Twelve

The surprises in store for Anne were not all to be as pleasant as the first sight of Jason in his evening clothes had been. But at least the early part of the evening turned out beautifully. Jason, athough he ignored or forgot many of her instructions, seemed to do very well indeed. In fact, before the early dinner party had ended, it was clear to Anne that Lord Mainwaring was on his way to making a spectacular success.

Ostensibly, the guest of honor at the dinner party Lord and Lady Dabney held before the start of the ball (an intimate gathering of twenty-four diners, consisting of several members of the Dabney family and a few special guests) was the dowager Duchess of Richmond, but the guest who received most of the attention was the new Viscount from America. Lord Mainwaring drew all eyes the moment he entered, and the eyes rarely left him. When he was brought by his host to meet the guest of honor, the Duchess remarked in her piercing voice that the fellow certainly was “a big ’un.” She promptly asked the Viscount the question which everyone was wont to ask and which he was fast learning to dread: “Heavens, my lord, are all American men so tall?”

“Shucks, your grace,” he replied promptly, “this ain’t tall. I’m nothin’ but a runt back home.”

Anne froze, expecting a shocked silence, but Jason’s quip was greeted by loud guffaws from the gentlemen, giggles from the ladies and an appreciative snort from the Duchess herself. The Duchess demanded his arm for the march to the dinner table (an honor which should have been given to her host, Lord Dabney, but which that neglected gentleman took in good part) and addressed most of her remarks to Jason all through dinner. The other guests vied with each other for his attention, asking him questions about America and hanging on his answers with flattering concentration. Lady Dabney’s daughter, Amanda, clearly smitten, asked him coyly what he thought of English ladies as compared to American. “I find all ladies appealin’, ma’am,” he said, as the others fell silent, listening in fascination to his response. “Of course, American girls don’t look quite so slim as you English ladies.”

“Do you mean,” the girl persisted, “that American girls are … er … rounder?”

“Well, they appear so, I think. Their dresses don’t seem to cling so closely to their forms. You English girls dress to look slim and make the men look ’round.”

Over the roar of laughter that greeted this sally, Anne distinctly heard the Duchess remark to Lady Dabney that the new Mainwaring was a wit.

By the time the dinner guests rose to go upstairs (for the ballroom, on the upper floor, was beginning to fill with newly arriving guests), Anne and Lady Harriet were light-headed with relief and gratification. Jason’s success at dinner had been greater than either one of them had hoped. “Wasn’t he marvelous?” Harriet whispered to Anne as they left the dining room. “He’s bound to be the hit of the evening.”

“Yes, I think he may be—if only he doesn’t spoil it all by saying something too outrageous or tripping over his feet on the dance floor,” Anne acknowledged.

“Then take him aside and warn him,” Lady Harriet suggested and, with a smile to Lord Dabney who had come alongside her, took his arm for the climb up the stairs.

Anne caught up with Jason before he’d started upstairs and drew him to the shadows behind the stairway. “I just want to compliment you. You are doing beautifully, my lord,” she whispered.

He cocked a suspicious eyebrow at her. “Butterin’ me up, ma’am? I’m well aware that I said ‘shucks’ at least twice.”

“I’m surprised to have to admit to you, sir, that no one seemed to mind that in the least. In fact, I believe they like your barbarous American tongue. Now, if you’ll but remember to dance only the simplest of the country dances and to refrain from making any outlandish remarks when you’re introduced to the Prince, I think we may brush through this evening very creditably.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Do you think so, ma’am?” he asked, his tone rather cool. “I reckon—I mean I suppose that is high praise, comin’ from you. What sort of outlandish remarks do you think I’m likely to make that I should avoid?”

The expression lurking in the light-eyed, penetrating gaze he fixed on her face caught her attention. But she couldn’t read it. “I think that if you merely answer ‘yes, your highness,’ or ‘no, your highness,’ to any remark the Prince makes, you’ll be certain to make no slip.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” he said drily and turned to go. But the expression in his eyes troubled her. Was he disappointed in her in some way? Or had she offended him?

She caught his arm. “Is anything the matter, Jason?”

“No, nothin’,” he answered shortly. “Nothin’ at all.”

She searched his face, vaguely troubled. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I had only hoped—” But he stopped himself.

“Hoped—?” she prodded.

His piercing look discomfitted her. “I’d hoped, ma’am,” he said wryly, “that by this time you’d have learned to feel some confidence in me.” He turned and went quickly up the stairs, leaving her staring after him in rather breathless and shamefaced confusion.

In the ballroom upstairs, the twenty-five musicians were already playing, and several couples were circling the dance floor. Lady Dabney’s balls were always lavish to the point of ostentation. Thousands of candles glittered and twinkled, their light caught by the crystal prisms of the chandeliers and scattered in shimmering pinpoints all around the room. Liveried servants poured bubbling champagne into hundreds of glasses arranged on a number of refreshment tables. And streaming into the room in large numbers were the new arrivals, dressed in rich silks and velvets, sporting jewels and gold ornaments and adding to the air of opulence.

