Mastering the Marquess (11 page)

Meredith smiled politely at Lady Bellingdon. The countess had been expounding for several minutes on the benefits of mustard poultices as opposed to other, apparently useless, remedies for arthritic complaints. Her small audience listened with rapt attention—not surprising, since they were all quite old and seemed to suffer from a variety of joint ailments themselves.

Meredith wondered, not for the first time, how she invariably found herself in the company of aging spinsters, dotty widows, and elderly bachelors. She sighed to herself, supposing that fate had already ordained the course of her life, which apparently dictated a future spent with the likes of Mr. Bolland.

“Fenugreek tea, Miss Burnley!” that worthy gentleman had declared just moments ago. “It is the only reliable beverage for the treatment of gaseous stomach disorders.”

The occasion for all this gaiety was their first foray into polite society, at a very select dinner party at Stanton House. The guests were all highly influential members of the ton and, Lady Stanton assured them, extremely loyal to the family. A great deal of time and effort had gone into choosing just the right sort of people.

Although still early in the evening, Meredith was already wracking her brains for suitable topics of conversation besides her health. She had withdrawn completely from society after the death of her father and Annabel's subsequent illness, so her party manners had grown exceedingly rusty. And other than the Stantons, she didn't know a single person in the room.

She couldn't help but feel relieved, then, when Silverton finally appeared in the doorway, his eyes roaming over the ornately formal salon in search of his aunt. He strolled toward Lady Stanton, pausing to acknowledge the greetings of his acquaintances but steadily making his way through the small crowd. Bowing first to General Stanton, he took his aunt's gloved hand and brought it to his lips, smiling gently into her upturned face.

Meredith covertly studied the openly affectionate expression on his countenance as he greeted Lady Stanton. She had never met a man so self-assured in demonstrating his fondness for his family. Sometimes, as in the case of Robert, it manifested itself as a teasing camaraderie. To his uncle he was respectful but never obsequious, and the women were treated as gently as if they were made of the finest Chinese porcelain.

No wonder she found him so attractive, Meredith thought ruefully. A woman would have to be blind or deranged not to notice and desire that kind of attention.

Over the last several days she had been forced to admit she was in the grip of a dangerous attraction. She also forced herself to admit that Silverton likely treated her no differently than any other woman he knew. In fact, he often paid a great deal more attention to Annabel than he did to her. That was only natural, she supposed, since her sister was part of his family. Whereas she, well, she didn't even count as a distant relation, no matter what Lady Stanton said.

Still, her stubborn imagination couldn't help but recall that day in the park and the way he had looked when he promised to protect her and Annabel. His expression had been anything but distant. Rather, the heat in his gaze had ignited a corresponding warmth in her chest, which had spread like wildfire to her limbs.

Meredith took a deep breath. Better not think about that now or she would never be able to carry on a rational conversation with him—or anyone else, for that matter. Especially since he looked so handsome in his severe but beautifully tailored black coat and slim-cut trousers that covered but could never disguise the masculine power of his sportsman's physique.

Appalled by the direction of her wayward and uncomfortably warm thoughts, Meredith decided to stop thinking about Silverton at all. She turned deliberately in her seat and focused on Annabel, perched beside her on a red lacquered chair, chatting with one of Lady Stanton's oldest friends.

Meredith's heart swelled with pride as she listened to her sister easily deflect Lady Delfort's pointed questions.

“Oh, yes, my lady,” Annabel said cheerfully, “General Stanton has been kindness itself since we have arrived in London. He and Grandmamma have done so much to make us feel welcome. In fact, just yesterday my grandfather invited Meredith to make free with his library and take home as many volumes as she desired.”

Meredith almost laughed out loud at Annabel's look of sparkling mischief. Nothing could be further from the truth. The general had vociferously objected to the notion of her taking even one book from his precious library. Only the prompt intervention of his wife had prevented yet another row between them, something that had grown to be a fairly regular occurrence at Stanton House.

Oh well, thought Meredith with a tiny sigh, at least he had stopped threatening to throw her out on to the street. And, she acknowledged, he had easily accepted Annabel's presence into his household after only a token resistance.

“Miss Burnley, why is it that every time I see you, you feel compelled to emit a heartfelt sigh? If you are not careful, you will begin to wound my confidence, and I fear that I shall fall into a decline.”

She jumped slightly in her seat and looked up to meet Silverton's quizzical smile. Meredith quickly recovered, extending her hand to take his in a friendly handshake. To her surprise, he raised it to his lips and dropped a light kiss on the back of her hand before returning it to her lap. She felt the hot rush of blood to her cheeks.

“Why, my lord,” she said, making a determined effort to rally, “I was convinced that no weapon could ever pierce your formidable armor. Perhaps I have confused you with someone else.”

He laughed as he sat beside her on the ivory-striped silk settee.

“You wound me to the quick, Miss Burnley. Believe me, my vanity is just as sensitive as the next man's, especially when it comes to the ladies. One cutting look from your keen eyes is all that is necessary to slay my pretension. I will then be forced to rusticate in the country for months to recover from such a deadly blow.”

“Come now, Lord Silverton,” she responded in the same playful spirit. “I begin to think that you confuse me with Mr. Brummell or some other member of the dandy set.”

“I assure you, madam, there is no chance of that. The Beau is not nearly as interesting as you, and after years of close acquaintance, one has grown weary of his particular brand of wit.”

“Do you know him well, sir?”

“All of London is acquainted with the Beau.”

She hesitated for a moment because he seemed to be displeased by the turn in the conversation.

“I have heard that one must still make a favorable impression on Mr. Brummell if one is to be accepted in the ton.”

His brows lifted in surprise. She arched her own eyebrows in return.

