My Fair Princess (9 page)

“Yes, that was unfortunate,” he said. “But we've recovered nicely from that particular crisis. She seems to get along well with the new dancing master.”

Aunt Lucy gave him a hesitant smile. “It was a stroke of genius to hire Signor Garibaldi. An Italian dancing master was just the thing to settle her down.”

“Has she raised the issue of returning to Sicily again since?”

“No, but I'd already told her it was much too early to even consider such a thing. I said that she must try very hard to make England her home.”

Elizabeth, who'd been sitting quietly, leaned forward with an expression of sympathetic concern. “And how did she respond?”

Aunt Lucy gave a helpless shrug. “She seemed to accept it, but she's not happy.”

“I can't say as I blame the girl,” Elizabeth said. “The marriage mart is a nightmare at the best of times. For a girl in Miss Dryden's position, it must seem particularly daunting.”

“Daunting, but not impossible,” Charles said. “And let us please not refer to it as a nightmare in Gillian's presence.”

Elizabeth scoffed. “I'm not an hen-wit, Charles.”

“My dear, I would never think such a thing.”

She grinned at him. “Yes, you would.”

“Shall we return to the subject at hand?” he suggested. “Specifically, whether Gillian will try to sabotage her chances of attracting appropriate suitors.”

“How shocking of her,” Elizabeth said. “Imagine a woman not obsessed with finding a husband.”

She was referring to Eugenia, of course. Their older sister had never wished for marriage, and had happily turned down all the suitors who'd courted her over the years. She enjoyed her life on Charles's principal estate, taking care of their mother, bossing the servants, and generally doing an excellent job of running things. That Eugenia preferred spinsterhood to marriage was clear to all of them.

“You're not helping,” Charles said. “You know Gillian needs the safety and security of a good marriage. She's much too vulnerable otherwise.”

“Then I suppose we must help her become invested in that sensible goal,” Elizabeth said.

“If she is successful tonight, that will help,” he said.

Aunt Lucy sighed. “I just hope she can refrain from saying something outrageous.”

“I advised her to listen rather than speak,” Charles said. “That way she has at least an even chance of not terrifying her partners.”

“Charles, you didn't!” exclaimed his sister, trying not to laugh.

“In my granddaughter's case, that is actually sage advice,” Aunt Lucy said in a rueful tone. “But I truly hate that she is unhappy. I wish . . .” She pressed her lips shut.

Charles went to sit by her, taking her hand. “Let's see how it goes, shall we? Gillian is a lovely young woman who is sure to attract admiration. She's also turned out to be a surprisingly good dancer, thanks in part to Signor Garibaldi. Perhaps she'll enjoy herself. After all, it's her first real dance, and that's always an exciting event.”

Aunt Lucy eyed him with a dubious expression, but was spared the need to answer when the door opened and Gillian walked in.

Charles glanced over to his protégé, intending to give her a bracing smile. Instead, he stared at the vision before him and promptly forgot how to breathe.

Chapter Nine

The Marquess of Lendale executed a faultless bow as Gillian came up from her curtsey. “Well done, Miss Dryden. You have completed your first set of public dances and with nary a mistake.”

“You sound surprised, my lord,” she said.

“No such thing. You were grace personified.”

“Really? Are we discounting the fact that I stepped on your foot
and
turned the wrong way, not once but twice?”

His dark eyes held laughter. “That could happen to anyone. It is not even worth a mention.”

“Then of course you are correct,” she said, taking his arm. “My performance was all but perfect.”

Gillian had found herself surprisingly nervous when she took her place in the first set of the evening. Fortunately, Lord Lendale was an accomplished dancer. He'd smoothly corrected her mistakes and had completely ignored her tromping on his toes. Her success was mostly attributable to his skills, not hers.

Although she'd been vaguely surprised that Leverton had not stood up with her for the first dance, Gillian had been relieved as well. The more time she spent with him, the more nervous she was in his presence. The epitome of masculine elegance, the duke never set a foot wrong or said anything unintentionally. No slips of the tongue, no unbecoming displays of temper for him. Never had Gillian felt more like a country bumpkin than when she was in his company.

Even worse, he was the most physically spectacular man she'd ever met. More than once, she'd caught herself admiring his broad shoulders or powerful legs showcased by snug breeches. Gillian experienced a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever she looked at those legs, especially when Leverton was garbed for riding. Not even Pietro had made her feel such disconcerting sensations, and she'd been madly in love with him at one time.

Leverton was also incredibly patient with her, and had even taken her side in the humiliating incident with the French dancing master. After he'd coolly dismissed Monsieur Pepin, he'd simply told Gillian that it was bad form to threaten to skewer one's tutors with a rapier. She'd been so surprised by his mild reprimand that she'd bobbed a curtsey and thanked him for his advice.

In fact, she'd been so flustered by the whole episode that she'd asked her grandmother when they could return to Sicily. In doing so, Gillian had stupidly tipped her hand to her family. It was another indication of how out of sorts she felt these days.

