EIGHT
Reath was exceedingly pleased with the way his friends’ plan had worked. The evening, he hoped, would be an exceptional one. Now he would finally be able to rectify not only the horrible mistake he had made in his youth, but cleanse his past reputation as well.
With Lady Darlington’s outward acceptance of him, the other high sticklers of the ton would have no choice but to also accept him. He would be in Lady Darlington’s company for much of the evening and surely would get a chance to ask her for her brother Lord Wynsham’s direction. And, as an added bonus to all this, he would be with the lovely Miss Whately. He hoped she would be as pleasant as she was on their last meeting, rather than rude as she had been during their first few meetings. Reath could barely keep from rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
He had not been altogether surprised that, when he presented himself at Lington House, Lady Darlington had been pale and clearly not well pleased with his escort. What had been rather more surprising, however, was Miss Whately.
He had believed Miss Whately to be striking when he had met her in Portsmouth. Then she had been dressed in her dowdy round traveling dress. He had thought her to be appealing even when covered in dirt after being thrown from her horse. And she had been delightful when he had met her on St. James Street, even dressed in her outmoded cloak and bonnet. But when he saw her that evening dressed in a fashionable evening gown, with her chestnut curls framing her sweet face, he forgot to breathe for a few minutes. She was incredibly beautiful.
Her white dress complimented her creamy complexion, and the blue overdress highlighted her large and engaging blue eyes. Her soft hair was pulled up in a complicated braid which wound around her head. And she had the same enticing smell of roses and lemons about her, which teased at his senses whenever he leaned close. She looked the picture of delicate feminine innocence, but with a flash of spirit that was all her own.
He managed to restrain himself so that he only lightly kissed the back of her hand when they met, but it was her beautiful pink lips that looked ready to be kissed. He stifled an overwhelming desire to pull off his gloves and touch the swell of creamy flesh that looked so enticing above the low neckline of her dress.
But he did not. He behaved as the model English gentleman.
As they left Lady Darlington’s home and again as they entered Lady Bantam’s ball room, he was surprised to realize just how good, how right, she felt on his arm. It was as if they were meant to be together. Reath quickly shook such fancies from his mind and concentrated on the evening to come.
“Oh my, oh my, oh my! Good evening, Lady Darlington. Lord Reath, what an honor it is to have you grace my little gathering,” Lady Bantam said, sweeping her hand to indicate the already overcrowded room.
“Good evening, Lady Bantam.” Reath bowed.
“May I present my cousin, Miss Sara Whately?” Lady Darlington said, an awkward smile plastered on to her face.
As Miss Whately curtsied, Reath wondered if she too was as nervous as Lady Darlington clearly was—or perhaps she was simply overwhelmed by her first introduction into society. She was being uncharacteristically quiet, and her smile was even less believable than her cousin’s. Miss Whately’s eyes darted here and there as she took in the magnificence of the ball.
Lady Bantam tittered. “I hear that you are determined to make a name for yourself even before you have been presented, Miss Whately.”
Miss Whately’s eyes snapped back to Lady Bantam, and Lady Darlington began to turn bright red.
Reath distracted Lady Bantam’s attention by laughing loudly. “Indeed, Lady Bantam. Poor Miss Whately inadvertently had a complete tour of Mayfair the other afternoon.”
Lady Darlington, too, forced out a laugh. “Lud, what a lark that was! The poor dear got totally turned around after looking in the window of Hatchards, and made a wrong turn while she was returning to meet me at the modiste’s shop. And the funniest thing was that I was right next door at Madame Dupres’s.” She leaned closer to their hostess and said, confidentially, ”It is her first time in London, you know.”
Lady Bantam gave Miss Whately a sympathetic look, while the young lady herself suddenly found the floor very interesting.
“And you, my lord, are the hero in this farce, I understand,” Lady Bantam said, fluttering her eyelashes in his direction.
“Oh, I can hardly call myself a hero, but I was happy to be of service to Miss Whately,” he said, noticing that Miss Whately’s hands were clasped tightly in front of her. She was clearly battling to keep her tongue in check.
“Well, she is certainly a very lucky young lady to be rescued by such a handsome, eligible man—and a viscount no less,” Lady Bantam gushed.
Miss Whately’s eyes focused once more on Lady Bantam as she lost the battle within herself. “Surely, ma’am, his title has no bearing on the matter. The point is that he is a friend and was kind enough to help me find my way back to my cousin, is it not?”
