Her heart sped as she flew down the hall, stopping to compose herself at the stairs. How was she going to deal with this? With the highest degree of aloofness and discouragement. Mother would insist on giving him tea and this could go on for at least an hour.
What nuisance of a man would insist on calling without a single notion of encouragement? Then again, from the things she'd heard about him, should she be surprised? She would simply have to act very cold, to the point of being rude. This was not how things were done.
With her head held high and hiding how quickly her heart was beating, she walked into the salon and found her mother standing there—alone. Where was he?
"I thought we had a visitor," Sylvia said nonchalantly, even as her voice had a certain shake.
Mother was sitting with her embroidery and she looked up. “Oh, yes, he is here to discuss business with your father. He’s in with him now.”
"In with father? In the study?" Sheer panic flared through her. This could not be happening. Calling on the father was something men did when they were sure, not the day after they met someone at a ball. Surely he couldn't be in there proposing a match?
“Something to do with railway business,” her mother said and returned to her embroidery.
“Oh,” Sylvia said, all the worry and tension deflating. Of course he was. How could she had been so utterly silly as to think anything else.
"Such a fine carriage,” her mother said. “Very handsome. Have you seen him?”
“We were introduced yesterday by Lady Wenstropp. They appear to be acquainted.”
"Oh really? In that case, perhaps we should invite him to partake in some tea,” her mother suggested.
“Not everyone says very flattering things about him. And if what they say is true, father should probably not have anything to do with him.”
"He is very handsome," her mother repeated as if not hearing anything Sylvia said. “In my experience, I have found that handsome men can be quite thorny.”
"Tyrant was the word used."
"Sylvia! Don't say such things."
"It wasn't I who said it. You should hear the things they say about him. I'm surprised Lord Wallings didn't bar the door." Although he did seem well acquainted with Lady Wenstropp, who was perhaps not best described as kind, but was a reasonable woman.
Out in the hall, the door to the study opened and her mother urged her out into the hall. She wanted to argue, but it would cause a bit of a scene. The two men shook hands in the doorway, and they both looked over. Her throat closed over.
No smile graced his lips. No, he certainly wasn’t particularly pleased to see her. Her own assumptions for his visit seemed strange and stupid now. A ludicrous conclusion to jump to that this man would see her once and then turn up the next day to offer for her. Of all the silly things in her head, this was probably the one she was most embarrassed about. "Mrs. Bellworth," he said with a quick bow, and turned his attention to her. "Miss Bellworth. We meet again."
"Yes," she said with a smile that didn't form properly. Desperately, she tried to think of something to say, but it was slipping her mind.
"Well, I must bid you good day,” he said curtly.
"You do not wish to refresh yourself with some tea?" Mother asked.
"No, I'm afraid I have an appointment. Some other time, I'm sure."
"Of course."
It was only a few steps to the door and there were more nods and well wishes. And then he was gone. Sylvia felt his absence like relief from a heavy burden, and she could breathe again. For a moment, she'd actually feared she'd faint. This really was extraordinary behavior and she needed to stop. This stupid prophecy was undoing her. No such things existed. This man had not come to offer for her and she was not going to marry some handsome monster.
"Things went well, I trust?" her mother demanded.
"Hmm?" Father asked absently. "Oh yes, just regarding investments for a commission he chairs. Interesting prospect." Her father had invested heavily in railways, and done well in the process. It wasn’t surprising that anyone interested in building railways would come talk to him.
Her father returned to the study and Sylvia felt as if her heart was recovering from a terrifying ordeal.
Andrew appeared on the staircase. "Who was that that just left? I swear I heard a visitor."
"Nobody," Sylvia said darkly and returned to the salon.
"Perhaps we should have that tea after all," Mother said and sat down on the sofa. "Care for some, Andrew?" she called out loud enough that Andrew would hear. He grumbled a response, which could mean anything.
