June Calvin (7 page)

Now he surveyed them in disgust. Harvey’s coat looked as if it had been made by a tailor’s apprentice, and his boots were dull and scuffed. Newton was attired like a coachman, for he had just returned from an invigorating spin as the driver of a fast flyer, a treat that he had obtained by a generous tip to the man hired to do the job.

He was still excited by his adventure. His eyes flashed gleefully, and he was grinning from ear to ear, showing the pointed teeth he had had filed in imitation of the coachmen he admired.

It was not in Lord Morton’s nature to see any flaws in himself, so he seized upon his sons’ appearance as the explanation for the morning’s humiliation.

“Look at you! The pair of you. No wonder a duke’s daughter and a viscount’s daughter are seen to be above your touch!”

“A duke’s daughter
is
above my touch, sir,” Harvey responded in the patient tone of one long inured to dealing with a dull-witted child.

Newton grinned even wider. “They both looked quite smitten with us, Pater. If you hadn’t somehow queered it with their parents—”

“It is those young chits you have to attach. Never mind about their parents. Such pathetic grooming will never do the trick. From now until the end of the season, you two are going to be bang up to the mark, do you hear me! Go upstairs and inventory your wardrobe. Tomorrow you must go shopping. To marry a rich woman, one must look prosperous. More than one heiress will wed a handsome bankrupt this season. You must prepare yourself to be the lucky husbands.”

“’Tis hardly fair to the tradesmen, Father, nor honest neither.” Harvey’s upper lip curled with disdain.

“Got no wish to be leg-shackled,” Newton complained.

“You’ll do as you’re told,” Dolphus roared, “or I’ll cut off your allowances!”

Sullenly, reluctantly, the two young men agreed, escaping their father’s presence as soon as they could.

After his sons’ departure, Morton brooded late over his brandy, his sense of injury increasing with each refilled glass. He’d received Turkish treatment from the Duke of Harwood and the Dowager Viscountess Cornwall, and it rankled.

He still desired Deborah, more than ever, but it appeared that she had her cap set for the duke.
I can scarcely compete with him. Not only is he rich as Croesus, he can offer her marriage and a lofty title.

But no! The duke surely would not marry her, for he still had no heir of his body. No one could convince Dolphus Heywood that any man would be content to have his title pass to his brother’s sons if he had any chance of producing an heir of his own.

Morton considered the implications. Harwood would take Deborah as his mistress. Eventually, of course, he would tire of her, and Morton would have another chance. Still, the thought of further delay frustrated him.

It had not escaped the baron’s notice that Deborah seemed to loathe him. Why, he couldn’t imagine. Perhaps she thought he’d be a tame, tiresomely romantic lover, in spite of the hint he’d given her that he knew her preferences. Still, if he could somehow find a way to bring her within his power, the game would be all the more exciting for both of them.

Pity I have to dance attendance on the
ton, Morton thought.
I could just abduct her and keep her until I’d had my fill of her. It’s not as if Vincent would bother coming to cuffs with me to protect her.
Morton knew Deborah would never protest. She wouldn’t want to face the scandal.
But I must marry, well and soon, and Lady Cornwall hasn’t a groat.

That was when the brilliant idea came to him. Lady Cornwall hadn’t a groat, but her daughter did! Why should he let his sons court the chit, and probably bungle the job? He could go directly to his old friend’s brother and offer for the girl. He had a title, which would weigh with Vincent. Doubtless Seymour’s brother was heartily tired of the responsibility and bother of supervising his niece, and would be impatient to be rid of her.

Vincent’s impatience might be augmented by alarm if Dolphus could convince him that the child was in danger of forming a
tendre
for someone who was entirely ineligible—someone like Harwood’s private secretary, John Warner.
What business has that penniless Scotsman to be keeping her company?
As Morton thought of Warner escorting Jennifer out of the room under the very noses of his own highly eligible sons, his anger grew. Surely Vincent, so concerned with his newly acquired dignities, would feel the same.

But would mere dislike of a connection with John Warner be enough to convince Vincent to bestow his niece on Dolphus?

If only I had some way to bribe him
, Dolphus thought. He knew that Vincent had been left badly purse-pinched by his brother. Then another flash of inspiration struck: He could promise Vincent something out of the marriage settlements! As Jennifer’s husband, he could easily pay Vincent ten thousand pounds and never miss it.

