Melinda Hammond (9 page)

Th-thank you. I wish you very happy.’

Miss Pensford unfurled her fan.

‘I have no doubt we shall be; it is a very good match.’

‘But I thought your mama wanted you to marry a title!’ Eustacia flushed. ‘Oh, my wretched tongue! I beg your pardon!’

‘No, no, you are quite right, but when we considered the matter last season, they were all so unsuitable! Most were older than Papa, and the rest were looking for a rich wife to repair their fortunes or were of such unsavoury character that Papa would not countenance them, whatever their rank.’

Miss Marchant stared. ‘And - and your Papa considered Mr Lagallan’s character sufficiently unblemished?’

Eustacia found herself subjected to a puzzled look.

‘But of course! There was a little wildness in his youth, I believe, but that was many years ago. His character now is impeccable.’

Miss Marchant was silenced; the object of their discussion was approaching, and she could only be relieved that she was spared the necessity of a reply: she was well aware that her unruly tongue might lead her into impropriety.

‘Well, ladies, have you had sufficient time to cover every possible topic of conversation?’

‘Not at all,’ said Miss Pensford, smiling. ‘As a matter of fact we have discussed very little — in the main, yourself.’

‘Oh? And have you comprehensively destroyed my character?’

Eustacia, in the act of sipping her lemonade, choked, but Helen replied seriously, ‘That would be most improper. I was merely curious to know how it is that you and Eustacia are acquainted.’

‘I explained that Caroline had brought me to town,’ put in Stacey, hurriedly. She found herself growing hot under Mr Lagallan’s quizzing gaze and, feeling that she had had quite enough teasing for one night, she excused herself and moved off into the crowd to seek Lady Bilderston.

Eustacia was about to make her way downstairs to the supper-room when a familiar voice brought her to a halt. She turned towards the small chamber that had been set aside for cards: standing just inside the doorway was a group of gentlemen, and Eustacia fixed her eyes on the young man nearest the door. He had his back to her, but she took in the guinea-gold curls, brushed into fashionable disorder, the familiar line of his back, the shapely legs encased in black knee-breeches.

‘Rupert!’ Her cry was scarcely above a whisper. She tried to compose herself. ‘M-Mr Alleyne?’

The gentleman turned and Eustacia forced her knees not to give way at the sight of his handsome face. The blue eyes that rested upon her widened in surprise, but the gentleman made a quick recovery.

‘Miss Marchant.’ He bowed to her. ‘But how is this? I thought you were in Somerset.’

He did not appear overjoyed to see her, but Stacey realized how surprised he must be to find her in London.

‘I am staying with my godmother, Lady Bilderston – Fanshawe Gardens,’ she added.

‘Ah. I see.’ He nodded and smiled, and Eustacia waited, smiling up at him and taking in every feature of his dear face.

‘You did not expect to find me here.’

‘No, that is —’

‘Are you not pleased to see me, Rupert?’

‘Oh, of course. Delighted.’

Her smile wavered, and she thought he looked anything but delighted to see her.

‘Miss Marchant, your godmama has sent me to find you.’ She looked up to find Vivyan beside her. He drew her hand on to his arm, smiling down at her. ‘Lady Bilderston awaits you in the supper-room. I am come to take you to her.’ He turned towards Mr Alleyne. ‘If you will excuse us, sir?’ Succumbing to the pressure of his fingers, Eustacia moved away. ‘That was your Rupert, I presume?’ Vivyan guided her down the shallow staircase.

‘Y-yes.’ Eustacia did not want to talk. The meeting had not been the joyous occasion she had imagined.

‘You surprised him, I’ve no doubt.’

She turned to look at Vivyan.

‘Yes. Yes, I
did
surprise him, didn’t I?’ She looked up at him, her eyes begging him for reassurance. Vivyan patted her hand. ‘Of course.’ He smiled grimly. ‘You gave him quite a shock.’

Miss Marchant was unusually quiet during supper, a fact which Lady Bilderston ascribed to tiredness. However, a suggestion that they should leave early was vehemently refused. Casting her mind back over her meeting with Rupert, Miss Marchant was soon convinced that her sudden appearance had momentarily overpowered that young man. Now that the initial surprise was over she did not doubt that he would seek her out, that they would return to the easy intimacy they had shared in Somerset. She blushed a little at the memory of Mr Alleyne’s whispered endearments, and the secret kisses they had enjoyed. Of course, they would have to be more circumspect, but there was no reason why they should not see each other regularly in London.

