June Calvin (5 page)

“Oh, no, my lord. I just misstepped.” She was painfully aware of his closeness, his hand on her waist. A blush threatened, and she forced herself into conversation to keep from making a cake of herself. It would never do for Pelham to guess how attracted she was to him. Remembering that look he had given her when he kissed her hand in the foyer, she wondered if he already knew.

“It has been a delightful evening for me. How about you, my lord. Has all gone well?”

The cobalt eyes looked affectionately down at her. “Famously. Elspeth practically asked me to escort her to Curzon’s picnic. And we waltzed together. Oh!” Suddenly aware of his failed promise, he apologized.

“Do not think of it. After all, that is what we had hoped for. I’m so pleased. Soon you’ll be engaged again, no doubt.”

“I hope so. And you seem to have attracted a very eligible
parti.
”

All innocence, she batted her eyelashes at him. “Whom do you mean, my lord? I’ve danced with so many this evening.”

“I think you know, minx! And please stop ‘my lording’ me. My friends call me Monty.”

“If you will call me Davida.”

“I mayn’t call you ‘Davie,’ as Sarah does?” Mischief lit up his face.

“Only in private, my—ah, Monty. It is a family name, and my mother would get into a pucker if everyone began calling me that.”

“Agreed.”

A comfortable silence fell between them for several moments. Then Pelham cleared his throat. “Should warn you, Davie—Curzon does not have a spotless reputation where women are concerned. Mean to say, hear he’s looking for a wife now, but do watch your step there.”

Alarmed, Davida lifted her head. “What . . . what do you mean?”

Monty frowned down at her, wondering suddenly why he had said such a thing. Curzon was no more likely than any other gentleman of the
ton
to take advantage of a gently raised, marriageable miss. But now he’d put his foot in it! He’d have to explain.

“Don’t fly up into the boughs. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just that young women sometimes become quite hen-witted around him. He has been known to take advantage occasionally of the female’s susceptibility to rich and handsome young men.”

Davida shook her head. “A young woman’s reputation is all to her, Monty. Perhaps I shouldn’t go driving with him on Monday as I said I would.”

“Don’t cry off. I didn’t mean to alarm you so. If you behave as you ought, I’m sure he’ll do the same.”

Davida, somewhat piqued, snapped, “I thank you for the warning. I am accustomed to behaving as I ought, but I will be most circumspect in my dealings with him.”

“Yes, I believe you will. You are awake on all suits, Davie.” He studied her profile as she turned her head, a slight frown creasing her forehead. A sudden, unexpected feeling of tenderness surged through him. She was really a lovely girl, vivacious and good-natured. He felt compelled to add, “The man who wins you will be fortunate indeed, my girl.”

Somewhat mollified, Davida thanked him, firmly suppressing a wish that he would not be quite so complacent about the thought of another man winning her.

Lady Howard’s party left early, her daughter Elspeth once more on the arm of Lord Whitham. It was clear that the pleasure had gone out of the evening for Pelham when they left, yet he continued to dance and laugh and do the pretty for Davida. When the ball began to break up, she was exhausted and more than ready to leave.

They emerged into a thick mist and Pelham moaned, “Hope it doesn’t continue to rain like this.”

As she followed her mother into the carriage, Davida quizzed him. “Surely you don’t doubt your beloved’s ability to conjure up a sunny sky for the picnic next week?”

“If she enlists the bishop’s assistance, I doubt it very much. Her father’s prayers are so long-winded the Almighty would do just the opposite of what he asked, out of irritation.”

Davida giggled, but her mother glared at her. “I cannot like this conversation, children. It borders on the sacrilegious.”

“Your pardon, ma’am.” Pelham looked contrite, but when Davida, her mirth suppressed behind her fan, caught his eye, he winked at her.

As she slowly relaxed into sleep in the early hours of the morning, Davida had a wonderful sense of anticipation. Social ruin had been averted. Her debut at Almack’s had been a success; she had met many young men whom her father could only be pleased to have court her. Which of them would call on her tomorrow? Would one of them make her feel as happy inside as that auburn-haired rascal she had helped to win back his true love?