By the time Anne had recovered herself sufficiently to make her entrance, Lord Mainwaring had already taken a place on the dance floor, very properly squiring the daughter of his hosts, Miss Amanda Dabney. Anne found a chair near her stepmother and sat down to think; she needed a moment to mull over the meaning of Jason’s remark. But she could not concentrate. She found her eyes riveted on her pupil on the dance floor. The figures of the country dance which they were performing were not difficult, but even so, Anne noted with surprise that Jason was executing them with remarkable aplomb. Her pupil was indeed a credit to her tonight, she thought, and she should certainly feel proud. But she didn’t feel proud—it could not have been she who had taught him to dance like that!

Before she could solve what was beginning to seem like a puzzle, she became aware that someone was standing before her. She looked up to find Arthur smiling down at her. “Good evening,” he said happily. “I had hoped to see you here. Will you stand up with me for the next dance? The sets will form in a moment or two.”

The sight of Arthur Claybridge always made her heart flutter. Any girl’s would. He was, as usual, the handsomest man in the room. His black evening coat set off his blond locks to advantage, and the grace of his carriage and the sweetness of his smile were enough to drive away the confusing depression which had settled upon her spirits since her bewildering conversation with Jason behind the stairway.

Anne gave Arthur her hand, and they walked slowly toward the dance floor. “I thought your mother objects to your standing up with me,” she reminded him.

“I don’t care,” he said boldly. “I haven’t seen you in more than a week, and I can’t pass this opportunity by. Speaking of that unpleasant matter, however, reminds me that Lady Harriet may scold you for this. I don’t wish to cause you unpleasantness. Shall I go away?”

“I doubt that Mama will even notice us,” Anne declared with a touch of resentment. “Her whole attention is fixed on Lord Mainwaring this evening.”

As the new sets formed, Anne noticed with surprise that Jason had joined the set with Cherry on his arm. The dance was a boulangêre, which required figures that Jason had never sufficiently mastered. With a sinking heart, Anne whispered a warning to Cherry to help him as much as possible. As the music began she offered a little prayer that Jason might not disgrace himself.

During the dance, she could not observe Jason well. Not only was she forced to pay attention to her own performance, but she had to converse with Arthur as well. He was attempting to use their meagre time together to discuss their plans. Anne tried to follow what he was saying, but the movements of the dance and her own attempts to see how Jason was performing prevented her from comprehending. “Please, Arthur,” she pleaded at last, “let’s talk about this later, when we can find someplace out-of-the-way in which to sit down and converse properly.”

At the dance’s end, Cherry, breathless and in high color, confided to Anne that Jason had managed the steps quite unexceptionally and had, at the same time, kept up a lively—indeed a flattering—conversation with her which she had very much enjoyed. “Really, Cherry?” Anne mused. “I can’t understand it. I know that I was not so gifted a teacher as to have caused results like this!”

Arthur, noting that his mother was watching him from the sidelines, and not wishing her to fall into a state of apoplexy, relinquished Anne to a portly dandy named Percy Livermore for the next dance, promising to return to her side as soon as possible. But the dance had scarcely begun when it stopped abruptly. The musicians broke into “Rule, Britannia,” and the Prince Regent entered the room. He was followed by his entourage, a large group which included such notables as his brother Frederick, the Duke of York, and Lord and Lady Hertford.

Lord and Lady Dabney hurried to greet him. While they made their effusive obeisances, the entire assemblage formed two lines across the length of the room, leaving a wide aisle down the center. The Prince proceeded slowly down the aisle, acknowledging a friend here, kissing a lady’s hand there, stopping to exchange pleasantries with his cronies or pausing to permit his host to introduce him to those whose acquaintance he had not made.

The Prince could, when he wished, behave with cordial familiarity, and this was one of those times. This sort of assemblage (where the surroundings were opulently tasteful and the guests glitteringly elegant) was the very thing he enjoyed. He beamed heartily as he walked down the line. As he approached the place where Lord Mainwaring was standing, Anne noticed with chagrin that Jason was accompanied by the obnoxious Alexandra de Guis. Lexis was looking breathtaking in a gown of silver gauze over green silk that clung so closely to her figure that Anne knew her petticoat had been damped.

The Prince was quite tall himself, and he took particular note of the stranger in the room who stood taller than he. “And who is that young giant?” he asked his host.

When the introduction had been made, and Jason had stepped forward and executed a faultless bow, the Prince smiled at him warmly. “So you are the American Viscount I’ve heard so much about. They tell me you’re a bruising rider. I should like to ride with you one day.”