When the dancing resumed, Eustacia accompanied her godmother back to the ballroom, her heart jumping with excitement, but there was no sign of Mr Alleyne. She glanced into the card-room as they passed. He was not there. Screwing up her courage, she approached one of the young men she had seen earlier with Rupert.

‘Mr Alleyne? Why, he’s gone, ma’am. Left while you was at supper, I dare say. Something about a previous engagement.’

Miss Marchant walked slowly back into the ballroom. The orchestra was striking up again but she excused herself to her partner and moved away to a vacant sofa to gather her thoughts. Across the room, Vivyan watched her. He noted the pale cheek, the faint crease in her brow, and went to sit beside her.

‘What’s this, not dancing, Stacey?’

‘What? Oh, no, I have had enough of dancing for this evening.’

‘And where is Mr Alleyne?’

Eustacia put up her chin.

‘Rupert?’ she said, with studied carelessness. ‘Oh, I don’t know — gone, I think.’

‘I see.’

‘Yes. A — a previous engagement.’

‘Of course.’

After a pause, she forced herself to converse.

‘Where is Miss Pensford?’

‘Dancing with some young buck. She thinks it would be wrong for us to spend the entire evening together until we are formally engaged.’

‘I had not expected to see Helen in Town.’

‘No more had I. When I left Combe Charlton, I thought they were settled there for the winter.’

‘I think Mr Pensford has brought Helen to Town to keep an eye upon his investment,’ observed Miss Marchant.

‘You mean myself?’

‘Of course.’ She chuckled. ‘Helen considers your character to be impeccable.’

‘The devil she does! Well then, I had better not sit here with you for too long, or it will ruin both our reputations. Do you drive out with Caroline tomorrow?’

She instantly became serious.

‘No. I shall be at home tomorrow. Rupert may call, and I must not miss him.’

* * * *

But Mr Alleyne did not call at Fanshawe Gardens the following day, or any other day that week, and it was not until Lady Beasley’s rout that Eustacia saw him again.

She was standing alone at one side of the room when Mr Alleyne came in, and her hostess, observing Eustacia’s anxious look, brought the young gentleman to her, making it impossible for him to do other than ask her to dance.

As they took their places on the dance-floor, Eustacia glanced up at her partner and, observing that he looked a little uncomfortable, asked him bluntly if he was not pleased to see her.

‘P-pleased? Of course I am, Miss Marchant,’ stammered Mr Alleyne, flushing. ‘It’s just that—’

Eustacia felt hot tears stinging her eyelids.

‘If you don’t love me, Rupert, pray tell me so at once.’

‘No, that’s not it! I mean — dash it all, Stacey, I can’t talk about it here, in the midst of all these people!’

‘Then where?’

Mr Alleyne cast about in his mind. ‘Tomorrow, somewhere . . .’

‘There’s a little park in Fanshawe Gardens, where I walk Godmama’s dog. I could be there tomorrow morning, if you like.’

Mr Alleyne swallowed nervously.

‘Well. . .’ He looked down to find a pair of trusting green eyes raised to his, and his courage failed him. ‘Very well – eleven o’clock.’

Chapter Eight

For Eustacia, the next twelve hours seemed interminable. She woke soon after dawn and tried to curb her excitement. At 10.30 she collected Snuffles, and dragged the little animal out for his morning walk. By eleven o’clock she was already in the park, anxiously looking out for Mr Alleyne. He arrived ten minutes late, by which time Eustacia was so overwrought that she threw herself against him, crying, ‘Oh, Rupert, I have missed you so!’

Mr Alleyne, aghast at this public display, held her away from him, and begged her to be a little more circumspect.

‘But I love you, and I have come all the way to London to tell you so!’

‘That is very good of you, Stacey, but — I told you when I left Somerset that it cannot be.’

She clutched his hands.

‘But I do not understand! I am not quite a pauper, you know! I thought that if we were to face your father together, and tell him that we love each other, he could be persuaded to let us marry.’

