Regency Innocents (37 page)

He looked nothing like Captain Fawley. Not only was he fair-haired and blue-eyed, but there was nothing about their facial features to suggest they could be related at all.

Deborah curtsied. He bowed, then shocked her by saying, ‘Would you do me the honour of allowing me to partner you for the first dance?'

It was with mixed feelings that she allowed Lord Walton to lead her on to the dance floor. It had been so kind of Captain Fawley to ensure she was not left on the sidelines, while Susannah formed part of the set that opened such a glittering ball. She had never danced with an earl, never mind such a handsome one. She should have been giddy with rapture. But as they trod the measure of the stately quadrille, she could not help being agonisingly aware that, though she formed part of the set that contained Captain Fawley, she was not his partner. Nor could she help but be aware of the satisfaction that gleamed from his eyes every time he linked hands with Susannah.

On the whole, she was glad when the exercise was over, and Lord Walton led her back to the bench where her mother was sitting, chatting happily with a bevy of dowagers.

As Susannah's next partner came to claim his dance, Captain Fawley bowed stiffly to Deborah. His face
looked a little strained as he said, somewhat defensively, ‘I am not going to ask you to dance, Miss Gillies. But may I have the pleasure of your company during the next set, if your card is free?'

In spite of all the stern lectures she had given herself, her heart began to beat a tattoo against her ribs in response to his request. In truth, she would much rather spend time talking to him, than treading prescribed steps in time with the music. Especially since she could tell that performing the quadrille had cost him quite dearly. Lines of tension bracketed his mouth, and his eyes were dulled with pain.

‘Yes, thank you. I should like that.' She smiled, laying her hand upon his arm as he held it out. ‘In fact,' she suggested, sensitive to his evident discomfort, ‘I should quite enjoy sitting and watching the dancers.'

He quirked one eye at her. ‘You sound just like Heloise—that is, my sister-in-law, Lady Walton. As an artist, she likes to observe the
ton
at play. Do you sketch?'

‘Oh, no, not really. No more than any young lady is supposed to.'

He suddenly frowned. ‘Of course, you are not in the best of health, are you? Here, let us sit on this sofa, so that you may rest.'

‘I do not need to rest. Not tonight. I am not generally invalidish,' she retorted. Then could have kicked herself for being so insensitive. He had probably homed in on her precisely because he thought she was frail, so that he could have the opportunity to sit without making it look as though it was what he needed to do.

He settled her on a cushioned window seat, far
enough from the swirling crowds so that they could engage in conversation, yet still within sight of the chaperon's bench.

‘Are you enjoying your Season?' he enquired politely, ignoring her last tactless remark.

‘In some ways.' She sighed. She did not want to waste her few precious moments with him in polite nothings. Yet he did not look as though he was really interested in her answer. ‘I am certainly glad to see my mother enjoying herself so much.' She looked across the room to where Mrs Gillies was dividing her time between chatting with her acquaintances and watching Susannah's progress with obvious satisfaction. ‘From the moment we heard that a Season in London was going to be possible after all, it was as though she came back to life.'

‘Your father died not long ago, I seem to recall?'

‘Yes, and it hit her very badly. For several months she seemed to lose interest in everything. I had to …' She paused. She did not want to sound as though she was complaining. ‘Well, we were not left in very comfortable circumstances. But look at her now.' She smiled fondly at her mother across the room. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were bright. ‘It has done her so much good to launch Susannah. And finding so many of her old friends in London has successfully distracted her from her problems.'

‘But what of you?' he persisted. ‘I can see your friend is enjoying her triumph. And that your mother is in her element. But how does the delicate Miss Gillies fare in the hurly burly of London society?'

‘I have told you before, I am not in the least delicate!
It was only because …' She tailed off, blushing as she realised she was on the point of divulging just how desperate their straits had been before the Hullworthys had come to their rescue.

The little cottage, which had seemed perfectly charming when they had moved in during the summer, had revealed all its inadequacies during the first autumnal storm. The roof leaked, the windows rattled in their casements, and the chimneys smoked. Her mother had shrunk into herself as though finally realising that she was going to eke out the rest of her days in penury. Feeling as though she had contributed to her mother's state of mind, by not having managed to find somewhere better, Deborah's health had broken down.

That, at least, had roused Mrs Gillies from her apathy. Fearing that she might lose her daughter, as well as her husband, within the space of a few months, she had put pride to one side and finally accepted the Hullworthys' offer of rooms up at the Hall so she could nurse Deborah back to health in warmth and comfort.

Even though it meant they had become charity cases.

Deborah was only having this Season at all because she felt she owed the Hullworthys her very life. She had not wanted to come, especially not at their expense, but Susannah wanted her mother to launch her into society, and Deborah was necessary to make the whole thing look right.

‘If you must know, this whole thing seems … unreal. Wasting entire days shopping so that we may fritter away the evenings dancing, or doing something equally frivolous … it is a bit like living a dream, from which I
am waiting to awake, so that I can get back to my real life again.'

‘Do you dislike it so much?' he frowned.

‘Oh, no. It is quite a pleasant sort of dream …' she sighed ‘… for the most part.' She frowned down at the dainty satin slippers that peeped from beneath the hem of her gown, wondering what on earth had possessed her to speak so frankly. Yet having begun, she felt a compelling urge to unburden herself to the one person she thought might understand her sentiments.

‘It is just that I cannot ever permit myself to enter into it all in quite the same way as Miss Hullworthy does. She is here to catch a husband, whereas I …' Her breath hitched in her throat.

