Partridge and the Peartree (2 page)

Perhaps tonight Jeanne's creation would catch the
attention of a dashing gentleman who would sweep Lady Amelia off
her feet. Then the two of them could move to that gentleman's
estate, and they could be rid of this place. Lord Sudbury was all
right, but his future bride was a dragon who'd done nothing but
undermine Amelia, changing the décor, contradicting her orders to
the staff, and even lying to the earl to make Lady Amelia look bad.
Her mistress would be better off leaving Sudbury House.

Entering the kitchen, she inhaled the savory smells
of the delicious meal Cook prepared, and her stomach rumbled.

"Good afternoon, Cook."

"Good afternoon, Jeanne. What brings you — Oh," Cook
exclaimed, spying the soiled cloak Jeanne carried. "I see Her
Ladyship has been traipsing through muddy sections of town
again."

"Yes. She came back with another satchel full of
books."

Cook shook her head. "Such a waste, a lovely young
lass like her, shut up in her room, reading and writing all day. At
her age, she should be married, with a nursery full of
children."

"I agree. But at least tonight she's going to the
Linden children's recital."

"Lovely. Well, do your magic and make her look
beautiful."

Jeanne sighed. Magic wasn't needed to make Lady
Amelia beautiful. What she needed was the lady's cooperation.

What the devil am I doing here?

Philip adored his nieces, but he preferred to support
them in ways that didn't require his presence at a social function.
Laurel was a beautiful girl and a fair dancer, though she'd never
perform on a true stage. He wasn't as sure about Merilee's piano
playing, although people other than her own mother had said she was
quite good. No matter, he was here now, so his sister wouldn't be
able to badger him too much for the next month or so. Desiree was a
good sister, but she could be a mother bear sometimes, especially
when it came to her children. As if conjured by his thoughts,
Desiree Linden, Countess of Milburn, appeared at his side.

"Phillip, how good of you to come." She took his arm
and steered him toward the chairs set up for the audience.

"I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise."

"Of course you would." She chuckled at his sarcasm.
"But I'm glad you chose to come, instead of closeting yourself in
your study. I'm giving you the choicest seat, right here in the
front."

"Marvelous. Everyone will be able to see me."

"Don't be silly. They're here to see the girls, not
you. Besides, you'll be off to the left, so your good side will be
all they see. You might be lucky and not have to interact with
anyone."

"How kind of you," he said through his teeth.

He settled himself in his seat, turning sharply when
someone behind him tapped his shoulder. The Duchess of Camden bent
her head to speak to him, and the feathers on her oversized hat
tickled his forehead. "Your Grace, it is so good to see you again.
I've heard you were at your estate, and we assumed you were still
in mourning—"

Desiree rang a crystal bell at that moment,
interrupting the duchess, and all heads turned toward the stage,
where Merilee had seated herself at the pianoforte.

"Friends, thank you so much for attending. Please
make yourselves comfortable. Merilee and Laurel have a lovely
program for you this evening. Merilee will open the program by
performing Sonata in G minor by Muzio Clementi."

Phillip prepared himself for an hour or two of
boredom, schooling his features into a polite show of interest.
Just as Merilee raised her hands to place them on the keyboard, he
felt the air stir to his right, and the aroma of roses assaulted
him. He glanced in that direction and beheld a vision of loveliness
seated beside him. She wore a fetching gown of midnight blue satin,
and her honey blonde curls framed her heart-shaped face. She nodded
a silent greeting to him then directed her attention toward the
stage. Phillip dutifully turned his head as well, but his thoughts
remained on the woman beside him. It was the woman from the
bookstore. Where was her husband?

****

Amelia kept her eyes focused on the
performer, though she barely he
ard a note from the
pianoforte. She kept her mouth closed, breathing deeply as her
heart calmed to a steady beat. Her brother's insufferable fiancée
had, as usual, not been ready to leave at the appointed time, so
she'd taken a footman and hired a hackney, arriving at the last
moment. She'd tossed her cloak at the surprised butler and scooted
to an open seat at the front, sitting down just before Merilee
began to play.

