The Merry Month of May (16 page)

“Perhaps. We shall see.”

Richard Deverel was exactly the sort of gentleman their mother would approve of. She knew the family, and with Mary developing brash manners from her acquaintance with Betsy, it was not a bad idea to remove her from the neighborhood for a spell. “Of course you couldn’t go alone,” Sara pointed out.

“I know that!” Mary scoffed.

They discussed Deverel, mostly Mary talked and Sara listened, till he returned with the repaired slipper. “We’re going to talk to Mama,” Mary said, when she was fully shod. “Don’t worry, Sara. We won’t dance again. It’s so foolish. I wager in Canada you can dance more than twice with the same partner.”

Deverel gave her a chiding look. “That don’t mean we may do it here. When in Rome, you know.”

They left, and Sara felt so weary that she remained in the library, resting and gazing at the cold grate. Deverel seemed a sensible young man. She hoped something came of it. She idly picked up a magazine and flipped through the pages. It was
La Belle Assemblée.
Lady Haldiman had no interest in fashion. It must be Betsy’s. She was putting her stamp on the Hall already. There were other fashion magazines there, along with Haldiman’s hunting journals. Did the two of them sit here together in the evenings, reading and chatting? In a fit of pique she tossed the magazine toward the table, but overshot the mark and it fell on the floor.

“I hope that’s not my
Huntsman’s Quarterly.
I haven’t read it yet,” a voice said. Glancing up, she saw Haldiman standing in the doorway, watching her with his dark eyes, and her heart began to gallop. How long had he been there? He strolled into the room, wearing a tentative air. “Are you not enjoying the party, Sara?”

“Very much,” she lied. “Mary just loosened her heel—”

“Deverel told me. I think a romance is hatching there. He also told me he could stay a week. His visit was to be for two days only.” He went to the wine table and poured two glasses before joining her. “Persistence pays off in the end. You refused to join me for wine. Now you shall have a harder time finding an excuse to get away. The next dance has begun. It’s having wine with me or standing in the card room, pretending to be interested in whist.”

She accepted the glass. “Thank you.”

Haldiman sat down beside her. There were a dozen things he wanted to say to Sara, but a ball hardly seemed the place for any of them. “That’s quite a getup on Idle this evening,” he said, and immediately regretted it. It sounded rude, if she actually cared for him.

“Betsy gave offense, I fear, to suggest it was not his own design.”

“She doesn’t mean any harm.”

Sara noticed his swift defense and rushed in with a disclaimer. “Oh no! Indeed, I didn’t mean to imply that. She is charming.”

“I know you have been wondering why I was so eager to keep her from Peter. You have made me realize her eligibility. Really, she looks quite stunning this evening, don’t you think?” Sara gave a mental wince and agreed.

Haldiman knew the next part of his speech was rough ground. He had to explain why he had urged Peter on Sara when his real wish was to marry her himself. How did you tell a woman such a disjointed tale without sounding like an idiot? His brows drew together in a frown.

“I thought, when Peter returned, that you two might resume your romance. It really was not my intention to nab Betsy for myself. I always felt very badly about his behavior. Then when you appeared to be getting over your reluctance—you recall that day in the meadow when Betsy and I came across you ...”

“It was a chance meeting, no more,” she said swiftly. “Peter was as relieved as I to have it done with.”

“But you were so much in love before! You looked like death when he left, Sara. What happened?”

She gave him a pert look. “He came back.”

“What does that mean?”

She took a deep breath and braced herself to tell all. “It means I was not heartbroken when he left. I was relieved, really. We didn’t suit. I was too young, and everyone thought it a great match. The plans were all made, the gown ordered, and everything. Papa wanted— Oh, you don’t understand, but Peter does.”

Haldiman listened, with his mind roving over that ancient history. “I had no idea,” he said, in a dazed voice.

“It’s true all the same. Now let us speak of more pleasant things, if you please. Miss Harvey was a great hit, was she not?” she asked, and watched for his reply.

“Yes. But are you saying your father was
forcing
you to marry Peter?”

“Not forcing, exactly. I—Peter was handsome. I liked him, at first. But there was that business of your maid, Polly, you know.”

“You learned of that, did you?” he asked, his jaw muscle quivering. “That was ill done of him. I wanted to box his ears. But I do think he’s changed, you know, improved.”