Yes! If the matter was presented convincingly to Lord Cornwall, Dolphus would have his wealthy bride, and with her in his control, virtually unlimited power over her mother!
Deborah will leave Harwood at the mere crook of my finger, once I have her daughter in hand
, he thought gleefully.

Adding a piquant pleasure to the whole scheme was the thought of how vexed the haughty Duke of Harwood would be to have his mistress snatched from him.

I will start for Woodcrest tomorrow
, Lord Morton decided, rousing himself to climb the stairs to bed.

Chapter 7

Sarah emerged from the ducal mansion the next day to greet a brilliantly sunny morning. She paused for a moment to admire the spring green on the trees on Grosvenor Square. Then, with her maid and a footman trailing behind, she walked as rapidly as her fettering skirts would allow, enjoying the exercise as she made her way the few blocks to the Cornwall town house on South Audley Street.

It was her intention to invite Jennifer and her mother to accompany her father and herself on their shopping expedition. Not only would she welcome the female companionship, but she was beginning to harbor certain notions about her father and Lady Cornwall. She had noticed that her father’s eyes softened when he looked at Jennifer’s mother, and suspected he was developing a
tendre
for the dowager.

Sarah thought it a delightful match, especially desirable because it would secure her a sister as well as a compatible stepmother. She had therefore decided to do whatever she could to bring the two together.

As these cheerful thoughts occupied her, a high-perch phaeton appeared at the end of the street. As Sarah watched, a handsome pair of matched greys drew the sporty vehicle abreast. Her heart gave an excited lurch at the sight of the handsome blond man driving the maroon carriage.

“Lord Alexander. How delightful to see you here.” She smiled up at him as he halted his team beside her. “What magnificent greys.”

“Yes, Ariel and Puck are fine beasts.”

Sarah pulled off her gloves and stroked one of the velvety muzzles. “Wish I had a carrot or sugar lump, you darlings.”

Alexander dismounted and, stripping off his gloves in turn, removed a folded napkin from the pocket of his jacket. “Here. I came prepared.”

Sarah took two sugar lumps from him, as willing as he to make the opportunity to allow their hands to touch without the intervening gloves. How warm his hand seemed, and strong. She fought the urge to place her hand fully in his, to explore the differences in size and texture between them. Blushing at her wanton thoughts, she turned back to the greys and let each one delicately lip a sugar lump from her hand. Shivering a little at the sensation of their muzzles grazing her sensitive palm, she smiled up at Alexander.

“They’re both very well-behaved.”

“That they are. Fort has schooled them well.” Alexander held out a handkerchief for her to brush off her hand.

“Fort? Oh, I see. You have borrowed them.”

“Not exactly. I am trying them out. I may recommend them to my father for my sister Hannah to drive. She aspires to be a whip.”

“He’s selling them?”

“He’s selling out. Actually, we both are.”

“You, too?” Sarah lifted startled eyes to his.

At the dismay on Sarah’s face, Alexander wondered for the first time about the wisdom of his decision. Perhaps he’d be at an even greater disadvantage than he already was, without his military employment, his impressive uniform, his connections with the Prince Regent. Would Lady Sarah prefer a husband who would live in town and be involved in the active social life of the highest level of the
ton
?

“What will you do?” The anxious look on Sarah’s face indicated that the answer was important to her.

He drew a deep breath. He’d decided from the first not to present himself in any sense as richer or with better prospects than he really had. Now he added to that a determination that Sarah must accept the kind of life he wanted to live if he was to court her. “I am thinking of either becoming a gentleman farmer or going to India.”

The smile faded from Sarah’s face, and she stepped back a little from him. “India!” She turned and began to walk away from him, slowly, her head down.

“Wait, Lady Sarah! May I escort you?” Alexander passed the team’s reins to her footman and fell into step beside her, leaving the servants to follow them with the horses and carriage.

“My India scheme doesn’t meet with your approval?”

“I had hoped . . .” Sarah cast him a quick, distressed look before returning to her scrutiny of the cobbled walkway. She had begun looking forward to the season because of the many opportunities she expected to have to spend time with Alexander, but they were so little acquainted, it would be intolerably bold to tell him that.

At the word “hoped,” Alexander’s own hopes soared. “Of course, I would prefer to remain here.”