Chapter Six

“
S
o this Curzon, you say, is a baronet’s son?”

“Yes, Papa, though only for life. And so handsome. He is tall and blond. Surely the Vikings must have looked something like that. Or perhaps the Greek gods.”

Davida felt it necessary to build up her father’s interest in Mr. Curzon, because he had been quite disappointed when she told him Lord Pelham and Lady Elspeth seemed to be making it up between them.

“You shall meet him, and no doubt many others. I hardly sat out a dance, and you know most of them will call today.” They were at the breakfast table, though it was nearly noon. It had taken Davida quite a long time to become accustomed to town hours, but she had been so tired that sleeping late had been easy this morning.

“Yes, I saw the drawing room was filling up with flowers already.” Her father smiled, pleased with his daughter’s obvious success.

It was as she predicted. Their drawing room was the scene of constant coming and going well into the afternoon. Invitations piled up on the silver tray in the foyer, and bouquets almost crowded them out of the drawing room.

After the last caller had departed, Davida’s mother exclaimed in pleasure, “Such good fortune that Pelham took you up before your come-out ball, dear. We shall make a much better showing now you are becoming acquainted with the
ton.
”

Davida held the stack of invitations to her breast, smiling dreamily. “Yes, now it will be a squeeze. I hope the duke doesn’t mind.” It had long been planned that Sarah’s father would come up to London and open his town mansion for the come-out ball which his daughter and Davida were going to share. Neither Lady D’Alatri nor the Greshams had facilities for a large ball.

“I’m sure he’ll be very pleased. He was well aware that Sarah had no intentions of making a push to meet a great many young men. Now she will have to, whether she wants to or not.”

Lady Sarah had come to London for the season very reluctantly, for she had long ago determined to wed a neighbor, Gregory Allensby. He was a serious young man who had inherited his family’s estate early. He bent all his energies on managing it to the benefit of his mother and siblings. The duke had no real objection to Allensby, but wished his daughter to have a wider acquaintance before settling on a husband.

Davida chuckled at her friend’s poorly disguised stratagems to avoid attracting eligible gentlemen. One of them had been to set the ball very late in the season, supposedly to give them time to widen their acquaintance. In truth she was, as Pelham had suggested, reluctant to be noticed, but now she would possibly find their ball one of the events of the season!

“But whatever shall we do? We can’t possibly attend all of these.” Davida made a helpless gesture with the pile of invitations.

“Of course not. Now we can be very selective. But we must try to attend as many as possible. Not much time is left, if you are to choose a husband this year. Oh, my dear, Mr. Curzon was very warm in his attentions to you this afternoon, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, he was,” Davida replied. She was not truly a shy person, but with her high coloring she blushed easily, and Harrison Curzon had put her to the blush more than once this afternoon with his fulsome compliments and admiring looks. She guessed he took a mischievous pleasure in her embarrassment.

“A handsome young man, as you said,” her father drawled.

“Yes, but I cannot like him.”

“Mama!” Davida turned, astonished, to see her mother looking unusually stern.

“I can’t help it. I don’t know why, but I cannot. There is something so bold about his manner. Almost insolent. I do not think he would make a comfortable husband.”

“Codswallop!” Her father was aghast. “An eligible
parti
, and clearly interested. Woman, what kind of a start is this?”

Her mother rose and walked agitatedly around the room. “He is not at all as kind as Lord Pelham, I am sure.”

“Your daughter has seen fit to throw Pelham away, so . . .”

“Papa! He was never mine to . . .”

“Let us not quarrel.” Her mother turned to face them. “Davida is right. Pelham was in alt when Lady Elspeth took him up again. However we might prefer him as a son-in-law, he is out of reach. All I am asking is that we keep our wits about us. You wouldn’t want Davida to choose unwisely and be unhappy.”

Her father went to his wife and pulled her into his arms. “Of course not, my dear. Be assured I will look over any potential husbands very carefully.”

Davida felt a little teary, watching them. In spite of her father’s ambitions, they really did have her best interests at heart. She joined them, hugging them both. “You are surely the best parents a girl could have.”

