A Marriageable Miss (8 page)

This grand exit, however, did nothing to diminish the guilty niggle within that warned her that there was, perhaps, a certain amount of truth in her cousin’s words.

With a pensive frown on her face, she made her way up the stairs towards her bedchamber and would gladly have dismissed Lottie’s remark had she not been obliged to admit to herself that she was finding the earl’s attentions rather pleasing. His choice of flowers, for instance, could not have been more delightful—he could hardly have known that she had always preferred the fragile beauty of these woodland blossoms to their more exotic hothouse sisters.

She stared down at the small piece of pasteboard in her hand and turned it over hoping, against reason, to find some sort of message. But only the stark flourish of the single word ‘Markfield’ sullied the card’s pristine surface. Laying the card down on to her dressing table, she buried her nose into the posy, dreamily inhaling its delicate fragrance. A soft sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as, with closed eyes, she found herself back in the woods near her uncle’s vicarage where, as children, both she and Jason had spent many happy hours wandering at will with their country cousins.

Her eyes moistened as she recalled those carefree, far-off days and, not for the first time of late, she found herself wishing that she could find some way to persuade her father to give up his broking practice and move out of town. A plentiful supply of clean, fresh air, coupled with a stress-free existence in some peaceful rural backwater, she thought, surely must do wonders for his rapidly failing constitution.

Blinking away her tears, she fetched a glass from the nightstand and, after filling it from the water jug, she carefully arranged the posy of flowers within it, before returning the glass to its
original position beside her bed. She was gravely contemplating the delicate loveliness of the pale blossoms, cradled in the dark velvety softness of their cool green leaves, when it suddenly came to her that the Earl of Markfield was, in all likelihood, the owner of such a country idyll. This thought had no sooner entered her head than it was immediately succeeded by the staggering realisation that, should she care to encourage his lordship’s suit, rather than setting out to sabotage it, she might well, within a matter of mere months, find herself absolute mistress of an estate that would provide an ideal setting for her father’s recuperation.

Almost as quickly as this somewhat fanciful notion conjured itself up, however, it evaporated into thin air, Helena having been obliged to recall Markfield’s initial reluctance to involve himself with her proposal. Added to which, hadn’t the dowager countess also made it perfectly clear that, as far as she was concerned, any association between Helena and her grandson was intended to be purely temporary and would continue only as long as it proved beneficial to Markfield’s cause?

A small frown furrowed Helena’s brow, as she realised that the reins of power did seem to have passed firmly into in her ladyship’s hands, rather than remaining with herself, as she would have preferred. But why, she wondered, should this disconcert her so? Having achieved, more or less, what she had set out to do, she knew that she ought to be glad that there would no longer be any need for subterfuge and, more to the point, perhaps, it was reasonable to assume that the actual termination of the relationship would be settled by mutual agreement. It was, therefore, most vexatious for Helena to discover that, whenever her thoughts lighted upon the inevitability of the affair’s eventual conclusion, she was conscious of the oddest sensation of regret. This mounting state of uncertainty was not aided by the fact that she then found that she was actually looking forward to her next meeting with the earl!

Grimacing at her reflection in the looking glass, she patted her hair into place and changed into her house slippers, ready to join her cousin in the dining room. As she was making her way down
the stairs, however, a rueful smile began to play about her lips, for she had suddenly been beset by the most disquieting thought that, unless she kept her wits about her, despite all of her carefully conceived plans, she might well be about to find herself being beaten at her own game!

Richard, presently ensconced in the library at Standish House, was also wondering if he had been entirely wise to involve himself in what was turning out to be a rather more complicated set of circumstances than that for which he had originally bargained.

As a slight frown furrowed his brow, he found himself reconsidering the recent conversation he had had with his grandmother, whereupon his thoughts immediately flew to Helena, whose appearance, as he remembered quite vividly, had made a not inconsiderable impact on his senses. Under any other circumstances, this discovery would have proved something of a challenge to his healthy, masculine libido; the girl was undeniably attractive and, as she had recently demonstrated, more than capable of holding her own.