“I should be honored, your highness,” Jason answered comfortably.

“Tell me, Mainwaring, are all you Americans so tall?” the Prince asked inevitably.

“Yes, your highness, we are,” Jason answered with a twinkle that caused Anne (who knew that look meant mischief) to hold her breath in dread. “We have to be, you know.”

“Have to be?” the Prince asked, puzzled.

“Yes, indeed, your highness. If you British continue to molest us on the high seas, we shall have to trounce you again, so we encourage any and every physical asset in our men—even exaggerated growth such as mine.”

There was a moment of shocked silence while the Prince stared blankly at Lord Mainwaring. Then he burst into hearty laughter. “I say, Mainwaring, that’s good!” he boomed jovially. “That’s very good indeed.”

The rest of the assemblage was now free to join in the merriment, and while they gave way to their laughter, Anne breathed a sigh of heartfelt relief. But her ordeal was not over, for the Prince was not through with Jason. He became serious and fixed a sharp eye on the Viscount. “Were you trying to suggest, sir, that America intends to engage us in another war?” he asked interestedly.

“Well, your highness, as to that, I can’t say. I don’t believe America wants war. President Madison is trying hard to avoid it, being gifted with the two senses (beyond the usual five we all have in common) which Americans have in abundance but which, if you will forgive me for being blunt, I haven’t noticed as being very evident in the British character.”

“Is that so?” demanded the amused Prince, recognizing the humorous glint in Lord Mainwaring’s eye. “And which two senses are those?”

“Horse and common,” Jason responded brazenly.

The Regent roared, and all the onlookers joined in. Those people not close enough to hear pressed forward and asked the more fortunate ones to repeat the story, and for several minutes laughter continued to sound around the room. “I like this fellow,” the Regent announced to his retinue, putting his arm around Jason’s shoulder. “Do you play cards, old fellow? Let’s go off to the card room and test that common sense of yours.”

As the Prince and his circle made for the card rooms, with Jason in tow, Lady Harriet and Anne exchanged glances that spoke eloquently to each other their intense relief and sense of triumph. Jason’s success was assured.

Some time later, Arthur found an opportunity to escort Anne to a small sitting room off the ballroom where they might have a moment of seclusion. There he sat down beside her on a sofa and faced her eagerly. “At last we can converse,” he said urgently. “I’ve thought of nothing all week but your news that Lord Mainwaring has agreed to support us. Anne, I cannot like it. It goes against my nature.”

“I’ve thought about it, too, my dear, and I think you are being over-nice,” Anne said placatingly. “To accept his support seems to me the wisest thing we can do.”

“It is the weakest thing we can do,” he replied earnestly. “Can’t you see that my being so greatly beholden to another man for my wife’s—and even my own—support would be abhorrent to me?”

Anne looked at him with dawning comprehension, then lowered her eyes to the hands folded in her lap. “Oh, Arthur,” she murmured, shamed, “you are so good! I begin to think that you are much too good for me.”

Arthur took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. “You are being gooseish, you know. But I’m pleased that you are beginning to understand how I feel.”

“But, Arthur, if we refuse Lord Mainwaring’s offer, what are we to do?”

“I’ve told you. Only say yes, and I shall write to Shropshire and arrange to take the vicarage.” Noting the look of dismay that came into her eyes, he leaned toward her urgently. “Please don’t look so downcast, love. You will be happy there, I promise! What would we give up by leaving London which can possibly compare with what we shall gain by having each other? This life is all so shallow and meaningless, after all. What are balls and parties and the whole social whirl but activity for superficial minds? In Shropshire, we shall have simplicity, and peace, and good works …”

“Oh, Arthur, I don’t know …”

“We haven’t time for further vacillation, my dear.”

“Please, Arthur, don’t say any more. I must think—!”

At that moment, Lord Mainwaring appeared in the open doorway. “Ah, there you are, ma’am,” he said cheerfully. “I’ve been searchin’ for you. I hope you’ll pardon this interruption, Claybridge, but I’ve not had one dance with my dance-instructor. I believe they’re goin’ to play a waltz. Will you stand up with me for this one, ma’am?”

“A waltz?” Arthur asked, shocked. “You must be mistaken.”

“No, he may be right, Arthur. Amanda told me that her mother might be persuaded to dare. After all, this is not Almack’s. Waltzing is not so terrible, really it isn’t. Many people are beginning to learn it, and it’s become the rage in Paris.”

“I think it’s a shocking display,” Arthur declared in disapproval.

“Not at all,” Anne argued. “I’ve tried it myself, several times, and have found it an enormously pleasant experience. But, Lord Mainwaring, you cannot perform the waltz without a great deal of skill and practice.”

“Why don’t you chance it?” Jason urged. “It’s danced even in America, you know.”

