Authors: Mary Beeken
“Except Erica,” he confirmed. “Though she was already taken and lets face it, even Prentiss is no match for me! But we were talking about you being jealous and in love.”
“No we were not. Go away Trevellyn before I forget why we are best friends and knock you into the middle of next week!”
In response, Ross thumped him on the back and moved away. It was just as he got beyond reach of his friend’s punishing right hook that he turned and said. “Being in love is not so bad. You just have to be honest with yourself!”
Being the host, it was not long before newly arriving guests were claiming Robert’s attention and Dizzy and Georgiana wandered off to socialise. Dizzy was surprised to find many acquaintances amongst those present and unlike the general whirl of entertainment where mundane chatter abounded, here she was encouraged to converse with them on a wide variety of topics many of which were discouraged by the leaders of the ton as being inappropriate for women and young, unmarried women in particular because it was perceived that men liked their women to be ignorant on such matters as politics and international affairs. Coming from a family where her opinion was sought and valued, it had been hard to adjust to the perceived norm of the ton and she had found it somewhat stifling, especially as she could not claim some recompense by enjoying the dancing. Grandmamma, feeling neither she nor her daughter-in-law had been at all successful in launching the older girls, felt compelled to try harder to fit Dizzy into the perfect debutante; if not in grace and deportment which was an impossibility considering her innate clumsiness, but certainly in the skill of social discourse.
For the first time since embarking on the London seasons, she felt comfortable and able to speak her mind freely without provoking any censorious glares or rebukes. She found that people were prepared to listen and give credence to her opinion even if their own views were in direct opposition to hers. Instead of having her views dismissed out of hand with a snort of derision, Dizzy found herself pulled into lively debates and arguments whereby others tried to persuade her to change her thoughts or she in turn had to persuade them to join her way of thinking.
Walking past one group she heard her name being called and turned to find herself being addressed by Fiona Pearson; one of Lady Trevellyn’s numerous cousins if Dizzy remembered correctly.
“Lady Dizzy, Will you please lend me your support. I am trying to persuade my husband here and all these other gentlemen that ladies need to be able to defend themselves. Would you not find it useful to have a few moves
at the ready should ever you find yourself being attacked by a thief or worse?”
“Absolutely!” Dizzy was quick to agree. “I know to tuck my thumb in when I throw a punch from watching my brothers when they were younger. Gabriel didn’t once and his thumb swelled to the size and colour of a big tomato. My sisters and I would pester to be allowed to join in their fisticuffs but they always refused. So unfair when you think we are considered the weaker sex and therefore are surely more in need of being taught techniques to defend ourselves.”
“The idea is that we gentleman protect you, dear lady,” John Fitzpatrick responded with a sardonic smile. He was the only boy in a family of ten children and knew beyond anything that women were not as frail as they were made out to be and as men liked to believe. Regardless, he got an elbow in his midriff for his comment from Fiona.
Whilst he doubled over pretending to be mortally wounded; though in actuality Fiona’s elbow was bony enough to bring tears to one’s eyes and hefty enough that it if caught you in the solar plexus it could leave one somewhat winded, Dizzy pleaded their case with Stephen.
“Surely you could teach us a few techniques without offending the whole of the male population?”
Stephen visibly shuddered. “You must be joking. Fiona is lethal enough now. Look at poor Fitz here; he still hasn’t regained his breath and that was just her elbow thrown in jest! If I teach her the science of boxing goodness only knows what she will do to me when next we have a row. Do you know I beat her in a pillow fight last year and since then she has been practising religiously every day for the rematch this year! I am sorry Lady Dizzy but I value my own skin too much. Perhaps you can persuade one of these other gentlemen.”
As he finished speaking Fiona who had hunched her shoulder at him visibly brightened and addressed the individual who had come to stand behind Dizzy.
“Ah here is Glenmore. What do you say, Marcus? Are you prepared to teach us how to defend ourselves against cut throats and marauders?”
Dizzy spun around so quickly
she lost her balance and would have fallen had Glenmore not once again caught her by her shoulders and steadied her. Immediately tingles were sent cascading down her arms and the air seemed to become trapped in her lungs, for no matter how hard she tried, she could not get her breath.
“My Lady, you se
em to have fallen for me, again.” His smile was wolfish and he continued to hold onto her even though she was once again upright and balanced.
Fiona
, who could sniff out gossip at a hundred paces and prided herself on being the first to predict a romance, pricked up her ears and looked from one to the other, her question momentarily forgotten by the suddenly interesting events unfurling before her.
“I am clumsy, Your Grace,
” Dizzy frowned menacingly at him, reminding him by glare if not word that they were supposed to be strangers.
“I know
,” he still kept hold of her, ignoring the slight shrugs of her shoulders that was supposed to make him relinquish her.
“We can vouch for that too. Can’t we Fiona?” Stephen said cheerfully. “Well known fact that
Lady Dizzy is accident prone!”
“What do you mean
‘Fallen for me again’?” asked Fiona, not bothering to reply to her husband and being her usual direct self.
“She fell for me at the
British Museum,” Glenmore told her.
“That is not
true. I fell for Mustapha Mummy,” Dizzy retorted. “You just happened to have quicker reflexes than him and caught me first; that is literally and not figuratively.”
“Who is Mustapha Mummy?
” Fiona asked but she might as well have saved her breath because no one took any notice.
“It would have been difficult not to have quicker reflexes on the grounds that he is dead!” Marcus said, s
till holding her but now his hands were moving down her arms in a gentle caress. Dizzy fervently hoped that no one else read it as much but a swift glance at Fiona informed her it was a forlorn hope; Fiona missed nothing!