Then, as he once again recalled Helena’s impressive stand against the countess, Richard’s lips began to curve in an involuntary smile. In fact, the more he considered the events of the afternoon, the more there appeared to be about Miss Wheatley than he had, at first, surmised. Had he not been so heavily occupied with his present difficulties, several rather interesting possibilities might well have presented themselves. A roguish glint came into his eyes and his smile deepened.

A tap on the door interrupted his reverie and, turning his head, he observed Charles entering. With a welcoming smile, he gestured to the drinks tray on the table at his side and told his cousin to help himself.

After pouring himself a large brandy, Standish took a seat opposite the earl.

‘Just dropped in to ask how things went yesterday afternoon,’ he said. ‘Didn’t think I ought to mention it to the old girl—wasn’t sure if you’d told her that I was already “in the know”, so to speak.’

‘According to Grandmama, the more people who are “in the know”, as you put it, the better,’ replied the earl, as he leaned across to replenish his own glass. ‘Apparently, the sooner word gets round that my bank account could be in line for a massive injection of cash, the quicker I shall be able to get on with the job in hand—wouldn’t want to pop off and leave you holding the can!’

‘Pop off!’ Charles stilled and let out a startled gasp. ‘What in God’s name put that idea into your head?’

Richard gave a wry smile. ‘Grandmama’s words, not mine, I assure you. It seems that she’s worried that I might turn up my toes before I’ve had a chance to produce the next in line! It would appear that she doesn’t hold out much hope of either one of us achieving that objective before
she
breathes her last!’

‘Good God, Rick!’ exclaimed his cousin, with a grimace of distaste. ‘When did this morbid conversation take place, may I ask?’

‘After I got back from seeing Miss Wheatley home. She—Grandmama, that is—having spent the time mulling over the various pros and cons of the situation, is now firmly of the opinion that it would be no bad thing if I were to actually
marry
the girl!’

‘And how did you react to that particular observation?’

‘I reminded her that I have a good few more pressing matters to attend to before I’m ready to take that particular course of action,’ replied Richard, grimacing. ‘Nevertheless, as things stand, since I still have a mountain of bills waiting to be paid, I dare say it will do no harm to appear to be going along with this mad idea of hers—at the very least, it will, hopefully, serve to keep the creditors at bay!’

‘I just wish that I were in a position to help you, Richard,’ returned Charles awkwardly. ‘When we were all at the club yesterday, I was rather afraid that I’d given you the impression that I regarded the whole thing as a joke, but I do want you to know that if there
is
anything I can do, you need not hesitate to ask.’

‘Don’t doubt that I am well aware of that, old chap!’ averred Richard fervently, reaching forwards to grasp his cousin by the hand. ‘Without your support, I can’t imagine how I would ever get through this business.’

For several moments the two men sipped meditatively at their drinks then, suddenly, Richard’s face lit up with a mischievous grin. ‘Oh, by the way! I omitted to warn you to be on your guard. It seems that our dear grandmother could well be about to start gunning for you, too.’

Standish blanched. ‘Not me, man! The day I take another woman into my home will be the day you can have me declared insane. As though one clinging female wasn’t more than enough for me to cope with!’

Richard smiled sympathetically. ‘And how is dear Aunt Adelaide, these days?’ he asked.

‘Much the same, I fear,’ grunted his cousin. ‘Always suffering from the vapours or some other blessed complaint known only to the female of the species! Costs me a fortune in doctor’s bills and not only that, but whenever I do make the effort to go back home, she never lets up for a minute! Wanting to know where I’ve been, who I’ve been with and what I’ve been doing—you know the sort of thing! As much as I love the place, I find it impossible to remain at Southpark above a day or two—which is why I prefer to spend so much of my time up in town.’

Four years younger than both Simon and Richard, Charles Standish had never really enjoyed the benefits of the close friendship that had developed between his two older cousins and, although they had both done their best to incorporate the little boy into many of their juvenile adventures, the wide age gap had proved a considerable disadvantage. By the time the eight-year-old Charles was packed off to join his cousins at school in Rugby, the older two were already seniors and disinclined to hang around with a fresher. Added to which, they had both left Cambridge even before Charles had sat the entrance examination—Richard to join his father’s regiment in Spain and Simon having been sent down for unspecified behaviour in regard to the dean’s two teenage daughters.

