Read A Marriageable Miss Online

Authors: Dorothy Elbury

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #Romance & Sagas, #Historical romance

A Marriageable Miss (14 page)

With a satisfied nod, Redfern made his way over to the other two girls to bid them good day.

Having viewed his appearance with some misgivings, Helena was thankful to find that, after a polite but sincere enquiry as to her father’s health, the bulk of Redfern’s conversation appeared to consist of a number of humorous anecdotes relating to the various eccentricities of some of his
ton
nish patients. Contrary to what she had expected, in view of his sister’s comment, she was unable to discern any appreciable change in his manner towards herself, leading her to reach the conclusion that her normally rather astute friend Jenny had entirely misread the situation.

In no time at all, she found herself back to chuckling away at his droll tales in much the same manner as she had always done and, as she smilingly watched him divest himself of his jacket and roll up his sleeves in order to take over the heavier aspects of the clearing-up operation, she could only breathe a huge sigh of relief, happy in the knowledge that everything seemed to be exactly as it had always been.

His current set of anecdotes having run out, Dr Redfern then turned the topic to discussing the countess’s soirée of the previous week and was soon genially enquiring as to whether Helena and her cousin were enjoying their current foray into high society.

‘Have they told you that they are off to Almack’s this evening?’ put in Jenny as, having completed her tasks for the morning, she joined the group where, turning to her brother, she enquired, ‘Didn’t you once mention that Mrs Drummond-Burrell had offered you vouchers should Mama and I wish to attend? Is it possible that the offer is still open, do you suppose?’

At her words, Lottie’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh, do you think you might be able to come along, too?’ she cried. ‘I do wish you could. I find
it really difficult to be among so many strangers all the time—do try to persuade them to join us, Nell!’ she cajoled her cousin.

‘The more the merrier, as far as I’m concerned,’ returned Helena, who had been viewing the prospect of having to spend yet another evening in Markfield’s decidedly non-communicative company with very mixed feelings, particularly after the highly unsettling events of the previous evening.

‘Oh, do say we can, Thomas,’ begged his sister. ‘We had such fun last Friday!’

‘Oh, I dare say I might manage to arrange something,’ beamed Redfern, after scarcely a moment’s thought. ‘As it happens, I have been treating Lord Cowper for a stomach upset—merely a severe over-indulgence of cream pastries, in point of fact—and his wife has also offered to acquire vouchers for me, should I ever be in need of them. Perhaps we might pay a call on her ladyship on our way home to see if the offer still stands?’

It being agreed that the Redferns would do their level best to put in an appearance at the exclusive King Street venue later that evening, the girls collected their bonnets and, after waiting for his sister to lock the door to the basement chapel, the doctor then escorted her and her friends to Cheyne Walk, where their carriages awaited them.

‘I’m so glad that you managed to persuade the Redferns to join us this evening,’ said Lottie, as she settled herself against the comfortable squabs of the Wheatley carriage. ‘I must confess that I was feeling quite nervous at the thought of attending this famous assembly hall. Having read so much about it in the
Ladies’ Magazine
, just the idea of putting a foot wrong under the watchful eyes of those dreadful Patroness ladies has been worrying me to death! Hopefully, the doctor will be able to obtain his vouchers and then we shall, at least, be amongst friends.’

‘Given that Lady Jersey remembers to send ours to the countess,’ replied Helena with a light laugh, although she was secretly hoping that the promise to do so might have slipped her ladyship’s mind. Quite apart from being obliged to ‘run the gauntlet’ of supercilious criticism she had heard so much about,
there was now the added complication of Thomas Redfern who, despite what Lottie had said, had needed neither persuasion nor encouragement to join them. In fact, unless she was much mistaken, he had accepted the invitation with rather more alacrity than she cared to think about!

