Never a Mistress, No Longer a Maid (25 page)

Before Rosalind could reply, the door swung open again and a
grave Aunt Prue and Miss Mariah entered.  Prudence Hamilton was the youngest
sister of the late Duchess of Kellington.  In her early ‘40s, she was still a
beauty and known for her warmth and wit, quite unlike their paternal aunt,
Agatha Darlington, the Countess of Crenshaw, who was known to only rarely smile
and was rather glacial in personality.  Mariah Campbell had been Aunt Prue’s companion
for almost two decades.  Somewhat shy, but a treasured confidante, she was
treated as a member of the family by the Kellingtons.

“Lizzie,” said Aunt Prue.  “What have you done?”

“Not you, too?  What is all this stuff and nonsense about
the treatise?” asked an exasperated Lizzie.  Lynwood had reacted utterly
predictably.  But it was disconcerting to be scolded by those who should be
cheering her on.  “I only wrote what so many ladies – and a good number of
gentlemen – are thinking.  I read in the Times just the other day that no
lesser a personage than the Earl of Stalford wants to reform the marriage laws
and may even be amenable to recognizing wives in their own right, instead of
treating them as their husband’s property.”

“But my dear,” said Aunt Prue, “the Earl of Stalford isn’t
just a well respected member of the House of Lords whose duty it is to oversee
legislation, he’s a gentleman.  And, as hypocritical as it seems, society will
always be more forgiving of the idiosyncrasies of its male members than the
female.”

“But all of you agreed with me,” said Lizzie.

“We still do,” said Aunt Prue not unkindly.  “But we’re also
more realistic than you, or perhaps, not as brave.  We stand behind you, but
you’ve set yourself up as a target and I fear society will not be kind.”

Lizzie looked at three of the women dearest to her heart. 
How could they not understand how important these issues were to her?  She
suddenly wished her new sister-in-law were there.  Jane was well aware of the
limitations society placed on women, yet she worked as a surgeon in the village
of Marston Vale.  Surely she would understand what Lizzie had been trying to
do.

“I guess Gunter’s is out of the question,” said Lizzie
somewhat petulantly, looking at the clock.  “I’d best get ready for tonight.”

“Do you really think it’s wise to go?” asked Mariah.

“Whatever else I am, I’m no coward,” said Lizzie.

“No, my dear, you most certainly are not,” said Aunt Prue,
with admiration in her eyes.  “Now let’s get you dressed.

*                    *                    *

Riverton looked about him in some dismay.  The Tarlington
ballroom was already overcrowded and rife with the pungent smell of sweat and
cloying perfume.  Worse yet, the marriage-minded mamas, little used to seeing
him in their midst, were already lining up their daughters for his perusal,
while the unhappily married matrons were sending him not-so-subtle glances. 
Riverton usually avoided evenings like this at all costs, preferring instead to
stay home and read, work on his speeches or engage in a chess match with either
Lynwood or Inspector Stapleton, a Bow Street runner whose acquaintance he’d
made through the duke.

But tonight, he came to lend his support to Lizzie.  Just
hours after her treatise had appeared, she was the talk of the ball.  Society’s
grandes dames
were making their disapproval known and telling their sons
and daughters to give her a wide berth.  Lordlings hoping to make their fortune
through marriage weren’t dissuaded, of course, and, judging from conversations
he’d overheard in the card room, those who’d once thought themselves far
beneath her were pleased to see the playing field leveled.

Worst of all were the scoundrels and rakes with no desire to
marry who now thought they had a shot at, as one had put it, “having a taste of
her.”  That same gentleman had quit the ball soon thereafter, once Riverton had
had a word with him in private, coupled with a few well-placed blows.

It looked to be a long evening, but Riverton was prepared to
do whatever was necessary to protect Lady Elizabeth Kellington.  

*                    *                    *               

Sometimes having older brothers was incredibly vexing,
thought Lizzie as she adjusted her gown once again.  It was her new favorite. 
It had a green underskirt with a delicate layer of gossamer lace, and cap
sleeves.  The bodice was rather daringly low-cut, but was certainly no more
revealing than the gowns of the many women who threw themselves at her brothers
with such tiresome regularity.  One could judge the amount of time you’d spent
at a ball from the number of women who made advances on Lynwood, Arthur and
Hal.