“It is over and done with. You must believe me. I think he has changed, for the better, but I still don’t love him. I could never love him.”

“Is there someone else?” he asked warily.

“Jealousy is the best sauce.” Betsy’s arch words came back to her. Haldiman seemed at least a little interested. Might she increase his interest by claiming a flirt? “Perhaps,” she smiled.

He looked and saw the amusement sparkling in her eyes. Sara didn’t love Peter. She didn’t love Idle. She may not love him yet either, but it seemed possible now. She had let him kiss her at least. He sipped his wine, wondering how best to advance his suit. Before he set his glass down, Betsy came flouncing into the room, eyes darting fire.

“So here you are, Rufus!” she exclaimed. “Is poor Sara not feeling well? I have noticed all evening you were looking peaked.”

“I feel fine,” Sara replied.

“With those gaunt cheeks? My dear, you look like death. Doesn’t she look pale as a ghost, Rufus?”

“Sara is fine. We were just having a chat.”

“About Mary and Dickie? There is a match hatching there, mark my words. Little Mary is up to all the rigs. Fetch me a glass of wine, Rufus. I’m fagged to death.” She took care to take a seat in the middle of the sofa, between Haldiman and Sara, when he rose.

Haldiman went for the wine, and Betsy turned a gleaming eye on Sara. “Would you be a darling and leave us alone for a moment, Sara? I think Rufus wants to speak to me. You know what I mean. The only thing holding him up is that he didn’t know who to ask for my hand. I mean to tell him Peter can speak in place of my father. He is my brother-in-law, after all. It will do, don’t you think?”

Sara stared a moment blankly. Was this what Haldiman had been leading up to? Scarlet stained her cheeks to think how close she had come to betraying herself. “Oh yes, certainly. He will do excellently.” Rufus returned just as she was rising.

“Don’t rush off, Sara,” he said.

Betsy winked behind his back. “I—I have to go,” she said, and left the room in a dash.

As soon as Haldiman sat down, Betsy curled her arm around his. “She left the door open, but no one can see us. We can be quite private here for anything you want to say.”

Haldiman stiffened like a statue. “We have nothing to say that others might not hear.”

She batted his hand playfully. “You are so stiff, Rufus. Don’t worry. Papa would be thrilled if I were to write home that I’d married a lord.”

In a fit of horror Haldiman heard himself say, “Ah, have you accepted an offer from Peter then? He didn’t tell me.” He carefully disengaged his arm.

“Peter! Why should I take Fiona’s leavings? I don’t mean Peter.”

Haldiman turned from plaster to stone. “Really? Then I cannot imagine whom you have accepted an offer from.”

Betsy’s brown eyes narrowed to slits. “I don’t suppose you can imagine who’s been running after me as hard as his legs can carry him either! If this is an example of English manners, you can keep them.” She rose and flounced from the room to complain to Peter of the shabby treatment she had received from his brother. Peter, thrown for a loss, expressed himself properly incensed on her behalf and said he would speak to Rufus.

He went straight to the study and said, “We’re for it, Rufus. Betsy’s in an uproar. She thought to get an offer from you. You’ve been pretty particular in your attentions, you know.”

Haldiman just shook his head. “Marry her, Peter. She’s going to have one of us, by hook or by crook.”

“I had intended to. You said I should offer for Sara, to make it up. She don’t want me. The thing is, I fear Betsy don’t care for me as she used to.”

“You could turn her up sweet.”

Peter rubbed his jaw. “I daresay I could, given a few days. I haven’t met anyone I like better. She likes the kiddies. She is a good, lively sort, like Fiona, and the dibs are in tune. The chief difficulty is that she would expect me to return to Canada. Retford, her papa’s place, is much grander than the Poplars, and Betsy is now the sole heir. She will want her husband to run it.”

Haldiman considered it. “That does present a problem. We would not like to see you and the boys leave England.”

“Nor do I want to leave.”

“Might she agree to selling Retford, after her father’s death, I mean?”

“I could sound her out. I’ll go and begin to soften her up now.”

Haldiman remained in the library, thinking. When Lord Peter returned to the ball, he saw that Betsy was standing up with that scoundrel of a Kevin Moore, rolling her eyes at him and having great success.

