Second Season (16 page)

“Here and there,” the Greek shrugged airily, “and what news of
les beaux?
There are engagements,
hein
?”

“Not that I hear. For the little one,
n’importe.
It is too bad she has the accident, she cannot make the curtsey to the Queen, but she will come again next year. For our Mees, one supposes it will be Lord Wrentham, but nothing is announced.”

Stepan lingered long enough for politeness, made his excuses and rapidly slid back through the mews to the stable entrance for Imbrie’s residence. The duke was at dinner. “Very good,” Stepan said to the butler. “I think we leave tomorrow. Please to tell milor’ I have a need to speak with him before he go to club.”

As it chanced, Julian discovered a lack of snuff box and went up to his chamber before Robsey could deliver the message. He found Stepan bustling about with open valises, obviously engaged in packing. “What the devil?”

It was the moment for honesty. “They have gone to Bath,” said Stepan. “No engagement has been announced but one expects it will be Lord Wrentham.” He allowed a slight pause to fold an evening coat tenderly. “At what hour do we start, milor’?”

“Nine,” said Julian automatically. “Damn you, Stepan—who told you to play Cupid?”

“No one, milor’—but I think it comes out well. That Maria is one very nice girl for me,” Stepan grinned ingratiatingly, and took heart as his master first snorted, then chuckled, and finally roared with laughter.

“Good God, am I to marry because you’ve an eye to the girl’s
maid
?”

“No, no!” Stepan protested. “But I think it will be more comfortable that we are all married together,
ne
?”

“Yes—and what if they refuse us?”

“Maria does not refuse me when her mistress accepts you,” Stepan said confidently.

“You lay a heavy responsibility upon me.” Nevertheless, the servant’s attitude was heartening, and his grace was further cheered by the discovery that Wrentham was gone into the country to attend his father’s possible death bed. Even if this came to anything and he became Earl of Waxe, he was bound to be immobilized by all the details of funeral and succession. Illogically, Julian was furiously insulted on Sharlie’s behalf. Wrentham had had months in which to come to the point. Did he expect her to have no other offers, to be waiting hopefully until Wrentham got everything else settled and found time to drop his handkerchief.

“Hah, we’ll see about that.”

CHAPTER VII

Julian set out
for Bath next morning, and accomplished the journey in rather less than Lady Stanwood’s time, since he was travelling light. Despite a good rest for his team, Julian was sweeping from Guinea Lane through Bennet Street into the Circus, and able to draw rein before his mother’s house by half after four—or exactly as Miss Charlotte Stanwood emerged from Lady Inverclyde’s establishment. Her reaction at the sight of the duke removed the last lingering reservation in his mind. But for the presence of onlookers, Julian would have leapt from the phaeton and dashed up those steps to clasp her in his arms!

She was utterly adorable, he had forgotten how graceful her figure, how sweet her smile, how charmingly natural she was. A moment she stood transfixed, lips parted in recognition. Then she was hastening down to the walk, holding the riding habit out of her way and stretching out her hand. “How delightful this is!” she exclaimed. “We had not the least notion ... that is, your mama said nothing of a visit.”

“She could not, for she did not know of it,” Julian held her hand tightly and smiled the charming Voss smile. “I’d heard you were here, but had not hoped for the luck of encountering you so immediately. How do you go on? Are you enjoying Bath and those horrid waters? Where do you stay?” Impulsively, “Send Moonshine home with the groom and allow me to drive you. We must catch up on these past weeks.”

“Yes—but ought you not first to inform Lady Imbrie of your arrival?” she asked doubtfully.

“Since I am not expected, it will be time enough to tell her when I return from ... wherever you live.”

“Camden Place.” She hesitated briefly, then with a mischievous twinkle she walked toward the phaeton. “I know very well I should not. Lady Imbrie will come to cuffs with me for delaying your arrival, but it is so good to see you. Hello, my beauties,” Sharlie crooned, patting the noses of Julian’s greys. “Ah, you are tired, but still full of pluck, are you not? How good you have been to bring him all the way from London. But there, is not much more before you will have a rubdown and a bag of oats, and tomorrow you’ll be full of frisk again.”

