A Sisterly Regard (31 page)

"Indeed I do, Mr. Dervigne. Much more than I wish to dance
with you. Mr. Farwell, I am thirsty. Could you escort me to the
refreshment table, please?" She turned her back on the older man.
Such a detestable creature.

When Phaedra had danced away with her next partner, Reggie
strolled toward the far side of the room. He was in no mood to dance with
anyone else. Phaedra had ruined his taste for sweet innocence and wicked
sophistication alike. He had just slipped into a curtained alcove on the
opposite wall when Robert Dervigne joined him.

"Your attentions to Miss Phaedra Hazelbourne are becoming
particular, Farwell. Are we to assume you and she are...involved?" His
tone spoke volumes about what the involvement entailed.

Reggie looked down at the older man. He let his lip curl. "I do
not like your tone, Dervigne. You malign the lady."

"Oh, come now. All society knows of her sister's escapades. Can
we not expect the same lack of discretion from her?"

Reggie felt his carefully maintained air of ennui slipping, and
realized he cared not a whit. "I would watch my words if I were you
Dervigne. A loose tongue can be dangerous."

A harsh bark of laughter burst from Dervigne's mouth. "You
threaten me, Farwell? A useless fop like you? Don't be ridiculous."

A red haze clouded Reggie's vision. Without hesitation, he
doubled his fist and buried it in Dervigne's middle. His other fist caught
the man on the chin and sent him sprawling against the alcove wall.
"Although you are no gentleman, Dervigne, I promise you that the next
time you venture to speak ill of Miss Phaedra or of her sister, I will
challenge you. Is that clear?"

Dervigne opened his mouth, then closed it. His eyes narrowed.
"So the fop is not all he seems." He sighed lustily. "Very well. Henceforth
I will avoid any discussion of the Hazelbourne sisters." He shook his head
but made no other move. "Go away, Farwell. I refuse to add to my
humiliation by attempting to stand with you here."

Reggie went.
Good God. I must be going out of my mind. I need
fresh air before I do something foolish.

* * * *

Late in the evening, Phaedra seated herself beside her
mother.

"Do you not dance the waltz, dear?"

"No, Mama, for I have already danced twice with Mr.
Farwell."

"I doubt it will harm you to do so a third time. Everyone is
aware that his attentions to you have been most particular. But I will leave
it to you." Phaedra did not see her give a quick nod to the gentleman as he
approached. He held out his hand to the girl.

"Come, dance with me. I do not want to sit this one out."

She hesitated. "But what will people think?" She wanted to
dance with him. Her mother said it would be all right. But still...

"They will think that I am the most fortunate man in this room,
to be dancing with the most beautiful woman here. Come,
Phaedra."

His smile overwhelmed her better judgment, and she went into
his arms.

The journey to the estate of the Duke and Duchess of Verbain
allowed Phaedra plenty of time to think about her feelings for Mr.
Farwell. She rode with her mother and Cousin Louisa in the family coach,
the Duchess and Lady Mary having gone ahead on the previous day. Mr.
Farwell and Mr. Martin rode alongside with her papa. She frequently had a
glimpse of one or the other of them through the coach window. Somehow
she had expected a fop to be a poor rider, but Mr. Farwell sat a horse as if
he had been born astride. His garments were every bit as colorful as any
she had seen him wear, so she never mistook him for one of the other
men. The bright lime green of his elegantly tailored coat shone in the
sunlight like some outré lantern.

After dancing until the ball at Almack's had ended the night
before, Phaedra slept through the first change of horses, in spite of
wanting to see the new country through which they passed. They were
pulling into a posting house for the second change before she woke
fully.

Once Mama and Cousin Louisa had alighted, Phaedra gathered
her skirts and prepared to follow. Before she could hop down, as was her
habit, Mr. Farwell appeared in the coach's doorway. Holding out his hand,
he offered his assistance.

