“I pay attention to my hand and do not ogle any sweet young thing that has the temerity to pass the card room door,” David said with a chuckle as he shuffled the cards and dealt them efficiently. He took a smaller mouthful of brandy and let the fiery heat fill his mouth and trickle down his throat. It was an unconscionably excellent spirit, which he surmised had not arrived with duty paid on it. “The only way to play if you want to win.”
James smiled ruefully. “True, but some of those debs are a sight for sore eyes.”
“And some have wedding bells in mind. Remember Ronnie.”
James rolled his eyes. “How could I forget? Enough to almost send one into a monastery.”
David burst out laughing. “You? Give me strength, James. That would be the day. You’d last about five minutes.”
“True, all that kneeling and no willing women who come without a ball and chain.”
“No women at all,” David pointed out. “A monastery is for men. Celibate men.”
“Enough.” James gave an exaggerated shudder. “Right, let me try and win some of my money back.” He glanced at his cards and groaned. “Again, a donkey of a hand.”
“Want to swap?” David offered. “You can if you think it will help you win your money back.”
James shook his head. “Not now you have offered, no thank you. I’ll stick with what I have.”
David nodded. “So be it.”
“Next time,” James said half an hour later as they totted up the scores, “I swear I will sit with my back to the door and not look up even if a gaggle of ladies runs past stark naked. I make it three hundred guineas to you. I’ll send it around in the morning.” He kicked his chair back and crossed his legs. “Then Tatts?”
“No hurry,” David said as he handed the cards back to a footman with a smile and a nod of thanks. “I doubt it would matter which way you sat, you’d still keep looking—especially if naked ladies were involved. You are not a gamester, James, which is no bad thing. And yes, I will accompany you to Tattersalls and make sure you do not buy a kicker. That would also be a bad gamble.” And once more his departure for the north would be postponed. It couldn’t be helped. Certain people, like James and his godmother, had always championed him and deserved his support. He would never let them down, or put his own pleasure and preference before their needs.
“True, I do not have your knack for horses or cards. Mind you, Papa was enough to put me off gambling for life.” James’ father had gambled a large part of his son’s inheritance away before the man had fallen off his horse and broken his neck, thus enabling James to save the family coffers. “Ah well.” James rolled his shoulders. “If I have to lose, I prefer it to be to you. At least you will do something useful with it.”
“Of course.” David stood and stretched. “Still, it passed the evening reasonably well, eh? And we were not inveigled next door…ohhh lord, I spoke too soon. My beloved godmama is about to descend on us.”
“That’s it, I’m off. She scares me.” James stood up so fast his chair crashed to the ground to be righted by a footman. “Tell her I had to see a man about a dog.” He spun on his heel and walked in the opposite direction to their hostess.
“Ahhh, David, my boy,” Janie Foster said in her usual boom of a voice. It was, her godchildren were wont to say, enough to scatter the ducks on the pond in the park at twenty paces. “I should have guessed where you were hiding. I need you to do your duty just one more time. Never fear, I’ll collar young Dempster later. So to whom shall I introduce you, eh? Must help you find a wife.” Her eyes twinkled. “One guaranteed not to disturb your equilibrium, eh?”
“Godmama, if you ever want to see me again, or for me to continue to manage your affairs, you will not introduce me to any more women,” David said emphatically. “I came just to show face and to support you. You were vehement in your pathos that no one would turn up. I saw through that, you reprobate. No one would dare miss one of your balls. So here I am and I had duty dances with you and Lyddie.” Lydia was his godmother’s other godchild and they had known each other since they were in leading reins. Both knew they would not suit and therefore were the perfect foil when one or the other needed a partner for some reason. “I am not in the market for a wife, and seriously, can you see me happy with any of those witless chits? Really?” He had no intention of explaining he was actually thinking along those lines. His wife-to-be was no one’s business except his own. And, eventually, that of the as-yet-unknown lady. “Can you truly imagine me living with shrieking giggles and witless asides? Inanities, and a need for more overdecorated gowns?” He shuddered dramatically. “If you love me, you wouldn’t foist that life onto me.”
