Second Season (8 page)

“I say, Julian, let’s be off,” Arthur said plaintively, “or are you fixing an interest with the pretty widgeon?”

“Lord, no!” Julian returned with suppressed violence—but as he retrieved, coat, hat and walking stick, he wondered: why should Miss Stanwood be so reluctant to admit knowledge of German?

CHAPTER IV

The great day
of Almack’s dawned fair and full of promise, commencing with the announcement shortly after breakfast of Mrs. Ixton and her nephew. Lady Stanwood was at first inclined to a snub, “for it is presumptuous of her to visit when I have not expressed a wish for it.” However, she was easily persuaded it was her duty to thank Sir Eustace for rescuing Emily, and on their departure, she conceded it was pleasant. “Mrs. Ixton was not at all as I recalled. I believe I must have confused her with someone else.”

“Then you do not object that I ride with Sir Eustace, ma’am?”

“No, but you will take a groom,” Lady Stanwood decreed repressively, noting Sharlie’s sparkling eyes. By a lucky chance, she found her lord in his study. “I wish you will see what may be discovered about this young man, Robert. He is altogether too pretty, AND Irish! One has not great hopes of them aside from horse-breeding, which is exactly what may catch Sharlie.”

“You have other plans, milady?”

“Indeed,” she agreed impressively. “Lord Wrentham, Sir Malcolm Ogilvie, and Mr. Beauchamp—and the season has not fairly begun. Who knows what may develop?”

Neither did anyone else, and the suspense in the servants’ hall was nearly unendurable, what with the knocker sounding every other minute for deliveries of notes, packages, and trifles from the finest shops in town. By dressing time, the still room was overflowing with floral tributes. “It’s good as Christmas,” Maria said to herself, trotting proudly upstairs with Miss Stanwood’s share. The bulk might go to Miss Emily, but Miss Charlotte was not forgotten, and quite half of her beaux had not honored the younger sister. Maria tucked that up her sleeve for later use in the private skirmishing with Miss Tinsdale.

That Sharlie carried the flowers accompanied by the Duke of Imbrie’s card, and Emily chose Sir Eustace’s, was purely dictated by their gowns. Julian had sent yellow roses mixed with bronze pansies, which were the perfect complement for Miss Stanwood’s gown of figured jonquil brocade. His gift of deep red roses could not be said to agree with Miss Emily’s sapphire blue crepe over palest pink. “The effect is garish!” The modest nosegay of camellias tied with long pink ribbons was exactly right, “for I cannot give Sir Eustace a dance, you know—nor Viscount Pelham, but perhaps he will not mind if I use his holder.”

To set the seal on felicity, they found Geoffrey in the salon. “Lud, Sharlie, no need to set up a squawk!” he protested. “Opening of Almack’s, m’sisters need an escort—came down last year for you, came down again today. I don’t say I’d have done it if I’d known m’father was here, but however...” He surveyed his sisters critically, raising a quizzing glass, at which Sharlie hooted with amusement.

“Oh, we’ve an Exquisite! How d’you mince, brother dear?”

There ensued a brisk familial interchange that caused most undignified laughter in their parents, but Emily merely revolved slowly, and fixed her brother with parted lips awaiting his verdict. “Very nice,” he approved. “Fine as fivepence—does you proud, mama, not but what Sharlie’s a strong contender.” He raised his glass imperturbably. “A very fetching gown, m’dear. Emily’s the beauty—no doubt of it—but damme, Charlotte, you’re ... you’re
elegant.
”

It was the exact word, and Lady Stanwood’s bosom swelled at the glazed expression of Mrs. Drummond Burrell as Sharlie passed down the receiving line. When Emily succeeded her sister, Mrs. Burrell was momentarily speechless. Not so Miss Emily! She smiled angelically at the patroness and breathed in reverent accents, “Mrs. Drummond Burrell! How happy I am to meet you, ma’am. My sister has so often spoken of you.”

“Emily, how could you!” Charlotte was shaking with inner amusement as they joined Lady Stanwood.

“Why not? It is no more than the truth, Sharlie—and I did not tell her
how
you spoke of her,” Emily returned militantly.

Thereafter the evening became pure delight for Charlotte. Almack’s was not usually considered particularly gay. The music and supper were excellent, but nothing stronger than a mild claret cup was served and there was no card room. This was deliberate. Nothing existed to lure the gentlemen away from their duties on the dancing floor—or cause them to be incapable of fulfilling same by reason of uncertain legs. However, the opening assembly of 1812 held uncommon interest for a number of spectators. They were first electrified by the arrival of the Duke of Imbrie, for although he was known to be in England, one would never expect to see him at Almack’s.

