Two Corinthians (5 page)

“Claire, you must not interrupt his lordship’s conversation with Elizabeth,” scolded Lady Sutton. “I despair of ever teaching you the niceties of social intercourse. Pray excuse her, my lord, her head is forever in the clouds.”

George began a protest, but Claire was borne off willy-nilly. As he turned back to Lizzie, dismissing her lacklustre sister from his mind, he heard Lady Sutton’s piercing whisper. “Did you not see, ninnyhammer, how he took her hand?”

Lizzie’s whisper, on the other hand, was nicely judged for his ears alone.

“Let us pretend,” she said with a wicked sparkle, “that you are in truth courting me. Then it will be one in the eye for Mama when you leave without coming up to scratch.”

His lips twitched but he said severely, “Where did you learn such vulgar expressions?”

“From my brothers, of course. Do say that you will do it, it would be beyond anything great.”

“You have a vindictive mind, Miss Elizabeth.” George was grinning openly now. “Very well, I will fall in with your infamous scheme, since you have already deflated my fragile ego by telling me you have no desire to impress me. Ah, dinner is ready, I believe. I wager your mama means you to go in on my arm?”

Her dimples were delightful. He had no aversion to staying a few days to hoodwink her ladyship.

Lying in bed that night, as Slade bustled about setting his clothes to rights, Lord Winterborne tried to make sense of his reactions to Lizzie. She was amusing company, yet he had had many an amusing flirt before and she was unlike any of them. Though she was at least fifteen years his junior, she was no schoolroom miss, yet she had a childlike enthusiasm and innocence which reminded him of his niece, Isabel.

Avuncular, that was how he felt. Like an indulgent uncle, or perhaps an older brother, for after all he was only fifteen years or so older.

The thought of Isabel brought Danny to mind. A contented smile spread across George’s face as he dwelt on his brother’s new happiness. Then he sat bolt upright.

“The devil!” he groaned.

Slade jumped. “My lord?” he enquired nervously.

“Never mind. I have just put two and two together and come up with an answer I cannot like. Are you finished in here? Good-night.”

“Good-night, my lord.” The valet bore off his lordship’s boots for blackening, shaking his head in foreboding.

George, too, shook his head in foreboding.

His hostess had announced at dinner that the family was to dine with neighbours, the Carfaxes, on the morrow. Lady Caroline Carfax’s letter of invitation had mentioned that her brother was visiting, and it had naturally included the Suttons’ guests, if any. Lady Sutton, looking smug, hinted that Lord Winterborne might find in the brother some competition for Elizabeth’s attention.

This had not worried George since his pursuit of the young lady was not serious. But it had just dawned on him who the brother must be.

He knew Lord Carfax slightly from his London club. He had met Lady Caroline a few times in Society, but she was a year or two older than he, and he did not know her well. She had been married before he went on the Town, and whatever his faults he did not poach on other men’s preserves; Danny’s life had shown him too clearly the damage that could be done.

From Danny to Isabel to Isabel’s little school friend, Louise Carfax. The trail led inexorably to Louise’s uncle, Bertram Pomeroy, whose betrothed Danny had stolen out from under his nose. Lord Pomeroy could not be expected to be overjoyed to see his successful rival’s brother. Moreover, Louise had broken her arm while in Danny’s care, so that Lady Caroline was equally unlikely to extend a warm welcome.

George looked forward to an uncomfortable evening. He even wondered whether, discretion being the better part of valour, he ought to cry craven and run.

No, he had promised to aid Lizzie’s scheme to discomfit her overbearing mama, and he wanted to see again the mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes. It was odd, then, that the last thought he had before he dropped off to sleep was of grey eyes—dreamy, distant grey eyes which looked through him as if he were not there.

Chapter IV—Bertram

“I wish I had not allowed you to talk me into meeting your eccentric Miss Sutton,” growled Lord Pomeroy to his sister.

“You cannot hide behind Miss Hartwell’s skirts any longer,” she pointed out. “I do not understand how a diplomat—and a buck of the first stare!—can be so bashful at making the acquaintance of an inoffensive young woman.”

“I am not bashful, merely suffering in anticipation of an evening of intolerable boredom.”

“Hush, now, here they come.”

