Gayle Buck (9 page)

Chapter Eight

The ball ended in the small hours, and not surprisingly, the Davenport household rose late the following day. Michele wakened only when her maid pulled back the curtains and sunlight spilled into the bedroom. “What hour is it?” she asked, cracking a yawn and stretching. When the maid informed her it was nearly noon and that Lady Basinberry awaited her in the breakfast room, Michele scrambled out of bed.

Less than an hour later she had finished her toilette and descended to the breakfast room. “Good morning, my lady,” she said cheerfully, going in to seat herself at the table. Lady Basinberry was sipping her tea and nodded a greeting. A footman asked Michele quietly what she would like served to her from the sideboard, and she requested biscuits and eggs.

Lady Basinberry set down her cup. “Lydia will be down shortly. I wished to have us all together so that we can discuss the invitations.”

“Invitations? Have some arrived, then?” For answer, Lady Basinberry swept a hand in the direction of a silver tray overflowing with cards. Michele was astonished. She picked up one to glance at the ornate script. “All of these have come this morning?”

“The butler informed me that a positive stream of them commenced at first light. Our little ball was a complete success,” Lady Basinberry said complacently. At that moment she saw her younger niece in the doorway. “There you are, Lydia! Come see the invitations that you and Michele have garnered.”

Lydia sat down at the table and declined anything but toast and chocolate. She eyed the immense stack of cards. “Heavens! We shall be running all Season. How ever will we be able to attend all of these functions?”

“We shan’t, Lydia. We shall decline a share of them,” said Lady Basinberry as she perused a card. “I believe this is one that we shall decline. I have never liked Emma Wain, and fortunately her musical evening is the same date as the Countess of Kenmare’s dinner party, which we most certainly shall attend. Michele, the countess enclosed a personal word for you.”

Michele took the card to read the short note. She smiled. “The countess is very kind. I am flattered that she thinks so well of me.”

“I understand from those who are best acquainted with her that the countess is exceptionally warmhearted. It is wonderful indeed that you are known to her, for her influence will go far in introducing you into the ton.” Lady Basinberry smiled and there was a frosty twinkle in her faded eyes. “And Lydia will certainly not suffer by the association.’’

“Aunt! You are making Michele’s friendship with Lady Kenmare sound dreadfully mercenary,” Lydia said.

“My dear girl, you will find as you become older that it is whom one knows that will open the greatest number, and the most stubborn, of doors,” Lady Basinberry said cynically. She moved on to other invitations, choosing several for a careful stacking and dispatching others with a flick of her wrist and a pithy remark. Michele and Lydia discussed those that Lady Basinberry thought desirable, and Michele was surprised that she was nearly as enthusiastic as Lydia at the prospect of attending the functions. Perhaps coming to London had changed her in some way, she thought, and she tried hard not to dwell on a certain gentleman’s face.

The ladies lingered long over breakfast, and when at last they rose from the table it was to the footman’s announcement that a caller had arrived. The visitor proved to be only the first in a stream of morning callers, among whom was Lord Melbourne’s sister, the beautiful Lady Cowper. She greeted Michele with extreme friendliness. “My dear Michele, I feel that I already know you. I am so happy to actually make your acquaintance. Your dear mother and I were once close friends. When I received her letter informing me of your direction, I simply had to call upon you.”

Michele was surprised by the lady’s familiarity. “Thank you, my lady. I am aware of the honor you show me.”

Lady Cowper smiled and chatted at some length on various topics before she turned to Lady Basinberry and said, “I shall myself sponsor Mademoiselle du Bois to Almack’s. It is the least I can do for my dear friend Helen’s daughter.”

Lady Basinberry did not bother to disguise her delight. “That is most handsome of you, my lady.”

“Indeed, I am most grateful,” said Michele, aware from her aunt’s complacency and a suppressed squeak from Lydia that a deep honor had been bestowed upon her.

Lady Cowper smiled in a kind way at Lydia. “I know that Miss Davenport has already been taken under kind Lady Sefton’s wing, or otherwise I should extend my patronage to her as well. What I can do is make certain that both young ladies are never without proper partners.”

“Your kindness is most appreciated,” Lady Basinberry said, almost purring in satisfaction.

