Ready to face the wolves, my dear?”
Richard smiled his most reassuring smile at Teresa. He thought ruefully that he could have done with some reassurance himself. It had been too long since he had ventured into a society event. And though Lady Cowper’s political soiree was not exactly the sort of gathering that he had normally attended, he was very conscious that it was a crucial first step towards his ambitious goal to restore his own social standing as the Merry Marquis, and, through that, the reputation of his betrothed.
“As ready as I will ever be, my … my lord,” Teresa said, while twisting her reticule strings around her long fingers. This familiar mannerism made Richard realize that she was close to panic, and he took a firm hold of her elbow as they walked in to the lovely Georgian townhouse.
“Miss Seton, Lord Merrick! How wonderful to see you both. I am so glad that you could join us this evening.” Lady Cowpe took Teresa’s arm, her smile of welcome dazzling. Then, inclining her raven-curled head at Richard, she added, “My lord, I know that you can manage for yourself. Miss Seton, please come this way. There are some people I would like to introduce to you.”
Neither Richard nor Teresa had a chance to say anything before Teresa was gaily whisked away by their most efficient hostess. Richard nearly went running after them at the look of terror Teresa shot him, just before she was swallowed up by the crowd. Only Lady Cowper’s calming look at her guest kept him where he stood. She was obviously aware of Teresa’s fears and would do her best to help. He trusted Lady Cowper. He needed to.
For himself, Richard looked around for a familiar face. There were a few men with whom he had a nodding acquaintance, but most were unknown to him.
His hostess was known to invite a motley group of people to her soirees. They could be from any class of society, as long as they possessed keen minds and an interest in the affairs of the day. There were sallow-faced dons, a cabinet secretary or two with their regal wives, soldiers both retired and in service, and a group of young bluestockings who were deep in conversation amongst themselves.
Richard sighed, and made his way slowly to the nearest knot of people. Political drawing rooms had never been a fascination of his, nor of Julia’s.
Julia. This was the first time he had been out in society since Julia had died. He had never really thought about how much he had depended upon her. She had been the beautiful complement to his own dashing looks, the charm to his wit.
And now, she was gone.
Mentally, he shook himself. He could do this. He could go on without Julia. He had to. For Teresa’s sake. She was counting on him to help her find a husband.
His mood lightened slightly at the absurdity of the thought and of his situation. He was going to be Teresa’s husband. Yet, he had promised to help her find a man she could love and who returned her affection. He, Richard, certainly did not fit the bill.
Well, he had to do his part. As he joined the nearest group, he forced his mind to focus on the topic being discussed.
“No, it won’t last. The French rabble had no great love for the poor king,” the man to Richard’s left said with great authority.
“You think not? I heard they cheered him like mad,” said the man on his right.
“Oh, yes, they will cheer anyone who comes through the gates. But just you wait, the people won’t let things just return to the way they were.”
Richard assumed the two were discussing the return of King Louis to Paris. Since Napoleon had abdicated less than a month ago, he was sure it had been the most common topic for discussion. There was nothing new that anyone would have to say, and Richard certainly did not have anything novel to add. He moved on.
He passed by three other gentlemen who were arguing loudly about the American situation. Next was a woman holding forth on the horrors of climbing boys. Her rather bemused audience was an ancient in a wig and diamond-buckled shoes. Amused by the tableau, Richard stopped to listen to her diatribe.
“And so, my lord, I say to you once again, the horrors of mistreatment that is endured by the climbing boys must be stopped and stopped immediately,” she finished, as if concluding a major oration to Parliament, rather than a discourse to an audience of one.
“Indeed, but then what will happen to the boys? Will you just leave them on the street to starve?” Richard asked, mildly.
The woman turned, and then looked down her nose at him. “That, sir, is impertinent.”
“Not at all. It is a valid concern,” Richard said, trying not to take offense at her self-important manner, “And one that must be addressed before any legislation is passed. It would be fine if we establish schools to equip the boys to make a decent life for themselves. But if, madam, you are simply advocating abandoning them to the squalor from whence they come, then you are doing them no service at all.”
The woman was held speechless for a moment, but then waded back into the argument. “Indeed, but do you not think that it would be better to fight one problem at a time?”
