by Allison Lane
“How dare you dictate my friends!”
“I am serious, Reggie.” He abandoned his usual indolence, for it served no purpose now. “I will not allow a fortune hunter to defile this family. Either leave her alone, or I will ruin her. I am amazed Society has not already done so. Her behavior is appalling.”
“I never expected you to become Mother’s lapdog. I suppose she recruited you because I refused to heed her latest summons.”
Sedge paced the room. “She expressed her concern. How could she not? But I act on my own and always have.” He glared.
“This is unbelievable.” Reggie ran both hands through his hair. “When Joanna described you, I thought she exaggerated, but it seems I do not truly know you, Sedge. Arrogant, presumptuous, and overbearing was how she put it. Also impossible to please. To that I must add credulous and stupid.”
“Why? Because I refuse to sit idly by and watch you succumb to the wiles of a brainless mushroom?”
“Make up your mind. How can someone be both scheming and stupid?”
“She has bewitched you. How can you tolerate that stammer?”
“Joanna is right,” he said, shaking his head. “Your arrogance is growing worse. Not only do you make ridiculous assumptions – and jump to the same erroneous conclusions that Crossbridge does – but you then try to force those notions down everyone’s throat.”
“How dare you compare me to Crossbridge?” he demanded. The man had been his nemesis for years, displaying no sense and less understanding.
“Because it fits. Joanna is an intelligent, educated woman who only stammers when embarrassed. There is nothing about her character or her breeding that would ever tarnish the marquessate – not that it matters. You have forgotten that I have no interest in marriage, as she well knows. Her future is already settled. I don’t particularly like it, but she is satisfied. And I have no say in it in any case. She is a dear friend, and will remain so, but no more.”
“A friend,” scoffed Sedge, his fears growing until they nearly choked him. Gentlemen did not befriend ladies, especially unmarried ladies outside their own families. Granted, he was close to several females, though only because they were married to his real friends. But honest friendship was impossible, for male and female minds were far too different. So why was Reggie lying? He almost had the tone right, but his eyes betrayed him. And his willingness to lie proved that the situation was worse than he’d thought.
Reggie’s brows snapped together, reminding him that he was exerting no control over his own face. His thoughts must have shown.
“If you do anything to hurt her, I will offer for her – after cutting you dead in the most public place I can find,” Reggie growled. “Not that she would willingly accept me, but if the alternative were losing her job, she would have no choice.”
“You are obsessed, just as Mother claimed.” He had never heard such a load of fustian.
“I knew she put you up to this. Why deny it?”
“She is concerned, and who can blame her? You have put yourself in danger. Miss Patterson is not the first to pretend innocence while scheming to better her situation.”
“You insult me with every word. Either drop the subject or name your seconds. If you wish to be helpful, convince Mother to go home. She needs a new pastime. Father has undoubtedly been working too hard again. Perhaps she can slow him down.”
“She won’t go as long as we remain unwed.” Sedge sighed at the admission. “She still hopes to see you shackled to Lady Harriet. Supposedly the girl is sweet.”
“She is. Also unspoiled and caring.”
“So why not offer?”
“How many times must I say it before you believe me?” he snapped. “I will never wed anyone, and certainly not the most brainless chit I’ve encountered in years. I doubt she could produce one astute thought, let alone two to rub together. But this is no place for serious discussion. Shall we retire to White’s?”
“An excellent suggestion.” And one that would keep Reggie out of Miss Patterson’s clutches for tonight. Perhaps by morning he could devise a plan to separate them permanently.
Reggie could protest all he wanted, but his eyes told a different story. And no matter what his own intentions were, a schemer could easily trap him. Miss Patterson might be content to wait for an offer at the moment, but eventually she would take matters into her own hands. Reggie’s insistence that she was intelligent merely made her more dangerous.
* * * *
Joanna watched Reggie and Lord Sedgewick move away, irritated at her performance. Why did the man always tie her tongue in knots? It had been years since she had fallen apart over a simple introduction.
