9. A Charming Rascal
A Charming Rascal
Arabella Marlstone’s drawing room was alive with the subdued hum of her fellow animal advocates.
They discussed a pressing issue regarding the increasing number of stray dogs in the district.
Most ladies were seated and provided with refreshments, while some gentlemen stood sipping their Madeira.
The group formed a haphazard circle about which they all took turns speaking.
“We must act swiftly,” declared Lady Arabella, who at that moment had everyone’s attention. “The conditions these poor animals endure are unacceptable. If only the magistrate would give his blessing to our scheme for a new refuge!”
“And funding,” added Mr. Bellamy, “that remains our greatest challenge.”
“Well, Mr. Bellamy, on that head, my goddaughter has been an inspiration.” She nodded to Lucinda, “Go ahead, dearest, tell them your idea.”
Lucinda, sitting on the outer edge of the room with Lord Creswell hovering close, raised her voice.
“I suggested to Lady Marlstone, we could organize a benefit event. An evening of music and charity, where we might rally support and gather donations. We had outstanding success down in Kent when we needed funds to rebuild the church spire after the fire.” Some dubious looks were shared amongst the group so she added, “Society is far more inclined to open its purse when the appeal is dressed in amusement.”
Mr. Bellamy was not inclined to support what seemed like a frivolous evening cloaked in the ideals of his serious endeavors. However, the women in the room felt differently and instantly chattered about the merits of the idea.
The butler then entered and announced: “Mr. Sinclair, ma’am.”
For the briefest second, Lucinda’s heart jumped into her throat before a greyhound bounded into the room. Her relief was immense, seeing only Miles on the threshold, looking affectionately at his canine companion.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Lady Marlstone, who was being nudged by Periwinkle.
“I must beg a moment’s patience; allow me to present the most spoiled dog in London and my nephew, Miles Sinclair.
” Periwinkle pawed at her skirts, demanding her attention, his antics drawing smiles from the assembled ladies.
“Periwinkle, you little rogue,” Lady Marlstone cooed, patting him.
“He’s utterly spoiled, you know. Tea cakes are his favorite treat, and I cannot help but oblige him.
” She rose to procure some and addressed the room.
“Dear friends, take a moment to refill your cups. We’ll proceed with the meeting shortly. ”
Lord Creswell looked on with mild irritation. “An energetic creature, to be sure,” he said, “though perhaps not ideal for today’s gathering.”
At that moment, Miles strode forward and scooped Periwinkle into his arms, grinning. “You here, Creswell? Don’t tell me you’re intimidated by my Peri! He’s far better company than half the gentlemen I’ve met at White’s. At least he doesn’t prattle on about his latest waistcoat.”
Creswell said nothing. Adjusting his cuff links, he smiled stiffly and walked off.
A muffled giggle caught Mr. Sinclair’s attention, and he saw a familiar young woman turn away. Unable to suppress her amusement, Lucinda’s eyes sparkled at Miles as she hid her mouth behind one dainty hand.
“Why, Lu, are you in town? Mother never sent word, or I’d have called in sooner.”
Lucinda stroked Periwinkle’s soft fur. “Miles, you ought not to provoke Lord Creswell so.”
“But I always tease Creswell, he expects it of me. When did you arrive?”
“Only two weeks ago. I’ve been summoned to assist Lady Arabella with her charity work.”
“And you believed her? She’s brought you up to marry you off more like.”
“I had my suspicions of course, but she knows I cannot yet entertain…that, uh, I’m not ready…that is to say.”
“Hmm…still thinking about your seventeenth, are you?”
“Please let’s not talk of it, Miles!” Her plea was accompanied by gray eyes full of hurt.
“Oh, aye, there’s enough tragedy to spare at these meetings.”
“Have you been to one of these before?”
“Can you doubt it? When Aunt Bella found her new purpose in life, she imposed on anyone she’d ever met to attend these rallies.
” He leaned closer to her in a conspiratorial manner.
“I don’t know how you stand it, Lu. The stories of all the abuses are just too depressing.
Decided quickly, I did, it was no place for me. ”
“And yet, here you stand.”
Miles gave her a look of mischief that transported her back ten years to her youth.
“When the footman told me Auntie was holding one of her meetings I knew Peri was needed, so I sent him in first.”
“Miles, you are quite beyond redemption!” Lucinda laughed. She cupped the greyhound’s little head and rubbed his ears. “It seems you’ve created the most charming of rascals.”
