Chapter Nine
Another ball.
Another month with no word from Will.
And Rufus hadn’t been sighted in several weeks.
Clem curtsied to her current partner and murmured her thanks for the dance as he led her back to her mother. He smiled what she thought was a self-satisfied smirk, as he bowed then retreated towards the drinks table.
Had her inability to converse about anything beyond the weather made him consider her marriageable? A wife with no opinions of her own, who would agree with everything he said?
A shudder passed through her.
“Are you cold, Clementine? Why did you shiver just then?”
“I am well, Mama. It’s nothing.”
Mama raised her open fan and spoke from behind its cover. “Well then, what do you think of Lord Charles? Does he make your list?”
Clem didn’t bother to hide behind her fan. “I can barely tell you one thing he spoke about, but my toes are quite certain they don’t want another encounter with his boots.”
“Whatever can you mean? Lord Charles is not wearing boots. His pumps are most elegant with an interesting buckle of silver. Boots indeed. What nonsense you spout.”
“Well, they felt like boots when he stepped on my feet.” Clem heard the tetchiness in her voice and noted the furrowing on her mother’s brow.
No matter how much she missed Will, she shouldn’t be taking it out on her mother.
“I’m sorry, Mama. Perhaps I am just tired.
We have attended so many events this past month.
Do you think I could stay at home tomorrow night and rest? ”
“Are you sure it is nothing more than fatigue? Are you perhaps missing the attentions of a certain earl who has not been seen recently?”
“What earl—Oh, you mean Ruf—Lord Marsden. He is a friend, Mama, but that is all.”
Her mother’s face fell, and a soft sigh escaped, so unlike her mother that Clem’s stomach clenched.
“His attentions seemed quite marked before the news of the great victory over the little emperor. I had thought—”
Hastily, Clem added, “Lord Marsden has not shown a particular tendre for me, but I do enjoy his company.”
“He seems to enjoy yours. At every event he attends, he seeks you out. Hmm—” Her mother’s expression became thoughtful, and she leaned close to Clem.
“I believe your father mentioned something about Lord Marsden’s work for the government.
Perhaps he has simply been much occupied with the ending of this interminable war and is now assisting the Prince Regent with the many, many—”
Mama sighed, and Clem studied her mother’s face properly for the first time since news of the English victory had been emblazoned across every newspaper in the city. A hint of dark shadow lay beneath her eyes, and Clem thought the small lines at their corners had deepened.
Was she as exhausted by the continuous round of celebrations as Clem was?
Why couldn’t they just have one big ball to celebrate?
In one week, the Prince Regent would be hosting yet another victory celebration, which would be attended by all the heads of state in London.
And on June 7, the Russian Czar Alexander I, King William III of Prussia, Marshal Blucher, Prince Metternich, the Prince of Liechtenstein, and Prince Leopold would arrive in London.
Dinners, operas, and balls attended by every peer in the realm should be enough celebrating for everyone.
For herself, Clem wanted to mark only one special event—Will’s return.
Mama raised her chin and pinned Clem with a determined look. “Now that the war is over, he may have more time and inclination to consider taking a wife. You would make a fine countess, my darling.”
Despite Rufus’s offer of friendship, the thought of him as a husband startled Clem. No matter how handsome or kind he was, Rufus simply wasn’t Will. “He has never intimated such a wish, Mama.”
“Give it time, my darling. Men rarely think of marriage when there are battles to be fought. Now that our forces have been victorious, you should be able to turn his thoughts to settling down with you.”
Clem winced and turned away, her gaze drawn to the doors. As though Mama had conjured him through sheer force of her will, Rufus appeared at the entrance to the ballroom, fashionably late and—Clem had to admit—darkly handsome.
Catching sight of her, Rufus took a leisurely but clear path towards her and bowed. “Lady Basingthwaite, Lady Clementine, I hope you are both well?”
Aware of the envious glances turned her way, Clem curtsied. Any other woman would be delighted to be the object of his interest.
Any other woman is not in love with Will.
Before Clem could reply, her mother took control of the conversation.
“All the better for seeing you, my lord. We have missed your company and conversation in recent weeks.”
“Alas, work has kept me from attending any social outings. However, tonight I felt the need to seek both beauty and intelligent conversation. Who better than you and Lady Clementine to provide both?”
As much as her mother loved her father, Mama was not immune to Rufus’s charm, nor his skillful flattery. “La, my lord, how is it you have not yet taken a wife?”
“Lady Basingthwaite, were you not already married, I should rectify that immediately. However, with your kind permission, I should like to claim a dance with your delightful daughter, if there remain any unclaimed on your dance card?”
Clem glanced at the card, surprised to see it was full.
If only she had slipped his name beside even one of the dances in anticipation of his attendance.
Of course, it was Rufus’s fault that she was still sought after.
The attention of an earl guaranteed a woman’s dance card would be successfully filled at every event.
“I am sorry, Lord Marsden, but it seems I am fully booked for the evening. I would have greatly enjoyed the chance to chat.”
“In that event, may I call tomorrow and take you out in my carriage to the park? The flowers are looking especially lovely with this warm weather, perhaps in response to our victory in France.”
“I should enjoy that immensely, my lord.”
“Tomorrow at two, then. Lady Basingthwaite.” Rufus bowed.
Upon his departure, Mama tapped Clem’s arm with her fan. “See, Clementine, it was only work that kept him from you. You have an opportunity to engage his interest now as more than a friend.” As Mama turned away, Clem heard her softly muttering, “As though a man and a woman could be friends.”