‘You do not wish to marry?' Captain Fawley looked puzzled.

‘Of course, marriage would be my preferred option. But being of a practical nature, I have to consider what I will do when my time in London is over, should I not have received any offers.'

‘And what decision have you come to?' he asked, with a smile.

‘That I shall have to find some kind of paid position, of course. Either as a governess, or teacher. I would prefer to secure a post as a housekeeper, for I know that is a job I could do really well. However, I do not think anyone would employ a girl as young as me for such a responsible post.'

‘Would anyone employ a girl of your background for a teaching post, either?' She shot him a look of chagrin. But there was nothing in his face to suggest he was
mocking her. On the contrary, he only looked as though he was curious.

‘I think they might, yes,' she retorted, lifting her chin. ‘All I shall need to do is teach other young ladies the very same things I have had to learn. I can do household accounts, and bake, and sew. And, what is more, Papa taught me Greek and Latin,' she finished proudly.

‘Do many schools for little girls have Greek and Latin on the curriculum?' He laughed.

‘They might have,' she replied, fixing him with a challenging look. ‘There might be some schools that work on the ethos that girls have a right to learn all the things that boys do, and not restrict them to sewing, and deportment, and drawing.'

Are you equipped to teach them to fence and box, by any chance?'

Part of her wanted to take offence at his words, but the smile in his eyes as he teased her was so appealing, she found herself laughing instead.

‘Oh, very well, not perhaps everything, but you know what I mean.'

‘Yes, I rather think I do.' He smiled, getting to his feet. ‘Pray forgive me, Miss Gillies, but I must take my leave of you. Now that I have had my dance with Miss Hullworthy, and spent this delightful interlude with you, it is time I was elsewhere.'

Delightful interlude. He had said this had been a delightful interlude.

She stared up at him, her heart sinking as she noted the blankness of his face as he bowed his farewell. It was
just the sort of nonsense men spouted all the time. Something to say. He hadn't really meant it.

‘Goodnight, then, Captain Fawley,' she managed to say, though she could not muster the smile she should have raised to go with the polite utterance. Nor could she tear her eyes away from him, as he limped away. As he bade farewell to his host, Lord Lensborough's face darkened. And after he had gone, the Marquis turned and glared at Susannah, as she made her way down the current set, his fists clenching as though he was restraining the urge to seize her and throw her bodily through the nearest window.

At first, his demeanour shocked her. But then she reminded herself that she did not like the way Susannah treated Captain Fawley, either. Lord Lensborough might not be a very pleasant man, but he was clearly capable of loyalty towards those he considered friends.

And it
was
hard to sit and watch Susannah enjoying herself, when Captain Fawley, who had been responsible for bringing her here, had just slunk out, alone, into the night.

Oh, why could not Susannah appreciate what it was costing Captain Fawley to court her? He found it physically painful to dance, and yet he had persistently begged for the privilege of doing so with her, so ardent was his admiration. He could not even bear to remain in this ballroom, when he knew his own case was hopeless. He had laid himself open to rejection, time and time again, and yet it all meant nothing to her! Why couldn't she see that the esteem of a man like him was worth far more than landing a title? What did it matter
if his body was no longer completely whole? It was the heart of a man that mattered.

And Captain Fawley's heart was Susannah's for the taking.

Susannah's.

She must not forget that. Not for an instant.

Snapping her fan open, Deborah rose to her feet, and made her way rather unsteadily to the bench on which her mother was sitting.

I
t was a glorious afternoon. Though there was hardly a cloud in the sky, a deliciously cool breeze skittered playfully through the chestnut trees, making the air beneath their boughs sweet enough to drink. Sadly, Deborah's pleasure in being out of doors was dimmed somewhat by the company she was in.

Although Susannah no longer viewed Baron Dunning with much enthusiasm, she had not turned down his invitation to promenade through Hyde Park during the fashionable hour. Particularly since he had been thoughtful enough to bring along his friend, Mr Jay, to escort Deborah. The girls had both hoped that having male escorts would make the walk rather more like the brisk outings they were used to taking in Lower Wakering. But the men were no more willing to stride out than the hired London servants were. They strolled along at a snail's pace, pausing frequently to acknowledge acquaintances or point out persons of interest who were bowling along the carriage drive in smart barouches or landaulets.

Deborah's heart sank as yet another friend of Mr Jay's called out a greeting, then, upon catching sight of Susannah, pulled his rather showy chestnut mare alongside them.

‘What brings you to the park at this hour, Lampton?' Mr Jay asked him as he swung down from the saddle. ‘Wouldn't have thought it was quite your thing.'

‘Oh, you know,' Mr Lampton said vaguely, his attention riveted upon Susannah. ‘Won't you introduce me to your charming companions?'

Deborah's first impression was that he must be one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. He was tall and well built. A lock of fair hair strayed from under his curly-brimmed beaver hat, but she would have guessed at the colouring anyway, from the fairness of lashes and brows that framed forget-me-not blue eyes.

‘Oh, this is Miss Gillies,' Mr Jay said briefly. ‘Miss Gillies, the Honourable Percy Lampton.'

‘Charmed to make your acquaintance,' said Mr Lampton, turning on a smile so patently false, it immediately put Deborah's back up. Men as handsome as this were not charmed to make her acquaintance. They usually ran their eyes over her swiftly, assessing her scrawny figure, the cheapness of her dress, and then the expression in their eyes became dismissive, or sometimes even downright scornful.

‘Mr Lampton,' she repeated, making the proper curtsy, though she found it hard to muster up a reciprocal smile.