Of course, she had never been formally introduced to a man who already held her in contempt. Lord Sedgewick’s fury clearly conveyed his revulsion that Reggie’s friendship might bridge the gulf between her and Society – not that she would allow it to.
She had no intention of exploiting him. One way or another, her place was in the country. She might have wed a squire if she had felt even budding friendship for either of the two who had offered. One had been a harsh man who criticized every word she uttered. The other had wanted a mother for his children so he could remain in Gloucester with his mistress. Life as a governess seemed preferable.
Assuming she could pursue it. Lord Sedgewick’s antagonism could ruin her. Though his suspicions were wrong, her pitiful stammering made her seem guilty of misconduct. And she had again let her temper explode into insults, giving him yet another grievance. If he had not already heard the jokes about their confrontation in Bond Street, he soon would. Her only luck was that so far no one knew the identity of the woman.
But she pushed the problem aside. Imagining disaster would merely distract her from duty. At least Reggie must now admit his brother’s arrogance. He had been praising the man for days, almost convincing her that her initial impression had been wrong. But no more. Lord Sedgewick would never suit Harriet, no matter what Reggie thought – though to be fair, he had never actually suggested it. Harriet needed emotional support, not an arrogant lord with an explosive temper, a knack for jumping to hasty, erroneous conclusions, and an exaggerated belief in his own importance.
But this was not the time to quibble. Mr. Wethersby was leading Harriet into the next set. The girl was more animated than she had been in weeks.
Joanna bit her lip, cursing herself for allowing Reggie to distract her from business. Only now did she realize how often Mr. Wethersby had escorted Harriet in recent days. Allowing him to dance attendance on her had apparently given him the wrong impression. Even worse, Harriet appeared to harbor a tendre for the man.
Now what? She cursed her inattention. Again she had become blind to her surroundings.
Wethersby was ineligible. Aside from his age – he was barely three-and-twenty – his circumstances would never do. His income might support him comfortably, but he lacked both the fortune and title Lord Wicksfield expected. The earl would never approve.
So she must deflect his attentions and keep a closer eye on Harriet from now on. And she had to find out more about the girl’s serious suitors.
Stupid! Why had she not asked Reggie’s help? He could discover the facts behind the facades.
Harriet had four potentially serious suitors. Almont was the highest ranking. Lady Wicksfield adored him, demanding that Harriet choose between him and Reggie. But Joanna had reservations. Despite his constant attentions, he seemed abstracted. Did his apparent falseness arise from the contrived ennui demanded by Society, or was he hiding something important? Perhaps he did not want a wife at all. He might be using Harriet to hold off his family’s pressure. After all, Reggie had deflected his mother’s demands by apparently dancing attendance on the girl. Unfortunately, that ploy was now exposed. Lord Sedgewick had seen through it in an instant.
The other suitors were even less likely. Lord Penleigh had the necessary title, but his fortune was merely decent, and he was more than twice Harriet’
s age. Mr. Parkington was both wealthy and younger, but three older brothers and several nephews stood between him and a title. Lawrence Stoverson was clearly enamored, and his age of twenty-five made him seem approachable, but his fortune was only modest, and he grew quite irritated whenever anyone contradicted him. Not the sort to provide the support Harriet needed.
The music came to an end with no sign of Reggie – or of his brother, which was a relief. Harriet and Wethersby exchanged an intimate glance, reminding her of another unpleasant chore. Only pain could come of so unsuitable an attachment.
Again cursing her inattention, she coolly dismissed Wethersby, then welcomed Lord Penleigh, who had bespoken the next set. She would wait until they returned home before reminding Harriet of her duty. Hysterics were inevitable and might last some time. More than once, Harriet’s sensibilities had left her bedridden.
But Wethersby must go. And not by way of a cut, which would tarnish Harriet, for there was no reason for a public set-down. Once Harriet accepted the reality of her position, Joanna could speak to Wethersby in private.
