Birds of a Feather (12 page)

The sight had shocked Sedge to the core. The girl was not a beauty, but she had blushed becomingly, and the flirtatious light in her eyes made her seem the most desirable woman in the room. When he added her wit, intelligence, and a solid education, she became extremely dangerous.

He had never thought to see that look on Reggie’s face and could only pray that the attachment had not passed beyond infatuation, for a hired chaperon of limited breeding was clearly ineligible to become Marchioness of Glendale. Surely Reggie was not blind to that reality. Pursuing her could only lead to pain.

Miss Patterson’s emotions had been harder to gauge. He had surreptitiously watched her since returning to town – which was how he’d managed to collide with her last night; he had wanted to know if she was meeting someone in the refreshment room. She had flirted with no one else, yet he still did not know if she truly wanted Reggie or merely coveted one of the highest titles on the Marriage Mart.

Not that it mattered. She was a schemer, preying on Reggie’s emotions in a way no other female had managed. A dangerous schemer, for she had the intelligence to adopt the ingenuous facade that hid her determination to leap above her station. Her tale of seeking a position was clever, but clearly false. She sought understanding of Society only to hone the trap she was setting for Reggie.

Ignoring the voice protesting such arrogant assumptions, he whipped up his fury. If nothing else, it banished his unseemly lust.

Reggie’s expectations attracted fortune hunters in droves – just as his own mystique did. Aside from taking elementary precautions to avoid being compromised, neither of them offered more than casual contempt to the creatures. But Miss Patterson had adopted a sneakier approach, hiding her ultimate goal behind a facade of friendship. That alone demonstrated her intelligence.

He exchanged laconic words with a friend, flirted lightly with Lady Jersey, and frowned young Cathcart into staying in the ballroom rather than slipping outdoors with Miss Cunningham. But his mind teased at the puzzle of Miss Patterson.

If she was merely a fortune hunter, he could probably buy her off. But if she cared for Reggie, opposition might make her dig in her heels. Revealing that a man of Reggie’s rank could never offer for her could prompt a compromise.

Yet he did not truly fear compromise at this point, for she did not need to press the issue. Reggie was so tied in knots that he might toss propriety to the winds and actually make an offer.

So he must control Reggie. And he must assume that she had formed a
tendre
for his brother, making her the most dangerous of all the fortune hunters. Heading her off would be a challenge.

He would not underestimate her again.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Mother is in another of her takings.” Harriet dropped wearily into a chair. “What am I to do, Joanna? She lectures me daily on duty and honor. Unless I attach a man of wealth and power, I will bring disgrace to a family whose reputation for sense and decorum has continued unblemished through five centuries.”

“You are not the one threatening that reputation,” Joanna reminded her. “Your father’s own actions have brought him to this pass.”

“But I have been designated to rescue him – as Mother reminds me daily. She interpreted Lord Ellisham’s long absence as a sign of disinterest, so she is concentrating on Lord Almont. Why does she insist on him? Despite his incessant compliments, I cannot like the man, yet she is pressing me to bring him up to scratch.”

“If he does not please you, then ignore him,” Joanna said, grateful that she need not divulge her own reasons for disapproving Almont. Harriet had a history of revealing secrets when in the throes of excited chatter. Aside from the impropriety of an innocent girl discussing gentlemen’s liaisons, it would do her no good to publicly insult Almont. “You know your father cares about your happiness as much as solving his own problems. And now that Ellisham has returned, she may stop championing Almont.”

“I don’t see why. Ellisham pays me little heed.”

“But she is unlikely to notice that. While it is true that Ellisham will make no offer, he can distract your mother. What do you think of Mr. Reynolds? He seems quite enamored.”

Harriet stared at her foot. “I do not know. His dress is rather extreme.”

“True, though he merely follows fashion as so many others do. And that will mitigate as he grows older.” Last night’s shirt points had resembled blinders, the impression enhanced by an enormous cravat that had thrust his chin halfway to the ceiling and had drawn a frown from Lord Sedgewick. “But he is sensible about most things.”

“He is so educated that I fear to open my mouth lest I say something stupid.”