Julian stood bemused while the greys—reputed to be his most difficult team—snorted and sidled, ducked their heads and delicately pawed the ground, for all the world like bashful debutantes. He came to himself as she moved away to smile at Stepan, and swiftly tossed a coin to the waiting groom. “Take Miss Stanwood’s horse back to the stable, please.”

“Yes, your grace!” Another Golden Boy, but John-groom was struck with An Idea, as he watched the duke assisting Miss Stanwood into the phaeton. John was a cautious soul. Jogging homeward, he thought he would consult Maria before he said anything—but if he was right, “Eh, it’d be a hem set-down for they Londoners if our Miss Sharlie catched a duke!”

Meanwhile, Julian was taking the reins from Stepan, who sprang to the rear step as the phaeton began to move. “Oh, it is good to see you,” Sharlie said again, “and all falls out so well, for you must know that Emily’s ankle is greatly improved by the water baths and she can venture to dance again. Only the minuets and simplest country dances for the present, but in time she will be able to waltz.”

Julian nearly said “The devil with Emily!” but recalled his aunt’s advice. Instead, “That is good news. I suppose her card is as crowded as ever? Who are her principal suitors in Bath?” It was the right line, for Sharlie looked a bit taken aback at his calm avuncular voice.

“Well—well, of course there are no beaux to compare with London,” she said. “The Bath assemblies do not equal Almack’s, and the entertainment is necessarily more quiet, to suit the tastes of older people. I am able to get away for a ride in the country, but Emily is as near to boredom as I have ever seen her. You must know the sweetness of her nature, in general she would be happy wherever she found herself ... but now you are come, all will be different.”

“Yes, indeed,” Julian agreed. “We must continue your driving instruction. The countryside around Bath is the very spot for it, and it will be several days before my horses arrive
fur ein gallopp mit Mondscheiti
.”

She blushed faintly, and then laughed. “Oh, I am finely caught, am I not? But I am truly not at all
blue,
Duke—only that papa allowed me to study with Geoff when he was preparing for Oxford, and mama feared I should gain that reputation. However, it no longer matters, does it?”

“It never did, to me,” he smiled. “I find it pleasant to meet a young lady who is not ashamed to admit some education—doubly pleasant in reminding me of my travels. Should you object if we practice our languages while we take our drives? I grow rusty.”

She looked startled. “No—but I fear I never had sufficient command to be helpful,” she murmured. “Which have you studied?”

“German, Greek, Latin, a little Italian, and French, of course, but Emily only knows some French.”

“I suppose,” he nodded comfortably. “She is but little removed from the schoolroom, after all. There is plenty of time for her to advance, although I fancy she is having too good a time to care for study. Meanwhile it will be good to hear the foreign tongues again. Which shall we practice first?”

“Oh—it matters not, whichever pleases you.”

“Then let it be Italian,” he decided, smiling. “It is a long while since I have used it, but I once was fairly fluent. Perhaps I can help to expand that ‘little’ of yours.”

“It would be kind of you, Duke,” she said with an effort, and noting the faint bewildered frown, Julian congratulated himself on having made a good start via Aunt Georgie. It was even better in Camden Place, where they found Emily surrounded by young ladies and gentlemen, occupied with parlor games. She certainly jumped up and ran forward with a broad smile, hands outstretched, but her welcome was for a family friend. “What a lovely surprise! How glad I am to see you, Duke, for you must know that Sharlie is moped to death with no riding companion.”

