The Marriage List (5 page)

“I say,” Wynter drawled. He inserted himself between the sputtering, yet somehow utterly sensual, Miss Sheffers and Radford, hooking his arm with the latter. “I do beg your pardon, Miss Sheffers, ladies. Evers and I have a morning appointment and we mustn’t be late.”

They had nothing of the sort. But Radford understood his friend’s motives and agreed. Something about Miss Sheffers’ manner drew out the rogue in him. Such uncontrolled behavior couldn’t be borne.

He had a wife to find, not a mistress.

In light of that, he bowed and gave his excuses, purposefully flattering the young, flowery Lady Lillian before taking his leave. For Lady Lillian, not some impoverished wood elf with a questionable heritage, satisfied the qualifications on his marriage list. The lady would prove an unquestionably acceptable viscountess and no doubt produce a brood of unquestionably acceptable children.

* * * * *

Uncle Sires and Mr. Tumblestone arrived at May’s and Aunt Winnie’s little cottage a few minutes before noon to accompany them to afternoon chapel services. The two perfectly matched black carriage horses with white blazes on their foreheads snorted and pawed the cobbled road, anxious to be moving again.

May eyed them carefully. It wasn’t in her nature to trust such great beasts, preferring to travel under the power of her own two feet. Though they may not always be reliable, she felt confident that she could keep her own feet from running away in a panic as she’d seen some carriage horses do on the noisy London streets.

If not for Aunt Winnie’s health, May might have spoken up and suggested a stroll. For her aunt, she bit her tongue and lent her shoulder to help guide Winnie to her uncle’s carriage.

Aunt Winnie wrapped herself in a wool shawl and shivered in the stiff summer breeze.

“Are you certain you shouldn’t stay home?” May asked for the third time.

Winnie looked drained. The lines on her face were more deeply etched than ever before, and she leaned on May’s arm with nearly all her weight as they made the long walk to the carriage. “I am convinced God would not ask you to risk your health in this manner.”

“Poppycock.” Winnie bristled. Struggling, she took a few steps before reaching out again for May’s assistance. “I may be tired, but I am by no means an invalid.”

There was no hope for it. Aunt Winnie would climb out of her deathbed rather than miss afternoon services and have her friends guess the extent of her ailing health. May tried her best, but the old bird had an unbreakable will of her own.

In that, they were kindred spirits.

Only, May’s strong spirit was beginning to feel the strain of responsibility. The morning post had brought a letter from her father’s solicitor in reply to a desperate plea she’d made over a week earlier. He’d written that despite his disapproval of her uncle’s actions to declare her parents dead, he could do nothing legally to put a stop to it. So, unless her parents appeared on the next boat landing in London, May would have to find another source of funds.

All she wanted was to keep Aunt Winnie safe and happy and to hold on to the content, albeit slightly dull, life she led.

She would just have to find a way . . . and be more discreet the next time she decided to act. That rogue, the slightly unhinged Viscount Evers, only compounded her troubles. She was still reeling over the shabby way he’d treated her in the Pump Room before turning to Lady Lillian and lavishing all those pretty compliments on the lady’s ears.

He was a scoundrel, a villain. She’d find no help from that quarter.

As always, she would have to rely on her own survival instincts. They got her through a bumpy come-out and through her required visits with her uncle. She was confident her sharp instincts would see her through this current crisis.

Her mind was still working on that very problem as she helped her aunt climb into the carriage. She felt hemmed in within the contraption after her uncle and Mr. Tumblestone climbed in behind her and filled the small, darkened space.

As the carriage carried them to the small chapel adjacent to The Circus where Uncle Sires owned a house, the conversation focused on Aunt Winnie’s health.

“I have contacted the most respected doctor in London, Winnie. He has agreed to travel here within the week to see you,” Uncle Sires said. “I wish to have you settled in my home before he arrives.”

Aunt Winnie gave May’s hand a squeeze. “I am happy at the cottage. I do not desire to move anywhere.”

Uncle Sires flicked a glance toward May and frowned. “I understand your attachment to the child. But you will have to let her go. She has her own life to live, do you not agree?”

“Of course she does, but—”

“You will be happy with me, Winnie. You will want for nothing. I have been remiss, letting you flounder so near poverty with May. But I have made plans to change that. Everything has been decided. You will see. This is for the best.”

No one in the carriage could argue the point. Uncle Sires had the wealth of Croesus. No longer would Aunt Winnie need to drink watery tea while nibbling on day-old cakes. She would have everything.
The best
.

Wasn’t her uncle’s offer also May’s fondest wish for her aunt come true?

After church, Uncle Sires directed the carriage to carry Aunt Winnie back to the cottage for a rest while he chaperoned Mr. Tumblestone and May on a walking tour of Bath.

“Give it time. We need to let the relationship bloom,” May overheard Uncle Sires telling Aunt Winnie just before the carriage jerked into motion.

