Miss Cresswell's London Triumph (13 page)

While some of their nearest and dearest were cudgeling their brains for ways to help Cassie and Ned recognize and free themselves from entanglements that were unlikely to prove enriching to either one, the two principals were continuing to pursue these same relationships with varying degrees of satisfaction.

A dreadfully boring evening at Lady Heatherstone's rout, where there was such a dearth of conversation between sets that Cassie would have been grateful for a partner who even wanted to discuss something as mundane as his shirt points or the weather, had left Cassie wondering if she had not perhaps been too critical of Horace.

Meanwhile, that young man, desperate at the coolness with which Cassie had been treating him lately, was inspired to more active and more sensitive behavior than was customary for his rather self-centered nature. Driven nearly to distraction at the thought that she might be losing her interest in him, he even included Teddy and Wellington in his next invitation, though he normally detested children and pets— lumping them all into the same category as noisy nuisances that were to be avoided at any cost.

However, he knew Cassie's fondness for her young nephew and he resolved to make the truly handsome sacrifice of taking her, Teddy, and any other companions for an outing in the park. That this generous gesture would also confirm the world's opinion that Lady Cassandra Cresswell and Horace Wilbraham were an "item" was an added advantage to the outing that was not lost on Horace, scornful though he might be of society and its predilection for gossip.

So it was that the next sunny day he presented himself at Grosvenor Square. "I thought that since it was such fine weather you and Master Theodore might like to take the air with me in the park," he stammered hesitantly in response to the inquiring look Cassie directed at him as Higgins ushered him into the drawing room.

He was instantly rewarded with a brilliant smile. "The very thing!" Cassie exclaimed, jumping up. She had been penning, without much enthusiasm, a letter to Aunt Harriet, who, casual though she was about her nearest relatives, did like to hear from time to time how they were rubbing along. After relating everyone s general health, Cassie had been having great difficulty selecting a topic of mutual interest. Her aunt, who possessed unbridled intellectual curiosity in horticultural matters, was totally uninterested in any aspect of classical antiquity, and even less so in the fashionable happenings in London society at the moment. Knowing Aunt Harriet to be at least on speaking terms with the Comte de Vaudron, one of the three males of her acquaintance—the other two being Lord Julian Mainwaring and Ned Mainwaring—that she did not label a complete nodcock, Cassie filled a great deal of the letter describing his household and his current endeavors. She had written herself to a standstill, however, and had been gazing wistfully out the window at the sunlit square when Horace was announced. The prospect of a walk drove all the previous uncharitable thoughts she had harbored toward him from her mind and she accepted his proposal with alacrity.

Horace further endeared himself to her by suggesting that she might like to invite Theodore and any other interested parties to accompany them. At the first mention of an outing Wellington, who had been resting his chin comfortably on Cassie's slippered foot, perked up his ears. When he heard the full extent of the invitation, he bounced happily out of the room to go in search of Theodore.

Cassie smiled gratefully at Horace. "How kind of you to remember Teddy and include him. He amuses himself quite wonderfully here, but I am persuaded that the delights to be found in London pale in comparison to the freedom he has to explore the woods and ponds at Cresswell and Camberly."

Horace was both charmed and relieved by her appreciation of his scheme and was just about to suggest that young Theodore was exceedingly fortunate in having an aunt so devoted to his welfare when Theodore himself appeared with Wellington at his heels.

"Did you with to thee me. Aunt Cathie," he asked, looking Horace over with all the unabashed curiosity of a five-year-old.

Horace, unaccustomed to enduring the candid scrutiny of the very young, fidgeted and looked the other way, only to encounter an equally appraising stare from Wellington's bright shoe-button eyes. The little dog, sensing the stranger's unease, smiled encouragingly, but as this seemed to render the visitor even more nervous, he gave up and looked at Cassie expectantly instead.

"Yes, dear, I did want to see you, though Wellington was beforehand in summoning you. Mr. Wilbraham has very kindly invited us to join him for a walk in the park."

