Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 07] - Married Past Redemption (13 page)

"Happy?" barked Lady Bayes-Copeland. "What fustian! Who could
be happy stuck out there at Cloudhills all year round? The man was a
colonel! He is accustomed to activity and a full social schedule. The
life of a country squire will soon pall, I'll warrant!''

"Perhaps it will, my lady. But for a man like Tristram Leith,
the busiest and most socially glittering life imaginable must be a
desolation were not the lady he loves at his side."

It was far and away the most romantic thing Lisette had ever
heard Strand say, and she stared her surprise. Beatrice sneered
cynically. Sir William was so inspired as to utter an enthused, "Well
said, by gad!" The old lady's eyes began to gleam. "Huh!" she snorted.
"And what of Justin Strand, sir? Is it to be Town or country for him?"

Strand grinned. "Lord, ma'am, you must not speak of Leith and
Strand in the same breath, or the latter must suffer to the point of
extinction! Indeed, when I am in Tristram's magnificent presence, I
sometimes find it necessary to pinch myself to be sure I'm still there!"

It was said with affection rather than rancour, and they all
laughed.

Lady Bayes-Copeland did not so lightly lower her guns,
however. "A clever evasion," she nodded grimly. "And I'm still without
an answer."

"D'you know, ma'am," he replied, "I suspect you knew the
answer before you asked the question."

For a moment she almost returned his unexpectedly winning
smile, but instead snapped, "You're nobody's fool, I see. Yet had you
been a little wiser, you would have come to see me at Richmond, young
man. Not whisked my granddaughter off without so much as a decent
meeting. You may imagine that because I'm an old widow, you can dismiss
me from the reckoning in this family. But you are out there, and so I
tell you!"

Mrs. Van Lindsay placed a hand briefly over her eyes, and her
husband looked aghast. Strand said nothing, but Lisette felt
constrained to point out that they
had
driven
down to see the old lady. "I was dragged all that way in the rain, dear
Grandmama," she said aggrievedly, "the very morning after I had
accepted Mr. Strand's offer."

Contrarily, this advice served to send my lady's wrath
flaring. "Then why in God's name could you not have said so, Strand?
Making mock of me, eh?"

"Not at all, ma'am. But you were having such a lovely time
trying to put me out of countenance, I hesitated to spoil it for you."

It was lightly said, but through another taut silence, his
eyes met hers steadily. What she read in those eyes, only she knew, but
suddenly her scowl relaxed. She smiled, then went into a cackle of
mirth and, relieved, everyone laughed with her. "Very well, put up your
sword," she wheezed at last. "I own you to be a worthy opponent. Have a
care, Lisette! This brown-faced hank of skin and bone will be a sight
more difficult to tame than would a gentleman like Tristram Leith!"

Lisette gave a gasp. Strand's narrowed eyes shot to her face.
Mr. Van Lindsay, laughing heartily, missed the implication and said,
"Well, he stood up to
you,
ma'am!"

"Indeed he did," chuckled her ladyship. "Game as a pebble!"
She lifted her glass. "I give you joy. Strand—you've won yourself a
rare girl. It will be up to you to see her beauty don't ruin her!
Lisette—I venture to believe you have found a gentleman who is also—a
man!"

Lisette met Strand's eyes. They were unfathomable; she dared
not guess what he had read into her grandmother's remark, and why she
should care what he thought was also a mystery. But she smiled, and for
some odd reason felt proud. He returned her smile, and only Sir William
noticed how tightly his fingers were clamped about the stem of his
glass.

At half-past eight Justin Strand's new town carriage
was at the front door to convey the Van Lindsay party to the
betrothal ball. The downpour had eased to a steady light fall, but the
streets were deeply puddled, the carriage progressed with caution, and
conversation in the large vehicle became desultory until Lady
Bayes-Copeland remarked on the bridesmaids' gowns. "Who selected
Judith's?" she asked.

"Well you may ask, ma'am," replied Beatrice with a vexed
little titter. "
My
choice was rejected, and a
dowdy thing she has sewn for herself in its place. She will look a
quiz, I fear."

"If she does, ma'am, she may lay it to my door," said Strand
quickly. "No doubt the gown would have been enchanting on another girl,
Lady William, but—"

"But would have made Judith look as wide as she's tall," the
old lady interpolated, adding a vehement, "You are to be commended on
your good taste, Strand. I'd not known the gal was so fine a
needlewoman, had you, Philippa?"

