Martha Schroeder (11 page)

Meg grinned at him, stood up, and held out her hand. “Shall we go?”

Chapter Ten

Thank God the navy had taught him to face the unexpected with coolness and a quick mind, James thought as he went with Meg into the drawing room. He considered himself lucky to have been under fire from French guns. It was as close as life had brought him to the sensations evoked by that walk.

Conversation stopped, then started again with a rush. People either met his eyes with a bold stare—the kind, James thought, that they would use to face a dangerous animal, or they looked away. Only Lady Mattingly came up and smiled as she held out her hands to them.

“Meg, my dear. And James. I haven’t seen you at all this evening. I hope we will have an opportunity to talk.” She patted James’s cheek and kissed Meg’s before moving aside to allow them to pass.

James could see that Meg’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I always wanted her to be my mother,” Meg murmured. She turned to him. “I never knew mine, you see, so I always envied Gerald his.”

“I do, too,” James said, smiling down at her. As she returned his gaze, he was struck by the way her eyes changed color with her emotions. Now they were almost pure green, whereas before their hazel color had been flecked with gold.

“Did you know your eyes change color?” he said.

“No. They’re always plain hazel when I look at them in the mirror.” Meg tugged at his arm. “You know, James, they’re awaiting our announcement.”

“I think the only announcement they’re waiting for is that you’re going to send me packing. Then they can breathe easy again.”

“I guess we’re going to disappoint them, aren’t we?” Meg swept on, her hand still firmly holding his. They went out into the hall and down to the ballroom, where the string trio Mrs. Headley had engaged for the evening was valiantly attempting a waltz.

“Would you care to dance, Lady Margaret? I’m
not sure that any of Almack’s patronesses would recommend me, but that doesn’t signify tonight, does it?”

“Oh, no, but—but—” Meg’s uncharacteristic confusion caused a tide of warm color to sweep into her cheeks.

James couldn’t resist teasing her a little. “But nothing,” he replied with a grin, his blue eyes dancing. “Come along. Surely an almost-engaged couple can waltz without shocking the neighborhood tabbies. At least,” he said, and the thought wiped the smile from his face, “it won’t shock them half as much as the fact of the engagement will.”

But Meg still held back. She gazed at him, the corners of her lips trembling a little. “James, I—I—

Realizing that she was truly upset, he stopped at the edge of the dance floor and tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “Come and walk with me a moment. You look flushed. Here, we will just slip out of these French doors.” He suited the action to the words, and before Meg could say anything, they were standing on the terrace, in the shadow of one of the stone pillars lining it.

It was chilly. Meg shivered a
bit and began to chafe her bare arms with her hands. James pulled her gently to him and wrapped his warm arms around her. After a moment Meg sank gratefully against him.

Then she spoke, her words muffled by his coat.

He stepped back a half step and said, “I’m sorry, my dear. I didn’t understand you.”

She lifted her head, and James could see the proud tilt of her chin. “I said, ‘I can’t waltz,’ ” she enunciated clearly. “Gerald promised to teach me the last time he was home, but we never seemed to have the time.” She took a deep breath. “I told you I haven’t any polish. If you have to go to London, to the Admiralty or on business—or whatever, you will have to go alone.”

“And why is that, my lady?” James looked down at her. He could not for the life of him understand exactly why this confession was so difficult. She seemed to attach enormous importance to such an absurd triviality. She was titled, pretty, charming, and accomplished. She had done things no earl’s daughter in London had dreamed of. Had any of them assisted at a cow’s accouchement? “Unless things have changed since I retired, they waltz very infrequently at the Admiralty. Not since Trafalgar, I believe.”

He hoped she would laugh.

She didn’t. Instead, she turned aside and stood with her back to him. “You do not understand. I have never had any sort of social training. Not the kind one would expect. I don’t know how to entertain cabinet ministers or converse easily. The people hereabouts make allowances for me, but your friends would think me hopelessly rustic.”

