Lord Sidley's Last Season (2 page)

GGThere are few gentlemen,” Colonel Bassett announced, “as useless as Sidley”

And because he spoke with such vehemence, and because he had obviously encountered too many useless
gentlemen, Marian believed him utterly.

Her turn at cards was fast approaching. She had contemplated playing her nine of diamonds, but the colonel’s comment caused her to forget her strategy. The
whist at hand had become a puzzling mystery.

“I knew his mother, Colonel,” Lady Moffett offered
casually. “An adorable creature-as pretty as they come.
A bit flighty, perhaps, but not unintelligent.”

“Not unintelligent!” the colonel snorted. “The woman
may have been brilliant, Lady Moffett, but her son’s
attic’s to let!”

Lady Moffett pursed her lips. “Alicia Marsh’s marriage to the earl in eighty-two was all the talk,” she said.
“A most unexceptionable match. There was considerable fondness as well, for ‘tis rumored the earl went
quite mad with grief at her death.” Lady Moffett calmly
plucked a card from her hand. “Do try to concentrate,
Miss Marian.”

“I’ve not met Lord Sidley.” Sir Howard Napps, the
colonel’s card partner, spared a brief, sympathetic smile
for Marian. “But he’s reputed to have served with distinction at Salamanca-and then Vitoria last summer.
Hardly `useless,’ Colonel. Was he not cited in Wellington’s dispatches?”

“Hmm. Have you nothing else in hand, Howie?”

And as Sir Howard hastened to apologize, Marian
dared ask, “Is Lord Sidley here tonight?”

“Good heavens, miss, you have been woolgathering!” Lady Moffett’s eyebrows rose. “Have you not
heard a word we’ve said? To think Helen Hempthorne
would risk his antics! One leaves altogether too much
to chance inviting Sidley. No, he’s more like to be at his
clubs, or the theater-or worse! Do remember my lead
now,” she warned.

“Sidley’s parked himself over at the family place on
Grosvernor Square,” Colonel Bassett said, “with an army
of tailors and boot makers and not a single tradesman
to fix the dry rot and plaster. Fine sense of priorities
that one has! With Sidley House falling to ruin about his
ears! And the old country place in Kent has fared no better.” He slapped a card down and took the trick,
which did little to appease him. “Sidley’s no longer
a pup, either. Must be nearing thirty. A gentleman’s
obliged to show some responsibility, even if he hasn’t
the wherewithal. Purse-pinched, they say.”

“You must own, Colonel, that he’s had little time since
returning home,” Sir Howard noted. “Two months at
most. Stands to reason he might need a new wardrobe,
even to present himself to tradesmen. And then there
is-well, the other matter. His circumstances..

“‘Circumstances’-bah! Life is about changing one’s
circumstances! Hearts now, Howard, is it? Well! And a
new wardrobe? Word is, Sidley’s attempting to rival
Brummell! I hear he’s had ten coats from Weston-each
one of ‘em black! Useless, useless! Ah, Miss Ware, I fear
you’ll be regretting that very much.” And with considerable relish, Colonel Bassett took the game.

Marian wished to hear more, but the card party broke
up soon after. She was hurried along to make proper compliments and adieus and to depart with her older cousin,
Lady Formsby, whom she affectionately called Aunt
Edith, and Edith’s children, Edgar and Lady Katherine.

“Katie,” Marian whispered as they squeezed close in
the carriage. They were almost of an age and now shared
a lap rug, as the May night had turned distinctly chilly.
“Who is Lord Sidley? And why would Colonel Bassett
view him with such disfavor?”

“Oh, Sidley! Why, he’s simply the most–” She caught
her mother’s gaze and lowered her voice to a whisper. “‘Tis all the talk, Marian. He’s been in town only this
spring after being out of the country altogether for-oh,
many, many years. On the Peninsula. And his father took
his own life, though Mama says it might have been an accident, since the late earl was so undone after his wife’s
passing that he could hardly have known what he was
about. She’s reputed to have been mad, Marian, though
very beautiful. And then Sidley’s elder brother, who was
the heir, was killed last fall, somewhere in the Pyrenees, I
think. He’d held title mere months. The Sidleys have always been wealthy, only maybe now not as much as before, and some say that Sidley himself might not be quite
to rights in his mind, but it scarce signifies, because
everyone knows he’s simply top of the trees! Did I not
point him out to you at the Osbornes’ rout? I fear we
shan’t see him at any of our events because he is too-too
elegant by half and has no inclination-that is, he simply
does not appear to care overmuch for society. Still, he
would be vastly eligible, if he were not … Well, something is wrong with him. No one is quite certain what that
might be, apart from the limp, of course, which is not really so very bad, though one can’t help remarking it. And
Mama says we must never anticipate him at dancing, but
I would so love to invite him to my ball. Perhaps Edgar
might … Edgar!” Young Lord Formsby, seated across
from them, yawned as he granted his sister his indifferent
attention. “Might you manage to get Lord Sidley to my
ball?”

