Lucy Muir (5 page)

Phoebe could not but agree.

* * * *

It was Wilfred Atwood who unwittingly provided the means for Phoebe and Celeste to pursue their acquaintance with Lord Murray. Coming down to the breakfast room that morning he had found Lord Murray already present and persuaded the earl to join him in a ride. He offered Lord Murray one of his own mounts, and Lord Murray’s appreciation of his cattle made Wilfred a friend for life. The ride in the Park was not what Wilfred had hoped, however, for they found themselves forced to stop frequently and acknowledge acquaintances who wished to be seen speaking to the popular Scottish lord. After halting for what might have been the thirtieth time, Lord Murray smiled apologetically at Wilfred.

“I am sorry, Mr. Atwood, that my presence is preventing you from having an enjoyable ride. Mr. Scott has a great deal to answer for. Perhaps I should have come disguised.”

“It is no matter,” Wilfred replied very generously, for most of those who sought speech with Lord Murray were women, and Wilfred’s fear of the fair sex had made for a very uncomfortable morning.

“It must be quite a trial to you, to have all the ladies pursuing your acquaintance,” Wilfred observed a moment later. He began to say something else, and then lapsed into silence. He tugged nervously at his coat with his free hand, something obviously on his mind.

“I must say, Lord Murray, I cannot imagine anyone planning to purposefully stick his head into parson’s mousetrap,” he burst out, and then blushed.

Wilfred’s look of total incomprehension amused Lord Murray. “I have avoided it for a half score years,” he admitted, “but the time comes one must face up to one’s responsibilities.”

“I suppose so,” Wilfred agreed doubtfully. “Is there any lady you particularly favour?” he asked, thinking perhaps he could help his new friend to get the distasteful business over with as quickly as possible.

“Lady Sheridan,” Lord Murray replied, recalling the stately woman with fair hair from the previous night. “And the two girls who were clad in matching gowns. A Miss Hartwell and Miss Laurence, I believe.”

“Can’t say I care overly for Miss Laurence—she’s too prone to tease a fellow—but Miss Hartwell is a right ‘un. Say! Let’s leave the Park and pay a call on Miss Hartwell.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Lord Murray agreed. Mr. Atwood obviously wished to escape the Park and the many intimidating females he was being forced to greet. Furthermore, he
was
interested in getting to know Miss Hartwell better, and his time was limited.

* * * *

It was a great surprise to Phoebe and Celeste when, shortly after Olivia’s departure, the footman announced the arrival of Lord Murray and the Honourable Mr. Atwood. Mrs. Hartwell had risen, and she received her noble callers graciously despite their excessively early call, but with none of the fawning over the Scottish lord many of her social betters exhibited. Lord Murray was beginning to find the attempts of Society to curry favour with him distasteful, and Mrs. Hartwell’s simple courtesy was refreshing.

While he exchanged pleasantries with Mrs. Hart-well, Lord Murray also observed the two girls who had so captured his notice the night before. They were again clad in matching gowns, and he knew from Miss Laurence’s presence at the Hartwells’ that the two must indeed be close friends. Miss Hartwell conversed easily with young Atwood, sitting protectively between him and Miss Laurence. Lord Murray overheard the expressions “drew his claret,” “lily-livered,” and “able with his fists,” and concluded the young sapskull was treating Miss Hartwell to a discourse on boxing. Miss Laurence noticed him watching Phoebe, and after a quick glance at Mrs. Hartwell to be sure she was not observed, cast him a flirtatious look. Lord Murray pretended not to see and turned his eyes back to Mrs. Hartwell.

“Lord Murray, you do us quite an honour to call upon us,” Miss Laurence suddenly commented. “I wager London speaks of naught this day but the brave Scottish lord.”

Lord Murray was amused by Miss Laurence’s bid to bring attention to herself. She was obviously a young lady not accustomed to being ignored! But he was saved the necessity of a reply by the footman announcing a third gentleman caller.

“Mr. Arnold.”

Lord Murray looked curiously at the young gentleman who entered the room. He was clad in a plain broadcloth morning coat, the cuffs shiny from wear, and boots with worn soles. His old clothes did not detract from his looks, however, for he had wonderfully golden curls and delicate features that transcended such mundane accoutrements as clothes. A curate, perhaps? Lord Murray wondered if one of the young ladies were attached to Mr. Arnold, and paid close attention as Mrs. Hartwell performed the requisite introductions.

