Emily Hendrickson (17 page)

“Believe me when I say he intends to press his suit, although how he thinks to manage a moment alone with her is more than I can see.”

“You forget the grandmother,” Theo reminded.

“Actually, I had for the moment. That is one factor I must not overlook. Lady Chloe is properly respectful of her grandparent, although I feel the old gel scarcely deserves such devotion, considering how she plans to fob off her granddaughter on Twisdale,” Julian muttered. “However, she has smiled on me once or twice as of late.”

Theo followed Julian as he wound his way through the press of people until they reached the lovely Lady Chloe’s side.

“Butterflies are emerging late this year,” he murmured over her hand as he bestowed a proud smile on his little protégé. Oh, she had bloomed nicely. Why, any chap would be lucky to get her, not to mention all that lovely money.

She darted a glance to either side, then whispered as loudly as possible, “Grandmama did not kick up a fuss over the gown, as I feared she might. She does not know that you remained at the mantuamaker’s, however. I told her that you stopped in to find out if our drive was still on for that afternoon.”

“Let me sign my name to your card while we chat so none will take exception to our conversation. Twisdale approaches,” Julian cautioned.

“So he does. I do not wish to dance with him,” she admitted in a small voice.

“Purcell, sign here and Lady Chloe will be most grateful.” At her puzzled look, Julian added, “It is the last open line on your card. Twisdale has come too late!”

“Indeed,” she said with patent relief.

The first of the dances was claimed by a young sprig Chloe had met but once. He fawned over her until she longed to laugh. To hear him, one would think Chloe had just entered Society instead of having been around for a spell.

When he returned her to her grandmother’s side, Chloe found Lord Twisdale waiting there for her.

“Good evening, sir,” she said with a glance at the dowager. What was she planning now?

“I trust you have saved me a dance, my girl?” he said with his usual pomposity.

Chloe sneezed as a pungent scent teased her nose. Lord Twisdale looked pained but persisted in spite of the sneeze. He held out his hand for her card.

“I am sorry, sir,” she said with the attitude of one speaking to an aged person requiring great respect, “it is full.”

“You will give his lordship one of your dances, my girl, or I shall know the reason why,” Lady Dancy said with that air of finality that could quell any spirit in most girls.

Before Chloe could answer, a cotillion was called and she sought her card to see if this was the dance that Theo Purcell had requested. He appeared at her side even as she checked one side of the little card that dangled from her wrist by a pretty blue ribbon. Opposite the first cotillion was scribbled T. Purcell.

“Mr. Purcell,” her grandmother purred in a rather ominous voice, “I believe my granddaughter quite forgot that she had promised a cotillion to Lord Twisdale. Would you be so kind as to relinquish your dance with her?”

Theo bowed politely and Chloe’s heart sank.

“I should like to oblige you, ma’am, but I would never survive the evening without a dance with the loveliest lady present—young lady, that is,” he concluded with a charming smile and bow to her grandmother.

This lady was so bemused by the clever gallantry that she failed to admonish either Theo or Chloe and watched with a curious expression as they walked onto the dance floor.

Lord Twisdale was not best pleased.

“Later, Twisdale,” the dowager said absently. She gave a languid wave of her hand, then watched the scene intently.

Theo was as proper as could stare. He led Chloe through the various patterns of the complicated dance with not one hitch. When they had completed the tenth change and were once again back in a circle, she let out a sigh of relief that she had not been required to perform this with Lord Twisdale. He seemed a trifle heavy to be flitting about the dance floor and she wondered if his hearing was so good as to hear the calls when given—for they were spoken in a voice just barely audible above the music. It certainly seemed to her that his hearing was definitely lacking—at least when it came to her refusals.

But then, perhaps he had no intention of leading her out in a dance, but planned something more sinister?

She managed to avoid catching his eye until it was time to go into supper. He began a purposeful walk toward her and she turned to search about herself in desperation. With Grandmama immediately behind her she dared not utter a word or give any sort of signal.

Laura flitted up with Theo Purcell right behind her. Mr. St. Aubyn neatly cut off Lord Twisdale and extended his hand to Chloe with gratifying grace.

