A Lady's Virtue

by A. S. Fenichel

  Smiling, Sophia clapped and hugged him gently. “I’m sure that was quite a letter. It will all turn out fine, Tony. We’ll get you away from here, and if you like, I’ll help you write to Sylvia.”

  After eating, he kissed his teary mother goodbye and managed to get himself into the carriage by jumping up one step at a time. It had been so long since he’d been outside, the sun hurt his eyes, and it warmed him to the bone.

  Daniel laughed. “You look as if you just escaped purgatory.”

  “As wonderful as Momma and Aunt Daphne are, I have never been happier to leave home in my life.”

  Sophia sighed. “Even with the new springs and cushions, this ride will be hard on you, Tony.”

  “I don’t care, Sophie. I will grin and bear it.”

  Nodding, she leaned into Daniel’s shoulder. “The children will be happy to see you. Charlie is particularly excited to see his uncle. He danced around the parlor when we told him we were going to pick you up.”

  “Adel is not happy I am coming?” Anthony closed his eyes.

  Daniel said, “Adel is more reserved but equally happy to have you visit.”

  “It will be perfect. I couldn’t bear another day in that room.” The dry roads meant there were ruts, but they didn’t get stuck along the way. It would likely take him days to recover from the journey, but it was worth it.

  Chapter 17

  Sylvia checked the ballroom one last time before heading up the steps to see if Serena needed any help. The musicians were already there and setting up their instruments under the very specific instruction of the master of ceremonies. He gave Sylvia a haughty nod, and she made a curtsy.

  The wooden floor shone, and soon the chandeliers would be lit. The Dowder townhouse was smaller than most, but they had a large parlor that was easily converted for a ball. The meal would be served buffet style, and refreshments were already being set out.

  “You are quite adept at all of this preparation and organizing.” Mother stood in the doorway, hands clasped in front of her.

  “Thank you, Mother.”

  Mother glared with little expression. “Your father wishes to see you before you go upstairs.”

  It might have been the first time Father had requested her presence. “I will go to him immediately.”

  She was just outside the double doors when Mother called out, “Oh, I meant to tell you, I had a note from your Earl of Grafton last week.”

  Sylvia’s heart stopped beating and she had to blink several times to keep her head. “And what did it say?”

  “That he was delighted to hear of Serena’s engagement, but that his recent accident and injuries would keep him away from the ball. He wished the entire family well. I thought it quite nice of him to bother with a note at all. He must regard you very highly.” Felicia watched her with narrowed eyes.

  Nothing of the truth would be the right thing for Sylvia to say. “I would think the note is a tribute to you or Serena. It certainly has nothing to do with me.”

  Felicia’s stance relaxed, and she gave one nod.

  Father’s study was the one room the women of the house rarely entered. He kept himself locked up in there for hours at a time and rarely interacted with the household. Sylvia knocked.

  “Enter.” His deep voice came through the door.

  The masculine room was filled with books and a stale cigar smell, which Sylvia had always hated. The desk was crowded with open books of various texts about history, botany, horsemanship, fishing, and a few other subjects. Father was always off on some learning tangent. If he had been willing to share his interests, it might have been fascinating, and maybe even fun, to learn along with him. However, he’d always kept his hobby to himself.

  “Good evening, Father. You wanted to see me?” She waited near the door in case Mother had been mistaken.

  He looked up and pulled his spectacles from his face. “Sylvia, come in. I had a letter with regard to you today, and I thought we might discuss it.”

  She sat in the window seat, as there were no other chairs besides Father’s. It was necessary to stack several books and put them aside to make room for herself. “May I ask who the letter was from?”

  Scanning his desk, he riffled through several papers before he picked up one, plucked his spectacles back on his nose, and studied it. “A Mr. Miles Hallsmith.”

  Sylvia’s heart sank. It was not a question of liking or not liking Miles. He was a fine gentleman who had been very kind to her. Still, she had a vain hope of Anthony forgiving her and reiterating his desire to marry her. “I see.”

  “I didn’t know you were acquainted with Mr. Hallsmith.” He gazed at her over the lenses.

  “During my work with the Everton Domestic Society, I have had a few occasions to be in his company. What does Mr. Hallsmith want?”

  “He asks for permission to court you. He has a good living, despite being a third son, and he appears to have a good head on his shoulders.”

  Crying was not an option. Father hated tears more than any other feminine habit or trait. “He is a good man.”

  Father pushed away his spectacles and the letter, folded his hands on the desk, and leaned toward her. “Is there some reason I should deny him permission, Sylvia?”

  “None that I can think of.”

  He leaned back in his chair but kept his hands folded, resting them on the slight bulge of his stomach. “I have always thought of you as a sensible girl. Do you like this young man?”

  Swallowing all the emotion rocketing to the top of her tolerance, she said, “I do not dislike him.”

  A deep frown creased his mouth and around his eyes. “Despite what you may think and what your mother has displayed over the last few years, I do care about your happiness, Sylvia. Perhaps you might give Mr. Hallsmith some thought before I respond.”

  “I will think about it. Thank you, Father.”

