An Improper Suitor (6 page)

‘I told you before,’ she said, smiling. ‘I can take care of myself.’

‘Indeed you can,’ said Neave, smiling as well. ‘I am certainly glad to know that you are aware of his inclinations. And I have spoken my conscience.’

‘Thank you, Captain Neave,’ she said.

‘It is I who owe you a debt,’ said Neave. ‘And please don’t call me Captain. Under the circumstances, perhaps you could call me Neave, at least?’

His gaze was earnest, craving acceptance.

‘I would be happy to call you Neave.’

He put out his hand to cover hers, thought better of it and drew it back.

When she retired to her room that night, it took her a long time to sleep. Her senses had been awakened, and she tossed about, unable to find a comfortable position to lie in. She fluffed her pillows and rearranged her sheets, but the feather mattress had turned into a bed of pebbles, and she could not find a comfortable position.

Yet she felt more optimistic than she had for a long time. The drive with Neave had been very promising. She no longer felt it would be impossible to find somebody she could marry. If she could find
someone
like Neave, someone who was not afraid to reveal his inner self….

But later, turbulent dreams roused her. She lay awake in the dark, trying to untangle the threads. She was standing on the grass in Hyde Park, very close to the Serpentine. Neave was in her dream, riding a white horse, though it was spattered with mud. Lord Thorwynn was there too, shouting something urgently to her that she could not hear. He turned and galloped away, his black horse thundering past her.

There was another in her dreams. He was driving a green high perch phaeton. He rode straight towards her. At first she could not see his face. But at the last moment, just before the horses reached her, just before the collision, she saw his face. He was the icy-eyed man who had spoken to Neave. 

When Julia woke up the next morning, it was drizzling. Dark angry clouds hung over London, blocking out the light. The darkness had deceived Julia into sleeping until almost noon, something she did very rarely. By the time she descended her grandmother was already taking a light cold luncheon.

‘I’ve been waiting for you to come down,’ she said. ‘We need to look at the gossip columns again today, just to make sure Lord Thorwynn is out of danger.’

For the next ten minutes, they pored over the pages.

‘Nothing, absolutely nothing,’ said her ladyship eventually. ‘Not a whisper.’ She looked pleased, as well she might. Nothing had occurred to disrupt her plans for Julia’s marriage.

Little did she know that, now that Julia had met Thorwynn, the idea of marrying him was further from her mind than ever.

‘Yes, it does look as if we salvaged the situation.’ She
did
feel
satisfied
that they had beaten the scandalmongers at their game.

‘Good.’ Granmother put her paper down with a snap. ‘Perhaps, in that case, it is about time we visited the infamous Miss Neville.’

It was amazing that a woman like Lady Medlow could have produced the cherub. Her face was small, like her daughter’s, but there the resemblance ended.

She seemed especially fond of fur. The shawl draped over her brown morning dress was trimmed with light-brown fur. Her
old-fashioned
turban, unusually, featured a tail-like strip of brown and black fur. The fur, her sharp teeth and her small round eyes reminded
Julia of a weasel she had seen in a book about Canadian trappers.

She and Lady Bullfinch were the only morning callers. Lady Medlow seemed flattered by Lady Bullfinch’s visit, and quickly hastened to order refreshment. But her tiny eyes rested critically on Julia, examining her shrewdly. ‘I have you to thank for rescuing my Amelia,’ she trilled. ‘She said you went to great lengths to capture her horse.’

‘One can hardly say I rescued her,’ replied Julia, seeing another opportunity to cement her Hyde Park story. ‘Lord Thorwynn and I were both at the scene, along with her groom. We were ready to provide assistance if she had been seriously injured. Fortunately, that was not the case. How is she faring?’

‘She is completely recovered,’ said her mother. ‘No doubt due to her youth and agility,’ she added. The door opened and the cherub stepped in. ‘Here you are, Amelia. Lady Bullfinch has been kind enough to call. She was enquiring about your health.’

‘Oh, I am very well recovered, Lady Bullfinch, Miss Swifton,’ she said, curtseying politely. ‘Just one or two bruises. Nothing to signify.’

Amelia smiled prettily, but the smile did not touch her eyes. She crossed the room and sat next to Julia on the heavy brown velvet sofa. Once the formalities were over, she did not speak. She did not exactly pout, but she looked discontented.

‘We are expecting to attend Lady Blackham’s ball tonight. Will you be in attendance?’ asked Lady Medlow.

‘Yes,’ said Lady Bullfinch. ‘Lady Blackham is a good friend of ours. We would not miss her ball for anything.’