“Lud, Imbrie, do not tell me you’re hanging out for a wife at last,” Maria Sefton protested incredulously.

“Not at all, milady,” he bowed imperturbably, “but one must keep up, you know. I like to see what’s available for the furtherance of the nation.”

It was then observed that his grace refused all suggested introductions by the patronesses, walked directly to Lord Stanwood, and was warmly presented to Lady Stanwood ... that he scrawled his name on Miss Emily’s card with perfect assurance, and sat talking to her mother until the sets were forming for the third dance, when he arose and smilingly claimed her hand. Well! Nothing could have been clearer, and other eyes than Charlotte’s relished the widened stare of Mrs. Drummond Burrell.

There was more in .store. After returning Miss Emily to her mama, the duke disappeared into the anteroom with the older gentlemen, and emerged only to bow before Miss Stanwood for the first waltz. Every eye then turned covertly to Mrs. Burrell, whose face now resembled a boiled owl. Very satisfying!

Sharlie had settled with herself to save her waltzes for the duke, on the expectation that she would thus have him available should Emily be given permission to dance. She had no doubt he would gain it quite easily, she was hoping he’d apply to the odious Mrs. Burrell, but meanwhile let her observe last year’s ugly duckling with this year’s prize.

As Imbrie’s firm arm circled her waist, Sharlie’s courage deserted her. He felt so entirely different from Geoffrey. He was taller, he did not clutch nor pump her arm but guided her with a gentle hand, and he smelled delicious: a faint scent of fresh lavendar. Perhaps his shirts were laid in it, for her nose came only to the top of his white waistcoat. His feet moved smoothly, with perfect assurance and absolute rhythm, as though he had been waltzing forever and could do it in his sleep. Probably he could...

For a full turn of the room, Sharlie answered his conversational attempts at random, until finally he said, “What is it in my waistcoat that strikes you dumb, Miss Stanwood?”

“N-nothing,” she looked up quickly. “I am merely minding my steps.”

“You’ve no need, Miss Stanwood. Your sister was right: you are an exceptional dancer,” he smiled at her serious face. “Surely you must often have waltzed before.”

“Yes—and then again, no,” she confided. “It is true that I had the permission last year, but you see, no one asked me. So all my experience is limited to home parties—and you do not feel at all like my brother.”

“You relieve my mind, Miss Stanwood,” he sighed, “not that your family is not delightful and I should feel privileged to belong to it—but unfortunately I am cursed with my own.”

She laughed aloud at that, and the duke felt an inexplicable bounce in his pulse. He’d come to Almack’s only because to fail would be an affront to Lord Stanwood, whom he’d liked at the hunt party. He’d fully intended to excuse himself gracefully after this waltz, but there was a refreshing naturalness about Miss Stanwood, and she was a superb partner. Now the ice was broken, she moved gracefully to his lightest touch and chatted with a lack of coquetry that disarmed him.

For her part, Charlotte had never been happier. Convinced in her own mind that his interest was for Emily, she already thought of the duke as a future brother-in-law with whom formality was unnecessary. All was so different this year from last. Emily was a Sensation, but Sharlie knew herself to be a modest Success. If her ball card was not filled quite so swiftly as her sister’s, nevertheless it was filled without the urging of a patroness. She would have been less than human not to enjoy waltzing while Emily was forced to sit beside Lady Stanwood, although Sir Eustace had cleverly inserted himself in the adjoining chair.

At the end of the music, Charlotte’s generosity came to the fore. “I hope Emily may be permitted to waltz,” she said artfully, “but perhaps the patronesses may not think it advisable on her first appearance—unless someone intercedes for her.”

Imbrie glanced across the room. “She seems tolerably entertained by her rescuer. May I get you some lemonade, Miss Stanwood?”

“No, thank you.” Let him have a chance to talk to Emily ... but when he’d led Charlotte back to her mother, the duke showed no disposition to linger. He nodded casually to Sir Eustace, smiled at the ladies, bowed over Sharlie’s hand, said “Number six, I think?” and moved away—but perhaps her words had fallen on fertile soil. He was next seen to be flirting very agreeably with Lady Jersey before retreating again to the anteroom. So, too, did Sir Eustace whose card was far from filled due to his recent arrival in London.

He’d said in the morning, “I’ve not much acquaintance among the
ton,
being mostly out of the country these five years. This Almack’s now—how do I present myself there, Miss Stanwood?”