“Yes!” he said with pride. “And are not you grateful?”
“Miles,” called Lady Arabella from across the room, “do let Periwinkle enjoy his tea cake before we throw you out.”
“Of course, Aunt.” He set the dog down, who promptly trotted off in search of his treat. Miles turned to Lucinda, “You’ve enslaved Peri it seems and I’d wager you’ve done the same with Creswell, though I can’t imagine why you’d want to.”
“Miles, don’t be ridiculous, I’ve done nothing of the sort,” she said, shaking her head. “You will call again soon, won’t you?”
“Oh, aye. Now that I know you’re here, I’ll bring round Alex’s phaeton and take you for a drive in the park.”
“Oh I’d like that,” said Lucinda with a smile.
After Peri had gobbled his tea cakes under the doting gaze of Lady Arabella and her friends, Miles was presented with a lemon tart for his delightfully timed interruption and ushered out of his aunt’s drawing room. The conversation soon returned to the possibility of hosting a charity benefit.
That night found Lord Creswell pacing the length of his chamber, his thoughts circling with singular fixation upon Miss Harrington.
She was, in his measured opinion, the very embodiment of feminine excellence—a conclusion reached with the discrete revelation of the size of her eye watering fortune.
Further investigation had only burnished her appeal: she did not exceed him in years and that she had no obvious temper or deformity.
For a man of his standing, it was nothing short of providential.
Creswell, never one to dither where ambition was concerned, had settled the matter in his mind: Lucinda Harrington would become Lady Creswell.
Who could doubt his success? The Creswell name commanded respect; his address was unimpeachable; and his courtship—thus far comprising three tastefully extravagant floral tributes and a cameo brooch (chosen, he fancied, with exquisite discernment)—was the very model of propriety.
That a mere admiral’s daughter might overlook the honor of his suit was inconceivable.
Yet the arrival of that insufferable Miles Sinclair that afternoon had introduced a most unwelcome complication.
The memory of Lucinda’s unchecked laughter at Sinclair’s idle quips, her unseemly delight in that ridiculous greyhound of his, sat ill with Creswell.
What could she possibly see in a man who treated his cravat as an afterthought and squandered his evenings at the card table?
The fellow was all boyish charm and no substance—a fact any woman of sense ought to discern at once.
The thought that this upstart, a full decade his junior, might somehow usurp his place in her regard sent a prickle of outrage down Creswell’s spine. Surely Miss Harrington, for all her artless manners, was not so blind to the glaring disparity in their merits?
Pausing before the pier-glass, he adjusted his shoulders with a practiced tilt.
No, Sinclair would not triumph here. Creswell’s resolve hardened like cooling wax.
Tomorrow would bring a fresh barrage of roses—perhaps even lilies—and his attendance on her at every significant gathering would be inevitable.
Let Sinclair try his luck; Lucinda Harrington’s hand was a prize already earmarked.
The next morning found Miles at his aunt’s house, with an expression of the most melodramatic contrition.
He had a week since fallen prey to a dare of unparalleled idiocy—guiding his brother’s phaeton through a gateway more suited to a will-o’-the-wisp than a respectable vehicle.
The outcome was as one might expect: the vehicle now languished at the coach-maker’s, awaiting a fresh coat of paint.
As it was, it could not convey Lucinda on a turn through the park.
Filled with remorse, Miles proposed they take their exercise on horseback instead.
Lucinda proved as forgiving as she was adaptable, darting back upstairs to don her riding habit without hesitation. Meanwhile, Lady Marlstone made clear her reservations, despite her affection for all creatures great and small.
“You will ensure Lucinda is mounted on something suitable,” she instructed, her tone brooking no opposition.
“A placid animal, mind, fit for a lady. I trust you haven’t brought Alex’s frisky bays with you?
” Periwinkle, nestled in her soft lap, enjoyed an ear rubbing as Miles protested his innocence.
“Aunt Bella,” Miles said, settling himself opposite her, “do you take me for a reprobate?”
“I have a notion,” Arabella said airily, changing the subject. “You’ve affected our little Lucinda.”
“You know our history, Aunt. We’ve been friends since…well, since she wore pigtails and I could still climb trees without fearing for my dignity.”
“Friendship?” Lady Marlstone echoed. “Well, if nothing else, you’ve certainly lifted her spirits. Though I confess, I had rather hoped Lord Creswell might perform a similar feat.”