Midnight Bride (25 page)

"I thought you were much better at Christmas, darling. Does the problem still trouble you?"

"Not as much as it used to. Our county is very stable. And I manage to learn people's names eventually" Elizabeth turned around to hide a yawn. "I wish I had your talent; you seem to have no trouble remembering anyone's name."

"I have a system. I listen for names carefully. Remember what I told you before your first Season. Repeat the rules with me," Lady
Ramsburg
said in a firm, not to be denied, voice.

"Listen to the name. Look at the face. Find some characteristic to remember," she said firmly.

"But it does not work for me," Elizabeth said in despair. "If you or Cousin Louisa weren't with me, I could never remember a name. I even called John, Lord
Ravenwood
,
Henry
one night. Amelia was so embarrassed." Elizabeth sat down, her face gloomy once again. "Now I have to face the same problem. People will not be as kind to a lady my age as they were to a young girl."

"Let me think about it for a while," Lady
Ramsburg
said, already turning a plan over in her mind. "And you should reconsider Lord Dunstan's offer."

"What?"

"He would make you an excellent husband, Elizabeth," her stepmother said calmly. "And you need not worry about his being a fortune hunter. Several mothers in our set whose daughters must marry a fortune have set traps for him; he has eluded them all. You know the kind of ladies I mean. If he were a fortune hunter, they would have known."

"Perhaps he is simply able to fool them," Elizabeth suggested. Her stepmother's left brow
raised
slightly. Elizabeth gritted her teeth in annoyance and wished she had been able to master that trick. "But I do not want to marry anyone," she said stormily.

"Then you should have been more careful. In our class, a lady marries before she allows a gentleman into her bed. But no decision must be made tonight, Elizabeth," Lady
Ramsburg
said firmly. The maid entered with a supper tray, and the older lady stood up. "Have supper and then have a soothing sleep. Tomorrow will be soon enough to write your letter." She smiled brightly, reminding Elizabeth of a benevolent angel, the one who always makes certain little girls do exactly what they are supposed to do. "Tomorrow will be brighter," she promised as she kissed Elizabeth on the cheek.

To Elizabeth's surprise, the promise held true. Although both Lady
Ramsburg
and her cousin were far from pleased with her decision not to write Lord Dunstan, from the first moment that their carriage pulled into North Street, with its shops with goods from London, Elizabeth's life seemed brighter. Perhaps it was the admiring words of the
modiste
, who sighed enviously over Elizabeth's shape while promising gowns within the week. The light misty green of the silk Elizabeth had chosen for a new evening gown made her eyes look greener and more mysterious. Even Cousin Louisa had mentioned it. And if the color had made her wonder what a certain lord would think of her in it, Elizabeth did not say a word.

That evening on the
Steine
all of the ladies were greeted warmly. With the prince still in London and most of the noble families following his example, the officers of the Tenth Light Dragoons quickly made their way to Elizabeth's side. One, a tall redhead, actually went down on one knee in front of Lady
Ramsburg
and begged her to introduce them.

"Get up, you wretched boy. Even if I do introduce you, you will not be fit to walk with," Lady
Ramsburg
laughed. At her words the young captain was on his feet and looked at her expectantly. "Oh, I suppose I must introduce you if I plan to visit peacefully with anyone this evening," she said reproachfully, her blue eyes filled with mischief. "Mrs. Louisa
Beckworth
, Miss Elizabeth
Beckworth
, this is Captain, Lord Anthony Hathaway. Lord Hathaway, this is my stepdaughter and our cousin."

Smoothly the gentleman took their hands, kissing each in turn. Although his kiss upon her hand was everything that was proper, Elizabeth knew that the look in his eye as he gazed at her in her favorite blue dress was anything but. She pulled away as quickly as possible and stepped back a pace or two. "What did you say your name was?" she asked quietly, trying to put her stepmother's advice to good use.

"Anthony," he said quickly. Then he noticed two pairs of blue eyes staring at him, their disapproval plain. "Captain, Lord Hathaway, Miss
Beckworth
. And where are you walking this fine evening?"

"Up the
Steine
to the Marine Pavilion.
George will meet us there with the carriage," Lady
Ramsburg
explained.

"May I escort you? There are too many people on the prowl this evening for it to be safe for such lovelies as you." He scowled at two other officers who had spotted him and were heading toward the little group. "Shall we go?"

Unfortunately for him, his ploy was unsuccessful. Before the evening was over, the little group was surrounded by a coterie of young officers, each one determined to whisper compliments into Elizabeth's ears.

As she laughed with one after another, she whispered their names to herself. Tomorrow she would surprise her family by remembering every one.

