Cupid's Choice: She's a shy beauty in distress. He's a chivalric gentleman. (11 page)

At first, the earl had been reluctant to leave his mother and sister so often, but Mrs. Holland and Guin had both urged him not to turn down invitations on their account. He thought now, and with what he felt was justifiable irritation, that the present crisis was what came of accepting those assurances so blithely.

“I should have known something like this would happen,” he muttered. “You and Mama have never been able to be in the same room for an hour without some rumpus being kicked up.”

Guin was quick to catch the bitter note in his voice. She drew back slightly, staring wide-eyed at him. “Are— are you angry with me, Percy?” she faltered, almost in disbelief.

“No, of course I am not! I just meant that I know what Mama is, and I should have been here to take care of you. I shall say something to her, Guin,” said Lord Holybrooke.

Guin sighed, gesturing almost despairingly with her hand. “I am sorry to be such trouble, Percy. Indeed, if I could do anything else, I would not even tell you! But I haven’t anyone else, except our uncle, and Mama will never pay the least heed to anyone but you.”

Lord Holybrooke’s mouth firmed, and there came a steely flash into his eyes. “I promise you that I shall take care of you just as I always have, Guin. And I will speak to Mama directly, too. I’ll tell her that I will want to approve any offer made to you. How will that be?”

Guin looked at him, hope leaping into her drowned eyes, “Oh, will you, Percy?”

“I will as soon as I find the proper moment,” he said resolutely.

Guin snatched up his hand and caught it against her damp cheek. “Thank you, Percy!”

“Don’t be such a goose, Guin,” said Lord Holybrooke, somewhat embarrassed, as he regained possession of his hand.

Guin nervously regarded herself in the mahogany cheval glass. Obedient to her maid’s injunction, she stood still while the finishing touches were put to her toilette. She was attired in one of her new carriage dresses, which was vastly becoming to her. The dark green admirably showed off her trim figure. Her straw bonnet, trimmed with matching green ribbons, was a charming frame for her black curls, deep blue eyes and heart-shaped face.

However, Guin’s thoughts were far from the pretty picture she made. Her heart pounded and she could scarcely breathe. It was always so when she was required to attend her mother on social calls. She dreaded it. However, it would never do to let her mother see it. Her one consolation was that her brother Percy had agreed to accompany them that afternoon.

At the thought of her twin brother, Guin took a steadying breath. Her tumbling thoughts stilled. She could rely on Percy. He wouldn’t leave her to drown in her own inanity.

“There you are, miss.” The maid eased back on her heels and looked admiringly at her mistress’s reflected image. “My, you look a real treat, Miss Guineveve.”

Guin gave a fleeting glance at herself, but it did not give her confidence. The paramount thought in her mind at that moment was not even the pending social engagement, but her mother. She had not yet been summoned to join Mrs. Holland.

“Has Mrs. Holland sent for me yet?” she asked, looking at her maid in the glass.

Morgan pursed her lips. She got up and began busying herself with putting away discarded articles of clothing. “Yes, miss. This five minutes past.”

Guin gasped in dismay, whirling away from the mirror with a rustle of fabric. “And you did not tell me!”

Morgan’s face was wooden, though there was a spark of sympathy in the glance she shot her mistress. “You were not turned out decent, miss.”

“As though that mattered!” exclaimed Guin. She snatched up her reticule and hastily crossed the small room to the bedroom door.

“Indeed, and the mistress would have scolded you had you made such unseemly haste that you neglected any part of your toilette,” said Morgan. “She’ll be more content now that you’re ready, miss.”

Guin faltered, her hand on the brass knob, and glanced back at her maid. She knew well enough that it was true. Her mother would have condemned any sign of untidiness. Yet she still wished that the message had been delivered to her. “I must go downstairs at once,” she said, and left the bedroom.

Guin flew down to the front parlor, dreading the inevitable scold she would receive for keeping her mother waiting. Her stomach was already churning. However, Mrs. Holland was not in evidence, and only Lord Holybrooke was in the front parlor. “Thank God,” murmured Guin to herself, trying to calm her quickened breathing.

The earl rose upon his sister’s precipitate entrance. He gave a low whistle of appreciation as he looked her over. “Very fine, Guin, I must say!”

Guin gave a small laugh. Her nervous tension dissipated under her brother’s teasing smile. “Thank you, Percy! But I am not nearly as smart as you, dear brother.”

“Oh, well! Not everyone in the family can aspire to becoming a Tulip of fashion,” said Lord Holybrooke on a laugh. He was wearing a new superfine coat over a pair of pale pantaloons. The high gloss of his boots shone not a speck of dust. He put his hand up to his snow-white cravat, which was tied in an intricate fashion. “I have attempted a new way of tying my neckcloths. Do you like it, Guin? Sir Frederick Hawkesworth put me in the way of it.”