“Sidley? To your ball? Not likely.”

Lady Katherine frowned.

“Edgar,” Marian asked, “why would Colonel Bassett
have called Lord Sidley `useless’?”

“‘Useless’? I should hardly say that he is-no more
than any other gentleman, I ‘spose. It’s not quite the thing
to be useful anyway, is it? Not for anyone of importance.
Bassett might still be fumin’ about the row over his son’s
curricle team. Spankin’ chestnut pair. Full seventeen
hands high! Sweet goers too. Went for nine hundred
pounds at Tatt’s a year ago. Corky Bassett lost ‘em to
Sidley last Thursday.”

“Lost them?”

“At hazard, Cousin.”

“Edgar .. ” Edith cautioned.

“What? D’you think Marian don’t know a thing about
gaming, Mama?” Edgar quizzed. “For all she’s fresh
from the country, she’s no green girl.”

“Indeed, I am not surprised, Aunt. I did ask. I knew
there must be something…

“I fear Sidley has been gaining a most dissolute reputation, Marian. Though we are inclined to grant him much,
given his-given his affliction and his disappointments.
A sad history, indeed. But I have the warmest affection
and regard for Sidley’s aunt, Lady Adeline. And I should
prefer, Katie, that you not prattle on so about Sidley,
though ‘tis true that more than outlandish wagers set him
apart. How a gentleman chooses to spend his … his days is, of course, entirely his concern, but he needn’t provoke
the rest of us.” Whereupon Edith most intriguingly firmed
her lips.

Marian and Katie shared a frustrated glance. And naturally enough, how Lord Sidley chose to spend his days
became a topic of some interest for several of theirs.

But when the notorious gentleman failed to gratify
their curiosity by appearing at the Woodheads’ musicale, or even Mr. Dudley Mandaring’s much touted balloon ascension, they were compelled to consider other
diversions.

Lord Sidley, however, was not to be so easily dismissed. The very next Tuesday, in pursuit of several trifling though necessary articles, Marian and her relations
ventured out shopping. A desultory drizzle had kept them
from taking the air that morning, and though the rain had
ceased, a consequent dullness had overtaken their small
company. On reaching the haberdasher’s, Edgar lent
Marian an obligatory hand in stepping from the carriage.
But that hand was not firm enough, or perhaps not attentive enough, to counter the rain-slicked step. As her
boot slipped, Marian also slipped-only to be caught
and planted upright by a swift, strong arm.

“Do keep your baggage from tumbling into the street,
Formsby,” a low voice drawled above her. A sharply assessing blue gaze held her startled attention. But that
gaze broke abruptly as her rescuer released her and
turned instead to plucking with concern at a loose thread
upon his otherwise immaculate coat.

“But-” Edgar protested, “but she isn’t..

“Baggage? Or yours?”

“Why, she certainly isn’t baggage!”

“But she is yours?”

“M-m’lord! You speak of a gentlewoman! Miss Ware
isn’t mine!”

“Isn’t she?” Again the blue gaze met her own. “Nevertheless, I shall be billing you for my repairs, as you appear to claim … propinquity.” And after the shallowest
of bows, her rescuer walked off in the company of two
equally elegant, amused fellows.

Marian noticed that he sported a necessarily long cane,
which, though he limped slightly, he utilized not at all.

“Do not mind him, Marian,” Edith assured her, joining her at the curb. “He is most likely foxed. And for all
he looks the gentleman, his manners are wanting. I am
most disappointed.”

“I shall not mind him at all-whoever he may be”

“That was Sidley,” Katie claimed, her absorbed attention on the departing trio.

“He knew my name,” Edgar breathed.

