Connie (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 3) (12 page)

The dazzling array of lights and shimmering chandeliers, the gilt decoration and jewels, and the soft glimmer of flowing silk in frighteningly fashionable styles made Connie gasp with astonishment. Despite the earliness of the season, the room was crowded to overflowing, and the heat rose up to engulf her. Music played, dancers leapt and twirled, onlookers watched impassively.

And she knew not a single person, and no friendly smiles greeted her. Eyes turned to stare haughtily at her, lorgnettes were raised and strangers looked her up and down with penetrating calculation. She felt as naked as if she had just stepped out of the bath under the disdainful gaze of the
ton
. For a moment, it was overwhelming and she clung tightly to Lord Reginald’s arm, almost in tears. How had she ever thought that she, an ignorant provincial nobody, could mix with the cream of society?

13: Brook Street

“Shall we stroll about for a while?” Lord Reginald said, not noticing Connie’s distress. “Or should you like to dance at once?”

She could not speak, could not even raise her head and felt as if she might faint away, had she not his arm to cling to.

He turned to her in surprise when she made no reply. “Miss Allamont?”

But then, she hardly knew how, the Marquess was there, calmly detaching her hand from Lord Reginald and tucking it comfortably into his. “Reggie, Miss Drummond is wild to dance. Do you take her onto the floor, while I find Miss Allamont a quiet seat so that she might catch her breath.”

“Dev, I do not think—”

“Miss Drummond, Reggie,” he said firmly, and with a curt nod, Lord Reginald disappeared.

Holding her hand in a firm grip, the Marquess steered Connie through the throng. Once or twice he exchanged greetings with someone, but Connie being still too overcome to lift her head, she saw nothing. She wondered what these grand people must think of her, too inept even to move about a ballroom without support.

She found herself in a many-windowed room with a tiled floor, divided into quiet corners by palms with huge fronds. Lord Carrbridge led her to a bench and by some black art produced two glasses of champagne.

“Here we are, Miss Allamont, a quiet spot for us to have a drink. Just a sip, mind you, for it will go straight to your head if you imbibe too quickly. There! Is that not better?”

When she dared to look up, his head was tipped to one side, with that smile that made her stomach jump about. “Th-thank you. You are… too kind.”

“Not at all, Miss Allamont. It is all very different from what you are used to, I daresay. It is not surprising that you find it a tad overwhelming. I remember my first season, when I thought I was all the crack, you know, a real out and outer, but I quickly discovered my mistake. But you will soon get into the way of it, and then you will be perfectly comfortable.”

“Thank you,” she said again, but his sympathy brought the tears close again and she found it impossible to say more.

He seemed not to mind, sitting quietly by her side, sipping his champagne and occasionally pointing out this or that personage who passed into view.

After a while, she felt strong enough to say timidly, “Do not let me detain you, my lord. You must want to meet your friends or… or stroll about or something of that nature, rather than hiding in the conservatory with me.”

He smiled at her over the rim of his champagne glass. “Now why on earth should I want to do anything of the sort? I am perfectly happy here with you, I assure you.”

She blushed at this, but went on, “Lady Moorfield says we must… move slowly around the room. It is important to be seen, she says.”

“I like Aunt Juliana well enough, but she spouts some nonsense at times. Debutantes on the lookout for a husband might need to be seen, but not the Marquess of Carrbridge. I may hide in the conservatory with a beautiful young lady if I choose.”

She blushed again, hanging her head, and wondering what Jess would say if she heard him talking so. The impropriety of it struck her forcibly, for they were both supposedly betrothed to other people, and their retreat was quite secluded. Even if her own betrothal was a sham, his was not and he should not be talking to her in such terms. She would have been less than human if she had not basked in his attention. So kind, so handsome, so amiable! If only he were hers, and not in love with Jess Drummond! But he was, and it was not at all proper for her to be alone with him, in such a well-hidden spot.

“Nevertheless, I think perhaps we might return to the ballroom, my lord.”

“Of course, if you feel strong enough.”

“I… I believe so.”