Unfortunately her intentions were better than her memory. The next afternoon the butler announced a group of officers at one time: "Captain, Lord Hathaway, Major
Devereaux
, and Lieutenant Blakely."

As they entered and thrust bouquets of flowers into her hands, Elizabeth found herself surrounded by strange men, their uniforms left behind for the afternoon. Stumbling and stammering, she thanked each one, carefully avoiding calling their names. Finally, Lady
Ramsburg
and Louisa came to her rescue. "Elizabeth was frightened as a child by a strange man," her stepmother said, laughing. "As a result, she cannot remember gentlemen's names. Let me reintroduce you. Perhaps today we will begin by height."

"No, height will not work," Louisa said in a mock serious tone. "What if they appear one by one?"

"Perhaps if she knew each of us as individuals," the major suggested. "The rest of you can go home. I will stay here." The others roared, vowing to stay until their memories were indelibly imprinted on Miss
Beckworth's
brain.

"If anyone should stay, it should be I," Lord Hathaway declared. "I met her first."

"The best reason for you to leave. You have known her longer," the other two protested.

"Tell him to go away, Miss
Beckworth
," the lieutenant begged.

Stunned by their reactions to the misfortune that had plagued her since a child, Elizabeth giggled. The other ladies exchanged a satisfied glance and carefully added their balance to the situation. "I will never remember anyone's name if the person leaves," Elizabeth said with a laugh in her voice. "The only way I can learn a name is to see the person often."

"An invitation," Lord Hathaway said in delight.

"No! No! I simply meant that . . ."

"We know what you meant, Miss
Beckworth
," the major said hastily, his eyes on her chaperons, both of whom were frowning. "We promise to visit you often. And you must promise to allow us to be your escorts up the
Steine."

"Yes, do promise," the lieutenant said earnestly, already certain that he was falling in love with her.

"I will even promise to be a gentleman," Lord Hathaway said in his usual mocking tones.

Lady
Ramsburg
looked at the clock, and the gentlemen stood up hastily. "We will see you this evening," she promised.

Charles,
changing horses frequently, reached London in record time, but it was still too late for the confrontation he was planning. Tired, he turned his winded horse over to a groom, stumbled up the stairs into his rooms, and fell into bed, not even taking the time to remove his boots.

When Porter arrived in the middle of the next morning, Charles was still asleep. His valet's eyebrows rose, but he worked quietly to set the room to rights, preferring to have his master asleep than in the temper of the day before. He had just finished the unpacking when Charles turned over. The younger man stretched as if trying to remove the wrinkles from his clothes. Then he reached down to rub his feet and discovered his boots.

"Porter! Help me get out of these," he called. Porter was beside the bed immediately. Charles jumped. "Do you have to walk so quietly?" he asked with a frown.

The valet simply stood there and looked at him. Realizing the futility of trying to outstare a servant who had known him before he was breeched, Charles stuck out one leg. After a few minutes of struggle on both their parts, his boots were once more on the floor. "We shall have to have new sheets, Master Charles," Porter said reproachfully, looking at the long tears in the ones on the bed.

"If you must sleep in your boots, please, sir, at least remove your spurs."

Charles glared at him for a minute. Then he lay back and enjoyed wiggling his toes for a few minutes. He stripped off his shirt and his riding breeches and stretched again. Turning over to enjoy the freedom he had missed the night before, Charles faced the clock. He sat straight up in bed. "Is that the right time," he asked, his voice stern.

"Yes, Master Charles. I set it as soon as I arrived." Porter raised his brows as if to question him further. But Charles was already out of bed, heading for the dressing room.

"Find me something for an afternoon visit, Porter.
Nothing too tight.
I want to be able to move my arms." His valet stared after him and then walked slowly to the clothespress in the corner, his face solemn. "And find my dueling pistols."

With those words a frown appeared on Porter's face. "I believe I left them in the country," he said quietly as he held fresh undergarments out to his master.

"Then you will go out and purchase more this afternoon," Charles said firmly, his voice more like his father's than Porter had ever heard before. "And don't look at me with that frown on your face. You heard the rumors. What am I supposed to do? Ignore them?"

"Perhaps a talk with the man.
Rumors are often untrue. Do you remember how your mother heard that you had offered for Miss
Balingcourt
last summer? She came back to London ready to plan the engagement party only to discover that someone was only making mischief."

"A wedding is far different from what Lord Dunstan did." Charles threw his shirt over his head, hiding a chest that many bits of muslin loved to stroke. "It is not the same," he said through the linen. He yanked the sleeves into place and stuck his head through the placket.

"Let me button your sleeves, Master Charles," Porter said with a sigh.