Which was why it was so unfair that they’d reacted so
harshly to her own behavior.  Arthur had even had the audacity to blame her for
a gaming loss.  He’d been on the verge of winning a rather large pot at White’s
when one of his friends had taken it upon himself to read the treatise aloud. 
It had discomposed Arthur so much that he’s lost count of the cards. 

Hal had taken it as a personal affront.  He deemed it
incomprehensible that anyone would doubt man’s inherent superiority to women. 
He intended to rectify the matter by finding two lightskirts after the ball and
spending the rest of the night not talking politics with either of them.  Of
course, he hadn’t said that to Lizzie.  But her brothers hadn’t exactly been
quiet while taking their brandy in the library waiting for her to come down.

No one had wanted Lizzie to go to the ball, but once they’d
learned she wasn’t to be dissuaded, they’d decided to go as a united front to
support her.  Which was typical of her family in general.  A slight toward one
was an insult to them all.

When they first arrived, it appeared Lizzie might just be
right about her ability to withstand the criticism.  There was a hush
throughout the ballroom when they were announced, but that wasn’t an unusual
occurrence when Lizzie entered any room with her three quite eligible
brothers.  Lady Tarlington was flustered and Lord Tarlington looked like he
wanted to have Lizzie removed, courtesy of a boot to her bottom.  But as host
and hostess they welcomed the Kellingtons as gracefully as possible.

When they entered the ballroom proper, they were immediately
converged upon by Aunt Prue, Mariah, Rosalind and Riverton.

Lynwood pulled Riverton aside.  “What’s the mood?”  He’d
already made his own assessment, but wanted to know if the reality was as grim.

Riverton hesitated just a moment before answering, weighing
his words.  “As you might expect.”

He was stopped from elaborating further when Lizzie
approached.  And, as usual, he was stunned by the vision before him.  He
observed that she, as usual, seemed perfectly at ease with him.  Like being in
the presence of a trusted servant.  Or a family pet. 

“It’s not often I see you at a ball, my lord.  What brings
you out tonight?”

“A chance to meet with friends,” Riverton said, bowing over
her hand.

“Did his grace fill you in on the sordid details of my
treatise?” She smiled, but Riverton thought it just a bit brittle.

“He didn’t need to tell me what I could read for myself.”

“I suppose you disagree with my views most vehemently, don’t
you?” 

“It’s safe to say we are not in accord.”

There seemed to be a hint of disappointment in her
countenance.  “And do you view them as disastrously as my brothers?”

“To tell the truth, Lady Elizabeth, I find the treatise
quite…remarkable.”

*                    *                    *               

That was the odd thing about Riverton, thought Lizzie.  Just
when you thought he was predictable and stodgy and behaved the way an elderly
uncle might – if an elderly uncle were only a few years older, a good four
inches taller than you and had hair the color of wheat and eyes so blue they
almost hurt – just as you thought he was so predictable, he’d say something to
steal your breath away.

Lizzie was spared from further distraction when another man
appeared at Riverton’s side.  One who was also handsome, with reddish hair and
a smile filled with straight white teeth.  He spoke to the marquis, but had
eyes only for Lizzie.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me, Riverton?”

Riverton paused for a moment as if considering ways to avoid
that very thing, before doing what was expected of him.  “Lady Elizabeth
Kellington, may I present George Stahly, Earl of Stalford.  Stalford, this is
Lady Elizabeth.”

“The lady author,” said Stalford, as he brought Lizzie’s
fingers to his lips and Riverton clenched his jaw.  “I’m as intrigued to meet
you as I am impressed by your words.”

“You liked my article?”  Her astonishment was plain.  She’d
almost given up finding anyone at the ball who might be a supporter.

“Like is much too tame of a word, my dear.  It encapsulated
everything I’ve been trying to get across in Lords, but with much more style. 
It’s all anyone can talk about tonight.  One day on the public stage and you’ve
already accomplished more for the fairer sex than I have through years of
shouting down conservatives like old Riverton there.  I’m surprised he didn’t
have an apoplexy when he read it.”

“Do you really think it could sway public opinion?” asked
Lizzie.  “With all the criticism I’ve received, I was beginning to fear I
miscalculated.”

“Don’t let Riverton dissuade you.  He’s against all forms of
progress and nearly all means of enjoyment.  But I for one will not be denied. 
May I have this dance?”

“It would be my pleasure,” said Lizzie, as she swept past
Riverton onto the dance floor.

He was left with just the slightest scent of freesia and the
strong desire to stuff Stalford into the nearest fountain.