Lisette did not hear her mother's response. Seated between her
betrothed and her sister, she felt Beatrice tense. She'd feared just
such a reaction to Strand's interference, and could only hope Beatrice
did not take him in such dislike that she launched one of her campaigns
against him, which could prove painful for every member of the family.
Such fears were forgotten, however, as the coach turned the corner on
to Bond Street. Harland's house was a blaze of light. A long canopy
covered the approach across the flagway, up the steps, and to the front
doors, and despite the rain, carpets were already laid. Awnings had
also been set up on each side of the entrance, where an eager crowd was
beginning' to form, pleased that they could watch the arrivals without
being drenched.

"How nice of Harland to provide a shelter for the crowds,"
murmured Lisette.

"I suspect he wasted his effort," Beatrice sniffed. "There'll
be no large turn-out to watch only a few guests arrive on such a
miserable night."

"Stuff!" said her grandmother, as a footman ran to throw open
the door and let down the steps. "If everyone waited for a mild night
in England, we would have very few parties!"

The onlookers gave them a cheer as they entered the great
house, and in the entrance hall Mr. Fisher, a lean, greying gentleman,
was as immaculate as any well-bred butler at a
ton
ball should be. Already, strains of music were drifting down the
stairs, although none of the guests would arrive for another half-hour
at least. Strand offered one arm to Lady Bayes-Copeland, the other to
his betrothed, and led the way upstairs and along the corridor to the
doors giving onto the ballroom. A lackey hurried ahead to open those
doors, and Strand, suiting his pace to the old lady's uncertain steps,
was gratified as she cried an appreciative, "Aha! What a pretty sight!"

The great room was a picture: large golden baskets holding
long-stemmed red and white roses were placed about the walls; the
chairs and sofas were white, gold, and pink, and here and there on the
walls hung two golden hearts, intertwined. Lisette darted a startled
look at her fiance and discovered him staring, wide-eyed, at this last
touch.

"But it is charming!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Lindsay, entering on
her husband's arm.

"Good evening," murmured Geoffrey, Earl of Harland, coming up
behind them and, as usual, looking very well in his evening clothes.
"Well, Strand," he said, having bowed over the hands of the ladies and
exchanged firm handclasps with the men, "and how many of your family
shall be here tonight?"

Beatrice uttered an audible gasp, and Lisette paled. Strand's
brows twitched into his rare frown. "None, unfortunately, sir. I had
hoped to persuade my sister, Charity, to come. But—it was not
possible." His lips tightened as Beatrice sighed her relief, and he
added a rather pointed, "But they will dance at my wedding, I assure
you!"

"And so shall I," Lady Bayes-Copeland nodded. "But for the
moment, come and sit beside me, Harland, and tell me all the latest
on
dits
. I fairly thirst for gossip!"

The rest of the party adjourned to the ground floor to inspect
the refreshment room where immaculate long tables awaited the many
delicacies they soon would hold.

The guests began to arrive a little earlier than had been
expected, and in far greater numbers, and by half-past eleven o'clock
it was very apparent that the ball was a huge success.

Strand leaned to Lisette's ear during a brief lull in the
reception line and murmured whimsically, "I trust the people outside
did not give up hope too early."

She smiled. "I do not think we shall have to blush for our
party, sir. Though my feet feel as if they are doing so."

"In a little while," he promised, "I shall take them in to
supper, so they may rest."

"I'll say one thing for you, Strand. You move very fast."
Resplendent in peerless evening dress, James Garvey went on, "What a
great pity you was not with our Duke on the Peninsula."

"Isn't it?" Strand agreed, his handshake so crushing that his
guest flinched. "And what a
good
thing you
wasn't!"

Garvey glared. Strand smiled on him sweetly, then turned to
take the hand of the Duke of Vaille. Gritting his teeth, Garvey
sauntered on beside the elegant French Chevalier who had accompanied
him. Lisette could breathe again.

