Rescuing Rosalind (Three Original Ladies and Their Gentlemen) (11 page)

After they were welcomed by Lady and Lord Rutherford, they entered the loud mass of people talking, laughing, and drinking champagne punch. Warmsby was the first to approach them.

“Good evening, your grace and Miss Edwards. You have had a pleasant day, I hope.”

Elise spoke in chilly tones. “Yes, thank you. Very pleasant.” She made to move on, but Warmsby was still in the act of bowing over Fanny’s hand.

“Darling,” the duchess said. “We must find Violet. She has come up from Devonshire and I have scarcely seen anything of her.”

“Are you speaking of Lady Violet, married to the vicar of Cleaverings?”

“Yes,” Elise replied. “She is my dearest friend.”

“I will take you to her,” he said, drawing Fanny’s arm through his own. “I know just where to find her.”

He strode into the crowd, using his broad shoulders to make their way through the squeeze. Eventually, they came upon Violet, who was talking to a woman Fanny recognized as Caroline, the Duchess of Beverley, another close friend of Elise’s. Caro was a playwright, but she and the duke dwelt most of the year in Cornwall, so Fanny seldom saw her. She admired Caro tremendously. She and her husband were the founding patrons of an orphanage for the sons of soldiers killed in battle. The orphans acted in the Gothic plays the duchess wrote for them.

“You do surround yourself with all the best do-gooders in the kingdom, Miss Edwards,” Warmsby said. “Do you not find it a dreadful bore?” His eyes were not bored. They were intense as he looked into Fanny’s.

Fortunately, Elise had not heard the remark. “I consider my sister and her friends the least boring people I know,” Fanny said. “Have you done any good in the world today?”

Warmsby threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Me? I have enriched several of my peers at the gambling table. I am looking now for someone to impart charity unto me. Shall it be you, Miss Edwards?”

Raising an eyebrow, she said, “I do not wish to play cards with you. I would best you for certain, and then you would be in even worse straits. It is common knowledge that you are pockets to let.”

A speculative gleam glowed in his eyes. “There are other things you could do for me. A walk on the terrace, for instance? It is dreadfully close in here.”

She knew better than to go for a walk on the terrace with Warmsby. He would have her compromised before she knew what was happening.

Fortunately, Viscount Westringham joined them at that moment. “Ah, Miss Edwards, Warmsby.” He took her hand and kissed her gloved knuckles. “How sorry I am that there is not to be dancing tonight.”

“No,” said Fanny. “These events are designed to exercise our skills at witty repartee.” She smiled at the viscount.

“We were just adjourning to the terrace. If you will excuse us, Westringham.” The earl’s tone was frosty.

“I would rather remain here, your lordship. I have no desire to walk on the terrace with you. Too many women have been ruined that way.”

The earl’s eyes snapped, and he was speechless for the moment. Westringham laughed at the sight.

“Perhaps you will accompany me to the refreshment room,” the viscount said. “I see you have not as yet partaken of the punch. It is very fortifying, I assure you.” He offered his arm.

They left Warmsby standing by himself, and Fanny shuddered. “I hope I will not suffer for that. The earl is a very dangerous man when crossed.”

“If ever you find yourself in a coil, you know you can always count on me, Miss Edwards. After fighting the French all these years, Warmsby does not frighten me.”

“He should. He does not take insults well, and he is fond of dueling.”

The viscount gave a laugh of disparagement. “I venture I have far more experience with the sword and pistol than he has ever had. If I did not, I would not have survived my first battle.”

They had nearly reached their goal when Deal came upon them. “Rosalind dear, Westringham! Well met! Have you ever seen such a crush?”

Something treacherous leapt in Fanny’s breast at the sight of the man. In spite of herself, she could not help a welcoming smile. “I am certain Lady Rutherford is very pleased. There is no greater compliment you can pay the hostess of a rout party,” Fanny said. She was absurdly glad to see him, despite his presumptuous letter. Their gazes caught briefly. His was surprisingly wholehearted. If she had not known how he felt about her, she might have thought his glance warmer than that of a friend. Becoming self-conscious, she moved her eyes away, feeling herself blush. She was not given to blushing anymore.