“Because you cannot waltz? Nothing could be simpler. I’ll teach you, Just listen to the music and follow me.” From inside the house, the strains of the lilting melody drifted out to them. James bowed and then extended his hand. “Here, you see. I put my hand in the middle of your back, like this. And you put yours on my shoulder, so. Then we clasp our other hands and ...” Holding her closer than strict propriety would have allowed, he began to move to the music.

Meg moved stiffly at first and almost stumbled, but then James could feel her relax and begin to follow his steps. After a moment she looked up at him and gave him a smile that was bright with all the life and charm that had won his—not his heart, surely. He hadn’t gone and fallen in love with her, had he? The thought terrified him. No, of course he hadn’t. Admiration, that was what he felt. She had won his admiration.

The dance lasted only a few minutes more, but James was aware of Meg’s every breath. He couldn’t help it. When at last he whirled her around to finish with a flourish, Meg looked as if she’d been flying. Her golden brown curls were slightly tumbled and her face glowed.

“Oh, James,” she said breathlessly, “thank you. I had no idea dancing could be like that!”

“What was it like?” he asked, still bemused by her smile, the feel of her in his arms.

“Like flying! It was wonderful. When can we do it again?”

He looked down at her, still flushed and slightly tousled. Almost, he thought, as if they had just made love. He gathered his scattered senses. “Anytime you can convince Miss Fairchild to play for us. We can waltz tomorrow morning, if you like!”

“Oh, James, I am going to enjoy being married to you!” In the silence that followed her remark, Meg could hear a gasp from behind her.

“Oh, Margaret, you mustn’t!” Mrs. Headley burst out.

Meg looked stricken. “That was very forward of me. I am sorry, James. Just when I think I’ve learned how to go on, something like that just pops out of my mouth.”

“I don’t think it was what you said that upset our hostess.” James’s words fell like stones. “I believe it is the identity of your bridegroom that causes her such distress.” He stood looking like an archangel—tall and bright—but his eyes were bleak, and his sharply sculpted mouth was tight.

“Indeed, you are right, Captain Sheridan,” Mrs. Headley replied. “I will not prevaricate when the matter is so important. Margaret, I beg of you, reconsider this folly. I feel almost as if I stood in place of your mother and—”

“You do not stand in any such relation to me, Mrs. Headley,” Meg interrupted ruthlessly. “And I have no need to think further about anything. It is decided.” Head high, she marched back into the ballroom.

The musicians had stopped playing, and the dancers were grouped casually, chatting and laughing. Meg went to stand in front of the chairs and music stands and said in clear and carrying tones, “I have an announcement to make. Please, may I have your attention!”

Sensing something out of the ordinary, everyone fell silent. Meg smiled at the group and said, “I know that this is quite unconventional, but I wish to announce my engagement. If I had a close male relative, I would ask him to do so, but unfortunately I have none. So, I have decided to acquire one. Cap-lain James Sheridan and I are engaged to be married.” She beckoned James forward and stood with him close beside her, holding his hand. “I hope you all will wish us happy.”

There was a murmur of surprise, and then Gerald, as quick-witted and kind as his mother had been earlier, stepped forward, a glass of champagne in his hand. “I wish to make the first toast to the engaged—”

But Mrs. Headley had not yet run her course. “Meg, please. You do not even know who this man’s people are. Who is his mother? What is her family? That is a matter of grave importance. You know nothing about her. She could be anyone!”

“She gave birth to a hero,” Meg said. “That is enough fame and virtue for any woman! I only hope I can do as much!”

“Well, really—” Mrs. Headley’s face flushed an unbecoming mottled shade of red. “Of all the unmaidenly remarks!”

James had had enough of standing silent while a woman defended him. “It is very difficult to shock a naval commander,” he said smoothly. “Lady Margaret has yet to manage it. So you can see how perfectly suited we are!”

He grinned down at Meg and read the admiration and laughter in her piquant features. “I believe Sir Gerald was about to propose a toast in your honor when we were interrupted, my dear. Sir Gerald?”

Gerald proved he was indeed a diplomat. He raised his glass again, as coolly as if nothing had disturbed his words. “To my two very good friends. May they live long and always surprise each other.”

