CHAPTER TWELVE
In the few days remaining before their maiden voyage to Almack’s the ladies of Mount Street enjoyed a morning visit from Miss Robbins and her mother.
The three girls chatted brightly about the gowns they planned to wear on this momentous occasion, while their elders tried to fill in the gaps that existed in the years since their previous association.
The young ladies also received proforma calls from two of the gentlemen with whom they’d played cards at Lady Bentley’s party.
Both expressed the desire to inscribe their names on the girls’ dance cards for their initial ball, which was decidedly flattering.
Laura still found making small talk with near strangers a trying experience, and she was profoundly grateful to her cousin for the bright chatter she produced, seemingly effortlessly, that covered her own inadequacy in this arena.
It was quite different with Lord Exton, who called twice in the interim.
Laura was not even aware of thinking about what to say to her mother’s old flame, whose sensible conversation and ease of manner made his company so agreeable.
A true gentleman, naturally he would not have ignored the young ladies, whatever his private preference, but he conveyed a warm-hearted interest in their activities that erased generational differences.
Lord Hastings was announced just as Lord Exton was taking his leave one morning; in fact, Laura, who had been questioning him about Henry’s relations with his new tutor, was at his side when Jimson entered the saloon with the baron, stopping short an arm’s length from the engrossed pair.
For an instant Laura’s startled eyes met those of Lord Hastings before he refocused on Lord Exton with an inscrutable expression that suddenly made him seem like a stranger.
“Are you gentlemen acquainted?” she blurted, disconcerted by something alien in the atmosphere.
“I believe you introduced us at Lady Bentley’s,” Lord Exton replied, smiling gently. “It is a pleasure to see you again so soon, sir,” he murmured, still with a smile on his lips.
Lord Hastings executed a punctilious replica of the older man’s bow, but in lieu of echoing his sentiments, stepped back hastily. “I beg your pardon, sir. I’m afraid I am blocking the doorway. I believe you were about to take your leave of Miss Marsh,” he suggested blandly.
“Regrettably, yes.” Turning, Lord Exton extended his hand to Laura, who placed hers within his warm clasp. “Goodbye for now, Miss Marsh. I shall hope to have the pleasure of standing up with you soon at Almack’s.”
“Y … yes, of course. Good day, sir.” Laura dipped a little curtsy, her eyes briefly following his departure behind the butler, who had remained a mute but interested spectator to the extended leave-taking.
She inhaled deeply, straightened her spine and turned reproachful eyes on Lord Hastings — or, rather, the spot where that gentleman had been standing.
He was already greeting her mother and cousin with accentuated deference as Laura resumed her seat, thus depriving her of an outlet for her indignation at what she could only term his churlish behaviour toward Lord Exton.
For the next several minutes she sat mumchance while a lively three-cornered discussion flowed around her, sparked by a question from Sophia about what to expect during an evening at the hallowed venue of Almack’s.
Laura was not taken in by the air of eager compliance the baron was exuding at present as she regarded him from under narrowed lids.
The easy affability she’d come to associate with him had been entirely missing a moment ago in his response to Lord Exton’s friendly greeting.
She had not been mistaken, although she suspected this little playlet was intended to convince her otherwise.
Men were such irrational creatures with their stiff-necked pride and moodiness, she concluded with a mental shrug.
A beseeching look from her mother at her continued silence prompted Laura to fix her features in an expression of rapt attention.
She must have overdone it, for Annabelle’s soft mouth firmed, causing her semi-penitent daughter to drop her eyes as she struggled against the unseemly mirth bubbling into her throat at this charade.
Actually, she was interested in learning about Almack’s and its awe-inspiring patronesses whose imprimatur was considered so vital to one’s social career. Forewarned was forearmed, after all.
Long before the time elapsed for the duration of a morning call, Laura had forgotten her earlier irritation at Lord Hastings for his odd behaviour toward Lord Exton.
He had kept them in a constant ripple of amusement with entertaining stories of social mishaps, most of them with himself as the butt.
His attentions had been impartially bestowed and his company equally enjoyed by the three ladies.
