Quiet Meg (11 page)

Chas almost missed a step with Miss d’Avigne, so focused was he on the Earl of Sutcliffe. The poor girl
blushed, and Chas forced himself to attend. He chatted
amiably in French, to put her at ease, and was most complimentary as he took his leave. Before the next dance he
waited just long enough to watch Hayden lead Meg to the
floor, noticing that they made a striking pair-Hayden so
blond and Meg so …

“Charles,” Lucy hissed, moving to his side, “do hurry or
we shall miss the set!”

Chas drew her quickly into the dancing. That he should
have permitted her to manage him spoke volumes about his
distraction.

“You look tolerably well, Miss Lucy. I note you are the
belle of the ball.”

“It is so much fun!” She laughed. “I have been seeing
everything you told me to see, and more besides! And we
have been here scarcely two weeks! You should come to
visit us at Aunt Pru’s. You will have to present yourself to
her, you know; you should have before. She will forgive
you, though. She is in alt over your cousin. Isn’t he just
magnificent? Why, the sapphire in his cravat alone must be
worth a fortune! And isn’t he brave-to dance with Meg? I shan’t know what to say to him.” For a second, little Lucy
worried her lower lip. Chas suspected he had been supplanted in her affections.

“You shall be most compatible, Miss Lucy, for Hayden
loves attention, and you seem happily willing to give it”

“He’s getting attention now, but not the sort he probably
wants” Chas looked toward his cousin, only to find himself
watching Meg yet again. Just at the edge of the set, Sutcliffe stood seething. His bold look was possessive.

“That hateful man,” Lucy complained. “Brother Ferrell
says he believes in senior-no, seigniory,” she said loftily.

Chas stifled a laugh.

“No doubt. I would not relay that outside the family,
though, Miss Lucy. You would not wish Mr. Ferrell to face
political troubles”

“Oh no!” she said. “But the earl is beastly, isn’t he? Why
must he ruin everything?”

“You must not permit him to ruin anything, Miss Lucy.
You must enjoy yourself. The Sutcliffes of this world always come to a bad end”

“Do they, Charles?” she asked hopefully, her wide blue
eyes raised to his. “That’s rather a nice thought.”

He kissed her hand in the midst of the step, which threw
her into confusion, and thankfully kept her quiet.

Chas returned her to her brother and quickly took his
leave before Meg and Hayden returned. He wended his
way amongst the bystanders so that he might observe Sutcliffe. As Hayden led speechless Lucy onto the floor, Sutcliffe approached Meg.

Bertram and Ferrell moved to either side of her, as
though suspecting the earl would contemplate stealing their sister in view of Almack’s attendees. Seeing her so
promptly protected gratified Chas. Indeed, he wondered
why he should trouble to involve himself. But he knew the
answer to that particular puzzle-as little happiness as it
brought him.

Sutcliffe bowed low. He clearly requested a dance from
Meg, which she as clearly refused. Chas watched the man’s
face redden, his fingers clenching before he snatched the
dance card from Meg’s hand. He perused it as Bertram
protested. Sutcliffe handed it back and turned to pin Hayden with his glittering gaze. The satisfied twist to his thin
lips made Chas wish to strike him right there. But it was
enough to observe how little mastery Sutcliffe had over his
passions. That flaw, Chas imagined coldly, would always
prove to the earl’s disadvantage.

Sutcliffe strode angrily away to join his slight and sullen
friend, whom Chas assumed to be the Baron Mulmgren.

Chas suspected Meg Lawrence could hardly enjoy the
evening, with such a war going on about her. Indeed, assurance of her unhappiness, of her de facto imprisonment,
was much of what had impelled him to this present course.

Hayden found him during the next dance.

“I am taking myself off to the refreshment room, Chas.
Sutcliffe and Mulmgren cannot follow me without deserting Miss Lawrence. You may find me there later-if Sutcliffe leaves you ambulatory.” He raised his glass to one
eye and lazily surveyed the room. “I do not know whether I
have done you a favor or not, cousin.”