The man beside her was a distraction. She'd only
caught a glimpse of him before the music started, but she was
certain it was the same gentleman from the bookshop. She felt her
face heat. Why on earth would she have such a reaction to a
man?

The music stopped, and the people around her
applauded politely. Amelia, embarrassed to be daydreaming, lifted
her hands to do the same. But she realized the gentleman beside her
was later than her to clap his hands. Perhaps he also had wayward
thoughts.

Merilee rose from the bench and executed a prim
curtsey then reseated herself at the bench. This time, she played a
gentle introduction then played a lovely piece for her sister's
dance.

Though she kept her eyes forward, she knew the ballet
was more to the gentleman's liking. He sat up straighter, and his
facial features lifted from its boredom into pleasure. Was it the
dance itself, or was it the dancer who caught the man's fancy?
Laurel was almost seventeen now and would probably be ready to
enter society in the next season. But if the man next to her had
set his sights on her, she might be married before ever having a
season of her own.

A jab to her midsection had her massaging it. Had she
eaten something unsettling this evening? She scarcely remembered
what she had consumed. She'd been so distracted by her new story
she had simply eaten what was placed before her. Surely that was
it. Indigestion made much more sense than jealousy over a young
girl garnering the attention of the handsome man next to her.

The dance concluded, and the audience applauded
politely. Desiree announced a short intermission, and the guests
rose to chat and partake of the sumptuous refreshments spread on
the banquet tables. Amelia wasn't particularly hungry or thirsty,
but she rose, needing to stand and use her legs. As much as she
loved writing, it caused her to sit for long periods of time. She
didn't enjoy the small talk — it bored her. But she put on her
public face, for her friend's sake. If nothing else, perhaps she
could get some fodder for her next book.

"Excuse me, miss."

She spun around, and her eyes locked with the same
mesmerizing gaze from the bookstore. He seemed even taller than he
had that afternoon, and in his formal dress he looked quite
dashing. "Yes?"

"I believe you dropped this." He held out a satin
scarf. She'd forgotten she'd removed it during the recital.

"Thank you, sir. Once again, you've come to my aid,
saving me from my clumsiness."

"I was in the way. I should know better than to stand
in one spot in the bookstore."

Amelia put a finger to her lips. "Shh. My brother
doesn't approve of me frequenting that shop. It's not in a
fashionable area of town."

He nodded. "I understand. Incident forgotten."

Desiree, ever the hostess, appeared suddenly.
"Phillip, I see you've met my dear friend, Lady Amelia Partridge.
Amelia, this is my brother, the Duke of Bartlett."

Phillip bowed deeply. "How do you, do, Lady
Amelia?"

Amelia curtseyed. "I'm honored to meet you, Your
Grace."

"I am surprised we haven't met before. Have you and
my sister been friends for a long time?"

Desiree chuckled and touched his arm, causing him to
turn his attention back to her. "How diplomatic, Phillip. You can
see Amelia is closer to Laurel's age than mine. Amelia is a fellow
member of the Ladies' Literary Society, and she's been a boon to
us. She has a way with words, and has written our newsletter and
other promotional tracts for our organization."

Phillip turned back to Amelia. "Very impressive, Lady
Amelia. The Literary Society is one of my sister's passions, and
anyone who forwards their cause is a treasure."

Amelia felt her face warm, and she scolded herself.
She was normally immune to flattery, but the duke's praise made her
feel almost giddy. Why was she acting like a silly, lovesick
schoolgirl? She held herself regally and just managed to keep her
voice from rising to a giggly pitch. "Thank you. I am honored to be
associated with such a worthy cause."

"May I fetch some refreshments for you ladies?"
Phillip offered.

Desiree nodded. "Thank you, Phillip. I would love
some tea."

Amelia shook her head. "Nothing for me, thank
you."

As soon as Phillip left, Desiree laid her hand on
Amelia's arm. "Thank you so much for coming, Amelia. Laurel and
Merilee both look up to you."