Chapter 7
"I SWEAR MY HEART stopped just when his carriage pulled up," Sylvia said as she walked arm in arm with Ester. It was cold and their breath condensed. "I can't believe I was so silly."
"Well, it is unusual that you should meet a man and the next day he requests a private meeting with your father. If it wasn't for that stupid prophesy, you wouldn't have assumed anything of the sort."
"No," Sylvia agreed.
"We need to forget that prophesy entirely. It was silly of us to have gone to see that woman. Honestly, it wasn't the first silly thing we've ever done, but I swear I am going to stop doing silly things."
Sylvia smiled. It was true that they had done some silly things together, but this might have topped the cake.
The streets were busy as they walked to the chocolatier they often visited, located down Pall Mall. It was a short walk and they passed some of the finest squares in the city, and also the chestnut vendor. Roasting chestnuts always reminded her of Christmas. But it was chocolate on their minds today, and the gossip that often ensued.
There were always interesting people to meet at La Pépite D'or. A more informal congregation of a broader number of the younger set within society. One of the few places they could go without someone's mother paying attention to every single thing said and did.
It wasn't a surprise when they saw a familiar pair. Felicity Horsham and Clarissa Genting were sitting by the window and Sylvia waved as they approached the ornate shop. The bell made a gentle tinkle as the door opened. All friends greeted with kisses and then they ordered two cups of chocolate from the French proprietor.
"How is your fiancé?" Ester asked Felicity, who was set to marry Frederick Walton in the spring. They had become betrothed a few months back and she was generally considered one of the luckiest girls they knew. Frederick was both handsome and wealthy. A wide smile lit up Felicity's face. She was clearly infatuated with her intended, which boded for a happy marriage.
Sylvia's smile faltered for a second. They should all be so lucky, and not tied to some miserable ogre.
"How was the Wallings Ball? You attended, didn't you?" Clarissa asked. "I was distraught that I missed it. And I heard there was a new appearance—Lord Britheney."
Inwardly, Sylvia groaned.
"They say he is most handsome," Clarissa continued, her eyes shining. The appearance of a new, wealthy lord was something to comment on. "Did you see him?"
"Well, he's very… dark," Sylvia said. Maybe she should say more. "I heard some disturbing gossip about his character."
"That makes him more interesting, doesn't it?" Felicity said with a smile. "A man can't be too dull."
He was certainly not dull, Sylvia had to admit, then dismissed the thought. She needed to stop thinking about him.
"We did the silliest thing," Ester admitted, throwing Sylvia a look to see if she objected to her bringing it up. "There has been talk about a fortune teller in Vauxhall Gardens." Sylvia gave her a warning look and Ester shrugged slightly.
"I have heard of her too. Bethany Westeford swore she is uncannily accurate."
"No, of course not," Ester said with a snort. "Don't be silly."
"She foretold Margret Lowry's engagement with Adrien Tassey, and no one foresaw that," Felicity said.
"And Violet Forette marrying Lionstoke. Although that one was less of a wonder, but how would that woman know?"
Clarissa asked.
Both Sylvia and Ester were frowning. "Well, she must hear gossip," Ester said. "She sits at Vauxhall Gardens. I'm sure young men in their cups are spilling their heart's desires all night long."
"Not sure William Phipps particularly wanted to marry Bethany," Felicity answered with a grimace.
"So he must have been lamenting it and she probably overheard him."
"I take it your fates were not to your liking," Clarissa stated and neither Sylvia or Ester spoke for a moment.
"It was just silliness," Sylvia said dismissively.
"She simply said we would both marry and be very happy."
Well, technically she'd said that to Ester. There hadn't been any particular mention of happiness in her marriage to the dark-natured man with a limp.
Sylvia and Ester looked at each other. Praise for the fortune teller's accuracy wasn't what they wanted to hear, particularly as they had both concluded to dismiss her as a complete fraud.