Janie Foster sighed. “When you put it like that…”
“Exactly.” Even the thought brought him out in hives. “Therefore, I refuse to dance with anyone and raise their hopes only to dash them. I am, whatever people might think of me, not intentionally cruel. So, dearest Godmama, do me a favor and put it about I do not want to be wed, and that I would be a terrible husband.”
“That’ll make them all the more eager,” Lady Dempster said sagely. “They’ll want to be the one who changes your mind and tames you. Each and every one of them. Best just to keep using your normal avoidance tactics and hope you are clever enough to outsmart them all. Especially the mamas.”
David saw a newly familiar blonde-haired lady scurry along the corridor behind his godmother and grinned. Maybe he should go against his declaration? No, that would be heartless. However… Something to consider later. “Not all of them are interested in me, I’d wager. Anyway, I believe it is about supper time, and I promised myself I’d lead you in. So come on, before all the crab patties are taken.”
Lady Dempster snorted. “Once a rake…”
He narrowed his eyes and she tapped his cheek. “Yes, my boy, I know, but please, whatever happens, make sure you do not lose that rakish twinkle. Right then, lead on and never fear, I arranged for a plate of your favorite foods to be held back, just for you.” She took his arm and let him propel her in the direction of the supper room. In the background, a string quartet began to play softly—the signal the supper room was open. “And there’s a lemon confection you once commented favorably on. I’d wager there’s a large portion of that hidden away with your name on it, to be on the safe side as well. My staff know how hungry dancing makes us.” She winked. “Or something does.”
David laughed. “Ah, Godmama, I love you so, but not even that will make me dance more. I’ll just wheedle some goodies out of Cook.” He bussed her cheek and she guffawed.
“Cupboard love, but I’ll take it. Now let’s go and find a seat and hope you do not get mobbed.”
“If I do,” he said darkly, “I promise I will leave you to it and go and eat in the kitchens. Mrs. Price loves me.” Mrs. Price was the housekeeper. “Hence the chef’s offering of the lemon confection and crab patties.”
“She’ll ask when you’re getting wed,” Lady Dempster said. “Both of them will. They want to see me dandle babies on my knee and you and Lyddie are dragging your heels.”
He rolled his eyes. “Nothing worse than if we made those babies together. You know why I haven’t married, and also why I have no inclination to marry. No one else needs to. Oh, and Lyddie and I would not suit. Mrs. Price agrees.”
“Of course she does. That is for certain. You and Lyddie are too alike and would murder each other within a month,” Janie said with another of her booming laughs. “Very well, I will keep mum for now. As long as you partner someone for the last waltz. Who should it be?”
He tilted his head to one side and considered the alert and intelligent lady in front of him. It was no good—he had to stir things up.
“How about Josephine Bowie?”
* * * *
Josephine stood up from the supper table where she had enjoyed a peaceful—and male-free—meal with a few of her closest friends. All had lived through several seasons, none had found any man they wanted
to encourage or spend any time with, let alone marry. Each and every one intended to live their lives as they chose, and not be dictated to by others. With that in mind, they had made a pact at the beginning of the season to ensure, whenever possible, if nothing else, that they ate in peace. So far, most of the time, they achieved it. Josephine supposed the scowls one or all of them gave any male who came within five yards of them helped them in their cause. As did their habit of finding a table just big enough for whichever of them were there and no one else.
Of course, their reputations as shrews helped. It was something they all cultivated.
“Ah well.” Josephine rolled her eyes. “Back to hiding until my mama decrees we may leave.” She shook her skirts out to reduce the creases and surreptitiously checked her mama was involved with her cronies and couldn’t see her early departure. All was well. “It cannot come fast enough for me.”
