The Baron and the Bluestocking (8 page)

Someone in Brook’s happened to mention Hyde Park, or he would have completely forgotten his engagement to drive Lady Virginia there at the fashionable hour of five o’clock. He was ten minutes late calling for her in his curricle.

“I had decided you had forgotten our engagement, my lord. Especially after you missed our scheduled luncheon today.”

“A problem arose that I had to deal with. Please accept my apologies. I have only just finished with it.”

Is she one of those ladies who delights in pointing out your wrongs? I hope not.

He headed his bays for Hyde Park, which was teeming at this hour. “Is this your first time riding in Hyde Park?” he asked.

“Oh, yes! I understand it is very important to be seen here at this time.”

Today she wore turquoise stripes and carried a matching parasol. Fixing a smile on her face, she nodded graciously as Christian introduced her to the people who stopped to make conversation.

“Aha!” said Lord Donald Aldridge, whose father, Lord Kent, was one of the patrons of the orphanage. “I see you are accompanied by a vision today!”

“Lord Donald, meet Lady Virginia Mowbray. Lady Virginia, I fear this scamp has been sent down from Oxford again.”

“Right you are. Rusticated.”

“What was it this time?”

“A prank that went wrong. I will be going back up after Christmas. Now where have you sprung from, Lady Virginia? I swear you are new to the
ton.
”

“From Dorset, my lord. I have been in mourning this past year. This is my first time in Town.” She put her head to the side as though assessing the young lord. To Shrewsbury, it appeared as though she were calculating his worth. How did Aldridge weigh up compared next to him?

“And how are you finding it? Do you like it so far?” Lord Donald asked.

“Lady Shrewsbury has taken me under her wing and been exceedingly kind to me. She lends me her son from time to time.”

“Going to hear the report on the orphanage tonight?” he asked.

Eyebrows raised in question, she looked at Christian. “What is this?”

“A young woman who teaches at the orphanage is going to be addressing the patrons tonight with a report.”

“Oh! Your pet project. Is there any chance that I could hear what she has to say? I should like it above all things!”

“Er, well, as a matter of fact, there is a dinner party to begin with . . .” Shrewsbury said. Her question had thrown him. He thought she had little interest in such things. And he had compartmentalized his life, seeing the social entertainments as distinct from his more important work. If he were to be quite honest with himself, he did not want her to come.

“Ah!” said young Donald, bringing his horse in closer. He swept off his beaver hat and bowed from the waist. “I have been asked to bring a guest. Perhaps you would accompany me, Lady Virginia. You are certain to find it most fascinating.”

“Lady Virginia is of Tory sympathies, I suspect,” Shrewsbury said.

“Then I shall consider this a missionary opportunity. What say thee, fair lady?”

“I should like very much to come,” Lady Virginia said, turning her face to Lord Shrewsbury, one haughty eyebrow raised.

Had she read his reluctance then?
To his surprise, he found he cared very little whether she had or not.

“The horses have stood too long, Aldridge. Finish your business,” Shrewsbury said.

“If you will give me your direction, Lady Virginia, I shall call for you at eight o’clock.”

“Rose House on Half Moon Street. No roses though. At the moment, there are a good many chrysanthemums planted in front.”

“I shall find it. Cheerio then!” Lord Donald rode off.

“Well!” said Christian’s companion. The expletive sounded as though she were very pleased with herself.

“You are going to be frightfully bored,” he said.

“That depends on the company. Who is hosting this dinner?”

He frowned. “The duke and duchess of Ruisdell.”

“A duke? My goodness! I am certain I shall enjoy myself then.”

Shrewsbury made no comment, but turned the horses and headed for Rose House.

*~*~*

As Christian prepared for dinner at the duke’s, he remembered with some amusement Miss Whitcombe-Hodge’s favorable impression of his tailoring.
I must make certain not to disappoint her on any count!

His bottle green velvet evening jacket went well with his eyes, and cream linen was preferable to stark white with his golden blond hair. Now, for a waistcoat. He finally selected one of gold silk embroidered in the same color in a fleur de lis pattern. Lathrop ordered his locks in their customary Brutus fashion and added the sole ornamentations of his gold watch and chain, as well as a small gold stickpin embossed with his family crest.