Mr. Tumblestone strolled beside May along a stretch of shops on Pulteney Street. Like a man who’d never visited a city as large as Bath, he had expressed a keen interest to walk the famed Pulteney Bridge. May didn’t have it in her heart to deny him, even if she were given the chance. Uncle Sires led the way with Mr. Tumblestone and May lagging just a step behind.

All and all, the elderly Mr. Tumblestone acted a complete gentleman, doing nothing to force her attentions. He spoke in docile tones and made an effort to include May in the conversation, asking her opinion and occasionally pausing to admire a dressmaker’s elegant gowns or some fine piece of metalwork in a shop window.

Unlike the previous dreary day, the sun hung high in the cloudless sky and a cool breeze eased the summer heat. Everything was perfect, absolutely perfect.

So why did May silently pray for the earth to open up and swallow her whole?

This was every woman’s dream—to find a kind man willing to marry her. This could be the beginning of a new adventure and perhaps even her shot at finding her happily-ever-after.

“One has to work to find it,” Aunt Winnie once told May. “You cannot sit idle and hope happiness will discover you. It takes courage and a heart filled with faith to find one of life’s most precious treasures.”

“Why haven’t you ever found happiness, Aunt?” the impertinent child May of years ago had baldly asked.

“Haven’t I?” Winnie had given May a hug then. But even a child could see the regret reflected in her eyes.

“Remember, dear. It takes a heart filled with faith,” her aunt had whispered in May’s ear just an hour ago before leaving May to spend the rest of the afternoon with Uncle Sires and Mr. Tumblestone.

Faith. May blinked up at Mr. Tumblestone. His round cheeks did hold a certain merriment. His clothing was the height of fashion. Though he was missing a few teeth, his breath smelled clean. If only he wasn’t so old.

“Mr. Tumblestone is a neighbor of mine,” Uncle Sires said as they strolled about the Pulteney Bridge.

Cozy homes and apartments had been built upon the wide bridge, lining both sides. The only evidence suggesting they were standing on an arched bridge-way were the glass-domed pavilions crowning the ends.

“He lives not more than a thirty-minute carriage drive away from Redfield Abbey. You will never be far from Winnie, you see.”

Uncle Sires was proud of himself. May could see it in the sparkle of his brown eyes. He was doing his duty as head of the family, taking care of its members to the best of his ability—whether they appreciated it or not.

Oh, how low May felt at that moment. The night before she had cursed her uncle and his scheming ways, convinced his actions were aimed at stealing her parents’ small fortune.

She saw now how wrongly she’d judged him.

With a grand sweep of his arm and a wink, Uncle Sires directed May and Mr. Tumblestone into a small shop that sold ices and paid for the cool treats without hesitation. What May considered a fortune had to be naught more than mere pocket change to a man as wealthy as her uncle. She was guilty of doing what so many had done to her, judging without taking the time to look beyond the surface.

May set aside her spoon and smiled up at Mr. Tumblestone. “Please, sir,” she said, her dream of one day finding a handsome, young prince fading, “please tell me all about your home.”

Chapter 5

That evening lights twinkled high in the street lanterns as crowds dressed in their best finery promenaded toward the fancy ball held in the Upper Assembly Room. May had purchased a season subscription to all the balls and concerts, knowing how such events pleased her aunt. The fancy ball, held every Thursday night during the summer, was Aunt Winnie’s favorite and in turn May’s.

Uncle Sires and Mr. Tumblestone escorted the two women to the spectacular event. They arrived in her uncle’s carriage, making quite an impression with the
ton
. Her uncle’s presence was greeted with warmth and genuine enthusiasm. Since titled gentry were scarce in Bath this year—the most fashionable choosing to follow Prinny to Brighton—even an old bachelor like the Earl of Redfield created quite a stir.

Mr. Tumblestone, by association, was fawned over shamelessly by many of the matrons, who twittered like schoolgirls as they gathered around the two new faces. Mr. Tumblestone’s manner shined as he charmed the older women while never failing to keep an attentive eye on May.

Though she felt nothing more than a faint gratitude toward him, May had to admit the aging Tumblestone did cut a handsome mark dressed in a shimmering pale green satin coat trimmed with the softest forest green velvet. He looked younger and slightly thinner draped in such expensive fabrics.

May felt quite the dowd promenading through the Upper Rooms beside such a finely turned-out gentleman. She had donned her second-best gown, a ruby ermine trimmed pelisse worn over a rather simple white satin gown with matching ruby colored flounces dancing down the front. The outfit was topped with a Henry the Eighth hat of ruby velvet sporting two white feathers pinned to the front. The hat was an extravagance Aunt Winnie had insisted she purchase. Though the neckline of her gown was modest compared to current fashions, May felt uncomfortable. Her rather embarrassingly full breasts pulled the material tight.

Her unseemly shape must have embarrassed Mr. Tumblestone as well. His watery gaze slipped toward her bosom more than once as they processed through the Octagon Room to enter the long ballroom.