Her mama appeared oblivious to what her daughter was doing, and although Josephine wouldn’t have liked to wager on that point, she guessed it would be a while before any of those ladies became interested in anything other than their coterie and its gossip. As long as she got Josephine to whatever event she had chosen, Lady Bowie believed, erroneously, that Josephine would become involved in everything that went on.
Thankful as ever that her mama did not put her daughter and her daughter’s activities high on her list of priorities, she left the supper room. Her mama’s despair at her daughter’s unwed state was not because she was interested in Josephine. Josephine understood that. It was, she had long decided, the best way her parents could really dismiss her and her unwanted intrusion in their lives. However, not even for that would she compromise, and therefore the reluctant acceptance of what she intended to do next had been given. She’d learned at a young age not to ask for help, in any shape or form, because it would not be given. She’d always be fobbed off to someone else.
Her papa’s doings were a different matter in her mama’s mind. Every little thing he did was important. As they were rarely apart, worry over what he might be up to didn’t exercise her mother’s mind to any great extent.
Nevertheless, Josephine made her way quietly toward the ballroom. Once there, she hoped to gain a chair in a corner, preferably behind a pot plant, where no one would notice her and she could spend her time watching the antics of others. She gave a heartfelt sigh as a young rake approached, paused, took one look at her blank expression and passed her without a second glance. Her not-interested, slightly vacuous expression stood her in good stead. Simply not interested would pique their curiosity. Vacuous put them off trying.
The end of the season was far too far away for her liking and every day in the capital was one day too many. Why her mama thought she needed more gowns, bonnets, stockings or gloves when the season was thankfully drawing to a close she had no idea, but when her mama decided something had to happen she was immovable as a mountain. Even though she was so wrapped up in her husband and he in her, both decreed Josephine should look her best. Not that she escorted her daughter to the mantua makers or elsewhere. Orders were given and garments produced. Josephine was expected to accept what was made and wear it. Luckily, so far, nothing truly disgusting had appeared. If it did, no doubt a clumsy hand would ensure red wine or some such stain would appear before long and render the garment useless. As her lithe and colt-like figure was unfashionable, Josephine could often steer her dressmaker’s mind away from high fashion to what Josephine understood suited her.
Because her parents normally paid little attention to their daughter and this was one area where they deviated from the norm, Josephine suspected it was their way of trying to get her off their hands in a more acceptable manner than her retiring to the country. Her parents were conscious of their need to keep up appearances. Even so, it was irritating, to say the least.
Josephine’s birthday was not until several weeks after they were due to remove to Brighton for a month or so. Nevertheless, Josephine had high hopes she would soon be ensconced in her own home, and ball gowns and fancy bonnets would be things of the past. She had subtly suggested it was a waste of time to take her to Brighton, and thus have to find someone to be her companion. After all, she hardly spent any time in her parents’ presence when they shared a house, so she might as well be happy elsewhere as miserable there. So far her mama had resisted her pleas with an indifferent, ‘You might meet someone who will turn you away from a solitary life.’ As it hadn’t happened in London, and it would be the same people in Brighton, Josephine couldn’t fathom out her mother’s reasoning.
Keeping up appearances again, no doubt.
Josephine had decided that as long as she kept a low profile and did nothing to give her parents any hope that she intended to make a good match, eventually she should get her way. After all, she was nothing if not dogged in her single-mindedness. Her parents may not generally pay a lot of attention to her, but she was sure the moment any gentleman showed even one jot of interest in her, they would not give her a moment’s peace. It wouldn’t be interest in their daughter per se, but interest in the fact that a good marriage would prove to be an ‘acceptable in the eyes of the ton’ way to be rid of her. She didn’t intend that to happen. Therefore it behooved her to make sure she gave her parents no opportunity to think it a possibility.
With that thought firmly fixed in her mind, Josephine turned into the short corridor that led to the ladies’ withdrawing room and the ballroom and met one of her contemporaries coming in the opposite direction. Harriet grabbed Josephine’s arm and pulled her into a tiny alcove at the junction of where two corridors met.
