The Incorrigible Mr. Lumley (12 page)

She found her brother and Sir Frederick
sharing a drink. They both rose and bowed when she entered.

Robert smiled. “There you are. I was growing
concerned.”

“I am ready, as you see. How do you do, Sir
Frederick?”

“I’m well. Shall we be off? I understand the
traffic will be quite heavy.”

Apparently, he didn’t frequent The King’s
Theatre, if his only knowledge of the traffic was secondhand.
Steeling her nerves, she took his arm and walked with him to the
carriage waiting outside. Thankfully, they were taking her
brother’s carriage and picking up Lady Barbara on the way. At no
time would she be alone with Sir Frederick and subjected to
whatever whims he might have for after the opera. Lady Barbara was
always pleasant company, and Joanna looked forward to that part of
the evening.

Once they entered the opera house and found
Sir Frederick’s box, or the one he’d borrowed the use of for the
evening, Joanna made certain Lady Barbara sat beside her. “Have you
heard Puccita’s work?” Joanna asked.

“No, but I understand it’s very moving.”

“This will be my first time, also,” Joanna
said.

Sir Frederick leaned their way. “I was under
the impression Mozart’s operas are much better. When performed in
English, however.”

“How interesting.” Joanna unfurled her fan,
giving it a nervous flutter.

“It’s an obvious thought,” he continued.
“What’s the point of them singing in a language one doesn’t
understand?”

Joanna’s eyes widened. She caught Lady
Barbara’s equally astonished gaze. “Sometimes the emotion of the
words comes through, regardless of the language.”

“Most who suggest they understand the
Italian operas are pretentious fools.” Sir Frederick’s nose rose
with his haughtiness.

She couldn’t bring herself to respond. She
only wished Robert had heard. She turned back to Lady Barbara.
“Were you at Lady Faraday’s musicale last week?”

The petite brunette shook her head. “I had
other plans.”

Robert added, “We attended a reading. It was
quite interesting, or so I thought.”

“Yes,” Lady Barbara added. “The gentleman
speaker had only recently returned from the Colonies. He’d spent
six years among the natives there, learning their customs. They are
quite civilized, I was surprised to learn.”

Sir Frederick grunted. “I’ve seen paintings
of the men. I can’t call face paint and breechcloths
‘civilized.’”

“Just a few years back, half of London wore
face paint with their powdered wigs,” Joanna said, trying to keep
the hiss of disdain from her voice. She would not lower herself to
his level.

“That is quite a different matter,” he
argued. “We were fully clothed, besides.”

Luckily, the curtain opened as the orchestra
began to play. The first act was a ballet, the fluid moves
beautiful to observe. The box in which they sat was situated to the
rear of the theatre, in the fifth level, just below the gallery.
From there, most of the audience was visible. Joanna was not
surprised to discover most of the attendees spent more time
watching the other occupants of the boxes than the performance.
More of the
ton
would be interested in who sat with whom,
when inquiring about an evening at the Theatre, than how the
dancers appeared.

From the corner of her eye, Joanna saw her
brother lean close to Lady Barbara and whisper something that made
them both smile. For the first time, it struck Joanna her brother
might be looking for a wife. He’d never said as much, but he likely
would not until he’d spoken with the lady’s father. Lady Barbara
would make a nice enough sister. Robert seemed much more at ease
this evening. The line between his brows was barely visible, and he
smiled often. Perhaps, if Joanna were lucky, Robert finding his own
match might take some of the pressure off her. He might allow her
another Season, or at least the trip to Bath with their aunt.

Sir Frederick blew his nose into his
handkerchief, then shoved the cloth into his pocket. He stared at
the stage, not acknowledging Joanna’s presence, if he was at all
aware of her. No whispered comments from him, no shared secrets.
Why did he even bother to ask her to attend, if he had no interest
in getting to know her? Would he be as cold and…well, tightly
bound, with his wife?

She couldn’t imagine sitting at the supper
table with him every evening, much less sharing closer quarters.
Robert couldn’t think she and Sir Frederick suited in any way. She
searched for a reason her brother would insist she consider the
man, but none came to mind.

There could be no reason she would ever
consider marrying him. The very idea made her stomach churn.

To cheer herself up, she tried to imagine
life with Mr. Lumley. Laughter in the morning room over coffee.
Discussions on which foals looked the most promising. Afternoons
spent riding in the paddocks. Evenings…she fluttered her fan to
combat the sudden warmth of the box where she sat, and remembered
where she was. The first act hadn’t ended, so her woolgathering
most likely hadn’t been noticed by the others.

Lady Barbara leaned toward Robert as his
head lowered. Joanna sighed. She wished she could find someone with
whom she could share tête-à-têtes. The more time she spent in
London, it seemed, the lonelier she felt.

Descending the stairs early the next
morning, Joanna hoped to find Robert still at home. He was in the
dining room hidden behind the newspaper. Joanna poured herself some
chocolate from the pot at her place and took a sip. “When do you
leave for the Goodwood Race Meeting?”

“At the end of the week.”

“I wish to come with you. I miss how we used
to attend the meetings together as a family.”

She heard his sigh, but he didn’t lower the
paper. “Now isn’t the time to be leaving Town. Perhaps you could
join me at the July meeting in Newmarket.”