“I believe you promised to have supper with me,” he said with a narrow glance at Twisdale, who frowned at them as he neared.

“We shall go in together,” Laura declared with a clap of her hands. The foursome drifted from the room as part of the general exodus, leisurely, calmly.

Lady Dancy found a friend who pleaded with her to join a group of older people and she went off with them, leaving Lord Twisdale fuming.

“You can stop quaking now. He is standing back there with a fulminating expression on his face,” St. Aubyn said in an undertone.

Chloe flashed him a grateful look. “He requested my hand for a dance early on, but Mr. Purcell defied him and declined to yield. I was most indebted to him.”

“Save a bit of that gratitude for me, if you please,” St. Aubyn said with a grin.

“And why is that, sir?”

“Because of me you are able to enjoy your supper. Twisdale might have affected your appetite.”

“That is not a kind remark,” she said quietly. “I fear I am becoming most heartless.”

“As long as you do not bestow your remorse in the wrong place,” he countered with a concerned look at the placement of dainty tables in the room adjoining the dining room where the vast table was spread with all sorts of delicacies.

Chloe nodded her agreement while giving him a puzzled look. Just how far did he intend to go with his assistance?

She found herself the center of attention when she walked to the table that St. Aubyn had found for them. Gentlemen in particular went out of their way to greet her and she savored a black look from her Aunt Elinor.

“I believe my dress has met with success,” she confided to Laura in an undertone when the men had gone to the buffet to fetch plates of food.

“And not merely your dress. Do you realize you have had St. Aubyn dancing attendance on you for days now? There is much speculation among the ton, or so Mama says, regarding his intentions.”

“He is a friend,” Chloe avowed, even as she wished it might be otherwise.

“Lady Chloe,” Lord Twisdale said from behind her, causing her to start with surprise. “Your esteemed grandmother has given me permission to speak with you later this evening. I trust you do not wish to go against her wishes?”

Chloe sneezed. Violently.

Chapter 10

Lord Twisdale stiffened as though Chloe’s sneeze had been a major affront to him.

“I beg your pardon,” Chloe said in humble apology. “I do not know what comes over me at times.” She was far too polite to mention that his scent appeared to bother her.

“Twisdale,” St. Aubyn said in a freezing voice when he came up to the table and discovered the man had the effrontery to accost Lady Chloe. St. Aubyn gave him a look quite as though Twisdale had brought in an undesirable aroma. “Perhaps it is the atmosphere in here, Lady Chloe.”

“Seems a trifle warm to me,” Theo Purcell added in the most innocent of voices.

“Until later, my dear girl,” Twisdale said to Chloe, ignoring the others as though they were not there.

“Odious man,” Laura whispered as the pompous lord walked off in starched disapproval of the younger set. “He is so foolish he would choose a weathercock for a sign post.”

“I would be foolish beyond permission to think that he is not a menace, however,” Chloe said in a soft reply.

“Never underestimate the enemy, is that it?” Theo chimed in quietly, with a glance over his shoulder to make certain Lord Twisdale was some distance away.

St. Aubyn raised his hand to silence them. “Best say nothing, for you never know when ears may be around.”

Laura gave him a startled look, then turned to Chloe with a troubled face. “Does your grandmother still insist upon Lord Twisdale as a husband for you?”

“She has not threatened me with such for a day or two.” Then Chloe, determined to enjoy the ball—which was the high point of the Season—changed the topic. In short order they were laughing at Theo’s quips and demolishing the delicious food on their plates.

If Chloe cast worried glances a time or two in the direction Lord Twisdale had taken, she said nothing more on the subject.

Restored to her grandmother following supper, Chloe gracefully accepted the hand of her next partner—young Lord John Winton—and wished the ball would never end, for then she would not have to face Lord Twisdale. Truth be told, she was enjoying her little success. The confidence from knowing she was superbly gowned had given her a glow and the daring to chat amiably during the lulls while performing the figures of the dance.