Laura was therefore totally unprepared to have him turn to her as he was about to take his departure, saying with the air of one suddenly recalling a trifle that had temporarily slipped his memory, “By the way, Miss Marsh, this might be a good opportunity to set a date for our outing before you and Miss Albright are besieged with claims on your time, which will certainly be the case once you’ve graced the scene at Almack’s. ”
“Our … outing?” she repeated, the blankness of her mind perfectly reflected in her countenance.
“Why, yes,” he replied pleasantly, apparently unfazed by the slight implied in her lack of recall.
“We agreed to conduct Aubrey to the top of St. Paul’s, contingent on your mother’s permission.
” Turning to Mrs. Marsh with the smile that was his most potent weapon, he said, “You would have no objection to such a harmless excursion, would you, ma’am? ”
“Well … I … isn’t that awfully high?” stammered Mrs. Marsh, looking appalled.
As well she might, thought Laura, having by now recovered from his lordship’s masterful ambush.
“Surely such a climb would be beyond a child’s strength, and exhausting to any female?
” her mother finished in a stronger voice.
“As for that, Aunt Annabelle,” Sophia chirped, “I must tell you that my little brother is equal to anything; he’s the most indefatigable child imaginable. Of course I would not presume to speak for my cousin…” Her voice trailed off and she dropped her eyes to her hands loosely clasped in her lap.
Laura was thinking that Sophia at her most demure was a force to be reckoned with when Lord Hastings said smoothly, “Your delicacy does you credit, Miss Albright, but at the time of our visit to St. Paul’s, Miss Marsh assured me of her confidence in her ability to make the climb.
I’m told the view from the top is breathtaking.
Perhaps if Mrs. Marsh does not object to the plan, we might persuade you to join us? ”
Sophia gave a realistic shudder. “I thank you, sir, but no view short of the pearly gates could overcome the revolting prospect of sharing a vertical tunnel with the spiders and vermin that doubtless abound there.”
The baron smiled at the sparkling girl regarding him with a challenge in her dark eyes.
“In the light of my inability to guarantee a total lack of insect life, I see that I should never have presumed to invite a young lady of gentle birth on such a … a perilous expedition,” he said in humble apology.
“As my cousin intimated, sir, she does not presume to speak for me, and I had already taken into account the height of the church and the likely presence of spiders, so if my mother permits and the sun is shining to guarantee the view, Aubrey and I will be happy to join you tomorrow afternoon.”
As Mrs. Marsh’s bemused gaze drifted from Sophia’s ill-concealed glee at her cousin’s predicament to Laura’s rigidly composed features and on to Lord Hastings’ face of quiet triumph, she suppressed the maternal urge to rescue her child from her own folly, which she recognised as a measure of her trust in this young man whom she’d liked from the start.
“Well, I can think of more pleasant ways to spend a sunny afternoon,” she declared briskly, “but I see no harm in the activity, and the view should indeed be rewarding.”
“If I were a schoolboy again, I’d say you were a real trump, ma’am, but the sobriety of advancing years dictates that I merely give you my assurances that I shan’t permit Aubrey or Miss Marsh to overtax their strength.”
“And you may be sure that Aubrey and I will take Lord Hastings’ advancing years into account when we set the pace.
” Laura addressed this saucy remark to her mother, who clucked her disapproval while the maligned gentleman merely grinned in a style reminiscent of Aubrey, this giving the lie to allegations of approaching senescence.
“If I may offer a suggestion, cousin,” Sophia said sweetly, “For an expedition of this sort, you might wish to wear the pelisse and bonnet in which you travelled to town.”
“A capital notion, Sophie, thank you,” Laura replied gratefully, removing any lingering doubts in her cousin’s mind that the country-bred girl was indeed indifferent to fashion.
Mrs. Marsh disciplined a smile as Sophia’s shot fell short. She turned to receive her guest’s adieux, her customary graciousness augmented by the smile she reserved especially for him.
When Jimson had shown the baron out, Sophia tilted her head and widened her eyes at her cousin. “Aren’t you going to dash upstairs to inform Aubrey that his dearest wish has come to pass?”
“I’d love to, but I believe Mr. Trent is still here at this hour,” replied Laura, glancing at the mantel clock, “so I shall have to contain my impatience like a perfect lady.”