The following day brought an afternoon storm of sufficient ferocity that Mama, intent as she was on achieving a match with the earl, refused to allow Clem to drive out with Rufus.
After he was shown into the drawing room, he seemed unsurprised when Mama offered her regret for the change of plan and called for tea while Clem made a last-ditch attempt to sway her mother.
“But Mama, it is so heavy the storm cannot last for long—” Desperate to gain some private moments to grill Rufus about Will, Clem was determined to go out.
A drive would give them the illusion of privacy while being on display to all and sundry.
If they stayed in, her mother’s presence would stifle any private queries, but Mama was intractable.
“No, Clementine, the only way to drive out in this weather is in a closed carriage, which rather defeats the purpose of going out to take the air. Don’t you agree, my lord?”
“As you say, Lady Basingthwaite, one cannot take the air if one is inside. Lady Clementine, let us defer our drive for today.”
Clem cast a meaningful look his way, which he returned with a raised eyebrow. Clearly, he had no intention of arguing in favor of a drive, and Clem conceded defeat. With two of them united against her, she had no chance.
Looking through the window at the blurred view of the street, she knew they were right, but it didn’t alter the fact; she was desperate for news of Will. Rufus would know that, of course, but he was better at playing the waiting game than she was.
As they exchanged pleasantries over tea and Cook’s delicious biscuits, Mama suddenly set down her cup and saucer and stood. “Oh my, please forgive me for a moment, my lord. There is a matter I forgot to mention to my husband, and he will be going out at any moment.”
Rufus graciously acknowledged that, indeed, urgent matters must be attended to without delay, but the gleam in his eye told Clem he knew exactly why her mother was leaving them alone.
Leaving the door open, she hurried out of the room. No amount of eagerness to see her daughter wed would allow that particular social rule to be broken.
As the sound of Mama’s footsteps faded, Clem sat forward and pinned Rufus with a look that demanded answers. “You do not have long. She will give us five minutes alone with the door open and not a moment more before returning to fulfil her maternal duty. Tell me quickly, what news?”
“He is well and eager to return home, but—”
“I had expected him home before now. The war has been over for two months, and Napoleon is where he cannot do further harm, so why hasn’t Will returned?” There was no good reason for him not to hurry to her side.
Unless . . .
A terrible sinking feeling dragged in her stomach, a thought so unthinkable she could barely utter the question in a voice stripped of all strength. “He hasn’t changed his mind, has he?”
“Changed his mind? Don’t be a goose, Clem. You know Will. Only the needs of his king and country could keep him from you.”
Relief hit her like a tidal wave, and she closed her eyes for a moment and drew in a deep breath, but she desperately wanted to know more.
“Tell me, what is it Will does that he cannot pen even a few words to me?”
Rufus’s gaze slid away, and she saw his chest expand as though he took in a long, slow breath.
Eventually, he sighed. “Even now, putting just a few words on paper could pose a danger to you if such a letter were intercepted. And if that happened, Will would not be able to continue the work he does.”
“I don’t understand.” She was tired of hints that had so little substance they were less than a puff of air. “Can’t you be open with me now?”
“I cannot tell you, Clem. Only that he loves you and misses you and will, at the first opportunity, hurry home to you.”
“It’s not enough.” Frustration leached into her voice, and her fingers curled until two unladylike fists lay in her lap.
“I know.” Regret infused those two stark words, but his stiff shoulders and tight jaw locked away further explanation.
In desperation, Clem hurled her final weapon. “Mama has set her sights on my winning you in the matrimonial stakes. I am almost at the age of being considered on the shelf! How can I continue to protect you if I don’t know what I’m up against?”
Rufus’s mouth twitched before he replied. “I am well aware of the situation, and despite your advanced years—” He quickly raised a defensive hand between them. “Your words, not mine.”
“You are my parents’ choice, in part because of my dowry. They know you are not a gold digger, and they are aware we have a solid friendship.” A tinge of bitterness infused Clem’s soft words.
“It is how our society works. Nevertheless, you are still considered one of the prizes of the season. To that end, may I suggest you encourage the attentions of several gentlemen equally? It will buy you time while seemingly fulfilling your duty to your parents.”
“And if one or more of those gentlemen offer for me?”
“You can refuse, of course. But if any suitor is more appealing to your parents than the possibility of an earl, or more persistent in his pursuit of you than you can manage, I will set a plan in motion.”
Mention of a plan made Clem sit up. She leaned closer and set a hand on his sleeve. “What plan? Tell me, Rufus, so that I may help.”
“Er, perhaps later. I believe I hear your mother returning.”
She pulled her hand from his person as though the touch burned.
It was difficult enough trying to convince Mama that Rufus was simply her friend, a concept her mother struggled to understand.
But the sight of such intimacy—touching him when they were not dancing—would give her mother firm grounds to press for their engagement.
But Clem felt a little more confident now that she knew Rufus was working on ways to keep her parents from pressing any one suitor’s cause. She sipped her tea, quiet while her mother chatted with Rufus until his visit ended.
As for the gleam in Mama’s eye when she turned from farewelling him, Clem trusted Rufus could evade whatever machinations her mother may have in mind.
Not that Rufus would be a terrible husband. She firmly believed he would be devoted to the right woman, but that was not her.
Praying for Will’s imminent return, she set about planning ways to extract whatever information she could from Rufus during their ride the following day.