Their cups of chocolate arrived and Sylvia lifted hers, the scent of the chocolate wafting up and making her mouth water.
At the moment, she couldn't really tell where her emotions were, but she could enjoy a steaming cup of chocolate. The liquid was thick and coated her mouth, then the glorious flavor. She sighed.
"Perhaps I should go see this fortune teller," Clarissa said. "It would be such a relief to know who you end up with."
They had certainly thought so as well, but it had been anything but comforting for both of them. They would be quite happy now if they hadn't gone, filled with every possibility in the world.
"There is something to be said for thinking there is potential with every man you dance with," Sylvia said.
"That is true," Ester said. "The discovery of romance is still ahead of you, around any corner you turn. This is but a short time of our lives. Do we really want to cheat ourselves out of the mystery?"
"That's so sweet. You have quite convinced me. Besides, I don't have a brother who will take me to Vauxhall," Clarissa said pointedly. "I'm not sure how you convinced him. Oh, I must rush. Mama is receiving Lady Tafferton this afternoon. She will never forgive me if I'm late returning."
"I'll walk back with you," Felicity said. "I believe we shall all see each other at Mrs. Brigham's party next week."
"Yes, we will," Ester confirmed. It was one of the highlights of the month.
"Will Andrew be coming?" Clarissa asked lightly and Sylvia wondered why she was asking. Did Clarissa have an interest in Andrew? How anyone would be interested in her brother, she had no idea, but she supposed his credentials weren't bad. Still, she couldn't imagine anyone thinking that way about her brother.
"I am sure Mama will make him." Her parents usually insisted Andrew accompany her to any events they went to, whether he wanted to or not.
Felicity and Clarissa left, bracing themselves against the cold outside by wrapping their shawls tightly around them before disappearing from view.
Taking a sip from her cup, Ester sighed. "I do so love a cup of chocolate. Mama wants to go for a ride around Hyde Park tomorrow. Would you like to come?"
Sylvia threw a look her way. There was nothing more dull than sitting in a carriage being dragged around Hyde Park, to by chance run into some gentleman out exercising his horse.
"Do you think he can even ride with that leg?" Sylvia mused. The thought had verbalized out of her mouth without thinking.
"I should think so. Perhaps he rides better than he walks."
A group of younger girls came in, giggling as they took their seats and talking all too animatedly. Sylvia found them tiresome and they'd only been there two seconds. Had they been like that? They certainly didn't behave like that anymore. They were older now. All their friends were slowly being married off. Felicity would shortly, which left only Clarissa. Every month, their group seemed to get smaller. Not that she felt any particular longing when she looked back at the animated group of younger girls behind her.
Perhaps age was changing them. While young men had always been the pervasive topic of conversation, things were changing. Interest had shifted from young men and their attributes to also include married life. The idea of being out of her father's home, of being a wife and a mother. It wasn't something she was rushing towards, but perhaps it was a maturity that had naturally developed. There was an appeal in those things that she couldn't entirely describe.
It felt a little as if she still had one foot in girlhood and another was firmly stepping into womanhood. Considering the girls behind her, she was certainly not a girl anymore. Although some degree of silliness was still allowed. Everything would be much too serious otherwise, and serious, desperate girls had never been any fun.
"Perhaps we need to be more considered in how we view him," Ester said guardedly, and Sylvia had completely lost the gist of the conversation.
"Who?"
"Lord Britheney."
Even the name was a little jarring. "How so?"
"Well, we base our entire opinion on what Lady Thornton said about him."
"Which wasn't flattering at all."
"We would never do that about a girl, would we? Base our entire opinion on one person saying malicious things about her."
That was true. Malicious gossip always had an agenda, they had learnt. Another insight of maturity. And maybe Ester was right. They had based their entire opinion on one person's account, and who knew what lay underneath Lady Thornton's vehemence? It could be anything. It could be utterly justified, but it was never fair to take such claims to heart on simple faith. "Yes, you are right," Sylvia had to concede.