“You would?” This time the grey eyes met Alexander’s blue ones for a longer period of time.

“Yes, if I thought . . . I say, Lady Sarah, I simply must ask. Last year I was told you had an understanding with that young man you danced with twice at your ball. Do you, that is, are you . . .” Alexander winced. He was behaving as ineptly as a stripling.

Sarah, however, was not bothered by his stammering. Eyes shining with the knowledge that his interest in her must be serious, she lifted her face to his. “No, my understanding with Mr. Allensby is at an end.”

“Ah!” Alexander nodded, the bright blue eyes suddenly caressing. “In that case, I believe I will stay in England.”

“Lord Alexander!” But the reproof was too faint, her pleasure in his reply too palpable, to make the young man feel ashamed of his boldness.

He decided to dare even further. With a quick glance back at the footman and maid who trailed them, and who seemed to be deep in a conversation of their own, Alexander quickly confided, “I am no recluse, but my preference is for a life spent predominantly in country pursuits, not drifting from party to party in town.”

“I am entirely of your opinion,” Sarah assured him eagerly. “While I do enjoy the cultural opportunities London provides, I tire quickly of the social rounds.”

Greatly relieved, Alexander relaxed and allowed himself to savor the picture Sarah made in her walking costume of Dresden blue. She had an attractive Ionian-cork bonnet on, but the early morning sun slanted its way beneath the brim to caress her skin. Obviously, she took care to protect herself from the sun, for she was all that fashion demanded in the way of fairness, yet she glowed with health.

Three dimples emphasized her smile, one at each corner of her cupid’s-bow lips, and a third that appeared in her cheek on the right side when she smiled widely. Her warm grey eyes were huge in her round face.

She had lost a bit of weight since last year, but was still pleasantly rounded, just as Alexander would wish her to be. He offered her his arm, pleased at her petite stature.

Taking his arm, Sarah had a sudden sense of coming home.
It is happening too soon
, part of her mind cautioned her.
I hardly know him!
Yet the certainty that this man was everything she could wish for in a husband suddenly engulfed her in a warm, joyous glow.

He was handsome, perfectly proportioned from his broad shoulders to his muscular legs and long, slender feet. Though not so tall as her father, he was above average in height. Sarah did not mind that she had to tilt her head up to talk to him, to look into those brilliant blue eyes. He made her feel very feminine and protected, with his solid masculine height and bulk.

They talked of everything and nothing, and were well on their way to Hyde Park before the voice of her maid called Sarah back to herself. “Lady Sarah, Lady Sarah! You’ve passed Miss Silverton’s house.”

“Oh! So I have.” Sarah’s cheeks pinked.

Alexander laughed in delight at her embarrassment.

“Perhaps you might walk in the park with me for a few moments?”

“No, I mustn’t. I am to invite them to go shopping, and Papa will be here soon with the carriage to pick us up. He’d be quite alarmed if I had never even arrived.”

Mention of the duke lowered Alexander’s euphoria. Sarah’s father! He certainly did not want to do anything to antagonize that stern-looking gentleman. To convince the duke to allow him to court Lady Sarah would be difficult enough as it was, with his small fortune and limited expectations. “Very well, then. I plan to attend the musicale you told me you would perform in tonight. I suppose I can wait until then to bask in your beauty.”

“Don’t!” Sarah raised her hand almost to his lips. “There is no need to offer me Spanish coin, sir. I know I am no beauty, nor do I aspire to be.”

Alexander was astonished, and his expression showed it. “Of course you are. As near the ideal as woman can approach.”

“I am too short, and far too plump for that. And my nose turns up!” She wiggled the offending appendage disdainfully.

Alexander’s blue eyes darkened as he told her firmly, “My ideal woman
is
petite and pleasingly rounded, with dimples just so.” He very nearly touched her cheek, where the three dimples would be, were she not looking serious just now. “And her nose must turn up! I care not what any other man may prefer.”

Sarah was all smiles again. It was not his words that pleased her, for they were hardly inspired. It was the utter sincerity of his tone and expression. What a balm for her wounded soul, after her rejection by Gregory. She took his other arm as they turned around to retrace their steps.

“Then I shall permit you to bask in said beauty tonight. Perhaps you might induce Henry to attend? Jennifer is going to be there.”