‘Good. Then Amelia will have company.’ She turned fierce eyes on Julia, daring her to contradict. Julia’s eyes turned to Amelia, who shrank into the corner of her chair. ‘Of course I will welcome her company,’ said Julia, smiling warmly at her.

Amelia did not answer. Lady Medlow frowned. ‘Sit up straight, Amelia,’ she snapped. ‘You’re not in the nursery any more. What will people think of you?’

If anything, Amelia shrank back even more. Lady Bullfinch asked Lady Medlow a question, drawing her attention away from the young girl. Julia took the opportunity to start up a different conversation. ‘Have you tried the ices at Gunter’s?’ she asked.

Amelia shook her head.

‘Well, then, we’ll take you there,’ she said. ‘Grannie and I are
planning
to go this very afternoon. Shall we call for you on our way?’

Amelia looked towards her mother, hesitantly. ‘You will have to ask Mama. I’m not sure she’ll approve.’

She definitely lacked town polish. Normally, Julia was not given to accompanying young debutantes. But with a mother like that, Julia could not help feeling sorry for the cherub.

Meanwhile, it looked like the conversation with Lady Medlow had limped to a halt. Julia exchanged glances with her grandmother.

‘We need to take our leave, Lady Medlow,’ said Grannie, standing. ‘We promised to call on a few of our acquaintances.’

‘We would like to call on Amelia later,’ said Julia. ‘We’re planning to go to Gunter’s for ices.’

Lady Medlow shot her another piercing glance, this time full of speculation. ‘Yes. Perhaps that would be a very good idea.’

Lionel was not in a good humour. In fact, his humour was bad enough that he had forced his valet to change his waistcoat three times, an unprecedented event, since Lionel normally trusted his valet’s
judgement
.

His bad humour began the instant he glimpsed Miss Swifton perched on the shiny phaeton in Hyde Park, with Neave at her side.

‘Did you see that, Benny?’

Benny watched the phaeton ride out of sight, his lips pursed grimly. ‘We can definitely assume Miss Swifton is his next victim.’

‘Unless he’s planning to court her,’ said Lionel.

‘Not a chance. His father is sick, I heard, and not likely to survive until winter. He doesn’t need to shackle himself to an heiress if he’s coming into a fortune. Even if his pockets are to let right now.’

Lionel thought he would explode with rage. ‘Why am I condemned to witness his villainy and be unable to do anything about it?’

Benny threw him a strange look. ‘Don’t tell me the Swifton chit has frightened you off?’

‘She has forbidden me to meddle in her affairs.’

‘You are not meddling in her affairs. This is not really her affair at all. She is, in the scheme of things, completely irrelevant. You are
trying to find a way to reveal Neave’s real character to the
ton
. Think of this as an opportunity to do so, nothing more.’

‘I see no way to uncover Neave without involving Miss Swifton in a scandal.’

‘I’m sure if we put our heads together, we’ll find a way. A few minutes’ reflection should do it.’

Lionel, however, was in no mood for reflection. In fact, he could hardly keep his thoughts straight. The sight of Miss Swifton at that scoundrel’s side had thrown reason to the winds. Granted, he did not care for Miss Swifton. Not at all. But Miss Swifton represented all that was honourable in society, while that—

His horse snorted in protest as his fingers tightened on the bridle.

The responsibility for the situation lay on his head. He was acutely aware of it. Because of him, Miss Swifton had drawn Neave’s
attention
. If it had not been for Miss Swifton’s kind willingness to clear his name, Neave would never have had paid her the slightest attention. But Neave had not forgiven him for attempting to instigate an
investigation
into the Captain’s actions during the war.
Even if it had come to nothing.

And then he had warned her in that tactless manner and brought her hackles up.

An arm held him back as he stepped through the doorway into the brightly lit townhouse.

‘For God’s sake, Thor! You can’t walk into a ballroom with a scowl like that on your face. You look like you’re ready to murder
somebody
.’

‘I am ready to murder somebody. I would be very happy to run Neave through with a sword here and now, if that is the only way I can rid the world of his machinations.’

‘Unfortunately, you can’t. You can’t even get away with doing it in a duel, since duels have been inconveniently outlawed. So I’m afraid you’re going to have to put on a pleasant face. You’re walking into a
ball
, for heaven’s sake.’

Which did not improve his humour. He had resolved, after Mrs Wadswith’s ball, that he would not grace the
ton
with an
appearance
for another year at least. Yet here he was, two days later,
walking
into yet another of those insufferable events arranged for the
Marriage Mart. He must have taken leave of his senses.