“Indeed, Percy, it is very dapper dog,” said Guin, twinkling at him. “I must dash off a note of thanks to Sir Frederick for his kind offices.”

“You wouldn’t! No, of course you wouldn’t. Lord, Guin, don’t even joke about such a solecism. You don’t know him very well yet, I daresay. Well, it stands to reason. You stood up with him at Lady Smythe’s ball, and a handful of other times since, and have been driving with him only once,” said Lord Holybrooke.

“I met Sir Frederick again at Mama’s rout last week. He—he was very kind,” interposed Guin, delicate color tingeing her cheeks.

“I daresay he was. What I meant to tell you, Sir Frederick is a great fellow, not one to look down on one because he is older or more knowing,” said Lord Holybrooke. “I have met him any number of places, and he always has a civil word to say to me. I have asked Mama to put his name on her guest list for that dinner ball she is throwing for you.”

“Have you?” asked Guin, her color mounting. “I am glad, for I like him very well.”

Lord Holybrooke looked keenly at her. “Guin, do you—”

Mrs. Holland bustled into the room. She was pulling on her gloves. She glanced at her son, smiling with patent fondness. Then she turned her glance on her daughter to look her over, nodding in critical approval. “Well, I perceive that you are both waiting for me, so let us not tarry a moment longer. I am glad you decided to accompany us to the Beaselys for tea, Percival. It is so gratifying to have a male escort when one goes to call.”

“I am certain my uncle would be happy to fill that place, Mama,” said Lord Holybrooke blandly, slanting a mischievous glance toward his sister.

Guin smothered a smile with her hand. She knew without any word said that her brother was bent on teasing their mother. Mrs. Holland could always be aroused to protest whenever Lord Holybrooke announced his intention to abandon her to Colonel Caldar’s escort.

For once Mrs. Holland did not rise to the bait. She had already garnered the earl’s promise to accompany her that afternoon and nothing could ruffle her equanimity. “Your uncle’s escort can hardly compare with yours, dearest,” said Mrs. Holland complacently. “After all, you are an earl!”

Lord Holybrooke rolled his eyes in exasperation, his amusement suddenly extinguished. A frown shadowed his face as he said woodenly, “May I offer you my arm, Mama?”

Sublimely unaware that she had offended her son, Mrs. Holland agreed that he could. Lord Holybrooke left the front parlor with the two ladies most dear to him on either side.

It was left to Guin to feel every sympathy for his frustration. More than anyone, she knew how often her brother had remonstrated with their mother about her constant references to his title with little effect.

Lord Holybrooke did not offer much more than monosyllabic replies to Mrs. Holland’s stream of light conversation during the carriage ride. Guin made an effort to fill the gap to cover up her brother’s withdrawal. Her efforts met with an unexpected and unprecedented commendation from Mrs. Holland.

“I am glad to see that you are in such good form, Guin. I trust that you will be able to carry it forward during our call on Lady Beasely,” said Mrs. Holland over her shoulder as she got out of the carriage.

“I hope so, too, Mama,” said Guin, descending from the carriage on her brother’s extended hand. Lord Holybrooke muttered something under his breath, a rather pointed reference to his mother’s behavior. Guin pinched his arm warningly as they accompanied Mrs. Holland into the town house and were ushered upstairs into Lady Beasely’s presence.

Lady Beasely was a widow, apparently left with considerable funds so that she was able to live in the first style of elegance. She was an aristocrat to her fingertips, cool and gracious and superior. Guin still remembered how annoyed her mother had been with her earlier in the Season when she had been too preoccupied to respond to an inquiry made by Lady Beasely. Mrs. Holland set store by her acquaintance with Lady Beasely. The thought of committing a faux pas while partaking of Lady Beasely’s hospitality, and under her mother’s eye, filled Guin with renewed foreboding.

However, it wasn’t going to be half as dreadful as Guin thought it might be. She realized quickly that Lady Beasely scarcely noticed her existence. Her ladyship was not uncivil, but she did little to recognize Guin except to address a polite remark now and again to her which did not require an answer.

It was Lord Holybrooke who garnered most of the attention, allowing Guin to more easily fade into the background. Lady Beasely had greeted Mrs. Holland and her daughter with a few welcoming words, but from the outset she reserved her widest smile for the young Earl of Holybrooke.

“My Lord Holybrooke! I had extended my invitation through your mother to include you, but I scarcely dared hope that I would see you this afternoon. It is a pleasure, my lord. Allow me to introduce my eldest daughter, Miss Margaret Beasely, who is coming out this Season!” said Lady Beasely, bringing forward the young lady standing beside her.