Strand was soon enabled to keep his promise and take his
betrothed to the refreshment room.. He found her a place beside Sally
Leith and Sir Frederick Foster and went off to the laden tables. Foster
had been on the town for better than ten years and was an engaging
young man. He was regaling the two ladies with the details of a horse
race that had taken place between Sir Harry Redmond and Viscount Lucian
St. Clair, when James Garvey slid into the vacant chair beside Lisette.

"I say, dear old boy," Foster remonstrated mildly. " 'Fraid
that chair's reserved for our prospective benedick."

"And I shall hastily relinquish it when he returns. Fair Miss
Van Lindsay, your dance card, I beg."

Foster stared at him for an instant, then turned to identify
General Smollet for Sally.

Lisette seized the opportunity to murmur, "Mr. Garvey, I hope
you—I mean, if I—if I gave you a wrong impression—"

"No, but you tried," he declared in a low, intense voice.
"Very valiantly, poor creature! How terrible that such as you should be
sold to the highest bidder!"

"No! Oh, please do not say so! You are—"

"I am—
ever
—yours to command! If you stand
in need of help, only send me word, and I shall be at your side!"
Despite the melodramatic declaration, his eyes were very grim. He
signed her card, rose, bowed, and sauntered away.

The dashing Earl of Ridgley had claimed Lisette for his
partner when the hour neared midnight, and he was leading her into a
country dance when a slight commotion erupted at one side of the room.
Lisette glanced that way, curious to see the cause of such a flurry of
whispering and raised eyebrows. She saw Strand, his face alight, pull a
frail, mousy-looking girl into a warm embrace, then reach an eager hand
to the girl's escort.

Following -his gaze, Lisette halted. She was accustomed to
seeing Tristram Leith clad in the magnificence of his uniform, but even
in civilian evening clothes he seemed to relegate all other gentlemen
to obscurity. He was half turned from her, but his commanding height
and the proud carriage of his dark head were unmistakable. She thought,
No! Oh, no! And then he was glancing her way, so that she saw fully the
vital smiling face, and the scars that now raked down his right cheek.
It was the first time she had seen him since Waterloo, and although she
knew he had been wounded, she was not prepared. She felt suffocated
and, one hand flying to her throat, fought a sick dizziness. Dimly, she
saw Strand staring at her, and then an arm was about her. In a voice
that seemed to ring through the room, Beatrice asked, "Whatever is
wrong, love? You are white as a sheet!"

"
You
must think me a regular pea goose,"
Lisette murmured, gratefully accepting the glass of water Strand
offered. "I fear the heat and—and all that while standing downstairs,
must have been too much for me."

"I am fairly astounded," Beatrice admitted. "I had always
thought you strong as a horse."

"Even a horse is sometimes caught offstride," Strand declared
with disastrous loyalty.

Lisette's eyes flew to him. A corner of Leith's mouth twitched
and in a chivalrous attempt to smooth a ticklish moment he said, "My
sudden appearance is enough to throw anyone offstride. My apologies,
Justin. I thought you would want one of your sisters here, but perhaps
Charity and I should not have come."

Her motives not nearly so benign, Beatrice purred, "But of
course you should have come, Colonel. I am sure very few people hold
you
in any way disgraced."

A chill came into Leith's fine eyes, and Charity Strand
blushed painfully.

"For heaven's sake, do not encourage him, my lady," said
Strand. "Anyone so stupid as to lounge about under an exploding shell
deserves to have his face remodelled."

The tension eased. Charity gave a relieved little giggle.
Leith reached out one large hand and deliberately dragged Strand's
thick hair straight forward over his face. Strand grinned and shook his
head and, careless of the fact that he looked considerably dishevelled,
said, "Let us ignore this military clod. Ladies, may I present my
sister? Charity, you must meet Lady William Dwyer, and her sister, Miss
Lisette Van Lindsay, my affianced bride."

Beatrice bowed, but her brows lifted when Charity Strand
essayed a markedly clumsy curtsey. Lisette held out her hand and
murmured a polite but cool, "I am so very glad to meet you, Miss
Strand."

"You see"—Strand smiled—"your fears were for naught, little
one. Miss Van Lindsay holds
you
blameless, too."
Lisette was surprised by the blaze of anger in his blue eyes.
Nonetheless, he went on lightly, "She has not much choice, of course,
for when a lady takes a gentleman to husband, she takes his whole
family, perforce." He looked at her levelly. "Ain't that right, Lizzie?"