"How kind of you to say so, Lady Milburn."

"Please call me Desiree. Let me introduce you to
another friend of mine, Lady Diane. Well, it's something like that.
She's French, and I can never pronounce her name to suit her. I
understand you speak her language..."

Lady Dionne, betrothed to the Earl of Warwick, stood
off to the side of the room, next to her fiancé. The beautiful
young girl brightened considerably when Amelia began a conversation
in her native tongue.

****

A few minutes later, Phillip handed his sister a cup
of tea.

"What do you think of her?" Desiree demanded.

"Who?"

"Amelia, you twit. Isn't she lovely?"

"Of course."

"You two have a lot in common. But she's quite
headstrong."

"I didn't realize you had set up shop as a
matchmaker. Besides, I thought she was married."

"Amelia? No, she's happily unattached. As you are,"
she added when Phillip started a retort. "And I think both of you
would be even happier with someone to share your interests."

"Put away those dreams, Desiree. If she's going to be
happy with a man, you will need to find someone else for her."

"Not interested?"

"Not — qualified."

Desiree's brows rose, but she said nothing.

****

Amelia enjoyed her conversation with the future
countess, but her mind was on the handsome duke across the room.
How had she not recognized him? Had the incident that caused his
scars kept him bedridden? Her curiosity was stemmed when Desiree
rose to the platform to gather her guests for the second half of
the program.

"Dear guests, the performers have made their costume
changes and are ready for the second half of the program. Please be
kind enough to take your seats."

The audience members made their way back to their
chairs, but a shrill voice from the ballroom's entrance had them
freezing mid-step. Amelia recognized the voice and winced as
everyone swiveled to see what had caused the commotion.

Edward Partridge, Earl of Sudbury, had arrived, along
with his fiancée. The poor servant who'd had the misfortune to take
her cloak cringed in front of her as she fired a barrage of insults
at him.

"Don't hold my cloak like that! Have you no sense at
all? You are crushing the fabric. Edward, we will have to bring my
servants here from France. They know how to take care of fine
clothing!"

Edward tried desperately to end her outburst. "Yes,
my dear," he answered quietly. "Why don't I take your cloak for
now?"

"Never mind. I will buy a new one when I go back to
Paris. I need something to drink after the ride in that dreadful
carriage. Where is the wine steward?"

One of the waiters hadn't disappeared quickly enough.
"Ah, there he is! Please come and bring a glass for Mademoiselle
Colette." The earl's voice sounded across the ballroom. The rest of
the guests, having already given up their drinks, resigned
themselves to waiting for her. The young servant cautiously
approached her with his tray, holding it as far from him as he
could.

"This is French wine, no?"

"Yes,
mademoiselle
." It wasn't, but the young
man was in no mood to invoke her wrath.

Colette sipped and breathed a sigh of satisfaction.
"Only the French know how to make a proper wine." She savored the
flavor, pointedly ignoring the impatient stares around her.

She took her time, knowing full well she was holding
up the concert. When she finally finished, she took the earl's arm
and walked regally toward the stage. She stopped when they got to
the seats.

"Edward, surely you do not expect me to sit on such
awful chairs?"

If Edward was mortified at his fiancée's question, he
contained it well. He looked around him and spied a love seat along
the edge of the room.

"Will that do, my love?"

Colette sighed heavily. "I suppose it will have to
do. Have them bring it over here." She pointed to the front of the
stage.

There were several gasps from the other guests. And
then murmurs. How dare she sit right in front, after having made
everyone else wait for her?

But Colette was oblivious to the hateful stares and
mumbling. She waited for the hastily summoned servants to move the
love seat.

"Edward, you will have to sit on the left, so I do
not have to see that horrible looking man." Though Colette's
statement was uttered in a stage whisper, it was clearly heard in
the waiting silence.

Amelia stood, stepped behind her seat, and lifted her
chair.

"My dear Amelia, whatever are you doing?" Edward
asked. "There's no need to move your chair. I believe there is
plenty of room for this in front of you."