Chapter One
Lady Beatrix Bell, daughter of the Earl and Countess of Copperstone, was strolling down Bond Street this particular morning with her younger sister Caroline and their governess, Miss Sprite.
Beatrix had recently renamed her relationship to Miss Sprite and she was now considered, at least by her, a companion.
Beatrix was out of the schoolroom and in Town for her season, she had no further need to be governed.
She walked particularly slowly at this very moment, as they were approaching the frontage of Gentleman Jackson’s boxing academy. She had been told that Lord Chester was a frequenter of the establishment.
Beatrix had not seen Lord Chester since she was shy of three years old, and she was not entirely certain she had a memory of it, or whether she’d invented a memory of it.
She had a vague picture of a fair-haired boy who laughed a great deal.
Regardless, she and Lord Chester had got on famously then, and they were practically engaged now.
Nothing official had been done about it, but it was something assumed by all involved.
She was nervous to meet him all these years later.
It had always been a set thing that they would be a match, and she’d been very satisfied with it, but now she was going to actually have to encounter him.
Things had been so comfortable when she could be curled in her favorite chair at home, just imagining it.
It had all gone so well in her imagination.
“Do you think he’s in there, Bitsy?” Caroline whispered.
“I do not know, but there is every chance he might be. How will I know him, though? I have not seen him since I was three.”
“That’s right, we might have walked by him already and we’d never know.”
“Ladies,” Miss Sprite said, “whispering on the street is not done.”
Beatrix smiled. Miss Sprite was a fountain of information about what was not done. She was a deal less effusive about what actually was done. As Miss Sprite did not like her whispering, Beatrix put her quizzing glass to her eye, as she had practiced at home.
Though she imagined it appeared very sophisticated, it did make her the littlest bit dizzy. It was odd for one eye to see things one way and the other eye to see it another way. She was certain she would grow used to it, though.
While she was attempting to appear a lady dripping with sophistication and savoir faire, Beatrix’s foot hit something hard and she tripped. She landed unceremoniously on the pavement. She’d managed to fall over a horseblock, and right in front of the academy too.
“Allow me to assist you, miss,” a deep voice said. Beatrix looked up. A very tall man with dusky hair and intense blue eyes smiled down on her. Please God, do not let this be Lord Chester.
“You are very kind, sir,” Miss Sprite said as the gentleman pulled Beatrix to her feet. “May we know your name? I should like to report this encounter in the fullest detail to my employers.”
The gentleman laughed. Beatrix was not surprised. If one was not acquainted with the ways of Miss Sprite, one might be amused at being interrogated like a criminal.
“Very proper of you, ma’am, I applaud it. Corbyn Ainsworth, the current Earl of Harrelston. I presume your employers, whoever they may be, will not be alarmed to hear it.”
Beatrix let out a breath. It was not Lord Chester. Thank heavens it was not Lord Chester!
Miss Sprite gave Lord Harrelston the once-over. “You seem respectable.”
“I can assure you that I am.”
“Everybody will say that, but I will choose to take you at your word,” Miss Sprite said. “My employers are the Earl and Countess of Copperstone. This is Lady Beatrix and that is Lady Caroline. I am Miss Sprite, the girls’ governess.”
“She is my companion now,” Beatrix said hurriedly. “Miss Sprite remains my sister’s governess.” Gracious, how many times had she asked Miss Sprite to say she was a companion?
The gentleman bowed. “Lady Beatrix, Lady Caroline, Miss Sprite. Charmed. Now, on to more practical matters. Are you injured, Lady Beatrix?”
“No, indeed not,” Beatrix said. “Though it seems my dress has not come out of it unscathed.”
“Dresses are replaceable, people are not.”
Beatrix was certain Miss Sprite was frowning over that idea.
She smiled at him. She liked this gentleman.
She wondered if they were all so nice. She had not thought they would be.
Her neighbor, Lady Mellon, had told her that London was brimming with haughty gentlemen who were far more impressed with themselves than they had a right to be.
Lady Mellon blamed Mr. Brummel for their condition, as he had perfected the art of feigned haughtiness and disdain.
“Do you know Lord Chester?” Caroline blurted out.