Giving her head a tiny shake, she elevated her chin and chose a dampening role. It would not do to let him see how his presence was affecting her. “As you see, I am still received. I have managed to avoid ruin while you were gone.”

“You have conducted yourself admirably, I am certain.” Now his eyes held a teasing glint.

She relaxed. “How did you leave your men?”

Tilting his head to one side, his eyes still fixed on her face, he said, “They are prospering in the country, contrary to their expectations. Aside from their years at sea, none of them has lived out of London. They know more of South America and Africa than they do of their own country.”

“And the estate?” Westringham asked. “How do your repairs progress?”

Deal drew his eyes away from her at last, addressing his lieutenant. “Much better than expected, now that I have more workers. Gibby is very happy to be on dry land and is working contentedly, by the way. Truly a treat to see.”

“Poor Gibby.” The viscount turned to Fanny. “He was pressed into service and did very well, but he had a problem with heights. Didn’t like rigging the sails.”

Pressed! Fanny seized on this image to break the disturbing atmosphere of closeness between herself and the captain. “You mean you used press gangs to make up your crew?” she demanded of him. “How horrible! How could you do such a thing?”

Both men looked at her in genuine surprise.

“Press gangs are barbaric!” she continued. “Taking men off the streets, knocking them unconscious, tying them up, and throwing them aboard departing vessels.”

“Many an undesirable citizen has been reformed aboard ship,” the captain said. “Gibby, for instance. He used to be a cutpurse. Spare your pity, Rosalind. Life at sea is an adventure. My men even chanced to see the Galapagos Islands, which I doubt you will ever see.”

“You sound as though you were captaining a pleasure cruise. They stood a much better than average chance of being killed or drowned.”

Fanny’s disappointment in Deal was so great, it filled her with dismay. However, to her discomfort, it did not lessen by one whit the notice he paid her with those attentive eyes. She felt the blood come into her face again. When had she become so susceptible? “I understand you made your fortune by capturing French ships. You could not have done so without your crew, could you?”

“All prize money is shared among the crew, Rosalind. And the Press has been going on for centuries. I did not invent it. Without it, we would never have had the men to crew a ship and beat the French.”

Left without a reply to this, she sought another way to fight her unruly surge of awareness. Her eyes lit on two beturbaned and plumed matrons, holding up their quizzing glasses and inspecting the company down their long, patrician noses. They whispered together, obviously disapproving. She knew them to be Lady Cowper and the Princess Esterhazy, two of the patronesses of Almack’s. They set themselves up as social arbiters, deciding who could receive their coveted vouchers, who could waltz, and who would be excluded. Theirs was one of the little kingdoms that existed among the
ton.
Naval officers were apparently in possession of another kingdom.

“I think I would like it in America,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “Perhaps Elise and the duke will pay my passage. There, I would not be at the mercy of arbitrary rules of conduct.”

“You deceive yourself, my dear,” Deal said. “Wherever there is society, there are arbitrary rules of conduct. Even among savages. And I believe the Puritans are far more rigid than the
ton.
Not to mention the Dutch aristocrats who reign over New York society.”

Why must he always set himself up as being in the right? How annoying! “But in America, there is no aristocracy,” she insisted.

Westringham entered the conversation. “Perhaps you would have sent us to the guillotine?” His voice held a trace of humor.

“Just because I hate injustice, do not label me an advocate of the Reign of Terror. There is a middle ground. I think it to be found in America.” Did she sound as unreasonable as she felt? Why had she begun this conversation?

“You are an extremely unusual young lady,” Westringham concluded.

“And one whose views, were they known to certain individuals, would make you a
persona non grata
,” Deal added. “The
ton
does not like to be reminded of the poor. In fact, I am of the opinion that they are terrified of them.”

Fanny shut her eyes to block out the sight of the marquis in the splendid hunter green evening coat that fit his broad shoulders like a second skin while playing up his disturbing eyes. Summoning her most heartfelt voice, she said, “We build our society on the backs of the poor.” Opening her eyes, she looked fixedly at Lady Cowper’s turban and said, “Those who reign over petty fiefdoms set impossibly strict rules for belonging, afraid they will lose what they have.”