Amid good-natured laughter, the toast was drunk and Meg and the captain began to circulate around the room, receiving congratulations and good wishes. James felt an unfamiliar sense of happiness. Was it possible? Could it really be that easy to become a part of life here? The Mattinglys and Margaret had chosen to embrace him, and the entire community seemed ready to follow suit.

Of course, Mrs. Headley was still unreconciled to his new place in the midst of her circle, but, a true navy man, James had no wish for a life without enemies. After all, it was Napoleon’s final exile that had decided him in favor of retirement.

Mrs. Headley could do her worst, James thought, his hand at Meg’s waist as laughter and good wishes swirled around him. No country society matron could equal the French ships at Trafalgar! He had withstood that at the ripe old age of sixteen— what did he have to fear now?

Chapter Eleven

Two days later Meg stood waiting with ill-concealed impatience for Josiah Quigley, her solicitor and man-of-business, to arrive. She tapped her toe and smoothed the skirt of her simple brown morning dress. Mr. Quigley always insisted on staying at the coaching inn instead of at Hedgemere. He had sent a message that he would wait upon Lady Margaret at eleven o’clock.

It was three minutes past, and he had not yet arrived.

Meg was, as usual, unwilling to wait to get everything settled, arranged, done with. Ever since she and James had announced their intentions to the entire neighborhood at the Headleys’ dance, Meg had wanted everything to happen immediately. Unfortunately, others did not share her desire to rush through life pell-mell. Annis and Gerald—even James— had smiled tolerantly and proceeded to take their time.

Meg found their attitude intolerable.

She had loved setting her neighbors agog by announcing her own engagement, instead of asking some male to do it. Everyone had been staring by the time she finished. To do them credit, they had rallied quickly, and despite the fact that Mrs. Headley had raised such an uproar, they all congratulated the captain and wished Meg happiness with every evidence of sincerity.

Meg had been happy to bask in their approval. He had said nothing, but she could tell by his very silence how much James had appreciated the ready acceptance of his new neighbors. Though she never minded being criticized for doing what she thought was right, Meg hadn’t wanted her choice of husband to be so unpopular that she would risk their standing in the community.

But Captain Sheridan had been appraised by those who had met him for themselves. They hadn’t paid too much attention to Eunice Headley. The very high sticklers had frowned, of course, at the idea of his irregular birth, but they did nothing so gothic as to snub the affianced husband of Lady Margaret Enfield, their neighbor since birth.

Oddly, it was Lady Mattingly who had seemed unsure. She had taken Meg aside after all the hubbub had died down, and, with her forehead creased in uncharacteristic worry, had murmured, “I am happy for you, Meg, dear, if you are happy. And I hate the kind of gossip that Eunice engages in as much as you do. But you mustn’t allow your sense of injustice to make you leap before you have looked. The captain is a fine man, and I would be more than happy to have him stay on with us while you become a little better acquainted.”

“Do you want to give me time to cry off?” Meg gave her neighbor a straight look.

“I want you to take enough time to know your own heart, my dear.”

“The matter is decided. I have made up my mind. It will be a good marriage for both of us. We are sure of it.”

“You sound as if you have made up your mind but not as if you have given it a great deal of thought. Think long and hard, my dear. Marriages last for a very long time, and you are still young.” Lady Mattingly smiled at Meg and took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I am not trying to influence you in any way; I just want you to be sure that this is what you need in your life.”

Standing now, staring into the library fire, Meg remembered Lady Mattingly’s words with a frown. Of course she knew that for a time Gerald’s mother had hoped for a match between them, but that hope had faded years ago. Why, then, should she not approve wholeheartedly of Meg’s marriage to a fine man like Captain Sheridan?

Love? Why had Lady Mattingly mentioned love? Meg frowned. She admired the captain and liked him. She was prepared, she was sure, for what would transpire between them in the bedchamber. After all, she had known all her life exactly how baby animals were made. Was there more to it than that? Not that she had ever heard.

Meg’s mother had died when she was very young, and except for Annis, she had not known any woman well enough to ask about what she could expect from marriage. And Annis, not surprisingly, knew even less than Meg. Considering that every woman was expected to marry and bear children, Meg thought, they were told precious little about any but the social aspects of that estate.