But as she mounted the stairs to change into a carriage dress for the ride in the park she had promised Sir Ralph Moreston, Davida felt weighed down with the pressure of the necessity to make such a lifelong commitment in a few short weeks. Her own inclination was to relax and let matters turn out as they might. Surely eighteen was too young to worry about being on the shelf? But she must please not only herself but her dear parents as well, so she firmly took herself in hand and prepared to continue her search.

She donned her plainest carriage dress, a dark blue bombazine trimmed with white Spanish puffs at the hem and along the sleeves. She did not really like Sir Ralph very much and had no wish to entice him with one of her more fetching costumes.

Unfortunately Sir Ralph was a favorite of her father, who had met him at the Stanhope ball. “Sir Ralph Moreston, eh! Good man, good man,” he boomed approvingly when he heard who her escort was. “Waterloo hero, very sound Tory. A very solid man indeed, Davida.”

It was an unfortunate choice of words. Davida giggled behind her fingers. “Very solid indeed, Papa. He must weigh above twenty stone!”

“Now, not all men can look like your blond Adonis. He’d make you a fine husband. You’d be a lady . . .”

“Yes, Papa,” she sighed, turning to pat her curls into place beneath her untrimmed bonnet as Perry admitted the portly baronet. He greeted her father effusively, then eyed Davida with delight.

“Lovely, lovely! Not all decked out with frills and furbelows like so many flighty misses. Plain and sensible.”

Their drive was not a success from Davida’s standpoint. After seating her in his rather ancient barouche, Sir Ralph spent all of his time disparaging the expense and frivolity around him. “Spending all they have to cut a dash. Fribbles!” He saw Davida eyeing a handsome team of grays that flashed past them. “And those mettlesome animals they dash about town with—dangerous business. You never need worry that my team will bolt with us, Miss Gresham.”

Davida bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Except for their docked tails and braided manes, Sir Ralph’s stolid team would have looked right at home behind a plow. Whatever her father thought of the man, she found him a pompous bore, as well as unattractive. She politely refused his offer to take her to an improving lecture during the next week, and escaped into her home with great relief when the drive was over.

No more successful was her ride with Arnold Lanscombe the next morning. She had allowed the dandy to provide her with a mount in spite of her father’s dislike of him, for they had not brought any saddle horses with them to London, and she missed riding sorely.

But the mount Lanscombe provided was disappointing, a placid gelding with ears so large she wondering if he might be a mule. Lanscombe was little better mounted. Obviously all of his energy and treasure went into his clothing.

Indeed, once he had induced her to comment upon his riding jacket, which was mustard-colored with sienna trim and sported the largest buttons Davida had ever seen, he spent the rest of their time together commenting upon the clothing and equipage of those around them. Davida did not know if her green riding habit met with his approval, and did not care. She escaped from him at the end of the ride with as much relief as from her outing with Sir Ralph.

The most acceptable of her escorts that week was Gilbert, Viscount Threlbourne. She did not particularly admire his looks, but he had an easy, kindly manner and lively personality that she enjoyed. It was very clear early on, however, that he was not courting her. Indeed, he had spend a goodly portion of their first drive telling her about his cousin Virginia, just now out of the schoolroom, with whom he had an understanding.

Although both families actively encouraged the match, her parents thought her too young to marry, and he agreed. “Let her have a season next year, and then we can begin to plan our wedding,” he confided. The tone of his voice more than anything he said made Davida believe that he was very attached to his young cousin. She told him quite honestly that she thought he’d make an admirable husband and that Virginia was very fortunate to have attracted his interest.

By the time of their drive on Monday, it was clear to Davida that Harrison Curzon was the most interesting of her beaus. It was equally clear that Curzon was a serious suitor. He visited every afternoon that they were at home, reluctantly parting after staying the accepted fifteen minutes each time. He made it a point to know which entertainments she was attending in the evenings and quickly appeared at her side wherever she went. He always claimed two dances and virtually insisted on one of them being a waltz.

Unlike Sir Ralph and Arnold Lanscombe, he could converse without criticizing all around him, and was an amusing partner for the dances they shared. She found herself looking forward to their drive, when she might have the opportunity to know him better.