A glance in the mirror over the fireplace assured Bertram that his blue coat clung unwrinkled to his broad shoulders and his cravat, in a spirit of irony tied in a
trône d’amour,
was perfection itself. He turned an imperturbable face towards the door.

“Sir James and Lady Sutton,” announced Braithwaite. “Miss Sutton, Miss Elizabeth Sutton, and Lord Winterborne.”

Bertram did not hear the rest of the names, nor notice the lady his sister intended him to woo. His shocked gaze was fixed on the face of the one gentleman above almost all others that he least desired to meet. Lord Daniel’s brother!

Lady Caroline bustled forward with a warm welcome, followed more staidly by her husband, giving Bertram a chance to regain his composure. He greeted Sir James and Lady Sutton with punctilious, if abstracted, courtesy, carried through the introductions by his innate good manners. His bow to the young ladies was elegant, his smile charming, his attention elsewhere.

“Servant, Winterborne.”

“Pomeroy,” the older man nodded acknowledgement.

    Bertram noted with annoyance Lord Winterborne’s expression of sympathetic understanding. With all the self-possession at his command, he looked him in the eye and “I trust your brother is well?”

   “I believe so,” responded Lord Winterborne with noncommittal cordiality. “Have you recent news of your niece?”

Lady Caroline interrupted. “I forgot to tell you, Bertram, my poor little Louise broke her arm. She is back at school, and I received an excellent report of her recovery from Miss Hartwell. Oh dear!” She looked flustered as she realised that that name was best not spoken in present company.

“Pray introduce me to the rest of your guests, Caroline,” requested Bertram in a perfectly steady voice, turning to two young men who hovered nearby.

He quickly wrote off the young Suttons as a popinjay and country bumpkin respectively. It was beneath him, however, to put on a display of aristocratic superiority. For several minutes he civilly responded to their remarks on tailors and hunting the Shires, until each accused the other of boring him.

At that point he excused himself, murmuring something about paying his respects to the Misses Sutton. He left them staring at him in astonishment, united in the conviction that their sisters were unworthy of his attention.

If there was any family resemblance, he thought, then they were right.

Winterborne was talking to the younger girl, a pretty blonde. Judging by their laughter, she was the kind of flirt he abhorred. Miss Sutton was sitting by herself, turning the pages of a book of prints with an abstracted air. Her appearance was unexceptionable, if colourless after Amaryllis’s vivid beauty. Still, he could not expect everything, as Caroline had pointed out, and she had a quiet dignity which pleased him. He went to sit beside her, all too aware of his sister’s approving glance.

The book was one he had given to Caroline upon his return from Italy. “I fear woodcuts, however artistic, do little to convey the picturesque charm of Venice and Florence, Miss Sutton,” he said with a smile.

“No?” she asked warily.

He launched into a description of the beauties of the cities of Italy, interspersed with amusing anecdotes of his diplomatic travails in that country. She listened for the most part without comment, but occasionally she asked an intelligent question and she smiled in the right places. He was feeling quite in charity with her, when he noticed that he had lost her attention.

Following her apprehensive gaze, he saw that Lady Sutton was glaring at her. The glare changed to an ingratiating simper when her ladyship realised she was observed, and she promptly approached them.

Her daughter’s face closed as if a shutter had slammed shut.

“Claire, whatever are you thinking of to monopolise Lord Pomeroy so selfishly! You have allowed him no opportunity to speak to Elizabeth.”

“I assure you, ma’am, it is by my own choice that I remain at Miss Sutton’s side.”

She looked at him disbelievingly. “You will find my younger daughter an enchanting creature, my lord,” she persisted. “Elizabeth, pray come here at once.”

Bertram turned with a shrug of apology to Miss Sutton, only to find that she had risen and was drifting away aimlessly. He noted that she was tall and slender, like Amaryllis, but really, her behaviour was distinctly odd.

Miss Elizabeth was looking rebellious, as if she had every intention of ignoring Lady Sutton’s request. Then Winterborne whispered something in her ear. She smiled, nodded, and moved to join her mother.

Lady Sutton immediately made an excuse to leave Bertram and Elizabeth together. Bertram wondered whether she was unaware that Winterborne was the better catch.