To Theodore, accustomed as he was to such noted Corinthians as Lord Mainwaring, Ned, and Freddie, the prospect of sauntering sedately through the park with someone he had no hesitation in stigmatizing as a very dull dog, was less than inviting, but he mustered as much enthusiasm as he could and accepted with tolerably good grace. "Thank you, thir. That ith motht kind of you. May Wellington come, too?"

"Yes, my lad. Of course. Most certainly," Horace replied ingratiatingly, well aware that it behooved him in his courtship of Cassie to ensure that Theodore and Wellington were his allies.

Wellington, like Theodore, preferred the more invigorating company of such bucks as Freddie, Nigel Streatham, Ned, or Lord Mainwaring, even Bertie Montgomery, who, despite his not being a sporting man, was enough of a nonpareil to lend an air of fashion to any parly, but he was grateful for the chance to be out of doors. He trotted off happily to collect Nelson and Ethelred while Cassie went to don her pelisse and exchange her slippers for half boots and Theodore went to retrieve his new sailboat, recently purchased by an indulgent Uncle Freddie.

Horace looked to be a bit taken aback at the size and composition of the party when they assembled sometime later in the hall, but seeing Cassie's happy expectant look, he was more than satisfied. As Cassie's maid Rose accompanied them, neither he nor Cassie was obliged to pay close attention to the more motley part of the group and Horace was free to devote himself to retrieving his position with the object of his adoration.

He set about to do this immediately, discussing the report recently published by the trustees of the British Museum in the Edinburgh Review and soliciting her opinion with becoming eagerness.

Cassie, who had also read the report, was delighted to comment on it, agreeing wholeheartedly with its author's belief in the need for more care in the display and preservation of zoological specimens. Thus she was in a charitable frame of mind toward her escort by the time they reached the recently erected statue of Achilles. Here, Cassie stopped to explain to an openmouthed Theodore that it had been cast from cannons captured from Napoleon at Toulouse, Salamanca, Vittoria, and Waterloo and donated "By the women of England to Arthur, Duke of Wellington." At
the mention of his namesake, Wellington, who had been sniffing the statue with an entirely different interest, perked up and regarded it with new respect.

Theodore, who had marched many of his toy soldiers through some of these same famous battles, walked 'round and 'round, envisioning the fields of glory that the lump of metal must have seen. He was brought quickly back to reality by a loud quack from Ethelred, who had spied the Serpentine and was making directly for it.

"Your friend seems to prefer aquatic adventure to history. Shall we follow him? Perhaps I can help you with your boat," Horace offered kindly.

He was immediately rewarded with a brilliant smile from Cassie and a rather subdued "Thank you, thir" from Theodore. Theodore, having observed Horace precariously balancing teacups and looking nervously at the prime bits of blood that happened to come close to him, had little expectation that he would be of the least use, but he acquiesced. He and Wellington watched in some amusement as Horace managed to tangle the string in the riggings and to capsize the boat as he set it in the water, but they held their tongues until he had quite finished and turned to address Cassie.

"Now we can really sail it and have some fun," Theodore confided to the little terrier.

"Arf. Arf," Wellington barked as he ran precariously along the edge, watching as the little craft caught the wind and gained speed.

"Quack. Quack," Ethelred proudly escorted the sailboat around the pond.

All was going famously until an unexpected and violent puff of wind tore at the sails, causing the little craft to shoot forward so rapidly that the string attaching it to Theodore broke and it sailed proudly into the middle of the Serpentine. "Oh, no!" Theodore wailed. "Cathie, Cathie, my boat. What shall we do?"

"Never mind, love," Cassie comforted him. "We shall look for a gardener and see if he can help us."

"You mustn't sail in such heavy weather, young Master Theodore," Horace commented with ponderous humor.

Meanwhile, Wellington was surveying the scene, disgustedly thinking to himself that if it were left to his landlubbing companions, they would never retrieve the boat. Without a moment's hesitation the little dog hurled himself into the pond with a terrific splash.

"Quack. Quack." Ethelred steamed up, intrigued by all the commotion and enchanted to be able to share quite the most delightful thing he'd seen in London with his best friend.