He smiled, thinking he looked suitably dandyish, and went off to confront the termagant goddess. And Lady Virginia, of course.

Shearings had long been one of his favorite townhouses. Its entry had double baroque staircases curving to a mezzanine lined with paintings of the Dukes of Ruisdell. Against this background, the duke and duchess greeted him. It appeared to be a large party, which surprised Shrewsbury. Ruisdell must be hoping to attract more patrons for their project. This could only be a good thing.

In the large midnight blue drawing room—papered to match the duchess’s eyes—he spotted Hélène Whitcombe-Hodge speaking to Lord Donald and Lady Virginia, using greatly exaggerated hand gestures. Approaching the trio, he bade everyone good evening.

Miss Whitcombe-Hodge appraised him openly. “You look very well tonight, Lord Shrewsbury.”

“You still approve of my tailor?”

“He turns you out exceedingly well, I must say.”

“I hoped you would be pleased,” he said, smiling at her. He turned to Lord Donald and Lady Virginia. “I am happy that you have met one of our teachers. Has she been telling you about the school? I must confess I am interested to find how everything progresses.”

“All is going swimmingly, it would seem,” Lady Virginia said.

“Ah, wonderful,” Christian said. “Have you progressed to Voltaire yet, Miss Whitcombe-Hodge?”

“I am reserving that topic for next week,” she said solemnly.

Christian felt uncomfortably stirred by her presence.
Dash it! Does she exude some kind of magnetic field?

“Voltaire?” Lord Donald’s brow bunched in confusion.

“A French philosopher of the Enlightenment,” Lady Whitcombe-Hodge said gently. “Lord Shrewsbury is teasing. He knows I am immensely fond of Voltaire.”

Christian noted a frown on Lady Virginia’s face. “You disapprove of Voltaire?” he asked.

“No. No, not at all.” She gave an artificial laugh. “Who could disapprove of Voltaire?”

“Many Frenchmen, apparently,” Lord Shrewsbury said. “He spent an inordinate amount of time in prison.” Turning to the teacher, he said, “The Duke gave me a splendid account of your teaching methods for the letter ‘
n.
’”

She raised her chin. “He surprised me. It very nearly put me off my game.”

Lady Virginia laughed. “A duke is enough to put anyone off one’s game.”

Suddenly, he wished the pesky woman would go away. He repositioned his shoulder so that he faced the schoolteacher face to face. “I understand your sisters are happily resituated,” he said.

“In great part, I have you to thank for that, my lord,” Miss Whitcombe-Hodge said with a slight bow of her head. “Thank you.”

“It was Blakeley as much as me. I had no idea your situation was so dire. Happily, I now understand your concerns for the independence of women in a way that I did not previously. I am giving it more serious thought.”

She smiled her full, winsome smile, and his heart began knocking against his ribs. “Genteel poverty of females is invisible to most people, my lord. The victims wish it to be. No one of gentle birth wishes to be an object of pity or charity.”

“It produces a great deal of false pride.”

“Were you in reduced circumstances, would you wish all society to know?” she asked.

“Assuredly not. But as you have so skillfully pointed out, as a man, I am more empowered to change my lot.”

Lady Virginia said, “Most likely by marrying money!” She laughed.

“A woman also has that option,” Christian said. “However, Miss Whitcombe-Hodge is far too high-minded to put that choice into play.”

To his surprise, the schoolteacher’s face turned scarlet, and she would not meet his eyes. What was this? Had she changed her mind on that score? Who was she to marry then? Blakeley? He clenched his fists.

Just then, the dinner gong sounded. Christian offered his arm to Miss Whitcombe-Hodge and proceeded into the dining room. The duchess directed his partner to the seat on the Duke’s right hand, as guest of honor. Shrewsbury was seated at the duchess’s right hand, which pleased him. He was very fond of her. And she was Sophie’s sister.

Over the soup, he said, “I recently received a note from Trowbridge with a post-script from Sophie. I was disappointed to hear they would stay in Italy for the winter.”

“Would you not prefer the Italian climate, if you had the chance to winter there?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.

“They
are
coming home eventually, are they not? Or have they decided that Buck and Fanny have the right idea about living abroad?”

The duchess laughed. Leaning toward him she spoke,
sotto voce,
“I believe Frank is delaying their homecoming until you are safely married.”

