A Rival Heir (8 page)

Nell dropped a curtsy to the pretty young matron. “Oh, that does not surprise me at all, but you see I have never been to a dance before and I have no knowledge of how to execute all those intricate steps.”

“Never been to a dance before!” Emily looked truly shocked. “But that’s unconscionable!”

“No, why should it be?” Nell asked. “We have come merely as observers tonight, my aunt and I. I am quite enchanted with the colors and the music and the elegance of the dancers. We were going to find ourselves chairs where we might enjoy the proceedings.”

Sir Hugh, his face impassive, bowed and said, “Allow me to find seats for you.”

“Yes, do make yourself of some use,” Aunt Longstreet suggested, “instead of just standing there and prosing on at us.”

The baronet accepted this sally without demurral. Turning to his sister he asked, “Where are you seated, Emily? Would they have a view of the dancing from there?”

“Yes, indeed,” Emily assured them. “Please, follow me.”

The crowds seemed to part before Emily’s determined progress. When a young gentleman attempted to stay her, she rapped his hand with her fan and exclaimed, “Not now, Whissenby! If I promised you this dance, I am very sorry, but I have a duty to perform.”

And perform it she did as she presented her seats to the two visitors with a flourish of her hand. “Here! The best seats in the rooms, if I do say so myself. Holmsly is wonderful at that sort of thing. Pray be seated and Hugh will bring you a glass of orgeat.”

“I detest orgeat,” Aunt Longstreet said, but she accepted the chair with some eagerness. Nell suspected that her gout was troubling her, though she had made no mention of it.

Emily remained standing at Nell’s side, seeming determined to offer whatever assistance was needed. She bent down and whispered in Nell’s ear, “They are only country dances, you know. The waltz isn’t danced here yet, more’s the pity. Didn’t you learn country dances in the schoolroom?”

“Not in any recognizable fashion. My mama was my only teacher, and since there was no one else to form a set, it was impossible to do more than imagine what such dancing must be like.”

Emily frowned. “It is shameful that your aunt never took you to an assembly. How were you to meet young men? When were you to have any fun?”

Nell laughed. “I assure you, Mrs. Holmsly…Emily, that I have had many very enjoyable days at Longstreet Manor.”

“I cannot conceive how,” Emily admitted with a disparaging glance at Aunt Longstreet, whose concentration on the scene before her was almost unnerving. “Is she looking for someone in particular?” Emily whispered to Nell.

“I don’t think so. She certainly didn’t mention that we were to meet anyone here. Is it true that we should not have come without an escort?”

“Most assuredly. You undoubtedly shocked the Master of Ceremonies, but I dare say your aunt annihilated him with one of her wicked comments.”

Nell’s lips twitched. “She did. She told him that she had better things to do than cater to a bunch of ill-conceived, antiquated rules.”

“Ha! I should have thought anything antiquated would have pleased her excessively,” Emily retorted.

At this point Sir Hugh arrived with glasses of orgeat for Nell and Emily, and wine for Aunt Longstreet. His godmother sniffed it suspiciously and took a small sip. “Watered!” she announced, but she proceeded to drink it all the same.

Emily’s husband joined them and was introduced to the two women. Nell thought Mr. Holmsly cut a dashing figure, like someone from a romance—with his shining black hair, piercing blue eyes and rugged features. He was just the sort of man she imagined married to Emily, though she was a trifle disappointed when he spoke, for his conversation was somewhat prosaic—a comment on the state of the roads between Bath and Bristol.

She caught the amusement in Sir Hugh’s eyes as he regarded her. “Did you think he would offer tales of high adventure?” he asked in an undertone. “Be thankful he is not as derring do as his appearance, else he would be totally unable to manage my sister!”

“Your sister is charming.”

“Yes, but quite a handful, I promise you. I don’t envy Holmsly the keeping of her.”

As Emily was smiling very prettily at her husband just at that moment, Nell could not conceive what difficulty Mr. Holmsly ever had with his wife, but she remained silent. There were mysteries between married couples which she would never experience. And she did not intend to pretend that she possessed some sophisticated knowledge that she did not.

Sir Hugh accepted her silence with good grace and asked, “Shall I tell you about some of the people here tonight?”