“Well, yes, I suppose,” Lady Bantam’s smile had become more forced, “but it is so much more pleasant that he is a viscount. He lends more countenance to you, and society is more likely to forgive you your mistake since Lord Reath sees no harm in it. Is that not so, Lady Darlington?”
“Indeed, Lady Bantam. I have been trying to explain as much to Sara, but she is from America and does not understand,” Lady Darlington said, shaking her head sadly.
“But I . . . ” Miss Whately began.
“Yes, of course. Lady Bantam, would you be so kind as to excuse us? I see some friends of mine I have promised to introduce to Miss Whately.” Reath deftly bowed to Lady Bantam while taking Miss Whately’s arm and leading her and her cousin away.
A glance in Miss Whatley’s direction made Reath nearly laugh out loud. She had pressed her lips together in an attempt to keep her rude retort from popping out. Reath silently applauded her attempts at good behavior and hoped that she would be able to keep it up for the rest of the evening.
Lady Darlington greeted the many avid stares of her acquaintances with an appropriate glare as they passed through the crowd as quickly as Reath could manage with decorum.
“That was very well done, my lord. You averted a potentially unpleasant scene,” Lady Darlington said quietly to him so that only he could hear.
He smiled down at her. “Yes. I believe I am beginning to get your cousin’s measure. She seems to have quite a temper, and a tongue to go with it.”
Lady Darlington flushed lightly. “I am afraid so, my lord. It is a typical Whately trait, I am afraid.”
“And I must thank you, my lady, for playing along as well,” Reath said.
“Yes, well, there was little else I could do.” Lady Darlington still did not look very happy, but she at least had not given the game away.
Sara was much too involved in looking about her to pay attention to the whispers of her aunt and Lord Reath. The room they were in was completely packed with glittering people. She had never seen so much finery before in her life. It was rather overwhelming. She felt so small and plain among the beautiful people of the beau monde. She knew herself to be looking exceptionally fine, but that did not stop her from feeling nervous.
Lord Reath led the two of them up to two gentlemen who were standing and talking by the far wall. They were similar in height, and both strikingly handsome with dark blond hair. But one was dressed in such a fashion that Sara was tempted to wonder how he could move. His light blue breeches were impossibly tight, his shirt points reached to his cheeks, a blue neckcloth was tied in an impressive knot around his throat, and his dark blue coat looked as if it had to have been sewn on to him, it fit so perfectly.
Sara felt even smaller and more insignificant next to such magnificence. The other gentleman was dressed very much like Lord Reath, with an understated elegance in black and white.
“Lady Darlington, Miss Whately, may I present my very good friends, Lord Merrick and his cousin, the Honorable Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps.”
Lady Darlington inclined her head graciously. “Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps and I have had the pleasure of meeting before. Lord Merrick, it is an honor to meet you.”
Sara was almost surprised when there was no ripping sound accompanying Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps’s bow as he managed to bend low over her aunt’s hand and then her own. Lord Merrick also turned his attention to Sara after properly greeting Lady Darlington.
“We hear you have recently arrived from America, Miss Whately,” Lord Merrick said.
“Yes, sir, but a week ago.”
“And how do you find our fair isle?” Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps asked.
“Very well. It is quite lush and green, but I have been in the country this past week and only just arrived in London a few days ago.”
“And already we have the honor of your presence at this gathering,” said Lord Merrick with a quick and easy smile.
“Lord Reath was kind enough to offer to escort us after I, er, got lost. He thought it best if my aunt and I were seen in his company this evening.”
“Don’t mean to say that you would rather not have been in his company, I am sure,” Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps said, raising his eyebrows to Lord Reath.
Lord Reath, too, was staring at her with one eyebrow raised.
“No, of course not, since the whole purpose of being with him is to fix my own mistake,” Sara said, shrugging her shoulders with indifference.
Lord Merrick and Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps both turned to look at Lord Reath, who looked nonplussed for a moment. He then laughed and said, “Well, I am honored that you accepted my escort toward that end.”
The other gentlemen laughed and Aunt Deanna turned slightly pink, but Sara did not see what was so funny.
Aunt Deanna was distracted by a friend of hers who pulled her away. Was it possible that she looked relieved? No, she must just be happy to see her friend, Sara thought to herself.
Lord Reath, in turn, moved away to greet a lady who was approaching them.
“You do realize, Miss Whately, that you are currently being envied by most of the young ladies present?” Lord Merrick said.