Davida was definitely drawn to him, though honesty forced her to admit to herself that she felt nowhere near the attraction to him that she felt for Pelham. But Pelham had not called on her again. When they came across one another in the social whirl, he was friendly, but he was obviously busy courting Elspeth. Each day she read the newspapers avidly, expecting an announcement of the renewal of their engagement, but as yet none had appeared.

***

Curzon claimed her for their drive in the park with a very possessive air and made Davida not a little uncomfortable by taking her hand and pulling the glove down to press a kiss on her wrist before he helped her into his curricle.

Her pink-cheeked silence seemed to amuse him as he expertly flicked his cattle into a trot. “Cat got your tongue, Miss Gresham?” he chuckled. Why did men seem to enjoy putting women out of countenance, Davida wondered.

“Your blacks are very showy, Mr. Curzon, with their matching white stockings. However did you find such nearly identical horses?”

Her diversionary gambit seemed to work. With the enthusiasm of the true horseman, he informed her, “Believe it or not, they were both bred on my father’s stud in Lancashire. They are about a year apart in age and from the same sire.”

“And the entirely black curricle—all very impressive.”

“And now the ensemble is complete, with a black-haired beauty by my side.” He arched a brow at her, the vivid, almost piercing ice blue eyes reminding her somehow of a bird of prey.

“Are they fast, Mr. Curzon? Have you raced them?”

“Do you find my gallantries unpleasant, Davida?” His free hand reached over to cover hers, which were tightly clenched in her lap.

“Oh, no! I suppose I just haven’t yet quite learned how to flirt properly.” She opened her eyes wide, trying to look as naive as possible.

“Nonsense. You are a born flirt. What is throwing you is that you know I am serious, is that not so?” The intentness of his look disconcerted her.

At that moment Davida noticed that they were not on the right road to Hyde Park. “Where are we going, please?” She tried to control the nervous tremor in her voice.

“Don’t be alarmed.” He released her hand. “I am just going to drive in Green Park. It will not be as crowded at this hour, and we can be more private. Does that distress you?” There was genuine concern in his voice and doubt in his eyes. “You don’t suspect me of having dishonorable intentions toward you, do you, Davida?”

“Green Park will be quite satisfactory, Mr. Curzon.” She chose to ignore the question of his intentions, but Pelham’s warning was, she realized, coloring her behavior toward her handsome blond suitor.

Davida was silent as Curzon concentrated on tooling his blacks through the busy London streets. She admired good driving and took pleasure in seeing the skill with which he handled the ribbons.

When they turned into the park, he slowed the pace and turned to Davida, transferring the reins to his right hand. He slid his left arm around her and pulled her against him. “How I long to kiss you, Davida. It’s not possible here, but we can be a little closer, at least.”

Astonished by his boldness, she looked hastily around to see if anyone was near enough to know what he had done. The feel of his strong, hard body beside hers startled her. It wasn’t an entirely disagreeable sensation, this proximity to a powerful male body, which surely intensified the impropriety of the experience! She tried to wiggle free, but his firm grasp easily prevented her.

“Please, Mr. Curzon. I have done nothing to encourage such familiarity.”

The broad brow wrinkled, the icy eyes narrowed. “I know you are a proper young lady, but I do not believe you are cold. You
are
aware that I am courting you in form and in earnest, are you not?”

“This is beyond . . .” she began, but his voice cut across hers, harsh with emotion.

“Now, Davida, tell me who my rival is? I thought at first Pelham, but he is entirely taken up with the self-righteous if delectable Lady Elspeth. I really can’t credit that you have a
tendre
for Threlbourne or Lanscombe, and if I am not very much mistaken, you actively dislike Sir Ralph Moreston.”

“What makes you think . . . that is, I have a great many gentleman friends, but no one in particular. And . . . and I beg leave to tell you I did not give you permission to use my first name!” Davida was beginning to feel trapped, and her instinct was to fight.

The curricle was barely moving. Curzon turned toward her, loomed over her, it almost seemed, his hawk’s eyes intent upon her. “My suit displeases you?”