Having learned that Charles, following the death of his father, the Very Reverend Andrew Standish, had renewed his acquaintanceship with the late Simon and had joined in a good many of
that young man’s nefarious activities, it had come as no surprise to Richard to discover that the real reason his young cousin spent far more time in the capital than he did at his country estate was due to his rather unhealthy addiction to gambling. Apart from which, it would seem that—probably as a result of his having been encumbered with the excessive demands of an habitually ailing mother since shortly after his twenty-first birthday—the young man had developed into something of a misogamist. Whilst it was true that he engaged in mild flirtations and had the usual number of extraneous affairs—in much the same way that Richard had run his life before the meeting with Giles Wheatley had threatened to overset his carefully laid plans—it seemed that Standish always went to extreme lengths to avoid having his name linked to any one female in particular.

Thanking Providence that
he
still had sufficient nous to retain some control over his life, Richard leaned across and poured his cousin another drink.

‘A
nd now, your Grace, you must allow me to present Miss Helena Wheatley,’ came Lady Isobel’s ringing tones.

Helena, dipping her curtsy for the umpteenth time, had lost count of the number of dukes, marquises, earls, generals and the like—along with their respective ladies—to whom she had already been presented that evening. Fortunately, however, it was becoming apparent that the crush of people making their way up the grand staircase towards the receiving line was, at last, beginning to show some sign of lessening. Having been standing at the countess’s side for well over an hour without a moment’s pause, she found herself marvelling at the older woman’s remarkable fortitude, since the suffocating heat from the multitude of candelabra all around them was beginning to cause her own head to ache quite abominably. A swift glance to her left informed her that Lizzie, too, was looking rather drained. She managed to flash her cousin a quick smile of encouragement but, suddenly catching sight of Markfield’s eyes on her, a soft flush rose in her cheeks and she at once resumed her former position.

He, having spent the best part of the afternoon trying to juggle his rapidly depleting finances in order to accommodate at least some of the waiting tradesmen, had been so preoccupied with his task that he had failed to notice the passage of time and, as
a result, had arrived at Cadogan Place several minutes past the appointed hour.

Helena and Lottie, their evening cloaks in place, had been ready and waiting for some time. Having gone out into the hall to check the dial on the long-case clock for the third time, Helena, refusing to consider the possibility that the earl might fail to keep the appointment, had begun to wonder if she could have misunderstood his instructions.

Although he had apologised most profusely for having kept them both waiting, Richard’s mind was still too full of his own troubles to pay any great attention to Helena’s appearance and, thankful that they had, at least, had the foresight to don their cloaks in readiness for his arrival, he had handed the girls quickly into his grandmother’s barouche, instructing the coachman to drive like the wind. Apart from murmuring the customary polite exchanges, any further bids at conversation on his part had been limited to banal observations regarding the unusual clemency of the weather.

His thoughts had still been otherwise engaged when, having escorted his guests up the steps into his grandmother’s residence, he had stood aside to allow the waiting footmen to relieve them of their cloaks. But then, as his gaze had travelled idly towards the pair, his breath had seemed to catch in his throat and he had found it impossible to drag his eyes away from the entirely unexpected vision they beheld.

Helena, her wide blue eyes shining with a combination of excitement and trepidation, stood silently waiting his directions. She was clad in a gown of straw-coloured satin, the deceptively simple cut of which merely served to accentuate every delicious curve of her body; her hair, caught back with a pair of diamond encrusted combs, fell about her shoulders in a cascade of shining chestnut curls.

For several moments, due to his inability to take a full breath, Richard had been lost for words. Luckily, the arrival of Lady Isobel, who had appeared at the top of the stairs, demanding to know what could be keeping them, had saved him from further ignominy.

‘Come quickly, do!’ she had exhorted them. ‘Several of our guests have already arrived!’ And after focusing her lorgnette swiftly over the two girls’ appearance, she had pronounced herself satisfied, even going so far as to commend Lottie on the bronze shot-silk of her gown—and thereby earning that young woman’s undying reverence—by adding, ‘I was rather taken with that fabric myself, my dear. It becomes you very well.’

