Cupid's Choice: She's a shy beauty in distress. He's a chivalric gentleman. (5 page)

Mrs. Holland smiled, her teeth very white and even. She snapped shut her fan and indicated the young man standing beside her gilt-edged chair. “My son, the Earl of Holybrooke, Sir Frederick.” There was a wealth of pride in her voice and in the glance she cast up at her offspring.

Sir Frederick looked swiftly at the handsome young gallant. “The Earl of Holybrooke?” He recovered swiftly from his surprise and made a short bow. “It is an honor, my lord.”

The dark young gentleman, who had straightened at the outset of the introductions, flushed slightly. His gray-blue eyes met Sir Frederick’s with a steady gaze. He held out his hand. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.”

Sir Frederick accepted the younger man’s handshake, liking him for his humility. Like everyone else, he had heard how the old earl had died after dispossessing his firstborn and leaving the title and estate to the son of a younger son. It was an unusual story, and the gossipmongers had delighted in it. His recollection was that it was a year past since this serious-faced boy had inherited.

Sir Frederick’s glance passed swiftly over the widow and her two children. Of course, they were out of black gloves now and were taking their place in society.

Sir Frederick smiled at the last of the party, who had not yet been introduced to him. It was obvious that the young lady was related, for there was no mistaking her resemblance in face and coloring to Mrs. Holland and the young earl.

Though he had teased Mrs. Richardson about what the young lady might look like, he had seriously never thought to be brought face-to-face with an antidote. Mrs. Richardson knew too well that gentlemen preferred some aspiration to beauty in the ladies to which she introduced them.

However, Sir Frederick had not anticipated that Miss Holland would be an out-and-out beauty. Black ringlets, a cupid’s bow mouth, pale translucent skin and a slim but well-rounded figure were not at all difficult to look upon, he thought appreciatively. In addition, there was no sign of the spoiled vanity which marred the widow’s fading claim to beauty. There was humility and a quality of innocence in the younger woman’s extraordinarily dark blue eyes that caused Sir Frederick, that jaded cosmopolitan, to stare.

The young woman blushed under his intent gaze and cast down her black lashed eyes. Her slim gloved hands entwined together in her lap. Obviously she was unused to open admiration and was thrown into confusion by his pointed attention. Sir Frederick pulled himself together, silently scolding himself for the momentary lapse in his generally unflappable insouciance.

Sir Frederick sent an inquiring glance at Mrs. Holland, but it was the earl who stepped forward. His lordship dropped a hand on the young woman’s slender shoulder. “My sister, Miss Guineveve Holland.”

“Oh, yes. My daughter, Sir Frederick,” said Mrs. Holland shortly, gesturing with her fan without glancing around in the direction of her daughter.

Sir Frederick was somewhat disconcerted by the widow’s negligent attitude. In general, matrons with daughters were all too eager to bring them to his notice. He had a comfortable fortune and owned an estate, besides having a brilliant career. Mrs. Holland had given the impression that she did not care whether her daughter was introduced to him or not. Banishing the puzzling impression, Sir Frederick returned his attention to the young lady. He made an elegant bow. “Miss Holland, I am happy to make your acquaintance.”

Miss Holland cast a swift glance upward at him, then slid her gaze toward her mother as though seeking direction. It was swift to come.

“Well, girl, have you not anything polite to say to Sir Frederick?” asked Mrs. Holland sharply, turning around to stare disapprovingly at her daughter.

“Mama, pray—!” muttered the earl, obviously embarrassed.

Miss Holland flushed hotly. With a bad stammer, she said, “H-how do you do, sir?”

Sir Frederick was taken aback by Mrs. Holland’s stinging rebuke of her daughter. Public humiliation was never easy to witness. At that moment he felt Mrs. Richardson’s fingers close on the back of his arm. Suddenly, he knew why she had introduced him to the Hollands. It was not because she was trying to get up a match between himself and Miss Holland. It was because Mrs. Richardson pitied the young woman. Undoubtedly Mrs. Richardson had already witnessed something of the widow’s lack of simple courtesy toward the daughter. He knew Caroline Richardson well enough to understand that it had set up her back, as it had certainly done his.