Miss Harvey’s thinking was that she had had what she bluntly considered “a bellyful” of noble manners. If Rufus did not love her, why had he been making up to her? She was not long in figuring out his motive. He wanted to keep Peter away from her, and Peter, the gudgeon, did exactly as he was told. Her mind was made up in that instant. She would have Peter, and the surest way to attach him was to show him how little she cared.

Mr. Moore, being the most handsome man in the room, was singled out as her tool. She had taken his measure long since, but his lack of fortune was no bar to the use she meant to put him to.

“Are you remaining long in England, Miss Harvey?” He smiled, his eyes suggesting a deep interest in her answer.

She cast a bold smile on him. “That depends on how amusing I find the beaux. Are you amusing, Mr. Moore?”

“Amusement is, perforce, stifled in such a public ambience. Alone in a closed carriage, I manage to amuse tolerably well, if I may blow my own horn.”

“So you say,” she said, smiling encouragement.

“I will be happy to prove my boast, ma’am. You have but to name the hour and the day.”

“And, of course, to provide the carriage, as you came on the stage,” she pointed out.

Now how the devil did she know that? “True, I lost a wheel en route,” he lied with the accomplishment of long practice. “But a carriage cannot be a problem here. Peter will lend me one.”

“I’ll ask him,” she smiled. And let him know why I want it, too. That will turn the trick!

The elderly guests began leaving first. By two o’clock Mrs. Wood and Lady Idle were yawning into their fists and casting hopeful glances at the youngsters. Sir Swithin, in a state of boredom; Sara, in a thoroughly disgruntled mood; and Mary, in alt, gathered up their belongings, thanked their hostess, and took their leave.

Sara drove home with Sir Swithin, as she had come. “I observed Haldiman follow you into the library,” he said. “Did anything come of it?”

“Yes, we were joined by Betsy. She hinted me away as she wanted privacy to hear Haldiman’s proposal.”

“I cannot think such blatant dealing would serve her well. Nor did it. If she got an offer from him, I am an elephant’s ear. Now you have only to observe me to see I am no such a thing. She came out of that library breathing fire and rushed straight off after Moore. She is too clever not to realize what he is. She is using him to make Haldiman jealous. Or perhaps Peter. I fancy Haldiman let her know she was wasting her time. She’s settled for Peter.”

“I didn’t realize you counted mind reading amongst your various talents, Swithin,” Sara grumbled, and pulled her pelisse around her to sulk her way home.

“I see you have added bad manners to your meager charms. Never mind, I shall blame it on disappointment.”

Sara went home and threw her green gardenias into the dustbin. She wanted no reminders of this wretched ball.

Over the next two days Sara sat in hourly expectation of a call from Haldiman and Betsy, announcing their engagement. By the third day she was so anxious she almost wished they would come and get it over with. It was only Richard Deverel’s calls and Mary’s high spirits that kept Mrs. Wood from noticing Sara’s condition.

**

There were two main preoccupations at Haldiman Hall during this same period: entertaining the guests till they saw fit to leave, and keeping Betsy out of mischief with Kevin Moore. She had adopted the habit of wandering off with him to out-of-the-way rooms of the house first, then out into the grounds. They were spotted in the music room, the conservatory, the gazebo, and strolling through the park, holding hands. On the second day they borrowed a carriage and no one knew where they went, but they were late home for dinner.

“Why did no one tell me the man is a rake?” Lady Haldiman demanded, for the blame of having invited Moore lay in her dish. On the third day after the ball she was in her private parlor with her sons. “His mama was used to be very good
ton.”

“Well, his papa ain’t,” Haldiman said bluntly, “and we must guard Betsy. It seems everyone knows what he is except us. If she comes to grief, it will look demmed bad for our guardianship of her. She was out with him all afternoon yesterday.”

“Aye, and lost a wheel off my carriage while she was about it,” Lord Peter scowled. “I offered to drive her myself, but she let me know in short order that she wished privacy with her new suitor.”

“When I told her my rig was hors de combat today, she said they would ride instead,” Haldiman announced. “I could hardly claim every mount in the stable had suddenly gone lame. And now that I have claimed my rig is busted, I cannot use it myself.”

“You’d best get down to Whitehern on horseback then,” his mother said to Haldiman. “That is where she said she is going. Not that she’ll be there for long.” She nodded sagely, her earphone directed toward the conversation. “That was only an excuse to cover up her roaming around unchaperoned with Moore.”