The marquis took her arm at the elbow and squeezed it. “Ever the dramatist.” He looked into her face again, his eyes searching hers. She was uncommonly aware of his hand cupping her elbow. “We all do what we can, Rosalind. But keep your voice down or you are like to be thrown out of this gathering.”

“I should not care!” she declared, pulling her arm away.

“But I should,” he said quietly. “I should not want you to suffer ruin for your radical ideals. Again, pray recall the French Revolution. Noble Britons are poised to put any such ideas to death. Your sister’s soup kitchen is only borderline acceptable; you must know that. Perhaps society considers it to be insurance against an uprising by the East End rabble.”

“Why are you being so disagreeable?” Fanny asked.

“Rosalind, you have been determined to eat me ever since you saw me this evening.”

Turning to the viscount, she asked, “What do you think about these matters, my lord?”

“I am not a deep thinker like you, Miss Edwards. I fear your words make me uncomfortable, lest they should be overheard.”

“Go then,” she said, her chin up. “I should not like you to be tarred by the same brush that shall tar me if my speaking my mind becomes known.”

“You are magnificent,” Westringham said softly, looking into her eyes. “Brave, noble . . .”

“And excessively foolish,” Deal finished. “Do you think your thoughts original? Do you think no one has ever noticed the inequality in our country before? You are naïve, Rosalind.”

His words were stern, but his eyes were unaccountably gentle. So confused was she by the contradiction between his words and the warm current between the two of them that his gentleness almost disarmed her. That was dangerous. “So you think I am a child. Well, I think you a . . . a . . . I wish to find my sister. I wish to leave.”

“By all means, Rosalind. Come, I will take you to her. Keep your lip buttoned.” As they walked through the room, the marquis said in a low, conversational voice, looking straight ahead, “You needn’t be such a termagant, you know. I promise in time you will become used to these feelings between us.”

* * *

After undressing that night, Fanny dismissed Becky and entered her sitting room. She looked out at the still night. Actually, it was nearer to morning. Her whole body was still tingling with awareness. The crescent moon shone through sailing clouds as it sank near to the horizon. Fanny tried to understand the conversation, especially its undercurrents. She grew so warm, she wiggled out of her dressing gown and cast it on the day bed. Closing her eyes, she summoned the last exchange:
You will become used to these feelings between us in time.

Somehow, as a result of their time apart, they had come to a new awareness of one
another. He had felt what she had felt. Those moments weren’t an illusion. Why had she been so determined to be disagreeable?

I was trying to distance myself. Elise was right.
I am vulnerable, and I do not like it one little bit. Or do I? I’m so confused by these emotions!

Oh, those eyes . . . he was not fooled by my tirades. Those green eyes were soft as a caress.

{ 15 }

B
UCK WAS THE GENTLEMAN PATRON
who watched over the activities of the soup kitchen the next day. To his pleasure, Rosalind was serving as a substitute for Sukey Braithwaite, her aunt’s companion. But she had nothing to say to him and pointedly avoided his eyes.

In his sitting room over a brandy last night, he had gone over the scene at the rout and realized all was altered between them. The sight of her slight form, crown of auburn hair, and lively turquoise eyes had caused his heart to behave like a schoolboy’s. Their sudden awareness of each other as man and woman could only traverse in one direction with honor. Rosalind’s striking out at him proved she did not welcome it. Surely he could not have fallen in love with such a prickly hedgehog! Why was she so determined to fight with him? How could he disarm her?

He was enjoying watching her today. Whenever a woman or child appeared in the queue before her, she always spoke bright and soothing words to them.

“Show me your doll, dear. What is her name? Gwendolyn? How lovely.”

“Oh, it looks like you have lost some teeth! You must be about six years old. You are growing up!”

“Are you a big help to your mother with your brothers and sisters? Tell me all of your names.”

Buck had asked Elise if there had ever been problems or incidents at the kitchen. She had said, “Only once. Several years ago, a man threw a hot bowl of soup in my face. He was angry because he could not find employment. But my face healed. Nothing has happened since. We treat the soldiers and their wives like our extended family. They know the duke and his friends are searching for employment for them and that many of their friends are settled in a job.”