The Aim of a Lady (18 page)

Lord Franston had been browbeaten by his daughter into accepting an interview with George, and was in no good humor when the younger man arrived. Franston waved him carelessly to a well-worn leather chair and seated himself impatiently at his desk.

“I have come to ask your permission to wed your daughter,” George said politely.

“So she says,” Franston grumbled. “Seems to make no difference to her that she is already engaged to Vallert.”

“I think you are well aware that she never consented to marry Vallert, Lord Franston. I am surprised that you did not have the announcement refuted.”

 “No reason she should not marry him. Perfectly good fellow.”

“But she does not wish to marry him, and it is inconceivable to me that you can call a man who falsely announces his engagement a perfectly good fellow.”

“I had given him my permission to marry her.”

“It is customary to have the woman’s permission as well.”

“It will cause a great to-do to change things now,” the old man muttered.

“I think you can safely leave that to me, sir. Do I have your permission to marry Alonna?”

“Vallert has a title,” Franston said slyly.

George refused to give him the satisfaction of informing him that one day in the future, when his recluse bachelor uncle died, he also would have a title. “It does not seem to have won him any influence with your daughter.”

“I won’t force her to marry him,” Franston conceded grudgingly.

“I am pleased to hear it. We had in mind to wed in two months time, sir, and I should like to announce our engagement now.”

“Oh, very well. If she wishes to wed you I will not stand in the way, but see that there is no scandal, Savile. Vallert is a hot-tempered fellow, very unpredictable.”

“I appreciate your caution, Lord Franston.” George rose from his chair and offered his hand to his prospective father-in-law, who shook it unenthusiastically.

“Take care of her. She’s not a bad chit,” Franston mumbled.

“I shall do my best,” George promised.

Alonna was awaiting her fiancé in a small room off the hall and George went to assure her that all was well. She regarded him quizzingly and asked, “He did not raise a fuss?”

“Very little. He told me to take care of you.”

“Did he?” Alonna’s eyes softened. “That was kind of him.”

“Very proper,” George agreed solemnly as he kissed her. “I must see Vallert now. Your father does not wish any to-do.”

“Nor do I, George. Do not let Vallert embroil you,” she pleaded gravely.

“Trust me, love,” he grinned.

“I wish you would be serious.”

“I am serious,” he protested as he kissed her nose.

She sighed, despairing of impressing him with the importance of his mission. “Will I see you later?”

“I hope you will join my sister and me for the theatre, Miss Sanfield.”

“I should be delighted, Mr. Savile.”

“Excellent. Until later, my dear.”

Lord Vallert’s lodgings were in James Street and George had the good fortune to find his lordship at home.

Each day Vallert had checked the papers, with a growing confidence as no retraction appeared. He was smug in facing Alonna’s other suitor. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit, Savile?”

“I wanted you to be one of the first to hear of my engagement,” George replied blithely.

“No, really? To whom have you become engaged?”

“To Miss Alonna Sanfield.”

Vallert’s face darkened dangerously and he rasped. “Your jest is not in good taste, Savile. You must be aware that I am engaged to Miss Sanfield.”

“She does not seem to agree with you, for she has consented to be my wife, and her father has obligingly granted his permission.”

“I shall call you out for this!”

“No, I don’t think so. I have undertaken to handle the matter with as little fuss as possible, and I cannot consider a duel as unattended by notoriety.”

When Vallert made to strike him in the usual manner of a challenge, George caught his hand in a grip of steel. “You have no one but yourself to blame for the mess you’re in, Vallert. You have caused Miss Sanfield a great deal of distress, for which I find it very difficult to forgive you. In an effort to see the matter amicably settled, however, I am willing to offer you some assistance. The day after tomorrow the announcement of our engagement will appear. I suggest that you attend the theatre with. Miss Sanfield, my sister and myself this evening."

“You are mad!”

“Hardly. I am offering you a way to save face, you young gudgeon. If you are seen to be on satisfactory terms with us it will not be so difficult for you. A misunderstanding; Miss Sanfield’s affections were previously engaged. If you persist in your perfidy I shall have no recourse but to expose you, which I am not in the least loath to do.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Vallert blurted uncertainly.