Sir Frederick, to his own rueful recognition, had never been able to resist the urge to aid a damsel in distress.

Sir Frederick stepped forward and gently pried loose one of the tensely held hands in Miss Holland’s lap. Clasping her reluctant fingers, he smiled down into her startled eyes. He had heard the striking up of the orchestra, and now used it to his advantage. “May I have the honor of this dance, Miss Holland?”

Miss Holland turned paper white. The deep pools of her eyes widened in a panicked expression. “I-I don’t know! That is—”

“Don’t be a dolt, Guin. Of course you will dance with any gentleman who asks. You haven’t a single name on your card, to your shame,” snapped Mrs. Holland. She returned her attention to Sir Frederick, her face magically transforming with a gracious smile. “You must forgive my daughter, Sir Frederick. She is rather backward, I fear. We have just come up from the country, and Guin is still overawed at the thought of her come-out.”

“Shyness is most becoming in a young miss,” said Mrs. Richardson in a cool voice. “Don’t you think so, Sir Frederick?”

Mrs. Holland was still smiling, but at Mrs. Richardson’s words a decidedly unfriendly light came into her eyes. She stared at the lady as though trying to decide whether or not to reply.

“Eminently so,” said Sir Frederick, slightly turning his head to respond to Mrs. Richardson. He had not let go of Miss Holland’s hand, and so he was standing close enough to hear her desperate whisper.

“Percy!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Sir Frederick saw how the young earl’s long fingers tightened comfortingly on his sister’s shoulder. Miss Holland drew a steadying breath, almost as though she was going to trial, he thought pityingly. He saw that it was only with the earl’s encouragement that Miss Holland felt able to accept his invitation to dance. Truly the young lady lacked countenance, and he had no hesitation in ascribing it to a selfish, uncaring mother.

“I-I should be honored, Sir Frederick,” she said, rising gracefully from the silk-covered chair, her fingers still clasped in his hand. She stood there a second, heightened color in her face as she gazed up at him. Sir Frederick smiled at her encouragingly.

“I just saw Lady Smythe beckoning to me,” said Mrs. Richardson briskly. “Pray excuse me, my lord. Mrs. Holland, you must bring your daughter driving with me in the park one day.” She walked away, but not before she had bestowed a particularly satisfied smile on Sir Frederick as he drew Miss Holland forward onto the marble dance floor to join one of the sets forming up for a country-dance.

Sir Frederick discovered that he had acquired the most wooden partner of his entire career. Miss Holland performed each turn and movement with perfect accuracy but without heart. She held herself stiffly and not once did she look up at him.

Sir Frederick wondered what he had gotten himself into, concluding that if Miss Holland meant to discourage him, or any other gentleman, for that matter, she was going about it just right. It was no wonder she did not have any names on her dance card, which could perhaps explain in part her mother’s open irritation.

However, he was not one to give up on even a lost cause. When the music brought them together the next time, he remarked, “You are supposed to at least pretend to enjoy my company, Miss Holland.”

At that, her eyes flew up to meet his smiling gaze. A painful flush leaped into her pale face. “I-I am so sorry! Pray forgive me!”

“I shan’t eat you, ma’am,” said Sir Frederick with a slight grin. He had the satisfaction of seeing her acute embarrassment change to an expression of confusion as the dance once more separated them.

When they came together again, he said, “You need not be afraid of offending me, Miss Holland. I have a very thick skin. I should like to think it comes from running in diplomatic circles, but honesty compels me to admit that I am simply too obtuse to recognize an insult.”

He was rewarded with the smallest of smiles, one that brought a sparkle into Miss Holland’s extraordinary eyes. Sir Frederick considered it to be quite an improvement. He did not know how old she was, but if he was any judge of the matter, she could scarcely be out of the schoolroom. Miss Holland’s ill-ease testified of her youth, as did the simple gown she wore. Her dress was dusky blue, and the modest neckline boasted only a touch of white lace. A gold chain and locket around her slender neck were her only ornaments.

“I shouldn’t think a diplomat could be at all stupid,” said Miss Holland in a soft hesitant voice. She glanced up at him, a half-scared, half-speculative expression in her eyes.