“You must obtain a voucher from one of the patronesses.” From the bouquets, he’d obviously managed it, and promptly secured two dances with Charlotte upon her arrival at the rooms. He’d probably used the War Office, for he was talking now with Princess Esterhazy who was sitting beside Lady Jersey. Then he presented himself for the first dance with Charlotte. At its close she felt he was the best thing yet. He was more graceful than Mr. Beauchamp, less punctilious than Lord Wrentham, and infinitely more loquacious than Sir Malcolm. He knew all about horses, and to top that, he was handsome.

Unluckily, he was also courteous. As they returned to Lady Stanwood, Lady Jersey was moving away with a smiling nod. Emily’s previous partner was reluctantly taking his leave, the Duke of Imbrie could be seen approaching because the next was Number six and
just
before he had reached their chairs, Lady Stanwood said, “Emily, Lady Jersey has given you permission to waltz.”

Instantly, Sir Eustace solicited the honor and was accepted. To Charlotte, nothing was more vexatious. It later occurred to her as she whirled around in the duke’s arms that he could scarcely beg off from herself so abruptly. No doubt he would manage the transition for the other waltzes, somehow making certain Charlotte had another partner. She made sure he should notice that Emily was now permitted, but he said only, “Yes, I see. Somehow I thought it would be managed ... and do you ride tomorrow, Miss Stanwood?”

Sure enough, he had found a substitute for the next waltz, and what a substitute! No less a personage than Mr. Brummell issued from the anteroom and bowed, “Lady Stanwood, your servant, ma’am.” With a faint smile, “Miss Stanwood, will you accept me in place of Imbrie? He finds himself entangled in a business conversation—not the moment for it, of course, but we hope you may be gracious.”

“Why, it is yourself who is gracious, Mr. Brummell,” Sharlie widened her eyes ingenuously. “To be taking on his grace’s task—what very good friends you must be.” Ignoring her mother’s suppressed gasp at such
light-heartedness to the great Beau, Charlotte rose and curtseyed blandly.

She was not to know of the anteroom interchange when the duke entered after his last waltz. “Hallo, Julian,” the Beau drawled. “Who’s your charmer?”

“Miss Stanwood.”

Mr. Brummell took another look. “Lud, is she back again?”

“Yes, I gather it’s her second season,” Julian remarked, “although for the life of me I can’t think why she failed last year. Sally Jersey says she’s come on amazingly. Of course, it’s the younger girl who’ll take London by storm.”

“Gold curls, blue eyes,” the Beau nodded. “Prinny will adore her, but Miss Stanwood—there’s a something about her.”

“Definitely, although I doubt it’s to your taste, Beau. She’s a magnificent horsewoman—not one to turn aside to a farmhouse before the first fence.”

Brummell raised languid eyebrows. “But I’ve the greatest dislike of soiling the white tops to my boots, Julian. I take it Miss Stanwood dances acceptably?”

Better than that! Miss Emily is as correct and wooden as her performance on the harp,” Julian closed his eyes with a delicate wince that drew a chuckle from the Beau.

“So?” he commented lazily, still watching Sharlie through half-closed eyes. “Shall I bring Miss Stanwood into favor, Julian? She’s reddish-haired, tanned skin, a bit tall ... but perhaps it is time for a change. I am growing weary of the blushing little misses out of the nursery. What d’you think?”

Julian remembered the ingenuous admission,
I had the permission to waltz, but no one asked me.
Impulsively he said, “By all means, if you can.”

“Spare me your next dance, and watch!”

All of Almack’s watched in a state of shock, as Mr. Brummell led Miss Stanwood onto the dance floor. Secretly certain it was a manoeuvre for the duke to emerge innocently and seek Emily’s hand, Charlotte was perfectly at ease with her illustrious partner. She responded to his conversational gambits freely, and twice drew a broad smile, nor did he leave when the music ended. He insisted on escorting her for a glass of orgeat ... stayed beside her in full view of all onlookers until Lord Wrentham approached to claim the next dance, when he surrendered her with every appearance of reluctance and kissed her hand.

And after all, Charlotte was vexed to discover his grace had not been quick enough before Sir Eustace had nipped in first. “Why could you not have delayed a little?” she murmured when she encountered her sister. “Did you not realize it was Imbrie who got Lady Jersey to give you permission so that he could waltz with you?”

Emily widened her eyes. “No, I never thought of it, Sharlie. I understood he was promised to you.”