“I am acquainted,” the earl said.
Beatrix wondered at his tone. It sounded a bit dismissive. Then another idea entered her thoughts, and it was not a good idea.
“Lord Harrelston,” she said, “if you would not mind it, could you not mention to anybody that I fell on the pavement?”
“Beatrix,” Miss Sprite said warningly. “One does not tell a gentleman what he can and cannot speak of. Furthermore, no proper gentleman would breathe a word of it.”
The earl laughed again and said, “Consider me a proper gentleman, Miss Sprite. I’ve seen nothing.”
“Very gracious,” Miss Sprite said. “We will take our leave of you, your lordship. Our carriage will be waiting and Lady Beatrix’s dress is too soiled to carry on. We thank you for your courtesy.”
Beatrix was hurried away and she did not dare turn to look back lest she fall over something else.
In the carriage, Caroline said, “Bitsy, I think you might fall all the time if you keep on with that quizzing glass. It does not seem to agree with your eyes.”
“I will grow used to it,” Beatrix said. “Mama quite agrees with me. Ladies of the ton all wear a quizzing glass and use it to effect.”
“It seems impractical, though. Why should people go round falling over horse blocks?”
“Ours is not to question the opinions and styles of the ton,” Miss Sprite said.
“I do not see why not,” Caroline said stubbornly. “Especially when something makes no sense.”
“And that is why you still need a governess,” Miss Sprite said, folding her hands on her lap to indicate the debate was over as far as she was concerned.
“All I say is, Bitsy might have liked to not fall at Lord Harrelston’s feet. He was very handsome, I thought.”
“Indeed, he was,” Beatrix said. “He is tall and he has fair hair, which I have always favored. And then his features are very regular.”
“He has very fine features. Dark blue eyes and he was smiling a lot. Good teeth.”
“Oh yes, I do think I noticed the teeth, also.”
“That is quite enough,” Miss Sprite said. “I do not think Lord Chester would be very approving if he overheard such a conversation.”
Miss Sprite was very generous with what Lord Chester’s opinions would or would not be for any and all occasions.
Beatrix raised her quizzing glass and looked out the window as their carriage trotted through the streets toward Grosvenor Square.
She very much wished to grow used to it so she might use it to effect without falling over something.
Perhaps for now she ought to only use it when she was sitting down.
Lord Harrelston really was very handsome. As well, he was the first gentleman she had met in Town and there was something thrilling in that. Of course, it was no matter. She was practically engaged to Lord Chester so other gentlemen ought to be ignored.
She had nobody to impress but Lord Chester, and that gentleman was coming to dine, along with his parents, this very night.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Corbyn watched with amusement as Miss Sprite marched down the street with her charges like a general leading her forces forward. He supposed she was the pinnacle of governesses—starched, upright, scrupulous, abrupt, and not at all bowled over by a lord.
As for her charges themselves, Lady Beatrix was even more amusing than her governess, who it was understood was now her companion.
She was a comely lady, yes, very pretty indeed and there was something in her manner that he liked.
He was rather touched that she’d asked him not to tell anybody that she’d fallen.
He never would, what a stupid thing for a gentleman to gossip about, but it was endearing that she revealed her worry over it.
The one thing that had seemed strange, though, was that he was fairly sure she was not very experienced with using a quizzing glass and had held it up for effect, rather than to get a closer look at anything.
She’d fallen over a horseblock, which was hard to miss otherwise, as it was not exactly a very small impediment.
He supposed she would not be the first lady willing to stumble all over London in some attempt to appear haute.
He hoped it was just a silly wishing to be approved of, rather than a hallmark of conceit.
He was interested to know more about her. He supposed he would see her out and about at various entertainments. She would likely attend Almack’s.
This year, more than years past, he had come with an interest to wed.
He had his eyes far more open in regard to looking for a suitable lady.
He could not say how it had happened, exactly.
When he’d readied himself for the season, the idea had come upon him.
He’d been thinking of spending his time in Town as an unattached gentleman.
He thought he would be at cards at his club and racing his carriage, fencing and boxing.
That’s what he’d done every other year. The thought suddenly had a heaviness to it. A boredom to it.