Sir Frederick was satisfied. He had at last cracked through whatever was imprisoning the young woman’s spirit. “Ah, but you would be surprised, Miss Holland,” he said lightly. Thereafter he addressed such remarks as were calculated to put a very self-conscious miss at ease. By the time the country-dance came to an end, Miss Holland behaved almost as naturally as any other young lady in the ballroom. She had lost her woodenness and all of her movements were gracefully executed.

“Would you like to go to the refreshment room for an ice or shall I escort you back to your mother?” asked Sir Frederick. Instantly he regretted the question, for all animation fled from Miss Holland’s face.

Her eyes cast down, she murmured, “Oh, I must return at once to Mama.”

“Of course,” said Sir Frederick politely. He walked as slowly as he dared, speaking pleasantly on this and that. Once or twice, Miss Holland’s eyes rose to his face but just as quickly sank again. Her small gloved hand lay limply on his arm, and she did not remark at all on anything that he said. Sir Frederick noted that though she gave little indication of enjoying his conversation, she did not seem averse to remaining in his company, for her pace was just as lagging as his own.

When at last they returned, it was to find Mrs. Holland’s cushioned chair vacant and only the earl waiting for them. His lordship looked keenly at his sister’s apprehensive face. With a wonderfully casual air, he said, “Mama is enjoying a mild flirtation with an old beau. I assured her that I would look after you, Guin.”

Miss Holland’s countenance lightened at once. “Thank you, Percy.” She turned to Sir Frederick and demurely held out her hand. Her eyes met his steadily, though with a hint of timidity in their depths. “And thank you, Sir Frederick. I have never enjoyed a dance more.”

Sir Frederick was astonished. Miss Holland spoke with perfect sincerity and without even the hint of a stammer. He took her hand for a short moment, studying her beautiful countenance. She was an enigma to him and therefore of interest. “The pleasure was mine, Miss Holland. I shall look forward to our next meeting.”

A blush stole into Miss Holland’s face, and a shy smile touched her naturally pink cupid’s bow lips. The thought flitted into Sir Frederick’s mind that Miss Holland had a very kissable mouth. He was startled. What maggot had got into his brain that such an extraordinary thing should leap to life about this insignificant little creature?

His expression showing nothing of what was passing through his mind, Sir Frederick bowed to the lady. He said a polite word or two to the young Earl of Holybrooke and sauntered away. He did not see how Miss Holland’s eyes rose to follow him, the glow of gratitude in their brilliant blue depths.

Sir Frederick danced several more times, accomplishing his duty with graceful ease. When at last he was satisfied that he had fulfilled his obligation as a dutiful guest, he sought out Mrs. Richardson. He had a small score to pay off, he thought with a hint of mischief in his grin.

He found the lady standing beside a well-breeched gentleman, whom Sir Frederick nodded to with a casual air. “Hello, Richard, old fellow. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Oh, did Caroline tell you that I was off on a medical call? Fortunately, it was a small matter, so I was able to come and lend support to my wife after all,” said Richard Richardson cheerfully, exchanging a hearty handshake with Sir Frederick. He wore his ball dress with careless ease, as though he set no great store by his appearance. Indeed, the gentleman’s time was taken up with many more important things than fashion. His glance was keen and assessing as he looked at Sir Frederick. “We don’t see enough of you, Freddy.”

“I fear that if your wife has her way, you’ll see me at the altar,” said Sir Frederick suavely, sliding a glance at Mrs. Richardson.

Mrs. Richardson was not at all put out of countenance by his pointed reference, as he had hoped. She laughed, her eyes alight with adoration as she glanced up at her husband. “You know how firmly I believe that every gentleman deserves to be wed to a good woman, Richard.”

“It was certainly true in my case,” said Richard Richardson, returning her smile in full measure. He covered her hand, which lay possessively on his arm. However, curiosity had entered his gray eyes. “But what’s this? Have you decided on someone for Freddy, my love?”

Mrs. Richardson shook her head with a small laugh. “No, I haven’t. I merely asked Freddy to be kind to the poor Holland girl. I told you about her, Richard. Freddy very dutifully stood up with her. Isn’t Mrs. Holland frightful toward her, Freddy?”