Chapter Twelve

A
s luck would have it, the promised vouchers arrived without mishap and Lady Isobel’s barouche arrived at eight on the dot as arranged. The famed assembly rooms, however, proved to be something of a let-down as far as the wide-eyed Lottie was concerned for, although they were even more crowded than either she or Helena had expected, they were also a good deal shabbier than they had been given to suppose.

‘Why on earth is there such a clamour to get on to the subscription list?’ whispered Lottie, as her astonished eyes took in the faded curtains and the peeling plaster that adorned the pillars.

‘Simply because of its exclusivity, my dear!’ retorted Lady Isobel, whose sharp ears had caught her remark. ‘You should think yourself very lucky to be here, you know, for the Patronesses are very particular about whom they allow in. The membership rules are very rigid and should anyone dare to flout them they would very likely find themselves banished for life! Now, the first thing we have to do is present ourselves to the committee. There is no need for you to say anything—I will speak for you—just curtsy and smile and you will both do very nicely!’

Blanching with fright, Lottie clutched at her cousin’s arm. ‘Oh, Nell! It is far worse than I expected! I do wish I hadn’t come!’

But Helena merely smiled and gave her hand an encouraging
squeeze, since she was privately of the opinion that all this pompous rigmarole was nothing more than inflated snobbery on the part of its originators. Squaring her shoulders, she applied her mind to trying to keep up with the countess, which, given that they were being jostled on all sides, was not the easiest thing to do.

Luckily, both Markfield and Standish, who had been waylaid at the entrance by Mr Willis, the Master of Ceremonies, with a courteous reminder that no subscriptions had yet been received for their party, soon managed to shoulder their way through the press of people to clear a path for them. With their assistance, the ladies very quickly found themselves standing in front of the raised podium where five of the Patronesses were seated.

As he stepped forwards to perform the introductions, Lady Jersey greeted Richard with a welcoming smile.

‘Good evening, your lordship,’ she cried merrily. ‘I am so glad you decided to join us this evening—eligible gentlemen such as yourself and Mr Standish are getting to be rather a diminishing commodity these days! ’

Since he was not at all sure that he cared to be referred to as a commodity of any sort, diminishing or otherwise, the earl merely bent his head over her ladyship’s hand. He was well aware that the main reason the current batch of unwed males tended to avoid putting in an appearance at Almack’s was—apart from a natural preference for entertainments of a more lively sort—due to a concerted determination to steer clear of the highly dedicated matchmaking tendencies of its committee. Especially since these tendencies were also the common factor that brought droves of overly ambitious mothers, along with their fresh-out-of-the-schoolroom daughters, into the capital at the start of every Season. Not for nothing were the assembly rooms mockingly referred to as ‘The Marriage Mart’ by the town’s young dandies!

Thanking providence that his grandmother had gone to considerable trouble to set in motion the rumour that he was already spoken for, Richard stood to one side while the rest of the committee cast its fastidious and unforgiving eyes over its newest members. From what he had, thus far, managed to learn about
Helena’s attitude to the so-called
belle monde
, it would not have surprised him to learn that she was probably viewing the whole procedure with a feeling bordering on disdain—a feeling that he was obliged to concede that, at this moment, was not entirely dissimilar to his own. Shooting her a swift sidelong glance, as she executed the most elegant curtsy, he was unable to suppress the sudden longing that filled his heart. Dressed in a stunningly simple tunic-style gown of the palest peach-coloured satin that seemed to mould itself to her curves, Helena, her expression unreadable, now stood proudly erect as she waited for the Patronesses’ to reach their verdict.

Clenching his jaw, Richard inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the rapid pounding of his heart whilst, at the same time, doing his utmost to convince himself that these inexplicable emotions that beset him whenever he was anywhere near her were just part and parcel of the normal virile male response when confronted with such loveliness. A state of affairs that a brisk gallop and a cold shower usually took care of but, since he had practically ridden his horse into the ground shortly after dawn that morning, in addition to having swum across the Thames and back at a secluded spot near Hampton Wick, it would seem that these tried-and-tested remedies were, given the present wayward reaction of certain parts of his anatomy, meeting with a singular lack of success!