“How unfeeling it is of you
to remind me, Glenmore. You know I await his proposal.” Even as Dizzy uttered the words she wanted to suck them back in but they just kept coming, tripping out of her mouth like thistledown on the breeze. Goodness only knows what their audience thought; probably that she was as insane as she was clumsy. Glenmore at least seemed to find it highly diverting because his wolfish grin turned into one of genuine amusement.
“Has he given you any indication that marriage is on his mind? No wait! He does not have a mind does he, for his brain was removed via his nose at the time of death and fed to the dogs?”
“It was not fed to the dogs!” Dizzy was outraged at the suggestion. “It was just thrown away!” then she mumbled to herself. “Oh please stop talking!”
“Did you say somethi
ng, I didn’t quite hear that?” he asked with a smirk and she knew that yet again he had heard her and he knew, yet again that she knew that he knew that he had heard her!
She growled. Loudly.
“I did hear that!” he informed her.
“We all did!” Stephen piped up.
“You know I rather think Mustapha may not like gherkins, especially pickled ones and that just might be why he is holding back! Apart from the fact that he is dead and has no internal organs attached,” Marcus said.
His hands had reached her wrists but instead of letting her go they started on their upwards journey, more openly caressing or so it seemed to Dizzy. She considered stepping away but instinct told her that even then he would not relinquish hi
s hold and the gossips really would have something to talk about.
“You make assumptions. He may consider pickled gherkins to be a great delicacy; one mo
re over that is worth savouring,” Dizzy informed him primly though the smouldering look he sent her led her to believe that her response may have a double entendre that was more obvious to him than to her.
“I
am rapidly coming to the conclusion that a pickled gherkin is definitely a delicacy worth savouring. I only wish I could taste it now! It would be tart but sweet at one and the same time.” Glenmore’s voice sounded deeper, more sensual and she could not prevent a slight shiver of desire. His smile this time turned triumphant as if he had won an important victory.
“Oh for goodness sake, Marcus you cannot eat her here; it wouldn’t be seemly!” Fiona reminded him, thinking that as an old married woman of several months standing she ought to make a token gesture at being a chaperone.
“Who is Mustapha Mummy?” Fitz had recovered enough to ask, having lost the thread of the rest of the conversation trying to force air into his lungs.
“Keep up Fitz,
” Fiona admonished him. “Obviously he is an Egyptian Mummy at the British Museum though why Lady Dizzy is expecting a proposal from him, the Lord only knows!”
“Lady Dizzy de
scribed him as her ideal spouse,” Glenmore informed her. “Silent and so relaxed as to be supine. However, he was seen to visibly shudder when she expressed this view.”
“How you twist the truth, Your Grace! The
reality is I accidentally knocked the display case and he wobbled. It could be seen that he was shaking with glee,” Dizzy announced.
“But isn’t he dead?” a
sked Fitz by now completely befuddled.
“Is that when she fell for you and you caught her?” Fiona asked
Marcus as she elbowed Fitz once again in the stomach lest he interrupt again.
“Oh know
I merely steadied her then. Later she fell into my arms,” he responded.
“Did you study economics at university, Your Grace?” Dizzy asked sweetly. “For you are certainly economical with the truth! When I turned to leave, my reticule caught on the display case and I was f
alling onto it when Glenmore caught me. There was no falling into arms believe me.”
“So you were at the
British Museum together?” Fiona asked.
“Oh no I was there with my family
,” Dizzy was quick to point out. “And Glenmore was there with Lord and Lady Trevellyn. It was pure chance that we were all there at the same time.”
“Some might call
it fate,” Stephen said.
“Not
us would we Glenmore?” she replied.
“Would we not?” h
e queried, and then added when she scowled. “No not us. It was most decidedly a pure chance thing rather than a fates thing.”
“But you are friends?” Fiona was tenaciously determined to get all the facts straight.
“Oh no! We are just acquaintances,” Marcus said with a lopsided grin.
“Not even acquaintances,
” Dizzy added. “We are merely on nodding terms.”
“And only
on the briefest of nods at that,” Glenmore confirmed.
“
A single nod; the merest hint of movement of the head!” Dizzy said emphatically hoping she had had the last word on the subject.
“Perhaps you should release her then Marcus being only a hint of an acquaintance!” Fiona said pointedly looking at his hands which were still caressing her.
“Yes because by the looks of it, your heads may be barely nodding but your hands are decidedly well acquainted,” Stephen pointed out.
The Marquis and Marchioness of Trevellyn stood talking to Robert Prentiss a short distance away and although they were out of earshot they were nevertheless keen observers. Although Erica had been invited along to The Enlightenment Society during her first season, her infrequent sojourns in the capital meant she rarely attended the events and was therefore not acquainted personally with all of its members. However she heard interesting titbits about them from Robert who was her partner in a very successful and lucrative business which frequently undertook work for the government, some of it clandestine. To retain her anonymity, she went by the name of Eric Hurst; a man believed to a recluse by everyone.
“What do you think they are saying?” Ross asked
.
“I don’
t know but rest assured I will get Fiona to tell me everything just as soon as Glenmore and Dizzy move away,” Erica assured him.
Robert took a draught of his drink and eyed his friends with wry amusement.
“You two really ought not to interfere in Glenmore’s affairs it will only end in tears.”
“It is for his
very own good for as you can see, he is smitten with her,” Erica told him then added for honesty’s sake. “Besides Ross and I have a wager on how long it will be before for the wedding takes place.”