Chapter Four #2
He probably should have taken into consideration his light o’ love’s ability to distract him. He meant to have some wine and conversation and then be off. Before he knew it, his carefully composed neckcloth was off, along with the rest of his clothes.
An hour later, Annie had laughed as he struggled to re-tie his neckcloth and she’d finally arranged it for him.
She really did not understand the difficulties he was faced with in juggling his family and Lady Beatrix.
He must turn Lady Beatrix toward Lord Monroe, and at the same time he must look an innocent party to his family.
Especially his grandmother, who seemed to have no familial affection for him whatsoever.
His mother might think he was the best thing to happen to this world, but the dowager absolutely did not share in the opinion.
When he’d been younger, she’d lectured him so often that he used to run and hide when he spotted her out a window, steaming down the lane from the dower house.
He'd made his way to Almack’s very late.
It would not have been so late if he just wished to play cards, but very, very late to be put down on a lady’s card for the dancing.
He’d planned to be on Lady Beatrix’s card to accomplish two goals—satisfy his parents and grandmother and talk up Lord Monroe.
At that interminable dinner, she’d talked about shopping on Bond Street.
He planned to say that Monroe had spotted her in the distance that day and been positively bowled over, asking all and sundry who she was.
There was nothing a lady liked more than to imagine she had slayed a gentleman simply by her existence in the world.
Why the dowager had put him down for a dance before he’d even arrived was mystifying.
Now, Lady Beatrix had just had the unmitigated gall to refuse him. Who did she imagine she was? What he’d proposed, that the next gentleman on her card would give way, was perfectly reasonable. Whoever it was, she would not know him. She would not be engaged to him.
As it happened, it was Gresham. He was rather more upstanding than Lord Chester found interesting. However, he could have been made to give way.
Instead, Gresham had led the lady away.
The dowager stared at him. “Sit down,” she said.
And here we go with the recriminations.
“You have embarrassed me, and you have embarrassed Lady Beatrix. You have embarrassed your mother and father, though they are in the card room and therefore oblivious to this debacle. As they are oblivious to so many things.”
“I have caused an embarrassment? You are the one that put my name down before I’d arrived and that is what led to this awkward situation.”
The dowager ignored that comment, as she had never admitted to a mistake in her overly long life. “You left in good time to be able to see your sick friend and still manage to arrive here at the appropriate moment.”
“My horse threw a shoe.”
“Ah, I see. Is that horse named Annie Wister?”
Lord Chester’s breath caught. How in the world did she know about Annie?
“That’s right,” the dowager said. “I hear things, unlike your deaf and blind mother and father.”
“It does not do you credit to listen to gossip.”
“Then maybe you should stop causing it.”
He did not answer. There was little profit in extended arguments with the dowager and he was on the back foot after the mention of Annie.
As they sat there in silence, he reflected on the nerve of Lady Beatrix in refusing him. He did not want her, but nevertheless. He also wondered about how Monroe had got on. He’d instructed him to come early and get the opening dance. He must assume that he had.
As he was mulling over those ideas, he remembered he could not even get a glass of claret in this place.
Most of the patronesses would be in the gallery and he was certain they had wine up there.
They would not allow it down here, though.
It was one of their stupid rules intended to point out their power.
It said, “We will make this place as irritating as possible and you will still come.” He despised them all.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Corbyn had seen Lady Beatrix dance several times during the evening, when they were in sets nearby one another.
She really was very lovely to watch. She had a certain coloring he really preferred.
Her hair was chestnut and her eyes were brown, her complexion was lovely but not too pale.
It resulted in a soft and pleasing whole. She was an exceedingly graceful dancer.
But then, he could not miss that she’d sat out the third. It was very odd. That was meant to be Lord Chester, according to his dowager.
Then, just at the end of the third, he’d seen Lord Chester rushing across the floor and he could guess what happened.
Especially since Lady Beatrix was sitting with his dowager.
Somehow, Lord Chester, who according to the dowager, had been on his way, had taken some kind of detour.
The dowager had put his name down and he’d not turned up in time.
Had it been any other gentleman, Corbyn might presume he’d been unavoidably delayed.
Perhaps his horse had thrown a shoe and he’d had it walk it here.