“You have. I am eternally grateful”

“I might wish that promised to be longer.” But Hayden
smiled at him. “By the by she is a diamond.”

“I only wish she were hard as one. She has been hurt,
and she will be again.”

Hayden nodded and departed. Chas looked for Sutcliffe
and failed to spot him. The earl would not leave before the
waltz, that was a certainty, though he was no doubt pleased
by Hayden’s absence from the hall.

Chas danced again, with Lucy’s young friend Amanda
Burke and once more with Candace d’Avigne, ascertaining
before both dances that Meg was already partnered. During
the break he removed himself from the Lawrences’ view.
When the next set began he spent his time in conversation
with some of his grandmother’s acquaintance, well aware
that she was bound to hear all in any event. Noting that Sutcliffe was nowhere to be seen, Chas wondered if Hayden
had been pursued to the other room. But it was too late to
check-the orchestra was tuning up for the waltz. Chas
strode over to Meg and bowed low. In her presence he
wished almost to kneel.

“I believe this dance is mine, Miss Lawrence”

“Your cousin … Lord Hayden…”

“Lord Hayden regrets that he’s been detained. Would
you do me the honor?”

“I … yes, of course””

The music had started. It was one of his favorites. With
a brief nod to Bertram, Chas swung Meg onto the dance
floor.

For some time he did not look at her, merely led her effortlessly through turn after turn, in a smooth and rhythmic
spell. But as his gaze at last settled on her face Meg knew
she had to speak.

“I know ‘tis you I must thank. Your cousin … so attentive to Lucy..

“Hayden chooses his own partners,” he said softly. “As
do I”

Meg had to glance away.

“Where did you learn to waltz?”

“In Vienna, Miss Lawrence. I told you I have Austrian
relatives.”

“You must have waltzed every day?”

“Morning, noon, and night.”

She turned again to his quick smile.

“Sir-I owe you an apology” Just then he spun her
about, robbing her of breath.

“For what, Miss Lawrence?”

“For … calling you..

“A gardener. Which is what I am. You needn’t apologize.
Though I might wish you had shown the profession a bit
more respect.” Despite the dismissal, something of anger
lingered; his hold on her waist tightened. But as Meg continued to gaze silently up at him that temper seemed to
fade. Their gazes locked as surely as their hands and arms.

Again she yielded to the spell of the dance. It was best
that it should be the longest waltz ever played-the waltz
without end. She knew she should speak, that they should
both be speaking, but she was as loathe to break the silence
as his touch.

A smile lit his eyes.

“What are you … pondering, sir?” she asked warily.

“Trees.” Again they whirled about.

“I doubt many women have been so complimented,” she
said at last.

“Only one, Miss Lawrence. Your eyes are unique. I cannot decide if they are green as fresh leaves, or blue as the
deepest ocean. But yes-I think of trees.”

Meg knew she was blushing. The arm circling her waist
again tightened, but this time not in anger.

“You are holding me too close, Mr. Cabot.” But he did
not loosen his grasp.

“I would ask you to attempt a smile, Miss Lawrence.
Just for a few seconds here, as we come into this turn.
‘Twould do my reputation a world of good-amongst Miss
Lucy and her friends.”

The thought that he should need any help in that sphere
was laughable. She could not help but smile. Cabot wheeled her around once again. As the music ended he loosed his
arm from her waist and bowed very low-right under the
Earl of Sutcliffe’s nose.

Meg froze. To move from such joy to such fear in an
instant was more than she could manage. She watched
numbly as Cabot stood erect and started to take his leave.

“One moment, sir,” Sutcliffe hissed. “I would speak with
you.” He would have forced an introduction. But Cabot,
who was a few inches taller, merely looked past the fuming
earl and departed into the crowd.

Meg had not realized Cabot had left her so close to her
family. Bertie was at her side at once, just as Sutcliffe’s
jealousy flared.

“Such a display has never before been admitted in this
hall, Miss Lawrence,” he bit out. “I imagine that even now
your privileges are being revoked”

“So let them be,” Bertie said. “M’sister has done nothing
wrong, Sutcliffe. And you have no right to speak to her so”

Meg laid a hand on Bertie’s arm. She feared her brother
would provoke more than he anticipated.