A good many of the dances required that a couple stand and wait while others went through the steps of the figures. In the past, Chloe had stood silently, wondering what on earth she might say to her intimidating partner. Tonight, she found it surprisingly easy to converse, about polite nothings mostly.

The dance concluded and Lord John promenaded her along the edge of the floor as was the custom. Chloe looked across the room and caught sight of Lord Twisdale standing at her grandmother’s side. If it had not been improper, she would have begged Lord John to deposit her right here, on the opposite side of the ballroom. But, her manners being what they were, she submitted to the propriety of being returned to her relative’s side.

She curtsied to Lord John, then turned to face her grandmama. “Ma’am,” she said with stoic calm covering a fluttering heart.

“Lord Twisdale wishes to speak with you. Whoever was to be your next partner must yield. Is that clear?”

There was nothing for Chloe to do but nod her agreement and accept Lord Twisdale’s arm. One did not create a scene in the middle of the Sefton ballroom. The young man who had signed her card for the next country dance appeared, but with a glance from Lord Twisdale, the chap melted into the throng of people.

She remained silent while they strolled from the ballroom and along a grand hallway until they reached an elegant library. Chloe paused. She did not wish to enter this room with him, for if seen, there would be no alternative but to marry him. She would be compromised.

“We are quite alone here, sir,” she declared, gesturing to the almost empty hallway. Some distance along, a footman stood at attention. “What do you have to say to me that requires such privacy?” She halted in the middle of the hall, refusing to take another step.

He cast her an annoyed look, but as he could scarcely drag Chloe into the library by force—he had also observed the footman and would never disgrace himself in front of a servant—he smoothed his face into an agreeable mask.

“I seek an answer from you. When I asked for your hand in marriage you begged a few days to consider. I suggest that you have had that time.” At her silence, he prodded, “Well?”

“I appreciate the honor you have done me, but I fear I must decline your gracious offer, sir.” Even if it meant bread and water, Chloe would not yield to this man. Better to fade away, hoping the dowager would relent, than to know certain danger as his wife.

“What? You decline? But your grandmother said, that is, I felt certain that you would agree.” For once Lord Twisdale looked shaken.

“While I should obey my grandmama, I am a silly girl, sir. I would wed for affection and I feel none toward you, nor from you.” With this pronouncement she sneezed and decided that proximity to Lord Twisdale was hazardous in more ways than one.

“I shall speak with Lady Dancy regarding this. I feel certain it is her wish that we marry.” Lord Twisdale drew himself up and turned on his heel and marched down the hall. Apparently he did not feel it necessary to accompany Chloe back to the ballroom, as would have been proper. Rather, he left her on her own, prey to any wandering gentleman.

She began a reluctant return to the ballroom, wondering what she must face once there. Head down, intent on her dilemma, she was unaware of another’s approach.

“Of all the stupid things to do, going off with Twisdale is at the top of the list,” St. Aubyn pointed out when he strode up to her side.

Chloe gave a startled jump. “I had no choice but to go with him. Grandmama would never forgive me if I had made a scene and she was quite determined that I listen to him.”

“What happened?” he demanded, walking protectively at her side, one hand at her elbow to draw her closer yet. When he took her arm he realized that she trembled—from fear, most likely, after facing Twisdale. Julian was pleased when she drew closer to him as though for security. It was the first time a woman had turned to him for such a thing and it made him feel much the—champion.

“I refused him. He went off in a huff to tell Grandmama of my decision. I fear she will take me from the ball. Please—dance with me, St. Aubyn,” Lady Chloe suddenly pleaded, most improperly. Especially if you remembered that St. Aubyn was a scoundrel of the first order—which Chloe tended to forget.

Knowing that the dowager would never haul Chloe from the dance floor, thus creating a scene of horrendous proportion, Julian clasped her gloved hand securely in his and walked onto the dance floor with her at his side. He did not so much as glance in the direction of the dowager, from whom he ought to have sought permission.

It was a country dance and within minutes they were whirling about through the first figure. When it came time to join hands to go down the middle Chloe looked at her partner, thinking what a pity it was he would never ask her to marry him.