George’s eyes blazed for a moment before he replied calmly, “It is your privilege to wait and see, Vallert, but the results will not be to your liking. In the end I shall wed Miss Sanfield. Do you go to the theatre with us?”

Vallert clenched his hands at his sides but replied, “Very well, Savile.”

Their group at the theatre caused no little comment. George made it perfectly clear that he was with Alonna, who had not been overly enthusiastic about including Vallert in their party but agreed that it was perhaps a wise move. The burden of Vallert’s presence, however, rested on Diana and she was predisposed to dislike him. He did nothing to disillusion her but rather reminded her disagreeably of Frank Edwards, who arrived at their box during the first intermission amidst expressions of astonishment at seeing Diana in town. She denied him leave to call on her, which merely made him sulk, but did not make him leave the box. When the second act was about to begin, George finally sent him away.

Vallert, intrigued by Diana’s beauty and her handling of her suitor, began to make an effort to attract her, which was more disagreeable to her than his previous sullenness. She remained distantly polite and welcomed the arrival of the Dodges and Barsetts at the second intermission. There was barely time to greet them before George’s friend Cranmer arrived to be presented to Diana, whom he had noticed from his box across the way. Considering the amount of chatter in the box sufficient cover for his remark, he said to George, “You cannot seriously expect me to believe that your sister shot Ellis with an arrow.” His eyes rested admiringly on Diana; Cranmer was a connoisseur.

Mockingly, George agreed that it was highly improbable, and rewarded his friend by introducing him to his sister. Diana had not heard the remark and greeted him politely. Cranmer murmured conversationally, “I understand you are interested in archery, Miss Savile.”

“I am interested in many things, Mr. Cranmer,” she replied, her eyes twinkling.

“So am I. We must discuss them sometime. May I call on you tomorrow?” He was laughing at her, but not unkindly, and she agreed.

When the box had cleared for the third act Diana happened to glance down and she saw Alma seated with a beautiful young woman who was very elegantly dressed.

Diana immediately turned her eyes to the stage, since she had no desire to exchange nods with him, or to be thought interested in his presence. She did not glance in his direction again.

* * * *

Several days previously Lord Alma had arrived in London tired and sore. He determinedly put the events of the previous two weeks out of his mind and reverted to his normal good-natured, gallant behavior. There were several invitations in the stack of cards awaiting his attention which he set aside as being of interest, the others he dismissed. He took four letters with him when he went to his study and read them at his leisure while he sipped at a glass of wine, standing up. The hours in the carriage had been aggravatingly painful in spite of frequent stops.

Two of the letters bore the same handwriting, and he remembered, with a grimace, telling George politely that he had no pressing engagements in London. Fanny’s first letter was a cheerful greeting; she expected to see him any day now. Her second letter was a trifle testy, he thought with amusement. It was really too late then to do anything about it, but he scribbled an explanation and a request to call on her, and handed it to a footman to be delivered the next morning.

There was a reply on the tray with the silver chocolate pot when he awoke in the morning. Fanny considered it most unlikely that she would forgive him, but he might try to convince her if he called at three. Alma smiled as he sipped at his chocolate. There were many advantages to a woman such as Fanny, who maintained her own house and was very selective in her clients. She had been bequeathed a staggering sum on the death of an admiring elderly gentleman, and she was more pleasure-loving than greedy. Not that her companionship was given without cost (she had a respectable opinion of her worth); but she was not forever beseeching one for a new gown or a necklace. Her services came with a fixed price, no extras. Alma presented himself, impeccably dressed, at three.

Fanny received him in her parlor. “You are looking very well, Ellis... for someone who has been laid up in the country for two weeks with an injury.”

Alma grasped her hands and kissed each in turn. His eyes mischievous he said, “I shall show you my wound if you like.”

“I have a feeling you would be only too happy to do so,” she retorted as she patted the seat beside her on the sofa.