The sharp dig of his grandmother’s elbow in his arm snapped him back to reality. Starting, he became aware that all five ladies on the podium were looking directly at him, as though they expected something from him. Conscious that he had been so wrapped up in his reverie that he had failed to pay attention to what had been going on around him, a slight flush stained his cheeks as he looked down at his grandmother, his eyes mutely questioning.

‘They’re waiting for you to ask for permission to dance with Helena,’ she hissed, the beginnings of an embarrassed flush on her face.

His brow clearing, Richard stepped forwards and, with his
usual grace and style, performed the required ritual, whereupon each of the ladies in turn did him the honour of nodding their agreement to his request.

‘And, in addition, you may also have our permission to dance with any of the young ladies to whom Mr Willis chooses to introduce you,’ said Lady Jersey, as she favoured him and his cousin with the full radiance of her smile.

‘Well, thank the lord that’s over!’ muttered Charles, as soon as they were out of earshot of the podium. ‘Reminded me of being sent before the beak at Eton! I could almost hear my knees knocking together!’

‘Probably the effect of these damned satin breeches,’ returned Richard, suppressing a grin. ‘Haven’t worn such an uncomfortable get-up since God only knows when!’

Owing to the fact that a good many of the other gentlemen and indeed not a few of the older ladies had taken themselves off to one or other of the side rooms where the card tables had been set up, the initial press of people had thinned somewhat, making it relatively easy for the earl to commandeer a suitably placed set of chairs for his party.

As he handed her into her seat, Helena managed a brief smile of thanks, the feeling of exasperated disbelief that had beset her from the moment she had set foot in the hall only just beginning to evaporate. Never having wanted to be part of this upper circle of society, the entire rigmarole had struck her as being absurdly pretentious and utterly farcical, not to mention embarrassing. Why any mother would want to couple her daughter with any of the posturing and preening individuals who were presently doing the rounds was completely beyond her, for a more abject-looking set of obvious fortune-hunters she yet had to set eyes upon!

Unfurling her fan, she peeped surreptitiously over its fluted rim to where Markfield was standing, in conversation with his cousin. She could not help thinking that, unlike most of the other males present, the earl looked rather dashing in his long-tailed coat and knee-length breeches, it not having escaped her notice that the
complementary white stockings he was wearing had the added effect of displaying his firm calf muscles to great advantage.

Having spent the best part of the afternoon agonising over just how she was going to act towards him when he called to pick them up this evening, she found that she need not have concerned herself with the pointless exercise, for it seemed that whatever had been troubling his lordship for the past few days had ceased to be an issue. Gone were the stiffly correct manner and taciturn demeanour and, in their place, were smiles and pleasantry, making it difficult for her to carry on with her own intended attitude of polite detachment. In fact, within minutes of his having handed her into the countess’s barouche, many of her earlier doubts and reservations had seemed to vanish into thin air as, almost without thinking, she had found herself responding once more to his good-natured bonhomie.

Watching him now, as he leant down to have a word with his grandmother, she stifled a sigh, having reached the conclusion that, if what both Jenny and the countess had intimated were to be believed, there was little point in her continually repining over the issue since—quite apart from the fact that it was really no business of hers how Markfield chose to conduct his life—it had already been made abundantly clear that any arrangement between herself and the earl was intended to be of a temporary nature. None the less, as a series of highly disturbing images of him entwined in the arms of the dreadful Cummings woman persisted in hammering at her senses, she found it impossible to stem the feelings of melancholia that accompanied these bothersome fantasies. Unfortunately, as she was well aware, until her father’s condition improved sufficiently for him to face up to being told of yet another doomed relationship, she had no recourse but to carry on with this dismal charade. A circumstance which, in the normal way of things, ought to be well within her capabilities—if only she could learn to still those painful longings that continued to beset her and school her pulse to behave less erratically whenever Markfield happened to turn his head in her direction!