If that were the case, the fault must be on the dowager’s side for precipitously putting his name down.
But he would give no such quarter to Lord Chester.
That fellow was so often up to no good that it must be assumed some mischief had delayed him.
Maybe he’d been with his actress. He really would not put it past Chester.
Whatever had occurred, Lady Beatrix was led away by Gresham and Lord Chester was left sitting with his grandmother. Corbyn did not think Lord Chester was on the verge of a very comfortable conversation, considering the dowager’s smoldering expression.
Now, he collected Lady Beatrix for his turn with the lady.
He’d danced with a slew of eligible ladies this evening.
They all had the right pedigrees, the right manners, the right looks.
Any one of them would make a credible countess.
And yet, his eyes kept drifting back to Lady Beatrix.
Aside from her looks, and she was lovely, there was something in her manner that he liked.
At least, from what he knew so far. Here was his opportunity to find out more.
It was time to discover if his instincts were leading him correctly.
The dance was to be a Boulanger, which left ample time for talking, then he would lead the lady into supper for more talking. Considering all of the opportunity he was to have to become better acquainted with the lady, he was determined to come to a conclusion.
He had solidified in his mind that he wished for the sort of marriage he had witnessed at his sister’s house. A marriage full of affection and merriment and everything good. He knew that not every coupling was so genial. He must not make a mistake.
“Lady Beatrix,” he said, as he led her to their place in the set, “have you enjoyed your first outing in society?”
He noted the faintest tinge on her cheeks and imagined she was reflecting back on sitting out the third. Perhaps he should not have mentioned it.
“I will admit to being very nervous in coming, but for the most part it has exceeded my most hopeful expectations,” she said. “For the most part.”
He was rather surprised she admitted to being nervous.
He imagined most ladies would be nervous about their first introduction, especially at Almack’s.
The patronesses would add an extra level of examination.
However, he had not heard anything like it this evening.
The ladies he’d danced with had various ways of describing the experience, mostly along the lines of it was heavenly and they had longed to come.
Seeming to note his thoughtful expression, she suddenly laughed. “Goodness, I think I rarely know the right thing to say. Was I meant to not be nervous?”
“Indeed, not. I think it is a credit to you that you speak the truth. I am not sure I have heard the truth very much this evening.”
“Perhaps other ladies were not as nervous, though,” Lady Beatrix said. “After all, they do not have a Miss Sprite at home. She filled me with terrifying ideas, not the least of which were the endless horrors of sitting out. I’m sure you saw that, everybody must have.”
“If everybody did notice,” Corbyn said, “they would have noticed who was the gentleman involved. Wherever the fault lands, it will not be to you.”
She gave him quite a sweet smile. It looked both happy and a little bit confused. Then the music struck up and they began the circle left.
Corbyn could not ignore that he felt something in having her hand in his. He liked it. He liked it very much.
They turned to circle right and after few turns landed back where they started. The top gentleman began his travels.
“Do you know what entertainments you will attend while you are in Town?” Corbyn asked. It would be advantageous to know the lady’s calendar.
“Oh yes, there is a family calendar set up in my mother’s writing parlor. Miss Sprite has been quite shocked by some of the entries. She did her best to argue against a particular…” Lady Beatrix paused. “It was something about poems, I could not work out what she had against it.”
Corbyn laughed as Lady Beatrix was turned by the traveling gentleman and returned to him. “I will venture a guess that Miss Sprite is fanning herself over Lady Thurston’s poetical tableau.”
“Yes, that was what it was called. She refused to tell me her reasons though. My mama says we must go as she has known Lady Thurston forever but she’s dodged it up until now.
My father, you know, he’s very political which makes him very busy.
Apparently, Lady Thurston sent a personal note to my mother and it would be uncomfortable if we did not go. ”
“And possibly uncomfortable to go, has been my experience.”
She looked at him quizzically.
“Let me just say that Lady Thurston has an interesting way of announcing the state of her personal affairs.”
Lady Beatrix nodded. “You do not have to tell me what you mean, I am generally kept in the dark about most things anyway.”
As Lady Beatrix was taken for another turn, he could not help thinking how delightful she was. He really did not know what she would say next.