The price of her Season was steeper than she had expected.
CHAPTER SIX
Five days later, Joanna retreated to the corner of Lady Beatrice’s drawing room, folding her hands primly in her lap. Harriet knew better than to open her mouth on morning calls unless addressed directly, so this portion of her day rarely posed problems. And she had even less concern today, for Lady Wicksfield had accompanied them. For the moment, gossip held sway over surreptitious shopping.
She hid a smile. Lord Wicksfield had warned her that the countess would find ways to overspend her allowance. Thus she had budgeted an amount to cover it. So far, Lady Wicksfield remained within it.
But her self-congratulation died under mortification as the memory of last night’s ball sneaked back into her mind. How could she have been so foolish?
The ballroom had been suffocatingly warm, even with all the windows open. She’d been fetching the lemonade Harriet would need after finishing a sprightly reel when the girl’s name had echoed from the far side of the refreshment room. Like a ninny, she’d turned to see who had spoken.
But she hadn’t stopped walking.
Heat again climbed her face. The moment of inattention had cost her dearly, for she’d collided with Lord Sedgewick in the doorway.
“Dear Lord, not you again,” he’d drawled, pulling out a handkerchief. Lemonade stained his coat, his waistcoat, his pantaloons. It even spattered his cravat. When he raised his glass to glare at her, a dribble of lemonade distorted his view.
“I c-can’t b-believe—” Her voice had died completely under the fury in his eyes.
“You are a menace to Society, Miss Patterson.”
“I didn’t m-mean… I mean, I d-didn’t see you.”
“Why am I not surprised?” His voice remained languid, exhibiting the sangfroid he showed the world. But he exuded an intensity that left her reeling. “I suppose it is too much to expect you to leave town, but would you please stay out of the way? That potted palm near the entrance would provide an admirable barrier to protect us from your antics.”
He’d retreated before she could wrap her tongue around a reply. He exchanged comments with numerous guests during his progress to the door, so she was unsurprised to hear the words clumsy servant buzzing through the room. Her own clothing had collected only two tiny drips, which increased her embarrassment.
Yet despite his fury, he had refrained from turning her into a laughingstock. She’d lain awake most of the night alternately cursing herself and pondering his actions. Why did she fall into scrapes only when he was nearby? And why had he not grabbed the opportunity to drive her from town – she knew he was scheming to end her friendship with Reggie.
Morning brought no answers, but she was determined that never again would he overset her to the point of stammering idiocy. Eight-and-twenty years of living should have built enough poise to face him down the next time they met. She had to do it for her own peace of mind. She was becoming obsessed with the man, watching for him everywhere, avoiding his vicinity lest she embarrass herself again. It was interfering with her duty to Harriet.
“The Lutterworths left town this morning,” said Lady Beatrice, interrupting Joanna’s memories.
“Hardly surprising,” commented Lady Marchgate. “With his daughter gone and his reputation in tatters, he had little choice. And after Brumford’s latest tirade, he probably feared for his safety.”
Joanna returned to her brooding, having already heard about Brumford’s attack on Lutterworth last night. He was so obsessed with Lutterworth’s daughter that he’d had to be forcibly ejected from Brook’s after uttering wild threats against Lutterworth and Lastmark. The incident revived some of her fears for Harriet.
Braxton was an impoverished baron who had been sniffing around Harriet for weeks. She had made the mistake of encouraging him before she discovered his circumstances, and he was furious over her change of heart. Had he developed the same obsession that plagued Brumford? Harriet was beautiful, sweet, kind, and had an air of fragility that appealed to many gentlemen. And Society still believed that Wicksfield was wealthy.
How could she learn his motives without starting rumors that would harm them all? She had not seen Reggie since the Cunningham ball. Immediately after Lord Sedgewick had spirited him away, he had been summoned home to Glendale Close.