  He returned his attention to a book on dog breeding. “Go on and get ready for this fiasco.”

  Sylvia ran from the room and up the stairs to her sister’s room.

  “Sylvie, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. What has happened?” Serena was a vision in a yellow gown, her hair up in a dozen curls with a string of pearls winding through her chestnut-brown tresses.

  “Miles Hallsmith has asked Father’s permission to court me.”

  Frowning, Serena asked Jenny to leave them. She took Sylvia’s hand, and they sat on the edge of the bed. “But you are in love with Anthony?”

  “Miles is a good man with much to offer a girl like me.” Sensible Sylvia, that was who she was. Miles was a good match.

  “Sylvie, you’re being a dope.”

  It was more Serena’s sharp tone than what she said that shook Sylvia out of her dazedness. “I am a dope? Miles is a nice man with a good living who clearly likes me. Why shouldn’t I welcome his attention?”

  “Everything you said is true, but where is your heart, Sylvie? Anthony loves you, and you love him.”

  She hiccupped but kept her emotions deep down in her gut. “How would you know his feelings?”

  Serena blushed. “He told me. I think I caught him at a weak moment when he needed someone to talk to, and he asked for my help in winning you. I planned to help him too, but then he was called away from the house party and injured.”

  Bewildered by the idea that Anthony would have shared his feelings with her sister, she didn’t know what to say. “Did he think you were me? Why would he tell you how he feels?”

  Taking her hands, Serena whispered, “That’s the amazing thing, Sylvie. I actually took your dress and pretended to be you, but the moment he saw my face, he knew who I was.”

  “How?” Few people could tell them apart.

  Serena sighed. “I think because he loves you so much that love doesn’t shine when he looks at me. It’s the only explanation.
”

  It was becoming harder to not cry. “I think his feelings have cooled.”

  “Why would you think that? Have you heard from him since his accident?”

  Having carried his missive around since it arrived weeks ago, Sylvia used the cool reply as a reminder of what her life was and how foolish it was to consider another. She pulled the parchment out of her reticule and handed it to Serena. “I wrote to him. I couldn’t say all I felt in a letter, but it was filled with emotion and the hope he would understand. This is the reply I received.”

  Serena opened the page and read it. “This is a very feminine hand, Sylvie. Are you sure he wrote this? And ‘My Dear Lady’ doesn’t sound anything like the Anthony Braighton I met. The entire note is far more formal than I have ever heard from him. Perhaps someone wrote it for him because he was incapacitated.”

  “It is not in his hand, but if his mother helped him pen the note, it still may reflect his lack of emotions.”

  Folding the letter, Serena shook her head. “You were looking for an escape, and you found one in that letter, which is clearly not from Anthony. If you want to run away from love, you should at least be honest about it. If you want to marry Miles Hallsmith because he is safe and can’t hurt you, then do so with open eyes. You may lie to me if you like, Sylvie, but don’t lie to yourself.”

  She handed the letter back, and Sylvia took it. She wanted to bristle and posture, denying everything her sister said. The problem was it was all true. The idea of loving Anthony still terrified her even though she knew her mother’s poisonous ideas had colored her own. At the first sign of trouble, she had jumped ship and clung to that note like a lifeline. “You’re right. I will write to him again in the morning.”

  “Good. Now, do you like my dress?” Serena stood and admired herself in the glass.

  Wrapping her arms around her from behind, Sylvia giggled. “You are stunning and will be the most beautiful bride. I’m so happy for you.”

  The clock in the foyer chimed eight o’clock. “Oh, my, we had better get downstairs. The guests will be arriving.”

  “I need just a few minutes.”

  “Of course, I will see you downstairs, but don’t take too long or you’ll miss the announcement.” Serena bounced with glee.

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  Once Serena had left the room, Sylvia gazed into the glass with a long look. How had she become the cowardly sister more worried about her virtue than her happiness? If only she could see Anthony and explain it all to him.

  Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her skirt and strode out the door.

  Guests arrived, and the din rang at an uncomfortable level. When the music began, Serena and Rutledge took the floor. Both smiled; the world was a perfect place and them perfect in it. At least one thing had gone right this year, and Serena’s happiness was well worth any price.

  “Should I not have sent that letter to your father?” Miles smiled, but trepidation shone in his green eyes.

  Her admiration for Miles was never in question. He was everything a young man should be: kind and lighthearted. “It was lovely of you to think of me, Mr. Hallsmith.”

  “Would you be scandalized if I asked you to dance the second with me? I understand it will be a waltz.” His grin was infectious.

  “I would be delighted.”

  “Good. Your sister looks well pleased, and so does Stansfield. You should be proud of your matchmaking skills, and your ability to make Anthony Braighton the perfect Earl of Grafton.”

  It should have meant nothing, but the mention of his name gave her gooseflesh, and she longed to see him more than she wanted to take her next breath.

  “I see I’ve lost you.” He still smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  Sylvia pulled herself together. “I only arranged a few parties and played hostess. His lordship did the rest.”

  The music ended, and the dancers left the floor in search of refreshment.