She took the waiting hand, once again noticing how strong it
was, for all the skin was white and smooth. To cover the tiny thrill his
touch engendered, she said, "I must say, Mr. Farwell, having an attentive
suitor is quite exciting. I have never felt so cosseted." She smiled up into
his face, and was momentarily nonplussed to see in his usually unrevealing
eyes a gleam of...of
what?
It put her in mind of coals left
smoldering in a fireplace. The gleam was gone in an instant, replaced by
sleepy ennui.

"Become used to it," he replied, taking her arm. "I have every
intention of becoming indispensable to you."

"Well, I do not understand why you are showing this partiality
to me, but I shall not complain. It is making the journey ever so much
more comfortable than I am used to. Papa always took great care of
Mama, when we went to the Assemblies at Huntington, you know, and
Chloe required Jem's assistance because she always became so ill from the
journey. I was left to manage for myself.

"Oh, do not think I was neglected in any way. I much prefer to
be independent. I am not so delicate that I cannot alight from a coach
without a gentleman's assistance. All the same, it is a pleasant novelty to
be treated as if I were a fragile blossom."

He touched her cheek lightly with a gloved fingertip. "A
particularly lovely blossom."

A shiver found its way up her spine.

Their light luncheon was soon consumed. Afterward Phaedra
and her mama, desirous of exercise before once again immuring
themselves in the coach, walked down a short path to a nearby stream.
Phaedra gazed at the moving water, deep in thought. "Mama," she said
finally, "Do you receive the impression that Mr. Farwell is really two
different people?" She watched a leaf as it floated past, twirling and
dipping in the chuckling stream.

"Why, what do you mean, dear?"

"When I first met him, I dismissed him as a fop. His dress
bordered on the preposterous, his conversation was full of meaningless
flattery. He never said anything of great significance, until one day he
scolded me for what he called my snobbery. But then he promptly went to
sleep, so I assumed he was teasing." She leaned over the stream,
examining the plants growing along its banks. "In the past few days, he has
changed, somehow become more serious."

"Mr. Farwell has always seemed a most congenial and intelligent
gentleman to me," Mama replied. "I wonder if you have not let his style of
clothing influence you too much, so that you failed to perceive the person
within. He and I have had several interesting conversations while you were
dancing."

"Perhaps." Phaedra knelt at the water's edge, reaching for some
floating plants in a tiny pool formed by piled rocks. It looked like a
duckweed, but somehow different. She wished she had a bottle so she
could collect some. Dipping her fingers in the water again, she washed
away the few leaves that had clung. "Mama, there is another thing I wish
to ask you about," she said, without looking away from the water.

"What is it, dear?"

Although she knew what she wanted to ask, the words came
with difficulty. "Several of the young ladies I become acquainted with,
those who are in their second or third Seasons, told me that Mr. Farwell
has the reputation of being an excellent escort and very good company,
but he has never been known to pay attention to any female in particular.
Selina Carruthers said she developed quite a tendre for him in her first
Season and made sure he knew of it. He discouraged her firmly but kindly.
According to Sarah, he has never been known to go beyond what is proper
with any lady and that there was never any gossip about his having a
mistress or pursuing the opera dancers, although her older brother had
once seen him at Harriet Wilson's establishment, where he was apparently
well known."

"Good heavens, Phaedra. Is that what young ladies discuss these
days? How shocking." Her mother chuckled. "Nothing has changed since I
was a girl." She sobered. "I do hope that you did not ask Miss Carruthers
about Mr. Farwell's amours."

"Of course not, Mama. She volunteered the information. You
know how she does run on. I did not discourage her revelations, though,"
she admitted. "Mama, how could I marry a man who has patronized
that...that house of ill repute?"

"If we women refused to marry any man who had indulged
himself thus before marriage, England would be populated with old maids.
Most gentlemen visit Mrs. Wilson's establishment, or others that are not
nearly so well kept, before they marry."

"Do you mean...did...Papa?"

"That is none of your concern. Your papa is an exemplary
gentleman, but he is a man. As is Mr. Farwell--both exemplary and a
man."

Miserable, Phaedra returned her gaze to the stream, as if she
might find answers writ in the moving water.