Alex chuckled. “I doubt if I can. Though he is quite taken with Miss Silverton, he abhors musicales, being not in the least musical himself.”

“Do you like music? For I wouldn’t want you to spend a miserable evening on my account.”

“I deny that any evening spent in your company could be miserable, but your conscience may rest easy, as I am fond of music. Though I proved a sad disappointment to my music master in regards to any instrument, I have been told I have a credible voice. I have even been known to sing in public on occasion.”

“I should like very much to hear you sing.”

“Then you shall. A love song.” He smiled tenderly at her blushes.

“You go too fast, Lord Alexander.” Sarah turned her head away, unable to look as repressively at him as she should.

“I apologize, Lady Sarah. I shall not embarrass you again.” Lord Alexander’s solemn expression and hand placed over his heart both touched and amused her. She laughed and walked on with him without the least objection from her conscience.

He bowed over her hand and departed from her when they reached the steps to Jennifer’s home. She looked back to see him reclaim the greys, looking the very epitome of the English gentleman as he watched to see her safely into the house. For the first time she was gloriously glad that she was free of Gregory Allensby.

***

“I’ve been shopping all day and haven’t a thing to wear,” Sarah wailed to her maid as she contemplated the contents of her wardrobe. “I need my new clothes
now
!”

“Tch! Lady Sarah, you know it will take quite awhile to make all of those garments up. Here, why not try this peach muslin with the little flowers woven in. Such a clever design.” Mary Robert’s hands caressed the delicate fabric. “It brings out your coloring perfectly.”

Sarah eyed the dress unenthusiastically. “It is so sadly out of fashion now. The padding at the back of the neck, you know, is larger this year.”

“Humph! Those silly bustles make you look like a snail. I’ll never understand this fashion madness!” At Sarah’s mutinous expression, Mary sighed. “Lady Sarah, you are only going to the Pacquins’ musicale. You know they are not
haute ton.
” She shook out the dress she had selected for Sarah.

“This needs only a little pressing. And those pink roses Lord Alexander sent you will be lovely in your hair.” This idea appealed to Sarah, and she accepted the proffered gown from the maid.

It was true that the Pacquins were not
haute ton.
They were friends of her Aunt Alicia, Lady D’Alatri. Monsieur Pacquin, an elderly French émigré, was a violinist in the Philharmonic Society and gave violin lessons to support his family. Sarah had begun studying with him at her aunt’s urging during the last season.

Though like most émigrés they boasted aristocratic connections to the ancien régime, the Pacquins showed no eagerness to return to their native land. In fact, they had even declined to visit when Aunt Alicia had kindly invited them to accompany her on her current trip to Paris.

However, the problem was not impressing the Pacquins, but pleasing the eye of Lord Alexander. Sarah held the dress up to her, then laid one of the roses against her curls to test the effect.

“Yes, that will do. Thank you for the suggestion, Mary.”

As soon as her maid had departed to press her dress, Sarah started worrying about having invited Lord Alexander to such a decidedly unfashionable affair. Sarah had met people from various walks of life through her bluestocking aunt last year, and had frankly found many of them more interesting than the dandies, fops, and pretty fashion mannequins who seemed to people the
haute ton.
But Lord Alexander moved in rarefied circles. Perhaps he would be appalled to find himself in such unfashionable company.

She tossed her head to dismiss this notion.
If he is a snob, best to know now and be done with him
, she thought. Sarah’s closest friend had been of much lower social standing than she. The sight of others snubbing Davida while kowtowing to her had always filled Sarah with disgust.

Downstairs, her father was conferring with John, absorbing the details that his secretary had been able to obtain about Henry Fortesque and Alexander Meade.

“As you know, Henry is the only son and heir of Lord Egerton. They don’t deal well together. Apparently, the father was furious when Henry purchased a commission with a small inheritance from his grandmother. He did not want his only heir fighting Boney. Until recently Henry has been involved in deep play, and had an enormous number of debts, but he seems to have paid most of them within the last month.”

“Win at cards or faro, did he?”

“Doubtful. He has not been seen gaming in some time—some sort of rapprochement with his father. He has indicated that he plans to marry, which naturally would help appease the baron.”

“Ah, yes, the succession.”

“Just so. As for womanizing . . .” John frowned at his sheet of paper, reluctant almost to impart the surprising information he had obtained.