“Lord Murray, may I present to you Mr. Arnold? Mr. Arnold is a friend and a solicitor who sometimes prepares cases for Mr. Hartwell. Mr. Arnold, Lord Murray, Earl of Abermaise, who is residing with Lord and Lady Atwood for the remainder of the Season.”

The young man mumbled something unintelligible and seated himself on a chair in the corner, where he rested his chin on his hands and stared with his large brown eyes at the sofa upon which Miss Hartwell and Miss Laurence sat. Calf love, Lord Murray thought, much diverted.

The conversation turned to Scotland, a topic which seemed to be inevitable, Lord Murray thought ruefully, but he good-naturedly answered their questions.

“Are the Highlands as beautiful as Mr. Scott describes them?” Miss Laurence asked, her intriguing green eyes sparkling with interest. “Rugged purple mountains in the background with thick forests of beech and oak and shining lakes?”

“Yes, so much of the Highlands appears,” Lord Murray agreed good-naturedly. It was obvious Miss Laurence had a highly romanticized idea of the Highlands, he thought. The scenery was beautiful and, yes, romantic, he had to concede, but it was also harsh and uncompromising. It was not a country for the faint of heart.

“Why did you not wear a belted plaid?” Miss Laurence further dared to enquire. “You disappointed half of London by appearing at the ball last night in ordinary evening dress.”

Mrs. Hartwell glanced at Miss Laurence in disapproval for her forwardness in asking such a personal question, but Lord Murray answered with good humour.

“Wearing tartan and Highland dress was outlawed from 1746 until 1785, and by then many of us were out of the custom of wearing our traditional costume,” Lord Murray explained. “Although, had I known I would disappoint half of London I certainly would have brought my belted plaid with me to London.”

“Even though I understand that the clans were outlawed, I imagine much of the clan loyalty remains,” Miss Hartwell hazarded.

“Indeed it does,” Lord Murray agreed with this astute observation. “And because of that my task as laird is made more difficult, for I am not only responsible for many kinsmen but for many others who have remained loyal to the Murray clan but can claim no blood relation.”

Lord Murray, very much impressed by Miss Hartwell’s perceptive questions and immeasurably diverted by Miss Laurence’s naive ones, found that time sped by. The requisite half-hour passed quickly, and he and Wilfred took their departure, leaving Mr. Arnold, who had not said a word since the introductions, in sole possession of the drawing room.

* * * *

Lord Murray and Wilfred returned to the Atwoods’ town house after their call upon the Hartwells, and Lord Murray spent the afternoon visiting with his host. He found Lord Atwood very congenial company, and could understand why his own father had befriended the Englishman. Lady Atwood, a massively built matron with a haughty expression, he could not like as well, finding her self-absorbed and overly concerned about Society. Yet she was a gracious hostess and he was thankful for her hospitality.

Altogether the day passed pleasantly, and Lord Murray descended from his room that evening to join his hosts for another night’s activities in excellent humour. He made his way to the drawing room, but seeing no footman nearby, hesitated outside the door upon hearing raised voices within.

“Wilfred, how is it you cannot ever contrive to look presentable. You
do
have a valet,” he heard Miss Atwood scolding her brother.

“I looked fine as fivepence when I left my dressing room,” Wilfred protested. “Don’t know how it is, but it never lasts. Leave a fellow alone though, won’t you.”

Lord Murray smiled. Young Atwood did always look rather rumpled and half put together, but then he was still an unlicked cub.

“I shall leave you alone when you make an effort to appear other than an unkempt boor. I am shamed to have you for my brother. What must Lord Murray think of us?”

“My appearance is no skin off your nose,” Wilfred retorted. “He ain’t likely to reject you because my cravat ain’t perfect. More likely to because of your own ill temper, once he gets to know you.”

Lord Murray felt the conversation was becoming rather too personal, and retreated back down the hallway. He approached the door again, walking with unnecessary noise to give warning of his approach. A footman also heard his footsteps and hastened to open the drawing room door and announce his presence. Miss Atwood turned to Lord Murray with a welcoming smile, all traces of ill humour removed from her voice and aspect.

“Good evening Lord Murray. I expect my parents will be down shortly.”

Wilfred, looking relieved to see Lord Murray enter, took the opportunity to move to the opposite side of the room as his sister.