In no time at all, Wellington had paddled out to the craft, which was now becalmed in the very center of the Serpentine. Seizing the frayed end of the string in his strong terrier jaws, he paddled back to what was now a crowd of spectators surrounding Cassie and Horace on the bank. Always one to appreciate an audience, the little terrier found himself in somewhat of a dilemma as he found it impossible to smile winningly at the onlookers and keep the string between his teeth. He settled instead for adopting a valiant expression as he towed the boat to shore, Ethelred behind him, quacking encouragement all the way.

His efforts were rewarded by Teddy, who clapped gleefully before grabbing the string and praising him. "I knew you could do it. Wellington. You're smarter than all the dogs at Astley's Amphitheater put together."

Wellington smiled modestly, but when a fashionably clad young buck exclaimed to his friend, "Gad, did you see that? What spirit. Damme, that dog's a regular Trojan!" he was ready to burst with pride. With a mighty shove, he clambered up the wall and onto the bank, where he was greeted enthusiastically.

"Quack! Quack!" Ethelred cheered, beaming praise from his bright little eyes.

"Well done, Wellington!" Cassie congratulated him as she sought a dry spot on his head to pat. The little dog was so drenched that it was rather difficult to locate one, and unfortunately for her, he decided at that moment to shake himself dry. Spraying muddy water in all directions, he thoroughly spattered Cassie's gray kerseymere pelisse. As she was trying to wipe the spots off with her pocket handkerchief, Ethelred hopped out and waddled over to her, shaking out his feathers and indicating in no uncertain terms that he was tired and wanted to be picked up. Never one to refuse a friend, Cassie stooped over and lifted him in her arms.

At this moment, an amused voice intruded on the scene. I should have known when I heard the commotion and saw a crowd gathered that somehow Cassie would be at the bottom of it," remarked Ned, sauntering up with Arabella on his arm.

Cassie had been conscious, even as she had donned it that morning, that though the gray pelisse with ruby trim was infinitely becoming, it was definitely outmoded. Now, seeing Arabella's exquisite silk pelisse in the latest shade of peau de papitton with the delicate ruff and sleeves a I 'Espagnole which emphasized her dainty beauty, Cassie felt doubly aware of her dowdy appearance.

Her humiliation was complete when Arabella fluted, "Oh, Cassie, how perfectly dreadful! You're soaked and your pelisse is all over mud. I wonder that you bear it so calmly." Arabella laid a hand on her arm with a meltingly sympathetic look which, Cassie thought to herself, was all for Ned's benefit. She doesn't care a rap how I look, only that she looks a great deal better. In spite of this salutary little speech to herself, Cassie could not help feeling like a scrub of a schoolgirl, thus confronted by her elegant friends.

Help came from an unexpected quarter. "Cassandra always looks beautiful," Horace defended her. "She has an elegance of mind and spirit that render her beautiful no matter how she is clad."

"Why, thank you, Horace," Cassie exclaimed in surprise, her smile appearing like the sun after a shower.

Arabella's jaw shut with a snap, making her mouth an unbecomingly thin line in her face. She was not accustomed to hearing others than herself praised with such gallantry and it did not please her in the least.

But Theodore spoke staunchly in defense of his aunt. "Cathie ith the most beautiful lady I know, and what's more, she'th a great gun, too."

"Arf! Arf!" Wellington joined in, not one to be outdone by a couple of humans when the reputation of his mistress was at stake.

"Well done, all of you," drawled Ned, highly amused at the spirited defense accorded his playmate.

Arabella, mightily put out by the turn events were taking, interrupted sweetly, "Why yes. With such good friends as these, one doesn't need to be fashionable or win the approval of the ton. And speaking of the ton, I am certain I see Sir Brian waving to us. We should leave Cassie to go home and change into some dry clothes." Laying a possessive hand On Ned's arm, she led him off toward the spot where Sir Brian, astride a magnificent gray, was conversing with Lady Jersey and her companions in an elegant barouche.