“That is two months away. I don’t know how
I’ll survive an entire Season without seeing Patriot race. I wish
to speak to Bruce about Patriot, be sure he’s still handling him
correctly.”

Now the newspaper lowered. Robert looked
down his nose at her. “When did you develop this melodramatic
affectation? You have missed many race meetings since Father
died.”

“Not by choice. And not since Patriot became
old enough to race.” Joanna took another drink to break eye
contact. She was no longer comfortable letting him see what was
important to her. No longer certain he wished her to have what she
wanted.

“No matter. And Bruce is no longer Patriot’s
groom. He died.”

Her throat clamped shut. “What? How?
When?”

“At the First Spring Race Meeting.
Apparently whatever made him too ill to race killed him.”

“That can’t be.” Joanna’s eyes welled, but
she blinked away the tears and drew in a breath. “He was
exceptionally good with Patriot.”

“His new groom has him performing well. He’s
won several races, as you know.”

“Who did you put with him? Patriot is very
particular about whom he works with.”

“A new man. Wilfred Winkler.”

She tried to picture the man but drew a
blank. “I don’t know him.”

“As I said, he’s new. But I’m quite
satisfied with him.” Robert took a drink of his coffee. “Once you
have settled on a husband, I’ll allow you to leave London, if you
prefer. Or, I can settle it for you this very day, and you may come
with me to Goodwood.”

Her stomach plummeted. His abrupt manner
didn’t bode well. “Someone has offered for me? Why haven’t you said
anything?”

After patting his lips with his napkin,
Robert met her gaze. “I still have hopes you will present an
agreeable gentleman to me, so I may tell this other suitor to look
elsewhere for a wife.”

She gritted her teeth. It couldn’t be the
one she feared, but why else would her brother continue to allow
this man to see her? “Who is it?”

“You must suspect. It’s Sir Frederick.”

Her skin grew warm and damp. An unpleasant
rumbling churned the chocolate in her stomach. “Why did you say
nothing when I told you he’d spoken as if we were already
betrothed? You led me to think he was merely being fanciful. But if
he’s asked for permission to approach me and you did not tell him
to be gone, he must assume your consent.”

Robert’s lips pressed tightly together.
“There is more to it than that, but I’m not in a position to
discuss it with you.”

“If not you, then who? You are my
guardian.”

“Yes, which means I am looking out for your
best interests. It does not imply I must inform you of all the
dealings I undertake as Earl of Northcotte.”

She sat back in her chair. He made no sense.
“We are discussing my marriage, not the running of the estate.”

“The lives of all of us, Mother, you,
myself, are connected to the estate in a multitude of ways. In my
case, it will continue until my death. For you and Mother, it could
alternately end by marriage.”

Joanna shook her head, not understanding.
“You don’t expect Mama to marry again, when she rarely leaves her
room since Father died. Even attending the First Spring Meeting was
too much for her to bear, and she’s been in her room since we
returned. She will never recover from the loss of her beloved
husband.”

“It hurts me to see her thus. I would never
force her to leave our home, or to marry, but I do believe she
would be happier with companionship. If she met a widower with no
need of an heir, they might console each other in their remaining
years.”

Their aunt came to mind, with her desire to
remarry, and Joanna could see his suggestion came from a place of
love. She also wished their mother would be happy again.

Still, he’d said their lives were connected
to the estate. That meant financially, she was sure. Were they in
financial straits? No one had ever said anything. They hadn’t made
any changes to their lifestyle in the years after Father died.

But how would marrying her off quickly save
any money? Her pin money was a negligible amount. That hadn’t
bothered her because she had no need for new bonnets, laces or
reticules. Before they came to London, she was quite happy to wear
last year’s dress to assemblies in the local village. No one there
looked down on her for being dressed in anything less than the
height of fashion.

Mama had most likely been pleased when
Joanna wore something other than her riding costume and boots.

No matter how Joanna looked at it, she could
see no way her marriage would improve her brother’s financial
situation. And she couldn’t think of another reason for Robert’s
urgency. She didn’t care enough to consider the matter further, for
all she wanted at the moment was to be with Patriot. She drew in a
deep breath and let it out slowly. “If I promise to make a choice
soon, may I go to Goodwood?”

“Joanna, my decision had been made.”

Those were Father’s words, and they brooked
no discussion. She folded her arms across her chest and wrinkled
her nose, grateful Robert had the paper in front of him. She wished
she were young enough to get away with sticking her tongue out at
him. He treated her like a child, so at times like this she wanted
to act like one.

This entire game of finding a husband was
too dull to keep her interest. She told Amelia so when they trotted
on horseback together down Rotten Row that afternoon. “I was so
excited to come to Town, but all the gilt of my expectations has
tarnished. I thought I would have suitors. I dreamed men would be
lined up to fill my dance card, and come calling in the afternoon
to find out where I would be that evening.”

“But they have been,” Amelia replied.
“Perhaps not droves of gentlemen, but more than one or two. Mama
says the wars have taken away too many young men. In her day, there
were many more eligible men in the Marriage Mart. Now, it seems
they are all older widowers looking for mothers for their children.
What of Mr. Lumley? Has he not revealed his intentions?”