“Oh, Josephine, wait with me for a moment. I am so excited.” Harriet London sighed and clasped her hands together. “I do believe Lord Goffrey is to ask Papa for my hand in marriage. Isn’t it thrilling? I swear, if Papa says no, I will die.”
Josephine had long suspected Harriet did not have an excess of common sense. “If you die, it won’t matter if your papa said no,” Josephine replied prosaically. “Perhaps you better not expire before you hear what your papa says.”
Harrier blinked and pouted. “Josephine, do not be cruel.”
Josephine shook her head. What was it with females and idiocy regarding certain men? Lord Goffrey was a quiet, unassuming man who, as far as she could tell, wouldn’t say boo to a goose and had little imagination or zest for life. What Harriet saw in him, Josephine had no idea. Perhaps it was as well everyone was different. “Lord, Harriet, do not be a peahen,” she advised her friend. “He won’t say no. Why on earth should he? Therefore, if it is what you want, I am happy for you.” He would suit the quiet Harriet as well as anyone.
Harriet looked at Josephine with curiosity in her expression. “I want it more than anything in the world. It is what we as young ladies are meant to be, a good wife and mother.”
Josephine bit back her snort of derision. “Harriet, you are deluded if you think that alone will make you happy.”
Harriet stared at her in amazement. “Do you not think so? It is what we are here for, after all. I am sure you are wrong.”
Josephine snorted. “In your dreams perhaps.” Did she really have no more interest or ambition than that?
“Don’t you want to marry?” Harriet asked, curiously. “Surely, that is supposed to be the next stage in our lives. A husband and then children.”
“Not at all,” Josephine said in a brisk voice. “If I married I would be a chattel. Subservient and expected to obey my husband in all things. To be ignored at will, or never have a moment to myself. I would be expected to have children who would then be cared for by nursemaids and nannies. No parental love.” She shook her head. “Or, if in the very unlikely case my husband marries me for love, not convenience, he would expect me to lavish my attention on him, not our children. Either way, the children suffer. I prefer not to put any human being through that.” As I was. In her case, her parents had eyes for no one but each other, and she and her younger brother were ignored. George ha
d been at Eton and was now at Oxford and, when home, involved in learning how to eventually manage their estates. She thought perhaps the lack of attention hadn’t affected him as much as her. Josephine, however, had spent many years in the same house as her mama and papa and still thought they were nigh on strangers. Even when at age five she’d fallen out of the apple tree and broken her arm, their attention had been minimal. Her papa had had to return to town, so of course her mama had accompanied him. Josephine had been left at home with her governess. Not that Miss Margaret Scott—Scotty—hadn’t been loving and kind—she had—but just for once it would, Josephine thought, have been good to have some parental comfort. But her mama had been determined that her place was by her husband’s side and nothing, but nothing, would get in the way.
The conversation she had overheard then had stayed etched in her mind for almost twenty years. ‘That girl is a confounded nuisance,’ her papa had ranted. ‘She’s not even a beauty, so how we’ll get her a good marriage is anyone’s guess. Dowry I suppose. It’s time she went to school. Love, if you’d produced a son first, none of this would have happened. We didn’t need a daughter. A waste of space and money.’
Her mama has said something soothing, but Josephine had been under no illusion as to what they thought of her. As soon as her arm was mobile she was shipped off to Miss Leonard’s School and there she’d mainly stayed until, with considerable reluctance on both her parents’ and her side, she had had her come out. With minimal input from her papa, and only what was needed, and nagging, from her mama.
In many of her contemporaries’ lives it was another scenario. One where the parents had married for convenience then gone their own ways. Neither situation seemed right to Josephine. How could anyone have children and ignore them, or put all their effort and thoughts into one person to the detriment of everyone else? What if you loved your husband and that love was not returned? Or you married as you were asked to do, and were not allowed to love your children, or their father ignored them? All of those scenarios were unacceptable to her. She would therefore stay single, become an old maid and retire to her cottage.
The Viscount Meets his Match: A Regency Romance Page 4