“I rather thought so,” said Sir Frederick, nodding. “If I am not mistaken in the matter, Miss Holland has a lively dread of incurring her mother’s displeasure. That’s the cause of that awful stammer.”

“Do you think so?” asked Mrs. Richardson, interested. She wondered how he had come to that conclusion. She smiled warmly at Sir Frederick. “However, I feel positive you were able to charm her.”

“Whom, my dear? Mrs. Holland or Miss Holland?” asked Richard Richardson mildly.

“Both, of course,” replied Mrs. Richardson promptly. “Freddy is the consummate diplomat.”

Sir Frederick and Richard Richardson laughed, while Mrs. Richardson twinkled up at them, an attractive smile curving her full lips.

“I fear my powers are vastly overrated,” said Sir Frederick. “Actually, I came over hoping you could point me in the direction of Lady Smythe, Caroline.”

“Freddy! You’re not leaving now! Not before supper!” exclaimed Mrs. Richardson in dismay, almost dropping her fan. “Why, I made sure that—” She recovered herself quickly at the expression of polite inquiry on Sir Frederick’s face. “Well, it is your own business, after all.” She held out her hand to him in civil leave-taking.

“Why, thank you, Caroline,” murmured Sir Frederick, taking her hand and saluting her with a flourishing kiss. “And I promise to be more accommodating the next time you wish to set me up to dance with Miss Holland or some other colorless girl!”

Richard Richardson cracked a delighted laugh, while Mrs. Richardson had the grace to appear slightly ashamed. Nevertheless, the quiver of a dimple touched her smooth cheek. “I shall hold you to that promise, Freddy,” she said lightly. She gestured with her fan. “I do believe I last saw Lady Smythe over near the west windows.”

Sir Frederick excused himself in a casual fashion and went in search of his formidable hostess. He found her soon enough, just turning away from some of her other guests. Lady Smythe was a tall, spare woman. She carried herself with all the assurance of one who had always possessed wealth and breeding. An elegant dresser and an outstanding hostess, her ladyship had ruled her social bailiwick for decades.

When the elderly dame’s gaze lighted on Sir Frederick, her expression became one of gracious welcome. She held out a blue-veined hand, diamonds flashing in the candlelight. “Sir Frederick! I am glad to see you. In fact, I am always glad to see you. You know how to pay court so handsomely to an old woman!”

Sir Frederick made a deep bow, one hand clasping hers while the other well-shaped member was pressed over his heart. “My dearest lady, I perceive you are in fine trim.” As he straightened, he cast an awed glance upward at the lady’s elaborate headdress, which consisted of several blond ostrich plumes and a purple turban encrusted with emeralds and diamonds.

Lady Smythe complacently twitched her fine Norwich silk shawl so that it draped more fluidly over her elbows. “Fine feathers for an old woman, you mean!”

“I would never say anything so deplorably gauche,” said Sir Frederick promptly.

Lady Smythe chuckled, her shrewd blue eyes twinkling. “Never mind! We’ll not split hairs! Have you come to tell me that you have another engagement to make an appearance at?”

“Alas, it is true. Otherwise I would not be able to tear myself away,” said Sir Frederick in a mournful voice, taking the hand which she had again held out to him and raising it to his lips.

“Ah, if I were but twenty years younger! I’d snatch you up, dear boy,” said Lady Smythe, totally disregarding that her arithmetic was off by at least two decades. She gave him a curious look, then dug the folded point of her fan into his chest. “Stay a moment, Sir Frederick. I saw that Caroline Richardson had you in tow earlier. Has she made you her latest project?”

“Indeed, I hope not, ma’am,” said Sir Frederick fervently. His hostess chuckled wickedly. He responded with a smile. “Actually, I do not believe so, though she did introduce me to a young lady that has not come in my way before.”

Lady Smythe nodded, causing her plumes to wave majestically to and fro. “The Holland chit. The only reason I invited them was because the boy has gotten the earldom. Lord Holybrooke is well enough. His sister is a nonentity, of course, but what can one expect with such a one for a mother?”

“Tell me about the Hollands,” said Sir Frederick. He felt a mild curiosity to establish what lay behind Miss Holland’s extraordinary turnabout in manner. It had been like night and day. He had been trained to seek out the cause of mystery, and his interest was borne purely of habit.