Julian chuckled to himself at her reaction, but could not be sure that Sharlie had grasped it. He excused himself from introduction to her companions on the score of traveller’s dust, bestowed a general fatherly smile on the group and withdrew to the hall, where Lady Stanwood was coming down the stairs. “Milady,” he bowed over her hand, “it is shameful of me to present myself in all my dirt and dishevelment. I beg your pardon! But the luck of encountering Sh ... Miss Stanwood at the very moment of arrival—it was irresistible to pay my respects.”

“Indeed, no apology is needed from any acquaintance of my husband,” she said warmly. “I collect it is a surprise for Lady Imbrie? I hope you will find time to accompany her to dine with us.”

“Most assuredly,” Julian smiled, turning to Sharlie. “I must not stay, it is kind in you to receive me at all, but what are your engagements for tomorrow, Miss Stanwood? Can I take you up for a driving lesson?”

“I believe—that is, there is a scheme for driving to Wells, but you will scarcely wish to leave Lady Imbrie on your first day.”

“Wells, eh? Oh m’mother will see more than enough of me,” he returned cheerfully. “At what time do we start?”

From a place of dullness, Bath suddenly became great fun ... particularly for Lady Inverclyde. She bestirred herself daily to keep abreast of the situation, having her chair carried to the Pump Room for observation and chuckling to herself wickedly. Julian was assiduously accompanying his mother—and abducting Miss Stanwood for a driving lesson as soon as he’d got Lady Imbrie settled. Emily was enlivened by the arrival of Mr. Bigglesworth, come to pay his respects to an aunt who was much bewildered by such courtesy. Lady Stanwood preserved a calm demeanor that gave no hint of her inner glee, and Lady Imbrie was totally unaware of
anything
.

But by week’s end Julian was growing impatient. Daily Charlotte polished her driving technique, then returned him the ribbons for a conversation in Italian, “for I do not yet trust myself to handle the team without putting all my mind to it.” When they resumed English conversation, however, Sharlie was still stuck fast to the concept of his interest in Emily, and the more he tried to indicate his opinion of Emily as a schoolgirl, the more earnestly she emphasized her sister’s sterling qualities. Dash it, why the devil couldn’t Sharlie realize that she herself was his objective? He rather thought everyone else did, aside from Lady Imbrie who never saw anything unless she saw it first.

Reinforcement arrived on Friday in the person of Lord Arthur. Lady Imbrie certainly widened her eyes with astonishment at such an influx of uninvited guests to what was, after all, her personal establishment. She
wondered
that Arthur should not have thought to send word, she
wondered
what might be amiss to require instant consultation with Julian, “for it cannot be dire,” she informed Lady Inverclyde. “Julian was excessively pleased to see him, and I must own that Arthur apologized very prettily for his laxity. He always does, which does not prevent his doing it again the next time—a shag-bag lot, Flora! However, I could not hear of his removing to a common hotel when there is ample space here—and on the whole, one cannot dislike Arthur. It is what one most particularly regrets.”

Julian had no regrets at all. “By Jove, you’re the very man I need!”

“So m’mother thought,” Arthur grinned. “Sent me off to superintend, says you’re bound to make a muff of it on your own—and how goes it?”

“It doesn’t,” Julian said grimly. “I begin to think I’ll never have a chance until I’m rid of Emily—which is why I’m devilish glad to see you, Arthur.”

“Hold hard!” his cousin protested in alarm. “I’m not ready for the altar, Julian. There’s a limit to what I’ll do for family solidarity.”

“Lord, if I thought you’d be bowled out, I’d forbid the banns,” Julian returned scornfully. “No, all that’s wanted is to engage the girl’s attention sufficiently for Sharlie to see for herself. Emily hasn’t a thought of me, Arthur. She hasn’t a thought of anyone as yet. She’s simply enjoying herself. The more conquests the better, she’s flitting like the honeybee, and you’re the very person to flutter her. Will you do it?”

“Yes, but damme, Julian—I’ve no wish to raise expectations.”

“You won’t. You’ll see for yourself at the Assembly tonight.”