Lord Holybrooke gravely acknowledged the introduction, an unreadable expression in his gray-blue eyes. He bowed over Miss Beasely’s slim hand when she presented it to him. “Miss Beasely, I am honored to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh, the honor is entirely mine, my lord, I assure you!” said Miss Beasely, gazing at the earl with brilliant green eyes. Her smile was an attractive flash of white, even teeth. She was a handsome redhead, pale-complexioned with a delicious sprinkle of golden freckles across her well-shaped nose. The expression in her face was lively. Guin thought with an inward sigh that Miss Beasely would have little difficulty in filling her dance cards.

After urging her guests to make themselves comfortable, Lady Beasely turned to her daughter. “Margaret, will you pour?”

“Certainly, Mama,” said Miss Beasely, at once taking competent command of the tea tray. As Guin watched, Miss Beasely poured tea and added just the right amount of cream and lumps of sugar to each cup before handing them round.

Guin sighed enviously. How she would like to be able to acquit herself so well. The one time Mrs. Holland had told her to pour tea, she had overturned the cup into her mother’s lap and had her ears soundly boxed. Guin still did not understand how she had come to do such a hideous thing.

Lady Beasely and her daughter set themselves to entertain. Guin sat quietly by, carefully sipping from her porcelain cup, while her mother and her brother conversed. She was content to listen. She knew her own conversational skills to be sadly tacking, and hesitated to take part when she knew her mother would judge every syllable coming out of her mouth.

Guin glanced with a fond smile at her twin brother. It was otherwise with Percy, of course. He had always possessed a glib tongue. Whereas she was awkward and ill at ease in making conversation, he had the ability to converse easily with practically anyone.

At last Mrs. Holland rose to take her leave, giving cue to her children that the visit had come to an end. Lady Beasely and her daughter expressed their mutual regret, but pressed Mrs. Holland to be certain to call again and promised to reciprocate very soon.

As the Holland ladies and Lord Holybrooke were ushered toward the door, Miss Beasely said warmly, “Miss Holland, I am determined that we are to become friends.”

Guin would have been flattered if Miss Beasely’s eyes had been focused on her instead of on her brother. She started to murmur a polite civility, when her mother interrupted her.

“How kind of you, Miss Beasely! I am positive my daughter is as conscious of it as I am,” said Mrs. Holland. She directed a pointed look at her daughter. “Are you not, Guin?”

“Yes, Mama,” said Guin obediently. “It—it is very kind of you, Miss Beasely.”

Miss Beasely bestowed a dazzling smile on Guin and squeezed her hand. Guin was surprised that Miss Beasely had actually met her eyes; indeed, she had actually looked at her and seen her. A small warm feeling fleeted through Guin. Perhaps Miss Beasely had been sincere in her offer of friendship, after all. It was something nice to think about.

“We shall send an invitation to our dinner party next month,” said Lady Beasely. She held out her hand to Lord Holybrooke, her smile glinting. “I hope you will not be otherwise engaged, my lord.”

Lord Holybrooke bowed with a smile, uttering something civil and noncommittal, before ushering out his mother and sister. When he had handed them up into their carriage and climbed in himself, he threw himself back against the upholstered seat squab with an exhausted air. “Mama, I beg you will hold me excused from the Beasely affair. Perhaps my uncle can escort you and Guin that evening.”

“Naturally, if you do not wish it, there is nothing more to be said,” said Mrs. Holland equably, though with an inflection of surprise.

Guin glanced at her brother with a teasing smile. She had observed how well received the earl had been and formed her own conclusions. “Miss Beasely will be gravely disappointed if you were to cry off, Percy.”

Lord Holybrooke grimaced wryly. He thrust his hands deep into his pockets. “Have done, Guin, I pray you.”

“Whatever can you mean, Guin?” asked Mrs. Holland with a hint of pique. She did not like that her children shared some understanding to which she was not privy.

“Come, Mama, surely it was as plain to you as it was to Guin and me,” said Lord Holybrooke with a touch of impatience. “Lady Beasely and Miss Beasely have decided I am an eligible suitor for Miss Beasely’s hand.”

Mrs. Holland stared. Blinded by her own bias, she had seen nothing extraordinary in the attention lavished upon her son. Now she swiftly recovered herself, unwilling to appear wanting in her son’s eyes. “Of course I noticed! Why, the very idea is absurd! You are too young to wed. And when it is time, we shall look much higher for a suitable bride than Miss Beasely!”

Guin glanced down at her hands clasped in her lap. According to her mother, Percy was too young to be wed; but she was not. Perhaps it was different for females, she thought dismally, for surely her mother must know best.