“Shall we return to your party, Miss Dryden?” Lendale enquired. “I've spotted them near the top of the room.”

“Yes, my lord. I'm sure my grandmother must be on pins and needles to hear the report of my first official dance at my first official ball. With this mob, it's doubtful she saw very much.”

“You did very well, my dear,” said the middle-aged woman who'd been in the set with them. The lady leaned in close and gave her a wink. “Not that you didn't have an absolutely splendid partner to inspire you. I'd keep an eye on that one, if I were you.”

“Yes, madam. Thank you,” Gillian said, trying not to laugh.

The lady had been both friendly and forgiving of her mistakes, even whispering a few corrections when Gillian was out of position. The other two women in their set had not been nearly as good-natured, but neither had they snubbed her. That certainly counted as progress.

Leverton's plan was to introduce her into society while attracting as little attention as possible. If she could manage to attend a number of events without causing a scene, people would get used to her and move on to more fruitful subjects of gossip. That suited Gillian perfectly. The sooner she could sink into obscurity, the better her chances of convincing her relatives to let her go home.

She and Lendale made their way back to the top of the room, where they'd left her grandmother chatting with old friends. It was slow going, and more than once the marquess used his elbows to keep Gillian from getting squashed.

When they reached Gillian's party, Grandmamma was deep in conversation with Mrs. Paxton and Lady Merchant, who was some sort of Marbury relation. Her grandmother seemed to have quite a lot of cousins of one degree or another, and a few seemed cautiously willing to help with Gillian's launch into society. Lady Merchant was one of them.

“Ah, my dears,” Grandmamma said with a relieved smile. “I was wondering when you'd reappear. Did you enjoy your dance, Gillian? I was only able to catch a few glimpses of you.”

“It was very nice. I only stepped on Lord Lendale's feet a few times. Fortunately, he's much too polite to remark on it.”

Her grandmother shook her head, but the marquess simply laughed. “Nonsense. Lady Marbury, your granddaughter did exceedingly well. I would be happy to dance another set, but it wouldn't be right to keep her all to myself.”

“And that way you spare yourself from being tragically crippled,” Gillian said, smiling up at him.

Her grandmother rolled her eyes, but Lady Merchant and her granddaughters, two pleasant girls a bit younger than Gillian, all laughed.

“No fear of that,” the marquess said. “After spending several years in the Peninsula, I'm as tough as a draft horse. Why, I'm certain you could haul off and kick me in the shins, and I'd barely feel a thing.”

Gillian found it hard to resist Lendale's easy charm. He was handsome, with dark, almost saturnine looks she suspected left girls swooning in his wake, and he had a friendly manner that wasn't the least bit patronizing. He didn't make her nervous at all.

Grandmamma approved of him, of course, and Gillian had no doubt that her mother would also find him a perfect suitor. After all, he was rich, titled, and a good friend of Leverton's—which meant he passed muster. If Gillian were looking for a suitor, she could do much worse than the Marquess of Lendale.

But she had no intention of allowing herself to become attracted to Lendale or anyone else, not even Leverton.

Attracted to Leverton?
Why did that truly demented notion insist on sneaking into her brain? With an effort, Gillian forced her attention back to her companions.

Lady Merchant tapped Lendale with her fan. “My dear sir, how are you finding life since you returned? I believe you haven't been back long.”

“No, I was in Paris for some months after the war and only returned to London when my uncle fell ill.” Lendale had only recently come into his title and estates, having inherited them from a bachelor uncle. Until that time, he'd been a career officer in the military. Understandably, he was now considered a prime catch on the marriage mart.

While his lordship chatted with the matrons, Gillian joined Lady Merchant's granddaughters, Lady Sarah Rundall and Miss Honoria Cranston. She'd met them when they had come calling with Lady Merchant a few days ago. Gillian knew her grandmother was eager for her to befriend them, so she'd made an extra effort. Fortunately, the task had been an easy one.

Sarah and Honoria were both sweet girls who'd been out for three years. According to Grandmamma, they'd both failed to take, a phrase Gillian despised. While neither was a ravishing beauty, they were perfectly nice, intelligent girls. Yes, Sarah had a few spots and Honoria was a tad plump, but Gillian didn't see why that should be a problem. She'd seen any number of young men with numerous spots, spindly calves, or plump torsos, and nobody held that against them.

“Miss Dryden, you and Lord Lendale looked splendid together,” Sarah enthused. “Honoria and I squeezed down the set to watch, and we both thought you did a bang-up job.”

Gillian smiled. “You're very kind, but actually I galumphed all over the poor man's feet. He must have been tempted to abandon me completely.”

“We saw no such thing,” Sarah said. “Besides, you're so slender and graceful it would be hard for you to look clumsy, even if you did trod on his toes.”