Lord Murray politely devoted his attention to Miss Atwood, but the conversation he had overheard rang a warning bell. This was what he had feared might happen. If Miss Atwood were indeed trying to attach his interest, living in her home could be awkward. Yet the argument could have been no more than a squabble between siblings. Brothers and sisters were likely to accuse each other of anything when quarrelling, and it would be unjust to expect perfect behaviour.

No, he could not remove Miss Atwood from consideration in his search for a bride, he thought. And there was no denying her beauty, he admitted to himself, appreciating her appearance in a speedwell-blue gown that matched the colour of her eyes. Her dark brown hair glistened in the candlelight, and the silk of her gown shimmered over the soft rise and fall of her breasts. She smiled charmingly at his evident admiration, revealing perfect white teeth.

Yes, Lord Murray thought, Miss Atwood must remain one of his “candidates.” His idea of the previous night to narrow his choices down to three or four ladies and try to spend time in their company while in London was the best route he could take. With Lady Sheridan, Miss Hartwell and Miss Laurence, Miss Atwood would make four. Tonight he would try to spend some time with each at the ball they were to attend. Lord and Lady Atwood entered the drawing room, breaking off his train of thought, and the Atwoods and their guest departed for the ball.

* * * *

That evening Lord Murray searched for the other three women he had chosen as prospective brides, but although he espied Lady Sheridan, he could find neither Miss Hartwell nor Miss Laurence. He commented on this to Miss Atwood.

“Oh, you will not see them here. As I explained last evening, their low rank prevents them from being invited to many functions,” she replied airily.

Olivia was irritated by Lord Murray’s continuing interest in her two friends, but not overly worried about it. She was much more concerned about his interest in Lady Sheridan, who was both beautiful and of higher rank than she herself. Perhaps it might be wise to steer Lord Murray away from Lady Sheridan’s company and keep him occupied with two who could not possibly be serious rivals, Olivia thought, coming to a quick decision.

“If you wish, Lord Murray, we might plan an entertainment which Miss Hartwell and Miss Laurence could attend,” she offered sweetly.

“That is an excellent suggestion, Miss Atwood,” Lord Murray approved, liking the generosity of spirit the offer seemed to display. “It is very kind of you. Have you anything in mind?”

“Perhaps we might make an excursion to Vauxhall,” Olivia suggested, thinking that if she were to invite the right people, she might be able to manoeuvre them so that she would have time alone with Lord Murray. Perhaps even a stroll down the Dark Walk.

* * * *

Olivia organized the Vauxhall expedition for the coming Saturday night. After much thought, she decided to keep the party small, including only herself, Lord Murray, her brother, Miss Hartwell, Miss Laurence and Mr. Arnold. Wilfred would keep Miss Hartwell occupied, and Mr. Arnold would claim Miss Laurence’s company, leaving Lord Murray to herself, she calculated.

The party arrived at the Gardens early in the evening and took a Chinese kiosk for dinner. Olivia had decided against a dinner box overlooking the Promenade, for she feared if other acquaintances spied their party they might try to join it. Lord Murray’s popularity created certain difficulties.

At first all seemed to be going as she had planned. Wilfred involved Miss Hartwell in a conversation about fencing, and Miss Laurence, seated next to Mr. Arnold, politely endeavoured to engage that gentleman in conversation, albeit with scant success.

But Olivia had not allowed for Miss Laurence’s readiness to ignore good manners when she wanted something. Soon after the powdered beef and custard arrived, Celeste began inserting herself into Olivia’s conversation with Lord Murray, leaving Mr. Arnold to his own devices. Olivia, exasperated by this turn of events, and determined to regain Lord Murray’s undivided attention, suggested that Lord Murray might like to explore the walks of the famous Gardens.

“Oh, that is an excellent idea!” Celeste exclaimed. “Mr. Arnold and I shall join you.”

To Olivia’s further vexation, Celeste somehow manoeuvered to walk alongside Lord Murray, forcing Olivia to walk behind with the inarticulate Mr. Arnold. As Olivia followed Celeste and Lord Murray down the paths, her only satisfaction was that Lord Murray did not pay a great deal of attention to Celeste, but instead seemed truly interested in viewing the waterfalls, grottoes, statues and neatly pruned shrubs and trees of the Gardens.