Lady Cowper stood up and began drawing on her gloves. “I must be going now. But I shall not forget the voucher, I promise you.”

When Lady Cowper had finished with her good-byes and had been seen to the door, Lady Basinberry turned a satisfied glance on Michele. “I am extremely pleased, my dear. Lady Cowper is the most popular patroness of Almack’s and she has just extended entrance to the most exclusive assembly in London. Your position in society is assured.”

“I had feared that it was,” Michele said with a mock sigh. “I shall not be allowed to enjoy a quiet Season after all.”

“Is it not exciting? Why, Michele may go with us next Thursday evening, Aunt Beatrice,” Lydia said.

“Truly, a momentous evening is in store,” Lady Basinberry said dryly. “But do be prepared, Michele. Almack’s is not known for its refreshment table. The company shall be served only lemonade, tea, bread and butter, and stale cake.”

Michele made a face. “If that is so, why does anyone attend the assembly rooms at all?”

“To be seen, of course. And also to eye the best of eligible
partis,”
Lady Basinberry said. “I have high hopes for you both when once you stand up at Almack’s.”

Lydia groaned. “Pray do not scheme for us, Aunt Beatrice. It will be so much nicer if we may simply stand up with whoever signs our dance cards.”

“My dear Lydia, I never scheme. I merely influence,” Lady Basinberry said mendaciously.

“As perhaps we have already seen. I wonder who reminded Lady Cowper of her friendship with my mother?” Michele asked. She smiled at the sharp glance Lady Basinberry shot at her.

The week sped past in a flurry of engagements. Each evening the ladies attended at least two social functions, and they rarely returned home before the small hours of the morning. They scarcely saw Mr. Davenport, who preferred to pursue his own quiet amusements, unless they chanced to dine at the town house before going out. But he did not appear to feel neglected, and he told Michele and Lydia that he was happy to see that they were enjoying themselves so well.

Michele met several people, both ladies and gentlemen, whom she had been acquainted with in Brussels, and she felt increasingly at home in English society as a consequence. It was an odd feeling, as though part of her had been left behind in a different time, and the only sour note was the cold hauteur with which Lord Randol treated her whenever they chanced to meet.

On Thursday, the ladies set off for Almack’s. The assembly rooms were small for the large company that had gathered. Lady Basinberry observed that it did not seem as stuffy as usual. Michele glanced at her ladyship but made no comment. She could not understand why Almack’s should be such an exclusive place. The musicians were uninspired and rarely played anything more daring than a country dance. The refreshments were all that Lady Basinberry had described, being stale and scant. Yet
entree
to this most exclusive company was avidly sought by every personage who aspired to rub shoulders with the
haut ton.
Once denied entrance by one of the patronesses of Almack’s, an individual’s social standing was irrevocably sealed into a lesser circle.

Michele glanced about the company and took note of a disproportionate number of young misses. “It appears to me that the gentlemen do not care to attend Almack’s so much as the ladies,” she said.

Lady Basinberry smiled. Her eyes gleamed. “You’ve noticed that, have you? Almack’s is sometimes referred to as the Marriage Mart. Hopeful mothers bring their unmarried daughters to this most august place in order to catch the eye of some eligible gentleman, just as I have done with you and Lydia this evening.”

Michele wrinkled her nose. “Assuredly I must thank you for your diligent dispatch of duty, my lady!”

Lady Basinberry laughed. “Pray do not worry your head over it, Michele. Lydia does not. See, she is making sheep’s eyes at that gentleman who is partnering her down the set, even though she vows that her heart is given over to that soldier of hers.”

“You advise me to flirt,
en effet?”
Michele asked, raising her heavy brows.

“Of course, my dear. How else am I to marry you off?” Before her niece could form an appropriate reply to this outrageous statement, Lady Basinberry nodded at an approaching gentleman. “Perhaps this will be the gentleman I shall snare for you.”

Michele looked around quickly, to meet Sir Lionel Corbett’s gaze. He smiled at her and there were both pleasure and admiration in his glance. “Michele. I knew that if I haunted this place long enough, you would sooner or later make an appearance.”

“Sir Lionel.” Michele acknowledged his greeting with a friendly smile, neither encouraging nor discouraging. “I know that you must remember my aunt, Lady Basinberry.”

