Miss Cresswell's London Triumph (10 page)

Yes, Frances concluded, Horace was eminently suitable as a companion for her sister, but she was concerned lest Cassie, surrounded as she was by empty-headed tulips of the ton, give Horace more credit for intelligence than was his due and come to view him as something more man a companion. Having caught that young man, blissfully unaware of anyone's scrutiny, gazing adoringly at Cassie, Frances realized that he was besotted with her sister and she felt certain that he would soon be approaching Lord Mainwaring to ask for her hand. The prospect did not precisely displease Frances, but by the same token it did not please her either. Somehow she had
hoped that the return of Ned and Freddie would liven things up, but Freddie was too busy reestablishing ties with his cronies and Ned seemed bent on breaking most, if not all, the female hearts in London. If he could be said to be spending time with anyone, it was with Arabella Taylor. Often he could be seen riding beside her carriage in the park, and if her expression were any indication, his conversation was extraordinarily gratifying to that young woman.

Cassie had also noted this interesting development of events, and far from being pleased at her former playmate's pursuit of the woman he had wooed so long in vain, she felt rather put out by the affair. As they had entered their box at the opera she had happened to glance over at the couple several boxes away from them just as Ned had leaned over to whisper something that had produced a most coy look and a playful tap on the cheek from Arabella's fan. Cassie had looked quickly away, but not before Frances had caught the expression of disgust on her sister's face. Cassie had remained rather quiet and abstracted the rest of the evening, though normally she would have been completely enthralled by Mozart's music.

It was not too many evenings later, at the Countess of Wakefield's ball, when Cassie, never one to mince words— especially when addressing someone she had known since childhood—articulated this disgust to Ned himself. Frances, also privy to the little scene, would have been as amused as always by watching the sparks fly between these two particularly strong-minded people, except that this time a more serious note had crept into their argument, though to do Cassie justice, it had been Ned who had precipitated the quarrel.

After spending much of the evening with Horace quietly discussing the relative merits of Mr. Gillies's translation of Aristotle, Cassie had been lured into an energetic country dance by her brother, who had begged, "Please, Cass, dance this one with me. Amanda Billingsley's mother keeps looking at me in the most meaningful way. It's not that I don't feel sorry for someone as dish-faced as she is, but must she simper and make eyes at me just because I give her a nod now and then?"

"Surely it was only a friendly smile such as she would direct at anyone she has known for some time," Cassie suggested.

"Perhaps," Freddie replied, though he did not sound the least convinced. "But does she have to look so desperate? It makes a fellow feel dashed uncomfortable, I can tell you."

Here Cassie noticed Ned in conversation with a dashing redhead who looked to be a good deal amused and gratified with their tete-a-tete. At any rate, she kept hanging on to his arm in the most intimate way, Cassie reflected huffily. Not too much later, after Freddie had left her to ask a friend about a matched pair of grays he was eager to acquire, Cassie looked about for Horace, who had gone off to the card room to find his mother. As her glance swept the crowded ballroom it landed again on Ned, this time with Lady Jersey. That renowned coquette was positively draping herself all over him and he seemed to be enjoying it hugely.

Thus, she was not in the best of humors when he strode across the floor to her just as a waltz was struck up. Bending over her hand, he looked up at her, quirking one dark brow and asked, "Would you grant a poor supplicant the very great honor, Cassie?"

Annoyed though she was, Cassie found it impossible to resist the appeal in his dark blue eyes and, giving him her hand, allowed herself to be led onto the floor. As they whirled around the room she found herself wondering again at the change in her old gawky Ned, who bore not the least resemblance to the tall powerful man now guiding her skillfully among the maze of couples.