The ballroom never failed to take May’s breath away. From the high ceiling hung five glass chandeliers that provided a dazzling light for the room. Adding to the brilliance, two gilt-framed looking glasses at each end of the ballroom redoubled the chandeliers’ glow. The whole of the ballroom was lined with Corinthian columns and entablatures resembling statuary marble.

Whenever she came here, May liked to imagine herself stepping back in time to ancient Rome—to a place where no one knew the circumstances of her birth or the abandonment by her parents. She’d spent many an hour reading about fantastic ancient places. Surely this ballroom rivaled any ancient Roman palace in its magnificence.

Yet no matter how comfortable the fantasy of faraway places and nameless heroes, May couldn’t allow herself the luxury of such dreams this evening, nor could she fade into the background. Her mission was clear. For her aunt’s sake, she had to please Mr. Tumblestone and convince him to agree to marriage with her.

She danced two country-dances with him and two more with her uncle. All the while her gaze raked the crowd. Her heart beat an unsteady rhythm as she continued searching.

“Whom ever are you watching for?” Aunt Winnie asked partway through the evening.

Until that moment, May had not realized that she had been craning her neck to peer through the thick crowd.

Whom indeed was she searching for? Certainly not that despicable Viscount Evers. Why ever would she be interested in him?

“No one, Aunt,” she said, forcing her eyes to keep steady on one point. “Why, there are just so many people here dressed in such a splendid array of colors.”

“Poppycock!” Aunt Winnie scolded. “Lying is so unbecoming, May. This night is no different than the week before, nor the week before that. In fact, these events are fast becoming quite a bore. Who has turned your head?”

“No one has.” May felt her face heat. “No one of import.” Definitely not the dashing Lord Evers.

“Mr. Tumblestone appears quite taken with you this evening, does he not?”

May caught herself before giving into the temptation of peering around the crowded room again. Although the viscount often attended, he rarely lingered long in the ballroom. For a rake like Evers, the card room better filled his needs. Certainly she wasn’t searching for the viscount, was she?

“Yes, he does,” she answered absently.

“And what do you think of him?” her aunt asked. “Do you think he would be able to make you happy?”

“No,” May answered thoughtlessly.

Did she spot the viscount’s square shoulder through the crowd? No, that gentleman with the stark black coat was Mr. Rankcor, a happily married London banker.

Aunt Winnie’s pursed lips and carefully set frown startled May back to reality. Winnie cared as deeply for May’s happiness as May cared for Winnie’s. And Winnie would willingly move to Redfield Abbey to live in luxury with her brother if she was confident that May was happily settled. If not for concern over May’s future, Winnie probably would have already agreed to let Uncle Sires care for her.

May fluttered her hands. “I mean, Aunt, I don’t really know Mr. Tumblestone, do I? He seems a very kind man.”

“He does.” Aunt Winnie sat back on her bench and peered out from half-lidded eyes. May felt as if her aunt’s gaze was trying to tease out the truth. “Marriage is an important decision, May. You would be wise to avoid doing anything rash.”

How could Aunt Winnie know that despite Mr. Tumblestone’s behavior being the model of propriety, May was already wracking her mind with plans to wiggle out of a marriage with him?

“I promise to consider all aspects of marriage before making a decision, Aunt.” She would have to marry Mr. Tumblestone . . . if only for Winnie’s happiness. No other man had ever offered.

“There is something you must know, dear.” Winnie leaned forward and whispered. “Before you make up your mind. You must understand—”

Mr. Tumblestone approached with a confident swagger. Winnie blushed prettily as she looked up and noticed his approach. Whatever May needed to understand must have slipped Winnie’s mind as she straightened her skirt and gave May’s suitor a welcoming nod.

Tumblestone smiled widely, his gaze lingering again on May’s embarrassing chest while he bowed. “The night grows late, ladies. It is nearly eleven o’clock. The last dance begins.” He offered Aunt Winnie his arm. “And yet, my dear woman, you have not yet danced a set.”

How kind Mr. Tumblestone was. How thoughtful of him to think her aunt in need of rescue. Aunt Winnie, who rarely danced a set since the onset of her illness, fluttered her hands and accepted graciously. She looked decades younger as she batted her lashes while accepting Mr. Tumblestone’s hand.

“Please be careful, Aunt,” May could not keep herself from warning. Country-dances contained vigorous moves. Winnie mustn’t overexert herself or her heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

“Oh, pooh! You worry overmuch. You’re no different than an old clucking hen sometimes. I daresay I’m strong enough to survive one mild dance,” Winnie said as Mr. Tumblestone led her out to the marble dance floor.

May settled on the wooden bench in the spot Aunt Winnie had vacated. Her gaze continued to search as she watched the last set of the night begin.

No prince appeared from the card room nor from deep within the crowd. Why should she expect him to? He never danced.

May swallowed hard and straightened her spine.

She was a fool, naught but a fool.