“You need not be. Gentlemen do not expect ladies to be well-read.”

“Most gentlemen feel that way,” agreed Harriet. “Almont all but patted me on the head when I asked him to explain the difference between helping the war veterans from his village, which he approves, and helping the tenants evicted from his estate by an enclosure act, which he opposes. I’m not to fret over such complexities. But Mr. Reynolds is different. Lady Woodvale raised him, so he is accustomed to intellectual women.”

“You have a point,” she conceded, surprised by the astute observation. She had known that Harriet could be sensible, but now she wondered if the girl was smarter than anyone gave her credit for. Perhaps her frequent
faux pas
arose from immaturity rather than incompetence. “So we will not encourage Mr. Reynolds. But there are many other gentlemen. I am sure we can find one capable of satisfying both you and your father.”

“No such paragon exists.” Tears appeared in Harriet’s eyes.

“Nonsense. The Season is not yet over. New gentlemen take note of you every day.”

Harriet looked doubtful, and with her new suspicions of the girl’s intellect, Joanna had to agree. While it was true that more gentlemen were drifting into Harriet’s court, most were young bucks with no serious intentions. The older ones had been courting girls who’d accepted others, so there was little chance they would form a new attachment this Season.

“A breath of fresh air will drive away these megrims,” Joanna said briskly, needing to remain optimistic. “Fetch your pelisse and that new bonnet. A walk will make you feel better.”

Wicksfield House was only a block from Hyde Park. Joanna preferred walking in the morning, for carriages jammed the park during the fashionable hour. Today, a fresh breeze drove the soot and smells toward the city, leaving the sky clear over Mayfair. Birds sang merrily from shrubs and trees. Flowers nodded, saturating the air with their sweet nectar. A dog barked in the distance.

“This feels like home today,” said Harriet wistfully.

“Are you not enjoying London?”

“Y-yes.” Guilt flashed in her eyes. “The balls and theater are quite exciting. And I’ve never seen such elegant gowns.”

“But?”

“I miss the Harper girls,” she admitted, naming the squire’s daughters. “And the open fields. I feel caged in town. The people are nicer at home, too. They never mind if I trip over a carpet or prefer Rose Parker’s puddings to Cook’s elegant cakes.” Rose was a tenant. “In London, I can never relax. There are rules about everything, and Mama scolds when I make mistakes. You are more tolerant, but I know I will never keep it all straight.”

She was right, conceded Joanna. Lady Wicksfield pounced on the slightest slips. “You are doing very well, Harriet. No one has said anything against you. And Lady Pressington’s musical evening was quite successful. Lady Cowper swore you sang like an angel, and even Lady Jersey complimented you.”

“Mama did not. She was furious that I changed songs without telling her.”

“Your choice was better.” They had held this discussion before, but Harriet still harbored doubts about her small rebellion. “Robert Burns is quite popular, and your selection reflected both your age and your sweet nature. Her suggestion would not have worked as well. You cannot carry off teasing allusions to things you don’t understand.”

Harriet’s forehead creased in concentration. “What are you talking about?”

“She wanted you to play the coquette, hoping Almont would respond with an offer. But that is not a role you could manage.” In truth, Harriet’s angelic performance had worked much better. Joanna had been deflecting him ever since.

Discussion ceased when a gentleman approached. Wethersby.

“Miss Patterson. Lady Harriet.”

Harriet flushed.

His eyes dueled briefly with Joanna’s, acknowledging her attempt to discourage him and his refusal to comply. Since this walk had been her own idea, there was no question of an assignation. Thus she nodded stiffly.

He turned to Harriet. “Will you be at the theater tonight?”

“Of course, my dear sir,” she exclaimed before Joanna could stop her. “We will be in Lady Thurston’s party. Do you know what we are to see?”

“Shakespeare’s
Othello
, though you will find it rather tragic.” He turned to accompany them as they resumed their walk. “But you will enjoy the farce. They are performing Sheridan’s
School for Scandal
. I will make a point of visiting your box during the first interval.”

“We will welcome you.”

He cast another glance at Joanna, a twinkle lighting his eyes, though he kept his face rigidly neutral.