However, it was the same old Ned who broke into her thoughts some minutes later in his usual direct manner. "Now, Cassie, what's this I hear about your lending a hand to the Comte de Vaudron? I should think that you would like it above all things. And you, with the background Frances gave you in history, as well as your own knowledge of Greek, will do the thing right. Why, if some moldly old pedant got hold of those marbles, he would want to bury them away so only the most devoted scholars among us would have the right to view them just as they have done with the zoological collection at the British Museum. It don't bear thinking of." Ned paused and regarded his partner thoughtfully. She was in many ways lovelier than ever, but somehow the spark that had made her what she was—awake on all suits and ready for any adventure—seemed to have disappeared. The thoughtful look on his face vanished as quickly as it had appeared and he continued in a rallying tone, "And speaking of pedants, I hear Wilbraham has joined the comte's entourage. Take care, Cass, lest you cast him in the shade. He doesn't take too kindly to competition, especially when it comes from someone with true intellectual attainments."

Cassie did not look to be best pleased at this remark, and she defended her fellow scholar in a decidedly frosty tone. "I consider Horace Wilbraham to be quite the brightest young man of my acquaintance."

Ned snorted, "Freddie and I didn't return a moment too soon if you are forced to make do for companionship with that pompous—"

The calm disdain which Cassie had hitherto displayed dissolved in an instant as she retorted in a furious undertone, "Horace, at least, possesses a mind devoted to serious subjects, for which I admire him. He is concerned with higher things than causing a stir in the ballroom or at the opera. I am thankful to know someone who does not waste his time, as so many do, flitting from one person to the next, squandering his intelligence on idle flirtation and frivolous chatter. If there is a better man around, I am sure—"

"You don't know," Ned finished. His brows snapped together and now, equally furious, he took up the battle. "Have a care, Cassie," he warned, "or you will become as much of a dead bore as he is."

"Well, of all the wickedly unjust things," Cassie gasped. Too angry now for caution, she continued, "I should far rather be a bore than a silly heartless flirt like Arabella Taylor, whose only thought is to amuse herself, whatever the cost. I wish you joy of her."

"Thank you. I am sure I shall receive it from a woman who at least knows how to enjoy herself and entertain others," Ned answered grimly.

By now they were well within earshot of Frances and Kitty and somehow they managed to finish the waltz in hostile silence. With a curt nod to these two ladies, Ned restored his partner to her coterie and then, without a backward glance at Cassie, strode off, leaving them all openmouthed. Frances was the first to recover. Seeing her sister's distress, she came quickly to her aid, saying, "Horace has come to tell me that as his mother is feeling a trifle fatigued he is taking her home." Privately she thought it was less fatigue which motivated Lady Wilbraham than a desire to make her son cater to her every little whim, but at the moment it suited Frances to believe this fiction. "She has the right idea," she continued. "This has become a sad crush and I would just as soon leave now that we have paid our respects to the countess. Besides, Teddy seemed fretful tonight and I am worried that he has caught something from the stableboy he has been spending time with."

Ordinarily, Cassie would have recognized this last farrago of nonsense as a stratagem of the most obvious sort—Lady Frances being a practical mother and never one to be unduly dismayed by the normal misfortunes of childhood—but she was far too upset to think clearly, much less recognize the ruses employed for her protection. With a grateful sigh she acquiesced and allowed herself to return to Grosvenor Square, where she sought the sanctuary of her dressing room as quickly as possible.

Though escape from the crowds in the ballroom afforded her peace and quiet, it meant that Cassie had ample time to reflect on the entire scene that had passed and she spent a sleepless night going over and over again her contretemps with Ned. Try as she might, she could not erase the final image she had of him, his face taut with anger, blue eyes blazing as he accused her of being a bore. I am not in the least a bore, she told herself defiantly. I can discuss a vaster array of subjects than most of my acquaintances and I am truly interested in almost any topic. Well, most topics of a serious nature, she amended, remembering how insipid she found the conversation of Arabella and other damsels like her.

It is he who has changed. But irrefutable though her logic might be, she found herself wondering doubtfully if Ned might not be right. Perhaps her devotion to scholarly pursuits was making her rather serious and dull. Thus in the following weeks the two men laboring over metopes from the Parthenon in Hanover Square saw very little of Cassie. Instead, she threw herself into an orgy of activity.