He stood up and offered her his arm again. “Deep breath, Miss Allamont. Remember that nothing can daunt you, for you are a Marford of Drummoor. Or nearly, at any rate.”

She thought she was not very near at all, but could not say so. Instead she said, “Nothing can daunt me because I am a daughter of Allamont Hall, my lord.”

He smiled at her, eyes twinkling, and escorted her back to the ballroom.

In the end, the evening was far from being a disaster. She stood up to dance first with Lord Reginald, and then with the Marquess, and after that she had no lack of partners. A friend of the King’s smiled benignly on her, dowagers nodded with something close to approval, and any number of bucks presented themselves to entreat her hand for the dance, or to enquire if she might be attending this or that rout or ball or party of some kind. Almost before she was ready, she was swept away to their waiting carriage and back to Marford House.

“There now, that is the first ball out of the way,” Lady Moorfield said briskly as the carriage rattled over the cobbles. “You did well, my dear, very well indeed, and it will be easier now, you will see.”

Then she closed her eyes and was asleep almost instantly.

Lord Reginald leaned closer to whisper in her ear, “Did you enjoy the evening?”

“Oh yes! Very much! Although… I am sorry I was so… so
missish
at the start. I felt so…
provincial
.”

She felt, rather than saw, his smile. “You need have no concerns on that head. There was not the slightest deficiency in your dress or manner or deportment. You were a great success.”

She glowed inside at the praise. “You are very kind to say so, my lord. I was so afraid of… of letting you down, but Lord Carrbridge was so kind to me and made me feel quite at ease.”

He leaned back on the squabs abruptly. “Oh yes, Dev is very kind indeed, the kindest fellow in the kingdom.”