“Oh, yes, please. I should like that immensely,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

“We shall start with the couple at the head of that set,” he said, indicating the dancers closest to them. “Mrs. Witchford and Mr. Kennyhall. She comes to Bath for two months in the spring each year, without her husband, for the express purpose of taking the waters—and setting up a flirtation. Mr. Kennyhall is not the gentleman with whom she has set up her flirtation this year. That is Mr. Pymore, the next gentleman in the set. His partner is the youngest Haddenham daughter, the fifth. Her family is anxious to see her settled, but she has shown no inclination toward any of the young men who have shown an interest.”

“She’s quite lovely. But she must be very young. Surely too young to marry.”

“Oh, no. All of her sisters married in their first London seasons, at seventeen. Miss Haddenham is probably eighteen or thereabouts.”

“Well, I hope she will not marry unless she finds a gentleman who suits her,” Nell remarked incautiously.

Sir Hugh’s brows rose. “Do you know her?”

“Not at all. I speak merely as one who believes a young woman must take responsibility for her actions, as no one is as certain to have her best interests at heart as she herself.”

“I see.” Sir Hugh did not look as though he “saw” at all. After a moment, however, he proceeded to run through the other dancers he was acquainted with, but he paused when they both heard Emily exclaim, “Lord Westwick! How good to see you again.”

Nell’s gaze flew instinctively to her aunt, who was frowning at the newcomer, her eyes narrowed to a fierce glare. This did not seem to have any effect on the earl, who raised Emily’s hand to his lips with practiced grace.

“Mrs. Holmsly, how delightful to find you here. And Miss Longstreet.” He made an elaborate bow to Aunt Longstreet, who pointedly ignored him, before turning to Nell. “And Miss Armstrong. I trust you are enjoying our Bath entertainments.”

“Very much, my lord, thank you,” Nell replied, with her deepest curtsy.

Emily intervened to say, “This is Miss Armstrong’s first assembly, Lord Westwick. I can hardly credit it! And she is not familiar with our country dances, to say nothing of the waltz. I have been cudgeling my brain to think how we may bring her up to snuff.”

Nell was aware that Emily wished only to assist, but this imparting of her situation to the earl mortified her. Again the color rose in her cheeks, and she said stiffly, “Please do not give it another thought, Mrs. Holmsly! I assure you that I am more than happy to merely observe the dancers. I have no wish to partake of such strenuous exercise.”

“Pooh!” Emily retorted. “One would have to be dead not to wish to dance! It is the most delirious fun—passing gaily from hand to hand, and laughing and flirting. Oh, not for the world would I have you miss it!”

“But I must,” Nell said firmly.

“Tonight, perhaps. But on the next occasion, you must be prepared to take your place in a set—with Hugh, and Lord Westwick, and Mr. Holmsly. Oh, indeed you must.”

“I cannot think how I should learn to dance these intricate steps. Not from a library book, I assure you.” Nell shook her head. “And I don’t believe Aunt Longstreet has the intention of coming again, in any case.”

“Not come again!” Emily looked horrified. She turned to Aunt Longstreet with the evident intention of cajoling the older woman into changing her mind. “Oh, ma’am, surely you must intend to come again. Why, no one stays in Bath who does not attend an assembly at least once a week!”

“Poppycock! My niece is not a spoiled girl who thinks of nothing but the elusive pleasures of society. Not for her all these late nights and overcrowded rooms. She has a serious mind, not filled with fripperies and excitement. You would do well to take a page from her book,” Aunt Longstreet admonished severely.

If Nell had been forced to respond in any way to this sally, she would have considered fainting dead away. Fortunately, she found herself no longer in her aunt’s vicinity, but locked onto Lord Westwick’s arm, with Sir Hugh flanking her other side. She blinked at first one and then the other of these two gentlemen, before saying humbly, “I thank you. Sometimes Aunt Longstreet is rather . . . outspoken. You don’t think I should go back and rescue Mrs. Holmsly?”

“Emily is perfectly capable of fending for herself. And her husband is not given to allowing anyone to disparage her.” Sir Hugh looked down (though only slightly) at his companion and added, “I beg you will forgive my sister, Miss Armstrong. She has an unfortunate habit of attempting to solve almost any problem which presents itself to her. And a great many of them, as you may note, are none of her business.”

“Delightful creature, Mrs. Holmsly,” Lord Westwick interjected. “She means to be your friend, I believe, Miss Armstrong. I trust you will bear that in mind, and not think too harshly of her.”