“Unlike me,” Honoria said. “I'm such a dumpling. It's impossible for me to look graceful, no matter how hard I try.” She let out a sigh as she directed a longing look at the pairs lined up in their sets. “I suppose I shouldn't be surprised no one ever wants to dance with me.”

“What rot,” Sarah exclaimed. “You're an accomplished dancer. It's not your fault if men are too stupid to see it.”

“No. All they can see is that I lumber about like—” Honoria cut herself off with a grimace.

Her cousin squeezed her arm. “Don't even think about it, pet. It was a horrid thing to say, and you should simply forget about it.”

“I'd like to,” Honoria replied. “But it was the sort of thing that tends to stick like taffy. Or like a little rabbit running around in your brain.”

“Was someone rude to you?” Gillian asked.

Honoria tried for a casual shrug, but she blinked several times, as if holding back tears.

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to,” Gillian said.

“You'll probably hear it by the time the night is out, anyway,” Honoria said in a glum voice. “But promise me you won't laugh.”

“Believe me, I've been on the receiving end of considerable nastiness,” Gillian said. “I would never laugh.”

Honoria nodded. “I'd forgotten for a moment how difficult it must be for you. It's awful, isn't it?”

“I do my best to ignore it,” Gillian replied.

Sarah cast a quick glance around. Their neighbors were engaged in their own conversations. “It happened last week, at Almack's,” she said, leaning in a bit. “One of Honoria's partners said that dancing with her was like dancing with a Guernsey heifer.”

Gillian shook her head. “I'm sorry, I don't understand. Why a Guernsey heifer?”

“It's because my family owns estates on the island of Guernsey,” Honoria said. She paused for a few seconds. “And because I'm such a cow.”

Gillian had to pause as well before she answered. Although in her case, it was to tamp down a surge of fury. When she heard a crack, she realized she'd snapped one of the ribs of her fan.

“Who dared say that to you?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“Lord Andover,” Sarah said.

“Is he here tonight?”

“Unfortunately, he is,” Honoria said.

Gillian laid a hand on her shoulder. “I want you to point him out to me as soon as you see him.”

Honoria nodded. “So you can avoid dancing with him?”

“No, so I can knee him in the bollocks if I do dance with him.”

The cousins stared at her, their mouths dropping open in identical, stunned expressions.

Blast.
Gillian had again forgotten what hothouse flowers English girls tended to be. She'd started to apologize when the girls exchanged a glance and burst into laughter. Gillian raised her eyebrows before starting to laugh, too.

Honoria struggled to contain herself. “Oh, Miss Dryden, that is the most delicious thing I've ever heard. I would give half my dowry to see such a thing.”

“I think I would give my entire dowry,” Sarah said. “What a shame you can't do it.”

Gillian could and would, but she supposed she'd better not say that.

“You ladies are certainly enjoying yourselves,” Lord Lendale said, sidling over to join them. “Care to let a fellow in on the joke?”

The cousins looked at each other again and burst into laughter.

“I'm afraid not,” Gillian said.

“Why not?” Lendale asked.

“It wouldn't be proper. At least not according to my grandmother.”

“I always miss the good jokes,” he said with mock disgust. “Oh, well, I suppose I can at least make myself useful. Would you ladies care for some punch? I'm off to find a footman and secure some refreshments.”

Lady Sarah smiled at him. “That would be lovely, my lord. Thank you.”

He bowed. “It's my pleasure. Now, Lady Sarah, Miss Honoria, I expect you both to save me a dance. It's the least you can do after cutting me out of the joke.”

The two girls smiled shyly as they accepted. With a promise to return quickly, Lendale disappeared into the crowd.

“What a nice man,” Honoria said. Then she gave Gillian a sly smile. “You're very lucky. He likes you.”

Gillian shrugged. “Perhaps. I like him, too.”

“But not in the same way,” Lady Sarah shrewdly observed. “I can see why. Lendale's handsome and funny, but the Duke of Leverton is, well, magnificent. I don't blame you in the least.”

Gillian's stomach gave a lurch. “I think you have the wrong impression.”

“Are you sure?” Honoria said. “I couldn't help noticing that he's spent much of the evening staring at you.”

“That's because he's helping with my introduction into society. Almost like a sponsor.” Gillian forced out a thin laugh. “He's probably taking mental notes so he can lecture me later on all my trip ups.”

“Really? What an odd thing for a duke to do,” Honoria said. “Are you sure?”

Gillian repressed a sigh. “Very.”

“Oh, I do hope he's not interested in Lady Letitia,” Sarah said as she peered out at the dance floor. “She's simply dreadful.”

The temptation to follow Sarah's gaze was too great. Gillian turned, and her stomach took another uncomfortable flop. For there were the duke and Lady Letitia. She was clinging to him in the most shocking manner as they concluded a waltz. Gillian was no prude, but she had to resist the urge to storm over there and drag the blasted woman from his arms.

“Don't forget that she's a married woman,” Honoria said.

Sarah let out a delicate snort. “As if that ever stopped a man.”