And so had begun the tedious process of meeting and greeting the seemingly endless procession of the more than one hundred acquaintances who had turned up to inspect the countess’s protégée and which, from Richard’s point of view, was proving to be one of the most agonisingly frustrating evenings he had ever spent. He was prepared to wager that, from the very moment that they clapped their eyes on her, Helena would have no difficulty in winning the instant approval of at least fifty per cent of the gathering. Sadly, as he well knew, any real success that she might be accorded would depend, to a certain extent, upon the wives of that aforementioned fifty per cent but, more especially, upon the mercurial caprices of the small, but notoriously hard-to-please, group of elderly tabbies who ruled the roost at Almack’s. They alone would dictate who would and who would not be accepted into their ‘magic circle’.

Turning his head, he allowed his eyes to feast once more on Helena’s lovely face and found himself hoping against hope that she would find favour. He was, however, no man’s fool and was well aware that it would take a good deal more than mere beauty to endear her to some of this present company. That her mother had held a peerage in her own right would raise her standing by some degrees, it was true but, even when coupled with her obvious charms and attractively modest manner, there was simply no getting away from the fact that Helena was still nothing more than the daughter of a city stockbroker which, had not the man been almost as rich as Golden Ball himself, would have placed her well beyond the Pale!

Just then, as the light from the huge overhead chandelier struck the diamond pendant that dangled from its chain around
Helena’s slender neck, Richard’s attention was immediately caught by the brilliant sparkle that emanated from the jewel. Blinking, he flicked his eyes away from the flashing gemstone, only to have them fasten upon the gown’s low-cut neckline, from which swelled, in all its enticing glory, the provocative fullness of her creamy bosom.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself to drag his eyes away, mentally castigating himself for allowing even the hint of such a tempting possibility to invade his mind. As if he didn’t have more than enough on his plate with which to deal! He let out a sigh, realising that, even with the full weight of his grandmother’s determination behind the scheme, this whole affair appeared to be turning out to be an uphill battle—and in a good many more ways than one!

Thankfully, the line of visitors was, at last, reaching its end and, having correctly interpreted a signal from the countess, Richard moved to her side and was informed that, since the most important of their guests had already arrived, it was now time for them to start circulating.

‘And do make sure that you stick close to Helena,’ she exhorted him, under her breath. ‘The word needs to get around that you and she are on the verge of forming a romantic liaison. Especially now that everyone has had the opportunity to take a good look at her, for the last thing we want is to have some aspiring fortune-hunter attaching himself to the gel!’

‘As if one had not already done so!’ Richard murmured drily.

‘Fiddlesticks!’ returned his grandmother, rapping him sharply on the wrist with her fan. ‘Our case is entirely different and well you know it!’

This, as far as Richard was concerned, was a rather moot point but, since there was little to be gained by prolonging the argument, he kept his silence, and followed the ladies across the hallway into the first of the two reception rooms.

As she crossed the threshold of the chamber, Helena was unable to prevent the gasp of wonder that escaped her lips. She was sure that she had never, in her whole life, seen so much brightness in one room. Four huge crystal chandeliers hung from
the ceiling, each holding more than thirty wax candles. Ornate oil lamps hung at regular intervals all around the walls and, everywhere she looked, there were flowers. Small tables groaned under the weight of great urns filled with hot-house roses, lilies and carnations and, if this were not more than enough, there were four marble pillars reaching to the ceiling, each of them wound with garlands of ivy and rosebuds. Looking to the far end of the room, whose interconnecting doors had been drawn back to allow access into a second reception room, she was stunned to see that this room appeared to be larger, and even more sumptuously decorated than the first and from which, it seemed likely, access to the lantern-lit rear terrace and gardens could be gained. Gathering all her courage, she reached out and, giving Lottie’s hand a little squeeze, she raised her chin and entered the room.

The waiting guests had gathered themselves into their usual groups of preference and, although they had quite happily passed the time exchanging the latest
on dits
with one another—whilst imbibing copious quantities of a rapidly dwindling supply of champagne—they were, all of them, equally curious to determine what manner of person this recently acquired ‘daughter of a godchild’—as her ladyship had described Helena—would turn out to be. Needless to say, it had occasioned the countess, with her infallible instinct as to the workings of the minds of her fellow peers, very little difficulty to ensure that rumours of her grandson’s romantic attachment to her newly discovered ‘relative’ had already been well and truly circulated amongst her most influential connections before she was ready to introduce the girl into society.