And not another word did he utter for the rest of the journey.

~~~~~

The following morning brought happy news — a letter from Belle announcing their safe arrival in London.

“May I go to see them?” Connie asked Lady Moorfield as soon as that lady surfaced from her bed. “Not, of course, if you need me—”

“No, no, my dear, by all means go. We are at home all day, you know, so if you go early, you will be back in time for any late callers, and then we are at the opera this evening. You would not wish to miss
that
, I am sure. Where are they staying, your sisters?”

“They have taken a house in Brook Street.”

“Brook Street — oh.” Lady Moorfield’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “That is most respectable, and only two streets away. If the rain holds off, you might walk there. I cannot spare the time to accompany you myself, and the gentlemen are off with their male pursuits today, but Mrs March will chaperon you. That would be quite unexceptional.”

“Oh, certainly, very happy to!” the mousy lady said. “Very happy. Such a fine day for walking.”

It was not, in fact, a fine day at all, for a bitter wind whipped Connie’s new pelisse about and tore at her bonnet, but the walk was mercifully short. The Brook Street house turned out to be one of the larger ones on the street, with an attractive frontage. They were admitted by a neatly-uniformed maid. Inside, the furnishings were not of the first quality, but serviceable.

Belle was alone in the drawing room when Connie was shown in, and the two sisters fell on each other as if they had not met for a year instead of a mere two weeks. Mrs March was introduced, and the maid dispatched to find the rest of the household.

“Although I do not think Amy will be dressed yet,” Belle said. “She keeps to her room until noon at least these days, and the journey taxed her considerably.”

“Travel is so arduous,” Mrs March said. “You have come such a distance, too. I know one or two remedies that might be of use to poor Mrs Ambleside, if you feel it might be in the least helpful.”

“Time is the only cure for what ails Amy, I fear,” Belle said, smiling.

“Oh, indeed, time is a great healer,” Mrs March said brightly.

“Very much so, in this case. She expects to be confined in the autumn.”

“Oh!” Mrs March giggled, hand covering her mouth. “Oh, I see! Such a blessing! Such happy news!”

When they had exhausted the possibilities of Amy’s heath, the state of the roads and inns, news from Willowbye and Allamont Hall, and Connie’s many engagements, conversation faltered somewhat. Connie wanted very much to talk to Belle about the Marquess, but could hardly do so in front of Mrs March. She guessed that Belle felt the same constraint, for she made no mention of the Marquess or Lord Reginald.

After a while, Belle said, “Mrs March, you mentioned some remedies for travel fatigue. I wonder if—”

“Oh, indeed, Mrs Burford! Quite delighted to oblige. You take a pint of water—”

“I wonder if I might trouble you to tell the cook of your receipts? Since she will have the making of them, it would be as well for her to understand the exact method. It would not do to make a mistake in the quantities, would it?”

“Oh, indeed! Certainly!” She jumped up, Belle rang for a servant and a maid led Mrs March off to the kitchens.

The two sisters sighed with relief.

“She is a dear soul,” Connie said. “I am glad she is gone for a while, however. That was clever of you, Belle.”

“I am getting used to managing people, thanks to Cousin Vivienne,” Belle said, with a wry smile. “Now, tell me all about—”

But Burford and Ambleside arrived just then, with many smiles for Connie, and so the same topics had to be gone over again. But they soon returned to the one of most interest to Connie.

“It sounds as though the Marfords are taking good care of you, Miss Allamont,” Ambleside said. “One always worries a little with these great families, for they are not always as careful with the proprieties as might be wished.”

“I have not noticed any carelessness in that way,” Connie said.

“But this betrothal between the Marquess and Jess Drummond,” Ambleside said. “It is very eccentric of him.”

“She is very pretty and lively,” Burford murmured. “Sometimes a man might be dazzled by such attractions and look no further.”

Ambleside laughed. “Very true!” They all smiled, remembering Burford’s own infatuation with Hope. “Nevertheless, it is hardly appropriate for a man of his station to take a wife without fortune or rank. Miss Drummond has nothing but her own charms to recommend her, and it is not enough, no matter how considerable those charms may be. A peer of the realm is expected to be ruled by his head, not his heart. He cannot —
should
not — marry according to his own whims. Miss Allamont would be a much better match for him. Is there any sign of him realising his mistake with Miss Drummond?”

How much Connie longed to answer in the affirmative! Yet honesty compelled her to say, “Not the least bit. He is the same as ever towards her.”

“But is he affectionate with her?” Ambleside said. “He never seemed to me to be a man in love. Indeed, he always seemed most attentive to
you
, Miss Allamont. I confess, I have found his behaviour confusing. A gentleman should always make his intentions clear.”

“He is certainly very kind to me,” Connie said, remembering the chivalrous way he had intervened the previous night when she had been quite overcome. “I do not think he treats me any differently from before, however. I am just a friend to him, his brother’s future wife, so he believes. As to his intentions, those are clear enough, surely?”

“And yet I wonder,” Ambleside said. “There has been no notice of the engagement in the papers.”

“The betrothal is a great secret,” Connie said. “It is too soon after the death of Jess’s father, I understand.”

“That was more than a year ago. It does not seem to me that his heart is entirely lost to Miss Drummond. Living under his roof, there must be opportunities to draw him into a closer attachment to you, Miss Allamont.”

“A man cannot be manipulated into marrying if his heart is not in it,” Burford said in mild reproof. “Nor should he be.”

“Perhaps, but he might be manipulated
out
of an inadvisable marriage,” Ambleside said.

“Oh, no!” Connie said, rather shocked. “Manipulation? No, that would be quite wrong.” Once again she was relieved to have escaped marriage to Ambleside, a man who thought nothing of manoeuvring others to get what he wanted, as he had with Amy.

“
Any
sort of manipulation is abhorrent to me,” Belle said firmly. “A man must make up his own mind, without interference. A woman may hope to show herself off to advantage in front of him, to beguile him, perhaps, to put him into a romantic frame of mind…” She smiled knowingly at Connie here. “But marriage is too serious a business to be subjected to scheming by those whose interests may not coincide with those of the parties concerned.”

“I hope we all have Lord Carrbridge’s best interests at heart,” Ambleside said. “Are we not all agreed that Miss Allamont would be a more suitable wife for him?”

It was a sentiment that Connie herself had thoughtlessly espoused, but now that she had had some little experience of London society, she could no longer sustain the idea. The previous evening had proved to her just how unsuited she was for life in the
haut ton
, while Jess had stepped into the role as if born to it.