“If you are going to fight for the one, perhaps it would be best to fight for the other as a complete solution,” the elderly gentleman took up Richard’s line of reasoning.
Richard lapsed into a comfortable silence. Listening to the two debate back and forth, he caught pieces of conversation others around him as well.
He was amazed at the level of sophistication of the discussions. This was at a much higher intellectual level than anything he had ever imagined would take place at a political salon.
He suddenly thought of Teresa, and how upset she had been the last time she had gotten into a political discussion with someone. Poor girl! She must beside herself with worry about making a faux pas. His own uneasiness at being in a social situation vanished as he thought of his betrothed.
Richard excused himself from the argument still raging on in front of him. He had to find Teresa.
The room he was in was not very large, but there were quite a lot of people in it. He moved quickly from group to group looking for her. Growing a bit anxious, he strained to remember the direction Lady Cowper had taken when she had whisked Teresa away.
He walked into another drawing room, even larger than the first. Once again, he moved as fast as possible through the crowd, both looking for her and listening for her voice. She was not anywhere to be found.
Richard truly began to worry. He wondered if she had said something tactless, or had simply been too overwhelmed and had sought refuge in the lady’s withdrawing room. A picture came to his mind of her sitting all alone in a room somewhere, crying into her handkerchief.
He redoubled his efforts to locate her. There was no way that she would be able to deal with the intellectual acuity that was present in these over-crowded rooms. Poor Teresa was certainly out of her league here.
He was just about to give up, and try instead to find a lady to look in the withdrawing room for him, when he heard Teresa’s voice. It sounded as if it were coming from the far corner of the room. Richard had glanced there earlier, and had only seen a group of gentlemen standing in a tight knot. He had not even stopped to listen to what they were discussing.
He moved toward the group, listening again for Teresa’s voice. And then he heard it.
“Lord Southerner, do but consider. A Parliamentary appearance would help all the soldiers. Do you not think that someone would be willing to do that for his own good, as well as for the good of others?”
Richard recognized Southerner as a formidable debater he had met during his occasional visits to the House of Lords. His pulse quickened in anticipation of the devastating riposte that was sure to come. Yet, Southerner stroked his chin in thought, and then reluctantly agreed. “Perhaps one could be found.”
Richard caught a glimpse of Teresa from between two of the men surrounding her. He slowly let out his breath as he noticed that she did not seem to be in any difficulty.
Watching her from the edge of the group, he realized that, in fact, she seemed to be enjoying herself. Her eyes were sparkling with enthusiasm and she somehow seemed to be using her whole body to convey her point. Her animation reminded Richard of how she looked when she played the pianoforte. He stopped listening to what she was saying, and just watched her.
She was beautiful.
He moved closer to join the group, suppressing the strong urge to pull Teresa from her admirers and drag her home.
To his own home, he realized with a jolt. And what would he do with her once he had her there? The memory of her lips on his just a week ago sent his blood racing through his veins.
Her innocence, mixed with a startling passion, had almost undone him. The intrusion by her aunt and Lady Jersey had come at just the right moment. Otherwise, he was not too sure that he could have stopped himself from doing something that they both would have regretted later. As it was, his body still tingled at just the thought of kissing Teresa once again.
He dragged his mind away from the feel of Teresa’s lips and tried to concentrate once again on what they were saying.
Another of the gentlemen was speaking at the moment. “But I say, make the spokesman a peer. A commoner would not have the strength of character to face down the entire Parliament.”
Teresa considered this for a moment, furrowing her brow. She nodded, but then changed the focus of the argument. “Yes, a nobleman, then—but because the lords would see one of their own in such difficulties and, just perhaps, would feel some compassion.”
Richard was impressed with her reasoning. So where was the shy young woman his friends had told him about? Or even the awkward and stammering woman he had picked up earlier that evening from Lady Swinborne’s house? Here before him he saw nothing but vitality and confidence. This was a woman who knew her mind, and who could persuade others to her own way of thinking through eloquence and logic.
“Do you not agree, Lord Merrick?” Lord Southerner asked, drawing Richard further into the group.
Richard, busy with his own thoughts, had completely lost the thread of the conversation. “I am afraid I must support Miss Seton in this matter, sir,” he said diplomatically.