  Father appealed to the master of ceremonies to address the ballroom. Mother stood by his side, the most unnatural smile on her face.

  Miles stood by her side, and she appreciated his friendship. Perhaps marrying a man who would be a friend without passion was not as cowardly as Serena seemed to think. Yet, the notion ripped the joy out of her soul.

  In formal attire, Edwin Dowder struck a fine figure as he cleared his throat and asked the room for their attention. “Welcome to our home. We are delighted to announce the engagement of our eldest daughter—though only by a few minutes—to Rutledge Haversham, the Earl of Stansfield. We are elated and wish the happy couple great joy.”

  Everyone applauded, and several ladies they’d grown up with ran to find Serena, where they became a gaggle of giggling girls.

  Sylvia backed away until she was pressed into the corner and out of sight while Miles was busy laughing at the excited young ladies.

  Something hard poked her in the ribs. “What?”

  Lady Daphne Collington frowned at her and pointed with her cane. “You will not make your mark on society from the darkened corners of ballrooms, Miss Sylvia Dowder.”

  “I do not wish to detract from my sister’s excitement, my lady.”

  Over the last few years, time had caught up with her ladyship. She’d developed a slight hunch in her back, and of course the cane was now required. Still, her frown was daunting. “Are not those same silly girls your friends?”

  Sylvia tipped her chin up. “A friendship with an Everton lady is frowned upon. Therefore, if I entered the fray, I would cause all of them to scatter. Since Serena would support me, she would be left to celebrate with only me. This way she can enjoy her moment with those silly girls, as you called them.”

  Her frown in place, she nodded. “You have chosen a hard road, Miss Dowder. But you must know that a true friend would not abandon you in your hour of need. I would guess your sister knows that as well.”

  At that moment, Serena searched the ballroom until her gaze fell on Sylvia. She cocked her head.

  Sylvia smiled and nodded, letting her know she was fine and not to worry.

  “Take my great-nephew for instance. Anthony must think quite a lot of you. He was barely out of bed and unable to write, but rather than allow your letter to go unanswered, he asked me to write for him.”

  Unable to draw a breath, Sylvia opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. She tried again and managed a gasping breath. “You wrote that letter?”

  “I just said as much. He must be very fond of you. His concern that you would worry over him was acute. Of course, I tamed any notions he might have of embarrassing you with his American style of writing.”

  How could she have been so stupid? His aunt wrote the note. The note that made her think he didn’t love her anymore was washed out by her sense of propriety. What he must have suffered to ask her to write it at all. “Thank you, my lady. It was most kind and well written.”

  “Perhaps you might write to him again now that he is better able to respond, though he stills struggles with his right arm.”

  If it were any other night, she would run upstairs and pen a letter immediately. “I will send a missive to Collington House in the morning.”

  “You won’t find him there. He has disobeyed his mother and left London.” It was hard to tell if Daphne was proud or annoyed with Anthony for making his own decisions.

  “He’s not alone at Riverdale I hope.” It was a moment of panic that he might be in need of help, and here she was enjoying a ball. Well, not really enjoying it, but she was in attendance.

  “No. Lord and Lady Marlton came for him and took him to the country to finish his recovery. I believe Angelica’s mothering was quite too much for him. Sophia will make sure he is walking in no time. You may contact him there. Now you should make yourself seen before you are labeled a wallflower. Or worse, a dowager.” Daphne wave
d her cane and walked away.

  Sylvia laughed, but she was already calculating what she should do.

  The music started, and Miles came to collect her. “I believe this is our dance, Miss Dowder.”

  Taking his arm, she walked to the dance floor. As the music lifted, he guided her around the floor. “You dance very well, Mr. Hallsmith.”

  “How else is one to woo ladies?”

  “Is that what you’re doing?” She chuckled.

  “Well, I would if I didn’t see that look in your eyes.” Expertly, he maneuvered them out of the path of another couple who were not as adept at the waltz.

  “What look is that?”

  He pulled her in closer. “The look of a woman who is in love with someone else.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” She wished she hid her emotions better. Harming Miles in any way was the last thing she wanted.

  He shrugged and spun them adeptly along the outside of the floor. “It’s all right, Miss Dowder. Tell your father you do not wish to court me. I will survive. I’m not sure Tony will, but you should not worry about me.”

  “What do you mean? He is healing well. I just spoke to his aunt, and she told me he is doing well and recovering at Marlton.” Maybe Daphne hadn’t been told everything due to her age. Lord, what would she do if anything happened to Anthony?

  “Relax, he will recover from his stupidity, but I don’t know if he will ever get over you.”

  “Why did you ask my father if you could court me when you are such good friends with Tony?” It made no sense.

  A wicked smile followed a long dramatic sigh, and he bowed at the end of the dance. “For two reasons, Miss Dowder. Because I like you, and if you liked me, we might suit. But I admit I suspected your feelings for Tony, and I already knew his depth of emotion where you are concerned. I thought to test a theory. If you agreed to court me, you would not have been the right woman for my friend. Since you did not agree, perhaps you might consider another offer I have for you.”