“Why, of course he did,” Lady Formsby advised him
sharply. “I suggest you both recall yourselves. Gaping in
the street like ninnyhammers!”

Marian turned away with no small amount of impatience. She was above examining why she should be disconcerted. She had thought of little apart from Lord
Sidley since the weekend’s party. Yet now she had met
him, Lord Sidley might go to the devil.

“I do envy you, Marian,” Katie told her, taking her
arm and squeezing it. “That Lord Sidley should rescue
you! It shall be quite the on dit!”

“Only if you make it so, Katie. Which I would rather
you did not. ‘Twas nothing at all. Though I am grateful
not to have fallen.”

“‘Nothing’! Oh, my dear Marian, how little you know
of town !”

Marian did not aspire to know much more of town.
What she had seen of town had convinced her that there
was too much to learn to make the effort worthwhile.
She had come here to study, after all, not to debate the relative merits of Lord Sidley. And she had only six weeks
at most. Her generous cousin Edith had given her this
opportunity as a gift, to glean what she might from the
Royal Academy’s art masters and to provide some slight
companionship to Katie. The girls had been a year at
boarding school together, and despite nearly two years’
difference in their ages, Marian felt close to her young
relative. Lady Formsby had no doubt intended that Marian’s steadier nature would help temper Katie’s high
spirits. At the very least, Katie would be encouraged to
accompany Marian to a few cultural events, and that,
Edith had told them mildly, must be deemed beneficial
to all.

Ten days gone! Marian had so much she wished to
learn and to see. Each day had become precious.

The greater part of the season had already passed, but
Marian, being only too obviously the more modestly sit uated relation, had been rushed to the dressmakers and
milliners, so that she might partner Katie in acceptable
style. She had attended several evening events, including Helen Hempthorne’s card party, and sampled ices at
Gunter’s and toured the Tower. She knew how to locate
the different drawing rooms at Lady Formsby’s town
house but was quite lost when attempting to navigate
much else. She felt ungrateful for spending even a moment missing her home in Northamptonshire and her
brother, Michael, newly designated curate in their village
at Brinford.

On Thursday, after spending the morning with the
drawing professor and a subsequent four intense hours
painting, Marian made a point of stopping in Piccadilly
to enter Hatchards before the shop closed. She was most
anxious for something to read. Though the Formsbys’
beautiful library boasted every other convenience, it was
surprisingly lean of books, other than Great-grandfather
Satterthwaite’s sermons and every agricultural treatise
of the past century. And Katie’s taste ran to startlingly
lurid literature.

At the bookstore she asked the maid to guard her paint
box and keep watch at the window for Lady Katherine
and the carriage. Then Marian eagerly sought the histories and biographies of her favorites. But she was drawn
instead to the magnificent pages in a displayed volume,
the aquatinted illustrations a miniature gallery of London’s sights, and found herself happily and obliviously
employed in studying the book’s riches.

“Young lady.” A most superior voice invaded her perusal. Marian turned to an offended store clerk. “This is
not for circulation, but a most precious volume-to be
treated with utmost care” He reached to slide the book
away from her reverent hands. “It is intended only for
serious consideration.”

“But I am considering it seriously, sir,” Marian objected, making every effort to conceal her outrage. “I
have been most respectful. I understood the volumes
were for sale, and thus open to review.”

The clerk’s nose rose farther. “You intend a purchase, then?”

“Why, no. But I-”

“I am intending to purchase” A long, polished cane
snaked across the table, staying the clerk’s hands, effectively preventing the volume’s removal.

Marian glanced over at Lord Sidley. Given the abruptness with which he had intervened, his manner was surprisingly easy and relaxed.

“I am an aficionado of such works, Mr…. T’

“I am … I am Pinxton, my lord.” The man’s supercilious expression had entirely fled.

“Pinxton,” Sidley repeated, starting to smile. “The
young lady’s opinion of this item is critical to my decision. With your permission, good Mr. Pinxton, I should
like her to have sufficient time to examine the volume.
‘Twould be invaluable to me that she ascertain whether
‘tis truly worthwhile. And she must review anything
else about that strikes her fancy. You understand? Any thing that she approves, you must send ‘round to me.
Tonight.”

“Cer-certainly, my lord.”

“But only with her endorsement.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And if anything should so impress her as to qualify
for purchase, you will be so good as to deliver it to me
yourself, then, Pinxton?”