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she failed to hear
the earl’s initial request that she stand up with him for the set that was presently forming.

‘Miss Wheatley?’ he repeated, looking down at her questioningly. ‘The music is about to begin, if you would do me the honour?’

She gave a quick start and, as the realisation of what he was asking her gradually dawned, she leapt hurriedly to her feet, a rosy blush covering her cheeks.

Although the orchestra had already struck up the opening chords of the music, they had no difficulty in finding themselves a place, since there was little for the waiting couples to do at this point but raise their arms, while the top couple twirled and sashayed their way down through the arches.

‘I trust that you were not too much put out by that ridiculous inauguration ceremony?’ said Richard, as he reached out to take hold of her upraised hands.

‘Not at all, my lord,’ she replied, steeling herself to disregard the wild beating of her heart as their fingers touched. ‘As a matter of fact, I must confess to finding the whole affair quite tedious.’

‘I rather got the feeling that you were not particularly impressed,’ he said, letting out a soft chuckle. ‘You looked so deadly serious standing there, I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in your mind.’

She gave a little shrug. ‘I was merely thinking what a great pity it is that such powerful women should choose to exercise their influence on such a petty and pointless rigmarole, when they might easily use it in far more beneficial ways.’

Although he was intrigued at her reply, the movement of the dance prevented him from questioning her further and he was obliged to wait until they had performed the steps of the next measure before he was again in a position to pursue the matter.

‘Beneficial to whom?’ he queried, when they had again joined hands. ‘I’m not sure that I follow you.’

Helena hesitated, not entirely sure of the suitability of embarking on such a serious topic while engaged in so frivolous an activity as dancing. But, since he had asked and since it was a subject so close to her heart, she was unable to resist the challenge.
‘Well, they might start by taking an interest in the lamentable plight of the hundreds of displaced soldiers we have in our midst!’ she returned, in a somewhat defiant manner.

‘Displaced soldiers!’ He stared down at her in confusion. ‘Hardly a subject for a young lady to concern herself with, surely?’

‘And, why not, may I ask?’ she retorted defensively. ‘Given that I have spent the better part of the past two years doling out bread and soup to such neglected souls, I think I might claim to have acquired a fairly knowledgeable grasp of the situation!’

‘Well, I’ll be—!’

He paused, temporarily at a stand. But then, as he recalled what he knew of her history, his eyes softened and he said, ‘In dedication to your brother’s memory, I imagine? On behalf of my fellow comrades in arms, allow me to salute you!’

And, raising her hand, he bent forwards and pressed his lips to her fingers, causing her considerable confusion.

‘After the sacrifices that have been made on our behalves, it is little enough for any of us to do,’ she replied breathlessly, when she had finally regained sufficient command of her senses to say anything at all.

Having taken note of the rather bewitching colour that had flooded her cheeks at his gesture, Richard was conscious of a sudden lightening of spirit. ‘Might I be so bold as to enquire whether you were engaged in these duties earlier today?’ he asked. At her nod of acquiescence, his lips curved in a satisfied smile. ‘And that was why you were unable to receive me this morning, I take it?’ he ventured hopefully.

Having discovered that the intense gleam in his eyes was causing her heart to behave in the most erratic manner, Helena was relieved to find that the movement of the dance required her to disengage her hands from his, in order that she might follow the rest of the ladies down the outside of the set.

‘Partly,’ she replied over her shoulder as, swinging away from him, she made her way up the line towards the top of the set. Taking a quick peek through the line of moving dancers on her left, to ascertain that her partner was keeping pace with her, she
reached the top of the set where, holding out her hand in readiness for Markfield’s grasp but reluctant to subject her senses to yet another bombardment, she kept her eyes firmly away from his and forced herself to direct her gaze over his right shoulder.

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