No, doubtless she meant to play them off the one against the other. She would catch cold at that, for he had not the least intention of dangling after the younger daughter and was far from certain that the elder was any more to his liking.

He reminded himself that the alternative was the Marriage Mart.

“I beg your pardon, my lord,” said Elizabeth.

He looked at her blankly, certain that his reminder had not been muttered aloud. Was the whole family fit for Bedlam?

“For wanting to cut you,” she explained in a friendly fashion. “Lord Winterborne said it would be shockingly rude in me to refuse to speak to you only because Mama commanded it. When someone orders you in such a way, does it not make you want to do precisely the opposite?”

“It is many years since anyone has ventured to attempt it,” he said drily.

“Of course,” she sighed, “you are a man, and a nonpareil into the bargain.”

“Who told you that?” Despite himself, he was pleased at the coveted accolade.

“Lord Winterborne said that you are an out-and-outer, which means, I collect, that you excel at sport. And I can see for myself that you are slap up to the echo. Your dress makes Lord Winterborne look casual and my brother Edward like a positive counter-coxcomb!”

Bertram laughed. He might have suspected flattery, but there was no guile in her blue eyes, nor would a calculating young lady have announced her desire to snub him.

“I shall not be so unreasonable as to hold you responsible for your brother’s aping the dandy set, Miss Elizabeth. Your own dress is vastly becoming.”

“You exaggerate, sir, but it is not too bad for a Banbury seamstress, I think.” Lizzie looked down complacently at her new blue muslin. “Mama would have had it flounced and ruffled, but Claire ignored her instructions. She said simplicity becomes me better.”

“She is perfectly correct.” Bertram was surprised, since Miss Sutton’s own gown was a shapeless beige creation giving little hint of her figure beneath.

“Claire is always right,” said Lizzie with conviction.

Before he could follow up this intriguing remark, dinner was announced. He knew Caroline intended him to sit by Claire, but Lady Sutton somehow contrived that both he and Winterborne took in Lizzie, while her sister trailed behind with her brothers.

Conversation at the dinner table was unexceptionable and dull. Sir James’s only topic was horses, and though his wife had two subjects, they were household management and the brilliant achievements of her three sons. Stuck between her brothers, Claire sat in silence, and even Lizzie seemed subdued by the proximity of her parents.

At last the ladies withdrew. Though his brother-in-law’s port was excellent, Bertram was ready to follow them after a single glass, hoping to further his acquaintance with the young ladies. However, the Sutton males were impervious to hints. Their sole collective aim in life appeared to be to see the decanters emptied of every last drop of ruby liquid. Restrained by good manners from leaving without them, Bertram sat fuming with impatience.

He could only be grateful that Lord Winterborne was comparatively careless of the dictates of good breeding. After a muttered exchange with his host, that gentleman rose to his feet.

“Coming, Pomeroy?” he asked without further explanation.

They left the topers to the unfortunate Lord Carfax.

“The advantage of being heir to a marquis rather than a mere earl,” commented Bertram lightly as they made for the drawing room.

“The advantage of knowing from experience that in the morning they will remember nothing of this evening, not even my lack of courtesy,” George said, grinning. “I gathered from the increasing blankness of your expression and shortness of your answers that you wished to join the ladies.”

Bertram’s response was guarded. The last thing he wanted was to find himself in competition with Lord Daniel’s brother. “The Misses Sutton are unusual young ladies,” he proposed. “You have known them long?”

“I first met them a fortnight since, when I came to purchase a hunter. You must come over and give me your opinion of him. As for your opinion of the ladies, yes, they are unusual. Miss Lizzie is delightfully unaffected.”

Bertram swallowed a sigh of relief. If George was taken with Lizzie, that left him a free field with Claire.

“I have it on the best authority that Miss Elizabeth is an enchanting creature,” he said drily.

“Her mother, I take it. Devilish vulgar woman, and bullies them both unmercifully, or tries to.”

Lizzie was seated at the pianoforte, playing a Mozart minuet with a deft lightness of touch, while Claire turned the pages for her. The gentlemen went to join them at the instrument. When Lizzie finished the piece they provided polite applause, and she rose to sweep a grand curtsy, laughing.