Christian had not blushed since he was a boy, but he felt tell-tale heat moving up into his face. Worse, he could not think of a reply. Giving him a knowing look, the duchess turned to Lord Kent, who was seated on her other side. “How does Melissa down at Oaksey Hall?”

Just how many people knew of his unrequited love for the Lady Trowbridge? Had he been that transparent? A waiter placed a dish of turbot in front of him. Christian stared at it as if it were a live snake.

The chubby Marquis of Somerset sat on his right. “Wool-gathering, Shrewsbury?”

“Uh, yes. Thinking about the school. Do you intend to put up some blunt?”

“Ruisdell has me thinking about it. Looking forward to the gel’s report. Stunner, ain’t she?”

Christian looked down the table at Hélène Whitcombe-Hodge. “Your own wife is far more amenable, I assure you. That lady can have a most abrasive manner.”

“Did I not see her on your arm?”

“She was. But can you imagine a combination of Mary Woolstonecraft and a vicar’s daughter? Hardly my cup of tea. In either incarnation.”

Somerset chuckled. “Ain’t I seen you around with the Mowbray chit?”

“Don’t place any bets yet. It’s early days,” Christian said, wondering how many others were speculating on his future.

{ 8 }

HÉLÈNE COULD NOT HELP but contrast the respectful attentions the duke paid her now with his lordly manner at their last meeting.

“Lord Shrewsbury tells me you are a student of Mary Woolstonecraft’s works,” he said.

She drew herself up. “I know she has fallen out of favor these days. She did make rather a mess of her life in the end, but I find some of her early ideas very sound, before she fell prey to her baser emotions.”

“What is it that you admire about her?”

“Mostly that she believed a woman’s intellect to be on an equal footing with a man’s. I believe she demonstrated that in her early writings. I think the most important thing she said was that women possess sensibilities that make us more able to ferret out the truth of certain matters. These sensibilities are like another sense, giving us a broader vision.”

The duke considered this. “I wish my wife were not at the other end of the table. I would like you to become acquainted with her. She is a novelist, and I believe her to be one of the most intelligent people of my acquaintance. And I believe Miss Woolstonecraft to have been right about a women’s sensibility. That is the very quality which makes the duchess’s novels so brilliant.”

“Lord Shrewsbury is a very great fan of your wife’s, I believe.”

“Is he? I did not know that.”

“He also reads Miss Austen.”

“Ah, the brilliant Miss Austen! My wife longs to meet her, but alas, the woman lives very retired.” The duke finished his soup. “Do you know, I think a very interesting discussion could be had this evening about the education of women and why it may be the saving grace of our society.”

“Your grace! You astonish me!”

“My wife saved me from profound melancholy following the war. I am afraid I was a sad case. But her sensitivity and, indeed, her good sense, gave me an outlet for my grief. She founded a soup kitchen for wounded soldiers in the East End. It was just the thing to give purpose to my life. Other good things arose out of that service.”

A footman served their turbot. “She is quite a woman, my Elise. She thinks very highly of you, incidentally.”

“I am flattered.” She contemplated the salt dish, thinking of her speech. “And you should really like me to discuss the civilizing effects that the education of women can provide for men? This evening? Are you certain you are not setting me up for ridicule? Will it not put people off? Particularly the men?”

“That will be half the fun!” the duke said with a wide grin. “Come! Show us the courage of your convictions. I am convinced you are always ready to enlighten others.”

“Lord Shrewsbury says dogmatism is not an endearing quality.”

“Ho! I’ll wager that was because you gave him a set down. Very sensitive he is, beneath his noble exterior.” He leaned closer and said in a soft voice, “Would you believe he has been pining for months over an unrequited love? Quite miserable, is our Christian.”

Hélène felt dizzy for a moment as her impression of Lord Shrewsbury stood on its head. Sensitive? Unrequited love? “Not Lady Virginia?”

“No. She is someone he is
trying
to fall in love with. I am afraid it does not look promising. But he is at the point where he thinks no female but his Sophie will do. Fortunately, she is, at this moment, in Venice with her beloved husband, Shrewsbury’s best friend. If she stays away long enough, perhaps Lady Virginia will stand a chance. I am looking forward to making her acquaintance.”