"So perhaps we need more opinions. And not just hearsay. We need true observations of his character."
"What are you saying?" Sylvia asked suspiciously.
"We will make a study of the man. Note what he does and says, and how he acts."
This all sounded a bit disheartening, but what about this hadn't been disheartening so far? It was almost as if she feared hearing he wasn't quite as horrid as Lady Thornton made out, because then, there might actually be some credence to this prophesy. It was easier to think of him as simply an ogre and dismiss him outright. Because even if he wasn't a complete horror, he had still been described as a difficult man.
"Do you really think Clarissa in interested in Andrew?" Ester asked.
Well, there was another disturbing thought. Although it would perhaps be nice to have a friend as a sister. Still, it was hard to imagine them married.
Chapter 8
THE HOUSE IN MAYFAIR was deathly silent. The street was quiet and Felix found it disturbing. He was used to noise, the drone of soldiers. At all hours of day and night, soldiers were a noisy lot. Less so in the officers' quarters, but it was never truly silent like this house was.
Rising from his chair, he walked out of the library. With the exception of a few rooms, the house was mostly cold. What was the point of heating a large house when it was only him there? So he kept the library, the study, the dining room and his bed chamber warm and nothing else. The rest of the house sat silent and dark as if hibernating.
"Mr. Croft," he called and waited for the elderly retainer to appear. His staff had lived in this house without a master for close to ten years. They were all quite elderly and more than a little set in their ways. Challenging them only upset them, so he left them to it mostly.
The man appeared, looking dour as always.
"I am going out for the evening. No need to stay up. I will see to myself when I return."
Another issue with having elderly retainers was that they went down with the sun more often than not. Asking Croft to remain on duty until he returned would be tantamount to torture.
"Very good, my lord."
The air had a chill when he stepped outside onto the street. The gas light burned not far away, throwing a mellow arc of light across the cobbled street. With a whistle, he called a hack that was waiting some ways down the street. It was easier than having to co-ordinate with his own
driver on nights out. And in the neighbourhood he was going to, a standing carriage didn't always remain entirely intact. Street urchins stole anything they could get their hands on.
"The Black Swan," he said to the driver as he pulled up. And then they were off down the dark streets of London. Some windows were brighter than others, less so the further they went east. But the streets grew move lively. Costermongers worked all hours of the night, or people were out seeking entertainment, drunkenness or whores.
The Black Swan didn't hide what it was, a gaming palace for those wishing to spend money. It had every vice you could think of, and it served a need for disorder inside him, for messiness and uncertainty. He saw the appeal, particularly in a society that required so much restraint and incessant politeness. All the hidden characters came out in a place like the Black Swan and you saw exactly who people were. It had an honesty that the cards room in someone's fine house would never quite achieve.
Gas lights burned brightly at their destination, drawing the moths to the flame. In a sea of darkness, it shone like a bright jewel. Every manner of person was there. Well not every. Every manner of person willing to spend exorbitant amounts on the drinks and the more expensive variant of girls. One didn't come here for cheap vices.
There were starry-eyed young bucks, jaded rakes, determined gamblers, even the Lotharios thinking themselves in love with some girl of the night. Some men were like that, could only be infatuated with girls you had to recompense for their affection. But this was a world of men, where there were no dance cards, etiquette or polite banter.
Beside the velvet, satins and gold, it was the closest thing to the life he'd known that he could find in London, because a ballroom left him feeling nothing but frustration and ill ease.
A beautiful girl took his coat and hat and he was then greeted by a wave of noise as he entered the main gaming room. The bar extended the full length of the far wall. Beauties served drinks, or simply milled around serving as muses and lucky charms. Music played and there were a few dancing girls on stage along the other wall. There were rooms for more intimate activities upstairs, not that Felix visited them. This was not the kind of place where he wished to explore any intimacies.
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