“Of course not. I am very aware of her good intentions, but she had far better exercise them on someone more deserving!” Nell looked pleadingly at Sir Hugh. “My aunt does not appreciate having her will crossed, as I dare say you have noticed, sir. I fear she will make herself most unpleasant to your sister should Mrs. Holmsly appear to be at odds with her.”

“If you think Miss Longstreet has it in her to reduce my sister to a quivering jelly, you do not know Emily,” Sir Hugh teased. Then he added significantly, “And Emily has a husband and a brother to back her up.”

Nell was very aware that she herself had no one to do likewise. But she was accustomed to her aunt’s ways as few others could be. It all made for a challenging balancing act. Across the room Nell could see that the Holmslys continued to converse with Aunt Longstreet, whose vigorous cane-thumping could not be distinguished in such a noisy setting.

A tiny smile quivered at the corners of Nell’s lips. “I doubt she will be caught at such a disadvantage another time,” she remarked ruefully. Her aunt cast a glaring look about the room, and when her gaze lighted on Nell, she beckoned with an imperious hand. “I’d best return to her, if you wouldn’t mind, Lord Westwick.”

The earl paused and regarded her with concern. “If you’re quite sure you wish to return…”

“Oh, yes. Else she’ll become distressed. She is probably ready to leave now.”

“Then I shall accompany you home,” Sir Hugh insisted.

“That would be very kind of you,” Nell said. That disconcerting fluttery feeling lodged in her breast once more, much to her dismay.
You’re five-and-twenty
, she chided herself.
Not nineteen. Behave accordingly
. Unfortunately, her inner self wasn’t paying much attention, and her pulse remained quickened as she placed her hand on Sir Hugh’s proffered arm.

* * * *

Miss Longstreet did not wish for Sir Hugh’s escort. She made herself quite plain about this, but the baronet paid her no heed. “Not only will you have my escort,” he told her quietly but firmly, “but you will allow me to see you home in my carriage.”

“I had rather have a sedan chair,” she announced in piercing accents.

“But Miss Armstrong would prefer to be driven in my carriage,” Sir Hugh announced without the least ground for his assertion, “and I have every intention of honoring her wish.”

“Is that true?” Miss Longstreet demanded, glaring at Nell.

“Yes, indeed, Aunt Longstreet. For you know how difficult it was for us to maneuver into a sedan chair with our gowns, and how uncomfortable we were. I feel certain we will be much better accommodated in your godson’s carriage.”

“Humph,” her aunt muttered.

Miss Longstreet at least seemed willing enough to leave the ballroom. She bid goodbye to the Holmslys, but ignored Lord Westwick, who stood aside to let the party pass. Nell extended her hand to the earl with a warm “Thank you!”

Sir Hugh shepherded the ladies through the crowded room to the entrance hall. He had sent a servant to inform his driver that the carriage was wanted, but there had been insufficient time for it to arrive. Even after the ladies’ pelisses had been claimed, the carriage had not appeared.

Fearing that his driver, having earlier been told that Sir Hugh would be two or three hours, had settled into some cozy inn for a brew, the baronet considered the possibility of hiring a hackney carriage. Fortune smiled on him, however, in the person of his friend Hopkins, who arrived in his carriage just as Hugh was considering the tongue-lashing he would receive from Miss Longstreet if he were to suggest a rented vehicle. He left his charges in the foyer and came out to meet his friend.

“Drat!” Hopkins exclaimed. “Knew I should have gotten here sooner. Don’t tell me you’re leaving already, old fellow.”

“Hopkins, you are in the very nick of time. May I borrow your carriage?”

“My carriage?” His friend frowned, shaking his head. “But, Hugh, you have one of your own. Probably more than one. Yes, definitely more than one.”

“But I need a carriage this instant in order to convey my godmother and her niece to their house in Queen Square. Why not come with us and I will introduce you to them?”

Hopkins regarded him suspiciously. “This the old harridan from Westmorland?” he demanded.

“Mind your tongue! She’s no more than six feet from here.”

“Probably has ears as sharp as a dog’s, too. You may take the carriage, but I’ll not ride along, thank you.” Hopkins was conveying these instructions to his coachman when Hugh brought the two ladies out into the light of the flambeaux on the areaway. He blinked in astonishment at their old-fashioned costumes, but gave a very creditable bow nonetheless. “Servant, ma’am,” he said to Miss Longstreet. “Honored to offer you the use of my carriage.”