“Let us leave here, Bertie,” she said softly. “We need not
answer to Lord Sutcliffe.”

“Need not, miss?” Sutcliffe repeated, his gaze trapping
hers. “The time will come when you will wish to”

She followed Cabot’s example and turned her back on
him, compelling Bertie to follow suit. Had Cabot known
how it would be? Why then, had he deserted her to face
Sutcliffe alone? She felt that the extraordinary pleasure and
freedom of the waltz had been stolen from her, like so
much else.

Even as her family rose to leave, Meg was conscious of the whispers around them. She kept her chin high and
clung to Louisa’s warm hand. To her credit, Lucy did not
look dejected or disappointed, but left the hall as proud as
any other debutante who had `taken.’ Once that achievement had been acknowledged it could not be withdrawn.

Louisa squeezed Meg’s hand.

“Ferrell believes he intends to elicit a challenge,” she
whispered as they donned their wraps.

“Who?” Meg asked, her voice strained and equally low.
“Sutcliffe?”

“Mr. Cabot”

The thought shocked her. Meg had great respect for her
brother-in-law, but she hoped in this instance that Ferrell
was wrong.

They made their way together outside. As Aunt Pru
passed Meg to step up into the carriage she looked closely
into her face.

“Are you quite all right, Margaret?” she asked. “‘Twas a
spirited waltz”

“I am fine, Auntie,” she assured her, following her into
the carriage. Meg imagined she must look pale as death. It
occurred to her to wonder what possible remedy Pru might
have suggested had she not claimed to be fine.

Louisa squeezed in next to Meg facing forward, then
Bertie, Lucy and Ferrell sat opposite. There seemed to be
even less room in the carriage for this return trip-or else
Meg was too conscious of the concerned attention of her
family. Expectancy kept them silent. But they did not disapprove. Quite the contrary. They all appeared to be trying
very hard to stifle smiles. For a while they heard only the
horses’ hooves and sounds of the street.

Lucy, sitting directly across from her, finally burst out,
“Oh, Meg! To see you! It was so-so glorious!”

The others seemed to expel a collective sigh. Ferrell
smiled out the window as Louisa again pressed her hand.

“Lucy is right,” she said. “You deserved that, Meg. Almack’s has never seen its like.”

“And probably never will again,” Aunt Pru observed
sagely. The prospect of surrendering their privileges did not
appear to trouble her, because she laughed. “The Countess
Lieven and Princess Esterhazy were positively green. They
have never danced as well.”

“Do you think … do you think father will..

“Father will wish he had been there, Meggie,” Bertie assured her, “to laugh in Sutcliffe’s face”

Meg was less confident of her father’s good humor. Sir
Eustace was keenly aware of the very real danger of taunting Sutcliffe. She thought her father might share some of
her fears for Bertie-and for Cabot.

“Will this gentleman be paying his addresses to you,
Margaret?” Aunt Pru asked.

In the light from passing lanterns Meg stared at her in
dismay.

“Oh no, nothing like that,” she said at last. “He … simply enjoys the waltz. He told me he learned in Vienna.”

Ferrell again turned to smile out the window as Lucy
frowned at her.

“Well, I should think that after something like that you
might have to be, to be at least promised, or … or ..

“Lucy,” Louisa interrupted, “you spent considerable time
with young Harry Wembly this evening.”

Lucy tilted her little nose.

“Why shouldn’t I speak with him, since he was kind
enough to come? He is our neighbor-and a friend.”

“Kind enough to come!” Aunt Pru exclaimed. “Did you
invite him, young lady?”

“Why, yes. And Charles too, for that matter. Though
they’d have had to obtain their own vouchers of course .. °”

“Lucinda,” Aunt Pru sniffed. “It is not done.”

Silence again descended in the carriage. Lucy glared accusingly at Louisa’s corner, but Meg could only be grateful
for the respite.