 3