Southerner clearly felt his case was lost. He bowed with a loud creak of his stays and withdrew.
Richard took the opportunity to extract Teresa from the knot of gentlemen so that she might get a breath of fresh air. It was unfortunate, but many of the people present clearly had not begun to prescribe to the modern style of cleanliness. The smell had grown overbearing.
Teresa smiled brightly at Richard as he gently led her toward the open French windows. “Thank you for supporting me.”
For a smile like that, he realized with a start, he would do nearly anything. He became conscious that he was simply staring at her. He quickly curved his lips to return her smile and bowed. “I did nothing. It was you and your arguments that won them over. You are very eloquent, my dear.”
“Oh!” A pretty pink color stained her cheeks. “I… ah… thank you, Richard.”
“I must admit to you that I was a little worried. I have heard that you’ve been having some difficulties at parties. Did your aunt not say something about you hiding behind potted plants?” he said, teasing her a little.
Teresa turned bright pink. “Er… yes, she might have.”
“But you’ve had no such problems here.”
“Oh. No. Well, I suppose it is because I need not watch what I say so closely here. The purpose of being here is to discuss politics, so it is less likely that I will make a faux pas than if I was at a ball.”
He leaned against the window. “Yes, I understand. But if that is the case, then when at a ballyou simply need to remember to not discuss politics. Then you would not need to worry about making a mistake on that account.”
As a footman passed by, Richard took a glass of lemonade for Teresa and for himself.
She drained half of it before continuing. “But if I do not talk about politics, what can I discuss? I am afraid that my mother was quite correct. I have no polite conversation.”
This was said in such a matter-of-fact way that Richard felt like shaking some sense into her. Instead, he shook his head in frustration, forcing himself to speak gently. “Teresa, that is just because you have not practiced. I will be more than happy to teach you what is acceptable conversation at a society event.”
Teresa’s face lit up at the offer then fell again. “I believe my aunt tried to do that, but somehow it did not stick. When in company, I could never remember what was allowed and what was not. I would always get mixed up and say the wrong thing.”
He laid a reassuring hand on her arm. “Do not worry, Teresa. A few hours of practice with me and you will be charming the pinks of the ton with ease.”
Teresa looked at him with such hope in her eyes that he felt his heart give a little somersault in his chest. “Do you really think so?” she asked. “When can we begin?”
“Tomorrow morning? If, that is, you can keep all your new admirers at bay.”
Teresa tried her best not to be nervous as she sat down with Richard for their social practice session, with her aunt sitting properly near by with her embroidery. He quickly put her at ease, prompting her with simple topics.
They talked about the weather (it was a lovely spring, despite the fact that, in truth, it still felt more like winter) and laughed over the fictitious decorations at the ball (the Chinese pagoda in the middle of the dining room, with a Sphinx inside spouting ratafia into a fountain). But then Richard declared that he would provide no more help and it would be up to her to start a conversation.
Teresa’s heart lept to her throat as she scoured her mind for something acceptable. Silence reigned for a full minute before she finally remembered a topic of conversation her aunt had told her was impeccable.
“Tell me, my lord, have you recently purchased any horseflesh?” she asked, folding her hands properly in her lap and swallowing down her nervousness.
“I am so glad that you asked that, Miss Seton. As a matter of fact, I have. He is a prime goer and stands at nearly twenty-five hands tall!” Richard said, a broad smile on his face.
“Twenty-five hands! My goodness, how would one mount such a beast?” Teresa could not hold back her laughter and thoughts of nervousness fled from her mind.
Richard, too, was clearly enjoying himself. “Why, with another horse, of course. I mount my trusty old gelding roan, Marron, stand up on his back and from there climb onto my new steed.”
Teresa’s cocked her head as she tried to imagine such a feat. But then she recalled that it was up to her to keep the conversation going. “And please do tell me, my lord, what have you named this fine animal?”
“I have named him Goliath. I felt that to be fitting.”
Teresa hid her giggles behind the back of her hand and instead did her best to nod knowingly. “I see.”
Miller, Lady Swinborne’s butler, coughed discreetly, interrupting whatever Teresa was going to say next. “My lady, Doña Isabella is here to see you.”