However, it was his grace who saw—not merely at the Assembly but subsequently, for in the space of one cotillion, Lord Arthur and Sharlie were on the best of terms. True that Emily blushed becomingly at Arthur’s compliments and permitted him to sit beside her during a country dance which Lady Stanwood declared too strenuous for the injured ankle. True that he cleverly obtained the adjoining seat when the company went in to tea, and drew such smiles as bitterly annoyed Mr. Bigglesworth on her other side. On the morrow he delighted Miss Emily by shamelessly emptying her cup of the famed water into a nearby potted palm, and in the afternoon he gained Lady Stanwood’s permission to form a boating party on the Avon—but as Arthur had somehow seated himself to face Sharlie, the conversation was necessarily general.

Lady Stanwood’s dinner party placed the duke to her right, with Lady Inverclyde beyond; to her left was General Pocklington, the perennial extra man of Bath, with Lady Imbrie beyond. Observing the cheerful group of young people below the salt, Julian had never been so irritated by the protocol required for his title. Lady Inverclyde held an informal gathering two nights later, “merely old friends for a few tables of whist,” she said blandly, “and perhaps the children may be able to make up a set for dancing, if you will lend us Miss Clapham for the music, Laura.”

From his seat as Lady Inverclyde’s partner, Julian was enabled to watch Sharlie tripping the light fantastic with his cousin, and the sight of her laughing face caused a revoke for which his hostess took him to task with all the freedom of one who had known him in diaper days. Julian transferred her strictures later to Lord Arthur.

“Damme, I told you to concentrate on Emily. What the devil are you doing, dancing attendance on Sharlie?”

“Emily’s chockablock with the sprigs, there’s no getting near her,” Arthur countered suavely, “so I’m emphasizing that to Sharlie and telling her what a fine character
you
are.”

“She already knows that,” Julian snarled. “It’s why she thinks I’m perfect for the ninnyhammer.”

Arthur chuckled. “Afraid I’ll cut you out, old boy? It serves you-right for dawdling about. All’s fair in love and war, every man for himself—it’s even our family crest:
Sauve qui peut
.”

Matters were not improved by Lady Imbrie’s sudden recognition of A Situation. “Flora tells me that Arthur is becoming most particular in his attentions to Miss Stanwood,” she observed. “I would not have thought him to have so much sense as to look to his own advantage, for you must know that Miss Stanwood has a very pretty fortune of her own, aside from her father’s portion. Well, well! I believe it would be a very good thing upon the whole, do not you, Julian?”

“No, I do not,” her son snapped curtly.

“Ah? How so?”

“Considering your disapproval of my aunt, I wonder you will condemn Miss Stanwood to deal with such a mother-in-law.”

But just as it was difficult to introduce Lady Imbrie
to an idea, it was impossible to eradicate it once planted, and she continued to give it as her opinion that it would be a very good thing for Arthur. In furtherance of his supposed romance, she invited Lady Stanwood and her daughters to dinner, together with such members of the
haut ton
as were to be found in Bath. This placed Julian at the head of the table between Lady Inverclyde and Lady Stanwood, set General Pocklington and a septuagenarian earl beside Lady Imbrie, and filled in the middles with an assortment of lesser importance—but she had not failed to accord Arthur the honor of taking Miss Stanwood in, whereby Julian could observe their friendly chat.

It quite destroyed his appetite. He took three mouthfuls of the
Soupe a la Reine,
toyed with the
escalopes de foie gras
and the
fillets de Turbot
with Italian Sauce, ate half a slice of the beef, a roasted potato, a single
supreme de volaille
with two spears of asparagus, and rejected the glazed parsnips, the baked ham, the cold partridge, the broiled mushrooms ... all of which caused grave concern. The servants hastened to tell the chef that his grace didn’t seem to fancy his dinner, whereupon Jean-Pierre uttered various Gallic opprobriums which (luckily) only Stepan understood, and swiftly expanded the menu by certain temptations for presentation in the second course.