The path was too narrow to allow her to remain at Harriet’s side, so she fell in behind them as Mr. Wethersby carefully outlined the plots of both plays. She was torn between gratitude and annoyance. He was making sure that Harriet enjoyed the evening – and doing it in a way that was not condescending. Yet in the very process of helping her, he was feeding her
tendre
.

Devil take the man! Did he not realize that he was placing Harriet in a difficult position? How could he expect to offer for an earl’s daughter? Even discounting Wicksfield’s problems, Wethersby was merely a baron’s younger son.

She nearly interrupted to claim a pressing errand, but something stayed her hand. He was speaking now of his home in Yorkshire, gently probing Harriet for her views on country and city life. After describing the estate he had recently inherited from an uncle, he allowed her to compare it with Wicksfield Manor.

Harriet had not been this relaxed since arriving in London. Her voice was more confident, lacking that note of uncertainty that usually made her sound on the brink of hysteria. Her hands flowed in natural gestures. And her comments again showed more awareness than usual. Was it fear and insecurity that made her seem so dull-witted? Since Joanna had met her just before leaving for London, she had no points of comparison. But if insecurity was responsible for her demeanor, then Wicksfield was doing her a vast disservice by presenting her now. As Lord Sedgewick had noted, she was far younger than her years – except with Wethersby.

She shivered.

“I must leave you now,” he said regretfully. “Remaining longer would draw unwanted attention, despite the presence of the most estimable Miss Patterson.”

He turned to face a crestfallen Harriet, allowing Joanna a view of his face. It reflected a level of caring she rarely saw in gentlemen. Not mindless infatuation, which half the bucks in town affected, but a warmth that ran much deeper. His eyes locked with Harriet’s as he said his farewells.

Joanna automatically muttered conventional phrases, rocked to the core by the look they had just exchanged. Wethersby loved Harriet. Intensely and irrevocably. And she returned his feelings in full measure.

Disaster loomed. Unless Reggie turned up a secret fortune, the Honorable Jonathan Wethersby was in no position to help Wicksfield obtain a loan. She could not imagine the earl granting permission for a match. He might pay lip-service to allowing Harriet a voice in her future, but when faced with the reality of an offer, his own interests would come first.

Yet she had to admit that Harriet was not suited to the social whirl a gentleman of high standing would demand. The girl was uncomfortable in Society, where she must think through every comment before speaking. As she had admitted only an hour ago, she preferred the country. Her inclinations would appall the high sticklers.

The admission placed a new burden on Joanna’s shoulders. Honesty admitted that Harriet would be happiest with Wethersby. They had not met a single gentleman who would suit better – at least none that she had noticed, she admitted, guiltily aware that her own dereliction to duty had allowed this friendship to grow unchecked.

Silently blowing out a long breath, she faced the consequences. Not only would this match expose Wicksfield’s problem to the world by forcing him to sell the town house and tighten his belt even further, but it would subject him to Lady Wicksfield’s wrath. The countess combined limited understanding with a determination to get her own way that turned her into a harridan when she was crossed. In fact, Joanna now feared the woman had less intelligence than her daughter.

These suspicions were confirmed the moment they reached the house.

“Where have you been?” demanded Lady Wicksfield. “Ellisham called half an hour ago. When he discovered Harriet’s absence, he left.”

“We were walking in Hyde Park, Mama,” said Harriet.

“How dare you leave when a gentleman might call? If you have thrown away a chance to snare a marquess’s heir, I will never forgive you.”

“It is well before calling hours, my lady,” pointed out Joanna. “We could hardly have expected him.” Though she should have known he would call early, if only to avoid Lady Wicksfield.

“He must wish to make an offer.”

“I doubt it.” How had Lady Wicksfield arrived at so absurd a conclusion? “All the gentlemen know that they must first speak to Lord Wicksfield. But even if his thoughts are moving that direction, he would hardly change his plans just because we were away when he called without warning.”

It took several minutes to calm the woman’s nerves, but at least Reggie’s call would deflect her attention from Almont. She would prefer a marquess’s heir to a baron, particularly since the Glendale fortune was larger.