Devil take the man, she fumed at Lord Sedgewick for at least the hundredth time. What gave him the right to dictate his brother’s friendships? Odious creature. She should have dumped the lemonade over his head.
Reggie had sent her a note before leaving, explaining the summons, but he had not known how long he would be away. She hoped he would return soon. Almont was poised to make an offer, but she had no way to investigate his background. She could not ask Wicksfield’s help. Despite his vow to give Harriet a voice in her future, he would probably grab the first chance to resolve his own crisis, so she feared giving him an opportunity to change his instructions.
If only she knew someone else who could help!
She had put off speaking privately to Almont, hoping she could learn more about his circumstances before she had to make a decision. The Brumford imbroglio demonstrated that acceptance into Society did not guarantee a man’s character. An unscrupulous lord might pursue Harriet because she had no male protector in evidence. But at least she could acquit Almont of obsession. He sounded too insincere.
She stifled a sigh.
Even if Almont was serious, Harriet might refuse him. She was developing a surprising stubbornness and had already balked at avoiding Wethersby. Joanna’s coolness had made the man cautious, but he still demanded one set at every ball and continued to dance attendance on her. Joanna was afraid to press lest Harriet bolt. All she could do was pray that Reggie could either turn up information to make Wethersby acceptable or find a flaw that would convince Harriet to spurn him.
A wave of laughter swept the drawing room, startling her out of her thoughts. Honest laughter. Not the polite titters of elegant ladies.
“Not again!” exclaimed Lady Hartford.
“This very morning,” confirmed Lady Debenham. “Lord Crossbridge has once more bared his peccadilloes to the world.”
“But last time he was set up.”
“Perhaps, though the implications were correct.” She snorted inelegantly. “Crossbridge applies different standards to himself than to others. Despite pretending to be a strict judge of propriety, his own behavior is appallingly lax. And his judgment is worse.”
“Quite true, alas,” said Lady Beatrice. “I have never liked his self-righteousness.”
“But what did he do now?” demanded Lady Stafford, who had arrived during the laughter.
Lady Horseley straightened, adopting a censorious tone. “As he had promised last evening, he brought me his copy of the Botanical Magazine, which contained a colored plate of the bee orchis. They are becoming quite rare.”
“Really, Penelope,” hissed Lady Hartford. “You are doing it much too brown.” But her face was alight with laughter.
Lady Beatrice’s eyes gleamed.
“The magazine was perfectly innocuous, as you well know.” Lady Horseley glared. “But when he tripped on entering my drawing room, he dropped it, allowing a print to flutter out – a most shocking print.”
“Not one of those!” Lady Stafford widened her eyes.
“Exactly.”
“Appalling,” agreed Lady Debenham. “How can so arrogant a prig justify having such a thing?”
“The poor man must have been terribly embarrassed,” said Lady Hartford.”
“He turned red as Captain Harrington’s uniform coat,” confirmed Lady Horseley. “Claimed he’d never seen the cursed thing before, then accused Ellisham of tripping him to perpetrate another of Lord Sedgewick’s pranks.”
“Lord Sedgewick has made him a laughingstock more than once,” Lady Debenham reminded her.
“But never without cause,” said Lady Beatrice, a smile twitching the corners of her mouth.
“What will Crossbridge do now?” asked Lady Hartford. “Will he accost Lord Sedgewick at the Harwood ball tonight?”
“They might not be there,” said Lady Beatrice. “Vauxhall’s opening gala is tonight. We all know how Lord Sedgewick loves the gardens.” Her smile more closely resembled a sneer.
“As does Crossbridge.”
More knowing glances were exchanged.
Joanna ignored the subsequent chatter. Crossbridge’s activities did not interest her. She did not even care that Lord Sedgewick, arbiter of fashion and manners, indulged in juvenile pranks.
Reggie was back. At last.
* * * *
“We missed you, Reggie.” Joanna smiled broadly when he joined her that evening. “I trust you encountered no trouble.”