It would have been too much to expect that she frequented every social event that was offered, but in her time off from serious endeavors, she took the opportunity to allay another worry of hers, which was that she had been neglecting Theodore. With this in mind, and remembering her own days in London when Frances had seen Kitty through her come-out, she inveigled Freddie and Nigel into taking her and Teddy to Sadlers Wells, where they spent several delicious hours under the spell of Grimaldi. The famous clown was a good deal older than he had been when Freddie and Cassie had last seen him perform, but his antics were as amusing as ever, and Teddy was enchanted.

Watching him as he sat enthralled, Cassie realized that it had been some time since she had done anything for the sheer pleasure of it. True, she loved the work she was doing with the comte. It was intriguing, challenging, and rewarding, but there was always a purpose behind it. Reflecting further, she became more conscious of the fact that everything she did in her life had some well- conceived reason behind it. Even the more frivolous activities of her come-out were for a purpose

and became, therefore, duties which she felt it incumbent upon herself to fulfill. Thus she had found herself at balls and routs conscientiously asking herself if she had taken adequate advantage of each event to expand and enlarge her acquaintance, never giving a thought to enjoying herself. In fact she had, on the basis of her limited experience with the assemblies in Hampshire, journeyed to London with the expectation that the social events of the Season would be larger but equally mindless versions of these country gatherings. With this preconception she had not even stopped to consider the possibility that they might be entertaining or amusing, and thus they had not afforded her much amusement or entertainment. Nor had she, bearing Ned's criticism in mind, afforded much amusement or entertainment to those she encountered there, she reflected.

As always, Ned Mainwaring, with his keen perception and his ability to get straight to the heart of the matter, had started her thinking, and Cassie was far too fair-minded to let her anger or her disapproval of his behavior keep her from appreciating his insight. The very thought of losing Ned as a friend, a distinct possibility given the heated nature of their discussion at the Countess of Wakefield's, made her vow to scrutinize her own behavior and work to make amends, if possible.

Much the same thoughts that occupied Cassie were preying on Ned as well. He had returned home seething with rage at the condescending tone with which Cassie had criticized a childhood playmate who could be accused of doing nothing worse than the rest of the beau monde—dressing, flirting, chatting, and generally enjoying herself. A bottle of port later, some of the rage had subsided and the chief impression that remained, hazy though it was by this time, of the unpleasant scene in the ballroom was the hurt look in Cassie's eyes along with the sense that somehow he had let her down. Damn it, I don't owe her an explanation of my behavior, he fumed. And Horace Wilbraham is a pedant of the worst sort. But somehow, no matter how he vindicated his conduct, it didn't justify the pain he seemed to have caused an old friend. I shall make it up to her tomorrow, he resolved. It's been years since we went to Astley's. Certainly Horace won't have taken her there, he would not be caught dead frequenting such a place. And besides, Teddy would enjoy it. Feeling a trifle comforted by this decision, he promptly fell into a deep sleep.

It was with this laudable purpose in mind that he presented himself quite early one morning in Grosvenor Square only to find the place in a minor turmoil.

"Good morning, sir, the venerable Higgins greeted Ned with his usual stately demeanor, but Ned retained the distinct impression that he had come from somewhere in a great hurry. This feeling was just establishing itself in his mind when Teddy came tearing around the corner and screeched to an abrupt halt when he caught sight of a visitor in the hall.

Seeing who it was, he relaxed visibly exclaiming, "Oh, famous! You're jutht the person we want. You thee. Papa and Mama are out riding in the park and Freddie ith at Tatterthallth, and thereth jutht Cathie and me and I'm not tall enough." As Ned persisted in looking blank despite this illuminating explanation, Theodore, looking slightly exasperated at the occasional and inopportune obtuseness of adults, summed up the problem in a word. "It'th Ethelred." At that moment, Wellington and Nelson came racing around the comer in the direction from which Theodore had appeared. Recognizing an old friend and source of aid, Wellington smiled his most gracious smile and plopped himself directly in front of Ned's gleaming Hessians. "Arf, art," he barked significantly before getting up again and heading back around the corner, pausing to look meaningfully over his shoulder at Ned and Theodore. Considering it beneath him to dash around in such an undignified hurry, Nelson strode off in the same direction with the same significant backward look at them. Recognizing an imperative summons when he saw one, Ned followed the two messengers and Theodore with alacrity.