"I could not bear it if my husband were to be intimate with
another woman."

"Then it is up to you to see that he does not. A woman who
does not endeavor to please her husband only gets what she has merited
when her husband is physically unfaithful to her."

"And that is why I must be sure to love the man I marry, Mama.
I could not bear to be so intimate with a man for whom I merely felt
respect and admiration." She sat back on the grassy bank with no thought
to her gown. "Oh, Mama, I must be sure! You were sure you loved Papa
when you married him, were you not?"

"I was, but most women are not so fortunate. Most of the girls I
knew during my Season married for money or position or because their
parents wished it and chose their husbands."

Mama pulled her into a soft embrace. "Phaedra, I am not trying
to push you into marriage with Mr. Farwell, no matter how it must seem
so to you. I do wish you to marry well, and your opportunities of meeting
worthy young men will be so much less if you return home unwed, so I
encourage you to give his proposal serious consideration. Give him a
chance while we are at Verbain. If you are still certain that you and he
would not suit when our visit is over, then tell him so in no uncertain
terms. Then you will be free to enjoy the remainder of your Season heart
whole and fancy free."

"I will try, Mama," she promised, with a heartfelt sigh, "but it
seems like such a short time to decide the course of one's entire life." She
stood up and attempted to brush the mud from her skirt where she had
knelt upon it. "I almost wish that he had never offered for me. It has
become so complicated, trying to decide how I really feel about him, and
now he seems like a different person than the one I thought I knew. If he
had not changed so, my decision would have been easier, for I could not
have married him as he was when I met him."

"It is your doubts that cause me to urge you to give yourself
more time in which to decide," Mama said. "Were you certain you could
not marry him, I should cease to do so. I only want you to be happy, my
dear, and would be the first to object to any man with whom I felt you
would not be." She hugged Phaedra briefly. "Let us go back. Your father
will be most out of sorts, so long have we been gone."

Papa demanded to know what had kept them away so long and
promised that they would not arrive at Verbain until well after dark, due
to their disappearance. He continued to grumble as the ladies entered the
coach and did not subside until his wife leaned out the window. She
laughingly told him that he was now delaying them and if he would cease
his grumblings, they could get on their way.

Behind his back, Mr. Farwell winked at Phaedra.

Winked? Mr. Farwell? Never.

As the coach pulled onto the road, Phaedra cast a last, longing
glance at the pretty streambank where, under other circumstances, she
could have spent a happy hour or two, collecting plant specimens. Spring
was well along, and she had done no collecting at all, there being no place
in London where wildflowers grew. The vegetation in Town was either
weedy or cultivated. Although she had seen some very interesting weeds,
she had not had the opportunity to collect any of them.

She smiled to herself. What would the
ton
have
thought, to see a respectable young woman pulling up weeds with great
care and stowing them in her collecting bag? What would Mr. Farwell
think if she asked him to assist her?

Why not? Tomorrow I will. If he truly wishes to marry me, he will
respect my avocation.

She leaned forward to catch sight of him through the coach
window. He was nowhere to be seen, to her considerable
disappointment.

By the time they reached Verbain, the passengers in the
Hazelbourne coach were travel-weary and stiff. Phaedra hardly noticed the
magnificence of the Duke's principal seat. All she wanted was to get to her
bedchamber and remove her wrinkled garments, wash her face, and move
about a bit. Lady Mary escorted her up the soaring flight of stairs and along
a seemingly endless corridor, explaining that the house party was to be
lodged in the west wing, while the family inhabited the east.

"Grandpapa is not well, you know, and so we thought you
would be more comfortable here, where you would not feel you had to be
quiet, so as not to disturb him. Here." She opened a door. "These are
your rooms."

Phaedra saw a cheery sitting room, the walls hung with
yellow-flowered paper, a wide window that let in the rays of the setting sun,
bowls of daffodils on every level surface, and a fireplace burning brightly.
She followed Lady Mary to another door and saw beyond it a large
bedroom with leaf green hangings and draperies, a forest green rug, and
painted pale yellow walls.