Sara looked around, and indeed there were quite a number of ladies looking her way. She also could not help but notice that the lady with Lord Reath was standing very close to him and smiling up at him in the most beguiling fashion. Lord Reath, in his turn, seemed to be enjoying the lady’s attentions a great deal, for he too was smiling and leaning down toward her. They would have had to be embracing to get any closer, Sara thought with disgust. She tore her attention away and forced her mind back to the conversation at hand.
“Envied? Why is that, sir?”
“Because Lord Reath is a gentleman who is much sought after.”
“Extremely eligible. Titled and rich—not to mention not all that bad to look at either,” Fungy added.
“Oh.” Sara supposed she should be impressed by this, but found that she simply could not muster up any enthusiasm for Lord Reath’s title and wealth. As for his looks . . . well, so what if he were by far the most handsome among those present, with his excellently fitting clothes making Sara all too aware of his superb physique?
Clearly, the lady he was speaking with had also noticed how handsome he was. Sara found that she was beginning to get rather annoyed at just how amusing Lord Reath was being as his companion laughed adoringly at something he said. He must certainly be a rake of no short order to be so utterly charming.
She remembered the warm looks he had given her earlier that evening when they had met at her aunt’s house. She had never been tongue-tied in her life, but when he looked deep into her eyes as he had kissed the back of her hand, she found that her mind had gone absolutely blank.
But now she thought she understood why he had kissed her hand and looked at her in that way. It was not that he was attracted to her in particular, it was that she was a woman and that was the way he behaved with all women. Disgusting.
There was an awkward silence as Sara tried to control her sudden anger. She tried once again to put Lord Reath from her mind and turned back to the gentlemen next to her.
“Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps, have you read the latest offering from Mr. Wordsworth?”
“Mr. Who?” Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps asked, clearly startled.
“Mr. Wordsworth—William Wordsworth.”
“He is a poet, is he not?” Lord Merrick asked.
“Yes. Are you not familiar with his work?” Sara asked. She had been sure that everyone in England would know of the great poets who resided within their shores.
“Poetry? No, never touch the stuff.” Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps shivered visibly.
Lord Merrick laughed. “Fungy is not one to read anything beyond the gossip columns,” he explained.
“You do not read? I have never heard of a gentleman who did not read poetry. Although I must admit, my experience with gentlemen is limited to my father’s friends, and they are all poets.” A man who did not read—this was an entirely new concept to Sara. “Do you read, Lord Merrick?” Sara asked, turning to that gentleman.
“I have been known to pick up a journal now and again, and I have read Byron’s poems, of course.”
“Oh, well, you must read Wordsworth, and Coleridge . . . ”
“Miss Whately, may I make a suggestion?” Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps interrupted her.
“Yes?”
“Unless you want to be thought a bluestocking, I would not go around asking people if they have read this poet or that.”
Sara looked up into his gently smiling face. She could tell that he intended his comment to be some good, kind advice, but she had no idea what he meant. “Please excuse my ignorance, but what is a bluestocking?”
The gentlemen looked startled.
“A bluestocking is a lady who prefers scholarly pursuits rather than social ones,” Lord Merrick explained.
“Oh. You say this as if it were something bad,” Sara said.
“It is,” the two gentlemen said in unison.
Sara did not know what to do. She was completely perplexed. She looked from one man to the other, at a loss as to what to say.
“I . . . I will try to avoid that then,” she said. “Thank you for your advice.”
But if she couldn’t discuss poetry, what could she discuss, Sara wondered. She looked over at her aunt, now speaking with Lord Reath. She did not look particularly happy with her conversation either.
Lord Merrick coughed loudly enough for Lord Reath to hear him and turn around. He looked from his friends to Sara and then excused himself from his conversation with Lady Darlington.
Sara gratefully traded places with him. “Why do you look so upset, Aunt? I do hope that Lord Reath has not said anything to disturb you?”
Her aunt looked startled for a moment, and then forced a smile onto her face. “Oh no! No, not at all, my dear Sara.” She paused and then added under her voice, “How very perceptive you are, indeed.”
She then brightened up, forcibly. “No, we were merely discussing . . . ah, er, a sad piece of gossip. Some poor girl who quite ruined herself by going off with a young man alone in a closed carriage. It was quite distressing to hear. That is why I was looking upset.”
Sara didn’t believe her aunt for a moment, but clearly she did not want to tell Sara about what she and Lord Reath had really been discussing. She could simply have said as much, Sara thought, instead of making up this faradiddle.