Sir Lionel made a deep bow. “I could not be so ungallant as to forget. My lady, I hope that I see you well?”

“I am invariably well. Sir Lionel,” said Lady Basinberry. “I was just remarking to Michele that she should enjoy herself this evening. Perhaps you will add your persuasions to mine, sir.”

“With pleasure, my lady. If the mademoiselle will accompany me, I shall procure for her a lemonade and endeavor to bend her ear with an amusing tale or two.”

Michele glanced at Lady Basinberry’s satisfied expression as she placed her hand on Sir Lionel’s arm. “A lemonade, I believe you said? I should like something a bit tart about now,” she said. As Sir Lionel bore her away, Lady Basin-berry looked startled, then amused.

“Sir Lionel, there is a question that I must ask you,” said Michele. Almost from the moment of discovering that Lord Randol was very much alive, she had wanted to inquire of Sir Lionel why he had not notified her of his lordship’s continued existence. Better than nearly anyone else, Sir Lionel Corbett had known the depth of her feelings for Lord Randol. She had not felt equal to the task during Lady Basinberry’s ball, especially after the disastrous waltz with Lord Randol, but she had had several days to reflect, and her curiosity had become stronger than her diffidence.

Sir Lionel glanced down at her quickly, hearing the determination in her tone. He looked discomfited. “It is about Lord Randol, of course. Believe me, I realize that I owe you an apology. It gave me a queer start when I chanced to meet him at Brooks’s, I can tell you. I never thought to see him again in this life. I should have written to you at once. I see that now.”

Michele shook her head. His half-apologetic explanation had satisfied her. “Pray do not take yourself to task, Sir Lionel. It was his lordship’s place to write to me, not yours. I only wish that I had been forewarned before coming face-to-face with him.”

Sir Lionel grimaced. “That I can well understand. I was in a bit of a quandary after I discovered that you were in London. I did not want to stir things up, as it were. And too, his lordship is not often found at social functions. It is just recently that he has been seen about. I have since heard that he spends most of his time in the country or with his cronies of the Four-Horse Club. He is still considered a notable whip, despite the partial incapacitation of his right arm, apparently. But I imagine that it is his face that works mainly to keep him out of society. It must be dashed awkward. Any lady must shrink from that scar, especially yourself. He would do better to remain secluded on his own estates, I’ve often thought.”

Michele was stunned by Sir Lionel’s callousness. She had never thought of Lord Randol’s scarred face as a hindrance to his social life. Actually, if the truth be known, she rather thought the scar gave him a certain dangerous appeal. Before she could disabuse Sir Lionel of his erroneous impression, an acquaintance hailed the gentleman and the moment was lost.

Sir Lionel introduced his friend. “Michele, allow me to present to you Robert Nathan, Esquire. Robert, this lady is Mademoiselle du Bois.”

Mr. Nathan, who had taken Michele’s hand and was preparing to make his bow, instead stared hard at her face. She lifted her brows at his rude manners, and he flushed. “Mademoiselle, forgive me. But you must realize that I am meeting a legend. Sir Lionel has mentioned your name on several occasions, always in the most flattering of accolades.”

Michele smiled. “No, I cannot be insulted after such a pretty speech, Mr. Nathan. But surely you mistake the matter. Sir Lionel and I are such old friends that he knows all my faults, and I his.”

“Robert, my friend, we are making our way to the refreshments. I hope that you will excuse us, for Mademoiselle du Bois has professed herself expiring from thirst,” Sir Lionel said.

Mr. Nathan shot him a startled glance. Then a smile of understanding spread over his genial face. “Of course. I shall not delay you a moment longer. Mademoiselle, it has been a pleasure.” He bowed and moved away.

Sir Lionel eased Michele onward. He glanced down at her. “I trust that you are not put out at my subterfuge. But I could see that Nathan’s indiscreet tongue was making things deuced awkward.”

“I think perhaps it was more awkward for you than for me,” Michele said with a too-bright smile. It annoyed her that Sir Lionel had apparently talked her up with all his acquaintances. She had become familiar in the past with the fact that gentlemen bandied casual descriptions of the women of their acquaintance, and she was not amused to learn that she had become one of such company. That she had was certainly attested to by the manner in which Sir Lionel had hustled her away before she could hear more from Mr. Nathan.