Mr Alleyne gazed down helplessly at the little face upturned to his. He was not a cruel young man, although a childhood indulged by doting parents had made him thoughtless. A series of ill-placed bets and the importunities of his tailor had made it necessary for him to withdraw from London the previous summer to await his next quarter’s allowance, and he had chosen to pay a long-overdue visit to his uncle at Burnett Lodge, where he had whiled away his enforced rustication by conducting a heady flirtation with the prettiest young lady in the area. That Miss Marchant had fallen head over heels in love with him had not worried the young man at all, and when it was time to return to London he had made his excuses and left Somerset and Eustacia with no regrets, salving the very minute pricking of his conscience with the thought that, although she might shed a few tears for him, she would soon recover and settle down to happily married life as the wife of some country squire.

But Mr Alleyne was a poor judge of character, and he had not understood the depth of Eustacia’s feelings for him, nor her determination. His excuse for leaving Somerset had been that his father wanted him to marry an heiress, and even now, with Miss Marchant’s gaze turned so trustingly to his own, he could not bring himself to tell her the truth. With an exasperated sigh, he ran a hand through his elegantly pomaded locks.

‘Oh, Stacey, you are such an innocent, you don’t understand these things.’

She gazed up at him lovingly. ‘Don’t fret, my love. Now we are together I am confident we can find a way to persuade your papa. When may I meet him?’

Mr Alleyne felt the ground being cut away from beneath his feet.

‘He — he’s out of town at present.’

‘Oh, that is too bad! But it does not matter, we shall just have to be patient. Having travelled all this way, I am not to be daunted by such a little set-back.’

‘Yes, and that reminds me, just how
did
you get to London?’

‘Oh, Rupert, it was such an adventure!’ Eustacia declared, her eyes shining. ‘I told Grandpapa I would be staying with my old governess for a few weeks, then I borrowed a suit of boy’s clothes and set off to catch the mail from Bath.’

Mr Alleyne regarded her with horror. ‘Alone? Dressed as a boy? Stacey, you did not!’

‘No, as a matter of fact I
didn’t!’
she retorted, her elation dying in the face of his disapproval. ‘Mrs Lagallan came upon me, and – and persuaded me to travel with her.’

‘She would have served you better had she sent you home again!’

‘Rupert, how can you say so? How else was I to find you?’

At that moment, Snuffles chose to take exception to a well-bred poodle walking in the opposite direction. Eustacia gave her attention to the spaniel, pulling him up sharply, and thus did not see Mr Alleyne’s hunted expression. By the time Snuffles had finished uttering his challenge and was again walking quietly beside Eustacia, the young man had gathered his wits.

‘Stacey, Miss Marchant! My — my behaviour in Somerset was perhaps a little . . . reprehensible. It would not do for us to conduct ourselves quite so — so
freely
here in Town.’

‘Oh, I am quite aware of that,’ came the sunny reply. ‘I do not expect you to stand up with me for every dance, nor would I want you to live in my pocket—’

Mr Alleyne frowned. ‘A most unladylike term,’ he muttered repressively, ‘but you are right, and there must be no more meetings such as this. It is not at all the thing!’

‘B-but Rupert, I thought you wanted to see me?’

‘I do, of course, but I would not have any scandal attached to us — to you.’

Miss Marchant put her hand on his arm and smiled up mistily at him.

‘How very thoughtful you are, Rupert. I do love you!’

He flushed. ‘Yes, well — I’d better leave you now. It wouldn’t do for people to see us together.’

‘When will I see you?’

‘Oh, I don’t know – that is—’

‘You could call upon Godmama.’

‘No! I mean, I would much rather wait until I have been formally introduced to Lady Bilderston; no need to rush these things. Look, you will be at the Mayfields’ ball, won’t you? I shall ensure I make Lady Bilderston’s acquaintance then.’

‘But that is days away - can we not meet before?’

Patiently, Mr Alleyne explained again why it would be imprudent for them to meet too often, and he took his leave, praying that something would occur to prevent him attending the Mayfields’ ball.

Mr Alleyne was not the only gentleman reluctant to appear at this prestigious event. Mr Lagallan was dining at Bruton Street when his sister-in-law asked him if he meant to attend.

‘Lord, yes, I suppose I must. Helen made it plain that she expects me to be there.’

Major Lagallan’s lips twitched. He said with mock severity: ‘That is not very complimentary to your future bride.’

Vivyan grinned. ‘Shocking, ain’t it? I thought myself free from this sort of thing for a few more months yet. When I went to Combe Charlton to propose to Helen, I was told the family was still in mourning for some sort of cousin. That’s why there’s to be no announcement about the engagement yet. Then, without a word, the whole family is in Town!’