Sara turned and, for a few minutes, silently watched the people dancing in the middle of the floor. She had never learned how to dance. It looked like fun, with lots of pretty turns and some graceful steps. The dance ended and Sara watched the happy faces of those who had been dancing as they went off to seek refreshment or a breath of fresh air.
A gentleman approached a young lady standing nearby. He bowed as the young lady curtsied. They exchanged a few words and then, with the brightest of smiles, they both went off to join the others who were assembling for the next dance.
“Would you care to dance, Miss Whately?” Lord Reath’s quiet voice startled her out of her reverie.
“Oh. I . . . I would be most honored to dance with you, sir,” Sara said, copying what she had just heard other the young lady say. She curtsied and then placed her hand on his outstretched arm.
This should not be difficult at all, Sara thought, eagerly. She could simply copy what the other dancers did.
Keeping a close eye on the woman next to her, Sara attempted to do just as she did. Unfortunately, she found by looking around that she was supposed to be doing something slightly different. Not every couple was doing the same thing at the same time. Sara quickly realized that she was supposed to lead the second couple behind them, but she had no idea what she was to do.
Lord Reath looked at her oddly. “No, Miss Whately, it is you who are supposed to turn now,” he said gently. Sara turned, but went the wrong way.
“Take his hand first,” he said, directing her to the partner of the young lady standing next to her.
And then finally, he began to laugh. “Miss Whately, do you not know how to dance?”
Sara looked at him, completely frustrated. It had all looked so simple! But when actually called upon to do the steps, she just did not know what to do and when.
And now he was laughing at her! Sara swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.
Lord Reath took her elbow and directed her back to her aunt. Still laughing, he said, “Miss Whately, you only needed to tell me that you did not dance and I would have been happy with that. You did not need to attempt something of which you have no knowledge.”
“Sara, what was that?” her aunt said, pumping her fan vigorously in front of her face.
Sara looked from her aunt to Lord Reath. Looking down at her hands clenched in front of her, she blinked a few times rapidly to clear the tears that had sprung to her eyes.
“I am sorry, sir. It looked so much easier than it actually was. I am afraid I never learned how to dance.”
“Nor appropriate conversation, from what Fungy and Merrick tell me,” Lord Reath said, nearly laughing at her.
“Whatever do you mean, my lord?” Her aunt was clearly becoming more agitated by the moment.
“Apparently, Miss Whately attempted to speak to Lord Merrick and Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps about some poet or other she has read. Not a wise choice of topics, I’m afraid,” he said, directing this last statement to Sara.
“Sara, is this true?” her aunt asked.
“Yes. I did not realize that discussing poetry was inappropriate, but Lord Merrick and Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps were kind enough to point this out to me.”
“Oh, my dear! What did your father teach you?” Aunt Deanna asked, sounding rather disturbed.
“Why, nothing,” Sara said in almost a whisper, her voice suddenly refusing to cooperate.
Lord Reath burst out laughing. “That much is clear.”
Sara glared at her escort. She could not see what was so amusing in her mistakes. It was not her fault, nor her father’s, that she had had no time for such frivolities. She wished she could say as much, but she knew now was not the time for such confessions. So instead, she bit back her tongue and let her eyes convey her anger and hurt.
Lord Reath seemed to get the message quickly, for he stopped laughing almost immediately.
“No, my dear Miss Whately, you must excuse me, that was not well done. I beg your forgiveness,” he said, in the first display of seriousness she had seen from him all evening.
Her anger immediately dissipated. “It is all right, sir. I should not have attempted to dance when I do not know the steps.”
“I would be most honored if you would allow me to teach you,” he said, bowing to her.
Sara was touched. Not only had he immediately stopped laughing at her, but now he was offering to help her. He was indeed a very kind gentleman. “Thank you, sir. I very much would like to learn.”
“Yes, and so you shall. Although your offer was exceedingly gracious, my lord, I am afraid we cannot accept. I will hire a proper dancing instructor for Sara.” Her aunt sounded most definite on this matter.
Lord Reath looked at her silently for a moment and then nodded his head. “As you wish, my lady.”
“Now, Lord Reath, I will not monopolize you. If you would like to dance with some other young lady present, please feel free to do so,” Sara said, as another woman walked past them slowly, trying to catch her escort’s eye.
Lord Reath obviously had not seen her, for he looked quizzically at Sara and then bowed and went off in the other direction.
“Oh dear,” her Aunt Deanna said as she watched him walk away.