Anne laughed. “Don’t let your success this evening go to your head, my lord. Until you’ve had more experience in the ballroom, you should avoid a dance of such difficulty. I don’t believe you’re quite ready for it.”

“I see,” Jason said quietly, his smile fading. The strange, disappointed look that had troubled her earlier came back into his eyes. “Well, then, please forgive me for interruptin’ your conversation.” With a short bow, he was gone.

“How strange,” Anne said, puzzled. “He almost seemed …”

“Hurt,” Arthur ventured. “I think his feelings were hurt.”

“But … he could hardly have expected me to prance around the floor with him in a dance he doesn’t know!”

“And such a vulgar dance, too. At least so it seems to me. However, you might follow him and promise the fellow the next country dance. After all his goodness to you and your family, it would not be kind in you to give him pain.”

“Oh, Arthur, you are truly too good for me,” Anne sighed. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and ran after Jason.

The waltz had begun, and the guests had crowded around the floor to watch the few couples who were courageous enough to perform the daring new dance in public. Anne’s eyes searched the crowd, but Jason was not to be seen. Then she turned to watch the dancers. There he was—he was waltzing! She moved to the edge of the floor to have a closer look. There in the center of the floor, with the beautiful Lexie in his arms, Jason was twirling around with an expertise and grace remarkable in so tall a man. The two of them looked magnificent together, and even those onlookers who disapproved of the intimacy of the dance could not help but admire the picture they made.

Anne’s blood turned cold as the realization burst upon her that she’d been tricked. Jason knew how to waltz! He had known all along—and all the other dances as well. He had handled himself with easy confidence all evening. Why, he had probably never required her instruction for anything! It had all been a trick—a trick to make a fool of her! The blackguard had let her believe he was a bumpkin from the wilderness, when all the while he’d been as comfortable and at ease among the ton as if he’d been born to it! He’d been laughing to himself all along. And not only at her but at Harriet and Peter as well! Her throat began to burn and her knees to tremble. He was a deceitful, dishonest, fraudulent wretch, and she wanted nothing more than to slap his arrogant face!

“For a fellow who doesn’t know how to waltz,” Arthur’s amused voice came from behind her, “he is certainly doing well.”

“I don’t need you to point it out to me,” Anne snapped at him. Arthur, startled at her vituperative tone, gave her a stricken look. Anne immediately regretted her words. “Oh, dear, I didn’t mean … I’m sorry, Arthur.”

“Is anything amiss, my dear?” he asked her gently.

Anne was very close to tears, but she couldn’t permit herself to make a scene. What she wanted more than anything else was the privacy of her bedroom. “Will you t-take me home, Arthur?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice steady.

“Of course, if you wish. But do you think it wise to leave now? Lady Dabney will think it strange if you take your leave before supper is served. I believe people are starting to go down to supper now. We need stay only a little while longer.”

At that moment the waltz came to an end. Anne watched as Lexie laughed breathlessly up into Jason’s face. The Viscount tucked her arm in his and, still laughing, they headed for the stairs which led down to the lower rooms where the supper tables had been set. Although they passed within inches of Anne’s position, neither of them noticed her, so absorbed were they in their intimate raillery. Anne’s fingers curled into tight little fists. What a perfect pair, she thought with furious venom—the Detestable and the Deceitful! Let him have her—Jason and Lexie deserved each other.

She bit her lip and turned to Arthur. “I don’t feel much like eating now,” she said in a carefully controlled voice. “Why don’t you go down without me? I see Cherry sitting over there with her mother. Why don’t you offer to escort them?”

“But I don’t wish to leave you. I have no great desire for supper either,” he assured her.

“I think you’d be wise to leave me for a while. If your mother takes notice of the time we’ve spent together this evening, she’ll be bound to serve you a severe tongue-lashing when you return home tonight.”

Arthur looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Is something wrong, Anne?”

“No, of course not. I merely think we must be particularly careful at this time not to bring difficulty upon ourselves.”

“Very well, then, I’ll do as you say. But will you permit me to escort you home later?”

“I don’t think so. Don’t look so distressed, Arthur. I was hasty in asking it of you. If I must wait until after supper, I may as well leave with Mama.” She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and walked quickly away.

When she neared the door, she looked round to make certain that Arthur was safely occupied with Cherry and that no one else had taken notice of her, and she slipped out of the ballroom and down the stairs. She ordered her cloak from the footman stationed at the front door and quickly ran out into the street.

The night air was quite cool, and the sounds of the city were hushed and remote. Even the music and the din of revelry coming from the Dabney house behind her sounded muted and far away. She raised the hood of her cloak and began to run, trying to flee from the feeling of humiliation and confusion which threatened to overcome her. But as she ran, the tears began to flow, and by the time she arrived at her own doorstep her eyes were stinging and red, and there was an ache in her chest which could not be explained by her physical exertion alone.