He seated himself, thought better of taking her in his arms immediately, and replied, “Yes, it is in a most intriguing spot. I assure you, lovely Fanny, that I only arrived in London last evening and wrote you first thing. I slept with your letters next my heart,” he added soulfully.

“So flattering,” she mocked. “Your wound must not be near your heart.”

“No, no, I assure you it is not. Shall I show it to you?” he asked eagerly, his eyes dancing.

“No, naughty boy, you shall not. I have not decided yet to forgive you.”

“How may I convince you, my dear? Shall I beg you on my knees or fight a duel for you?” He gave convincing demonstrations of his skills in both.

Fanny was entertained by his high spirits and evident delight in being with her again. She held out a hand to him where he stood mock-penitent before her and he pulled her into his arms. His kiss and the evidence of his passion were so obvious that when he picked her up in his arms she laughed and said, “You have been without for some time, Ellis.”

“I do not deny it,” he was with a grin, as he strode with her to her bedchamber.

It was some time before Fanny had a chance to remark on his scar. “Whatever did you do to yourself?” she asked incredulously.

“One of my friends has a sister who is, so she tells me, the acknowledged woman archer of Cambridgeshire. She shot me.”

Fanny giggled. “Were you misbehaving, Ellis?”

“Not then,” he grunted. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, it is a lovely scar,” she conceded as she toyed with the wrinkled skin. Alma grasped her waist and rolled over on her as she squealed, “Already?” It was several hours before Alma left, finally satiated. “You could wear a woman out,” Fanny scolded as he kissed her on leaving.

Alma thoroughly enjoyed being back in London. He took care of several business matters, attended a number of balls, flirted with various young women, rode in the park, gambled, and took advantage of what the town had to offer. Generally he spent a great deal of his time at Stillings or traveling, but he enjoyed London when he was there.

No day went past that he did not visit Fanny. There was a good amount of time to make up for and he intended to relish every moment of it. Fanny was accommodating to his whims as a rule, but she refused to don breeches for him. “They are most unfeminine, Ellis, and I will not put them on. I have the most delightful confection, all in sheer gold, that you will adore.” Alma agreed that it was delightful.

The evening that he took her to the theatre he was horrified to see Diana in a box with her brother and his two other guests. Alma made no attempt to attract their attention or to visit their box, but Fanny noticed his glances in their direction and asked who they were.

“One of them is the archer,” he replied briefly.

“The blond or the brunette?”

“The brunette.”

“She looks too small to lift a bow, let alone shoot you with an arrow that would make such a scar.”

“She was using a hunting arrow.”

“Well, I should thank her for leaving such a delightful mark upon you,” Fanny giggled.

“I am sure she does not regret it in the least,” Alma replied bitterly. “I could not sit or lie on my back for the better part of two weeks, Fanny. You have no idea how inconvenient that is.”

“I would find it impossible,” his companion retorted with a throaty chuckle.

Cranmer arrived at Alma’s the day after meeting Diana at the theatre. It had occurred to him that it would be great sport to take Alma along when he paid his call on the diminutive beauty.

“I don’t wish to see her,” Alma replied in answer to the suggestion.

“You really should go, you know. It would not be polite to avoid her after being her guest for so long.”

“I was her brother’s guest. Has George fixed everything right and tight with Lord Franston?”

“Yes, they are to wed in two months. He took Vallert with him last night to help the young nodcock save face, I dare say. More than I would have done.”

“I doubt Vallert will appreciate the effort,” Alma retorted scornfully.

“But it may save a deal of scandal for them all. Really, Ellis, you should come with me.”

“Well, I won’t,” Alma said stubbornly.

Cranmer shrugged. “As you wish.”

He found Diana entertaining all of the people who had been in the box the previous evening. Having been introduced to Allison and Walter Dodge at that time, he now spent a few moments speaking with them. Carson Barsett he knew, but Jenette was a newcomer to London and likely to be much in demand, so he made an effort to charm her. Vallert he acknowledged but did not speak with. When all the others took their leave except George and Alonna, he finally had a chance to have a few words with Diana.