Devil take it! He could not stand by and let Neave take advantage of Miss Swifton. True, she was not a naive innocent making her first come out into society, but for all her insistence that she could take care of herself, he felt it imperative to protect her against someone of Neave’s ilk. He remembered the way she had felt in his arms two nights ago. Eyes closed, she had been moving in a world of her own. It had been difficult to concentrate on the steps of the waltz, with her smiling lips leaning towards him, her round breasts straining through her green gown, her hair glinting close to his face. He had breathed in her elusive scent, rosewater mixed in with something else –
something
he couldn’t recognize but which was unique to her. He wanted nothing more than to run his lips down the side of her neck, then slide them slowly towards those tantalizing mounds, to sink his face into their softness. He compelled himself to keep a distance. To avoid the temptation to use his palm at her back to draw her closer.

No question that she was desirable, though in an unusual way. She was not his type of beauty at all, if beauty he could call it. But that’s where her appeal ended. He was not interested in independent women who had no room in their life for men. There were plenty of women who were willing, happy, truth be told, to cast their lots in with him. He had made a cake of himself two days ago when he had tried to tell her about Neave. He had claimed a relationship they did not have. She was not likely to listen to him if he tried yet again to warn her.

But he could not allow her to fall into Neave’s hands. And if saving her meant intruding on her independence, so be it. He had no choice in the matter, anymore than she did.

Julia had scarcely entered the ballroom when she was approached by several matrons with young men in tow, wanting to be introduced. She regarded the situation with amusement. She did not know to which of her partners she owed this change in status, but she could think of no other reason.
How ironic, that it is the rakes who have brought me to the attention of the matchmakers, when all the perfectly respectable young gentlemen who had courted me in my first Season did not.
She had never lacked partners at a ball, but among those
being presented to her now, she recognized some very distinguished names. She smiled and accepted the attention, all the while
wondering
if Captain Neave would attend.

Then, as if in response to her wishes, she saw him coming towards her. He approached her with a spring in his step, smiling amiably. There was no trace in his face of the disquiet that had prompted his confidences in the afternoon. He looked simply like a handsome gentleman who found pleasure in her company.

They could not converse properly in a ballroom, surrounded by others who were listening to every word, and he promptly left her to bring some lemonade. Julia sighed. It would be her third glass of lemonade since she arrived. She should have asked for wine, or even champagne.

Neave had barely disappeared into the crowd when Thorwynn bore down on her. Julia stared at him, captivated like a bird staring at a snake. His stride was smooth and elegant, yet he did not seem to move at all, almost as if he lay in wait. She scarcely noticed Lord Benedict, despite his distinctive red hair, loping at Thorwynn’s side. Thorwynn’s eyes locked into hers, and she could not look away.

Before she knew it, the crowd around her had parted to let him through.

‘Good evening, Miss Swifton. I was wondering if you would put me down for a waltz,’ he said, his tone brooking no refusal. She lifted her card to look, if only to break the spell of his gaze. At first the letters seemed hopelessly jumbled, as if she’d forgotten how to read. Then letters sorted themselves into words and she was able to locate the empty spaces next to the two waltzes.

‘Yes, Lord Thorwynn,’ she said, in a voice that managed to sound completely controlled. ‘I’d be happy to put your name down.’

‘And for the cotillion as well,’ he said.

She lifted an eyebrow. He had better not ask her for a third. Even if he did not actually dance with her, it would be all over the ballroom within minutes. A third dance meant that his interest was fixed and he planned to offer for her. It was as good as an engagement.

He didn’t ask for a third dance. But in the next instant, Lord Benedict stepped forward and asked for the second waltz. And a second dance.

She laughed. Loudly enough to draw attention to herself from people outside her group. But it was too absurd. Either they were competing for her attention, which was unlikely, or they meant to keep her away from someone else.

That someone else appeared, carrying another glass of lemonade. He managed to break through the circle around her, but she was flanked on both sides by Thorwynn and Benedict.

It would have been funny if it wasn’t annoying.

She beamed at Captain Neave, assuring him of her welcome in spite of her boorish companions.

‘Thank you,’ she said, taking the lemonade, as if he had gifted her a diamond necklace. ‘I’m
extremely
thirsty.’ But then the lemonade posed a problem. She could not possibly swallow down another glass. She sipped tentatively, managing to cast Neave a warm look over the rim.

He was ill at ease. He was not much smaller than the two men beside him, but he seemed to contract beside them. Their attitude was decidedly menacing. Julia wanted badly to kick them in the shins and tell them to leave her alone. But of course she could not. Not in the middle of the ballroom, surrounded by suitors. It would hardly be ladylike. But perhaps an opportunity would arise later.

Meanwhile, she was cornered. Her smile grew stale as she found herself at an impasse. She could not even glare at them without
drawing
attention. She prayed for the orchestra to start up quickly. But in the interim, there was nothing to do but chatter.