Finding herself confronted with such a splendid gathering of the rich and famous was, in the first instance, more than enough to cause Helena a good many flutters of uncertainty. But, never one to resist a challenge and, mindful of her mother’s careful teaching, she pasted on her most beguiling smile, determined not to show any sign of nervousness.

As the evening progressed, still more guests arrived, filling every corner of both reception rooms and, eventually, spilling out
on to the terraces. It soon became clear that a good many of the countess’s acquaintances were proving themselves more than willing to allow themselves to be enchanted with Lady Isobel’s débutante. Even the most rigorous sticklers amongst the ageing dowagers appeared to be in agreement that Helena’s modest and unassuming manner was both charming and attractive.

Initially, Richard was inclined to be amused at what he could see was happening about him but then, as his awareness of the ripples of approval within the rooms increased, a very different sensation began to replace his amusement. Since he, himself, had barely had opportunity to recover from the thunderbolt with which he had been struck earlier, it had come as no surprise to him that Helena’s very fetching appearance would be likely to have a not dissimilar effect on most of the other males in the room. The very fact of which, as Richard soon began to realise, was not at all to his liking. And, any satisfaction that he might have felt at Helena’s success within his grandmother’s select circle was rapidly being diminished by his rising sense of irritation at the way in which some of the elderly men were ogling her, in quite the most outrageous fashion!

He need not have concerned himself on Helena’s account, however, since she, having been obliged to play hostess to her father’s business acquaintances for the past three years, was well accustomed to the somewhat extravagant disposition of gentlemen of a certain age when finding themselves in the company of comely young persons of the opposite sex. She had learned, some time ago, that these excessive displays of gallantry by some elderly gentlemen were merely tentative attempts on their part to recapture a little of the exhilaration of some half-forgotten memory from their salad days. And since this, in Helena’s view, was clearly intended to bolster the perpetrator’s own growing lack of self-esteem, she could hardly help but feel flattered by these relatively harmless attentions and had very soon learnt to deal with the cheek-pinching, hand-patting and so on that accompanied the droll behaviour. Consequently, she was perfectly at ease with the ageing brigadier-general who had recently attached himself to her.

Having taken the earliest opportunity to grasp hold of her hand, Sir Arthur Levenshulme had lost no time in raising it reverently to his lips, pressing fervent kisses upon the tips of her gloved fingers. Following which effusive gesture, he had tucked the hand firmly into the crook of his arm and, refusing to relinquish his prize, had then taken it upon himself to guide its owner amongst the throng, thus ensuring that all the most illustrious guests should be given ample opportunity to become acquainted with her.

To Richard, however, who, along with Helena’s cousin Lottie, had been following in their wake for some time, it seemed that the general was making rather too much of a habit of stroking and patting the captive hand on his arm and, as the earl’s indignation increased, it began to occur to him that Helena, too, might well be finding her escort’s attentions equally excessive. And, since it seemed to him that she was, in all probability, feeling somewhat overawed at finding herself in such exalted company, it was not long before he came to the conclusion that the poor girl might well be feeling far too timorous to attempt to extricate herself, lest such action should precipitate an unpleasant scene. No sooner had this likelihood presented itself to the earl than it was followed by a fierce desire to drag the elderly officer out on to the terrace and wipe the beatific smirk off his face.

The sheer unexpectedness of this violent sensation caused a start of dismay to run through him and, in an effort to distract his mind from these disquieting thoughts, he cast around the room for some sort of diversion. To his relief, he caught sight of his cousin Charles entering the room with both Fairfax and Braithwaite in train and, hurriedly delivering Lottie into the care of a nearby archdeacon and his good-natured wife, he made his way across the room to greet his three allies.

‘Lucky dog!’ whistled Standish, when Helena was pointed out to him. But then, having registered the growing enthusiasm with which she was being received within his grandmother’s circle, he laughingly suggested that, in view of their earlier conversation, his cousin would do well to set about establishing some
sort of prior claim on the girl without further delay, since the magnetic power of such combined wealth and beauty would, without doubt, find the heiress besieged by offers before he had time to turn around.