“My lord, even in the wilds of Wiltshire we have heard of the influence of the great Beau Brummell on polite society.”

A faintly cynical smile lifted the corners of his aristocratic mouth. It made him look even more handsome, if that was possible, but also both proud and untouchable.

“Fear not, Miss Burnley, your sister's beauty and innocent character, combined with the support of her grandparents, will be all that Annabel needs to assure her success on the marriage mart. That, and her considerable fortune,” he finished dryly.

Meredith smiled gratefully at him, her misgivings over Annabel's future easing considerably at his reassurance.

“Oh dear, are you two speaking of Beau Brummell?”

Annabel had finally escaped Lady Delfort's interrogation.

“I have heard continuously that we must seek his approval at all costs,” she said, rolling her eyes. “That, and the patronesses at Almack's, if we are to have any hope of receiving a voucher to that holy of holies.”

Silverton gave Annabel what Meredith thought was a strangely stiff bow. “I have no doubt you will charm all the patronesses, Miss Annabel. You will likely receive your voucher as soon as you make your appearance at the Countess of Framingham's ball next week.”

“And Meredith, too,” insisted the young girl, a note of defiance in her usually sweet voice.

Silverton hesitated and glanced from Meredith to her sister, clearly trying to weigh his next words.

“Now, Annabel,” Meredith smoothly interjected. “You know we have discussed this. Given my parents' lineage it is extremely unlikely, if not impossible, that I will receive a voucher to Almack's. Nor, may I add, do I desire one.”

Annabel's pretty eyes narrowed ominously.

“My dear.” Meredith forestalled her sister's interruption. “You know I am right. There is no use to wish for something that cannot be attained. Lady Stanton has explained the situation, and we must acknowledge her experience in this, as in every other matter, is superior to ours.”

Annabel looked mutinous for a moment longer. Then her eyes widened and she let out a frustrated sigh.

“Yes, I know,” she grumbled. “But it is so unfair. Don't you think so, my lord?”

The girl's eyes pleaded with Silverton to agree with her.

“Yes, Miss Annabel, it is unfair. I know the exclusion must grieve you, but I believe that Lady Stanton is correct in her assessment. The patronesses are very unlikely to extend their approval to your sister. But,” he said, dropping his voice as he leaned across Meredith toward Annabel, “you must remember it is all a game. An important one, but a game nonetheless. Your sister's worth is not diminished because she lacks the approval of a small group of arrogant women who would not recognize true character if they fell over it.”

Meredith once again felt a blush prickling across her cheeks, both at his nearness as he leaned over her and at his seemingly heartfelt praise. She didn't know how to respond, so she fastened her gaze rather desperately on Annabel, who smiled approvingly back at Silverton.

“You are right, sir. I am a selfish creature, and I want her to be there with me for my own sake.”

Annabel darted a sly glance at Meredith.

“If truth be known, my lord, Meredith would rather eat gruel for a week than go to Almack's. I think if she did receive a voucher she would probably fall into a panic and lock herself in her room.”

Meredith frowned at her sister with pretend outrage.

“Really, Annabel, you will give Lord Silverton a very poor idea of my courage. I do not wish to go to Almack's because I have heard that the refreshments are barely tolerable and the entertainment boring. I would much rather stay at home with Miss Noyes than spend the evening trying not to trip over my own feet or those of my unfortunate and usually much shorter dance partners.”

“Almack's! Lord, you don't know how lucky you are to avoid it, Miss Burnley,” Robert exclaimed as he joined them. “It's the most boring evening you could imagine. Why anyone needs the approval of that old group of dragons is beyond me!”

“Why, Mr. Stanton,” Annabel replied with a saucy tilt of her head, “you know how important it is that I don't disgrace the family name by forgetting my dance steps.”

“Lord, no chance of that, Miss Annabel. You and your sister are the epitomes of grace and deportment.”

Annabel laughed outright, her eyes sparkling at the young man.

“I suspect our dancing master may have something to say about that,” Meredith responded tartly. “I'm sure the poor man has been driven to desperation by our inability to comprehend the basic figures of the quadrille and our uncanny genius for running into each other despite his direction.”

Robert blew out an exasperated breath. “Oh, hang the man. I've never met such a mincing, pompous fool in all my life! It's appalling, really, to have a French caper-merchant ordering you about for half the day.”

Silverton extracted his snuffbox and offered a soothing pinch to his aggrieved cousin.

“I wasn't aware that you were taking dancing classes, Robert. Surely that is one skill you have already mastered?”

“I should say so, my dear fellow. I am simply assisting Miss Burnley and Miss Annabel in their lessons at Stanton House. Grandmamma insisted, and, I must say, I do think it's rather good of me to spend hours prancing around the drawing room.”

He cast a swift and apologetic glance at Annabel. “Not that I'm not delighted to help in any way I can. Enchanted, I assure you.”

Meredith waved her finger at him. “Please don't apologize, Mr. Stanton. If not for your support, I fear that Monsieur Renault would have decamped back to France long ago.”

She glanced at Silverton, who was observing her with an amused expression on his face.

“I'm afraid the poor man is terrified I will crush his feet. After all, he is at least three inches shorter than I.”

They all burst into laughter as Meredith sadly shook her head.

“You must be sure to save me a waltz at Lady Framingham's ball,” said Silverton.

“A waltz! My lord, Monsieur Renault has not yet been able to force himself to make the attempt. He says that first we must cease stomping about the room like a tribe of savages before he will even consider doing so.”

“Meredith, you are a beautiful dancer,” cried Annabel. “You know that I am the one who can't stop laughing long enough to follow his instructions.”

“Well, who can bear to listen to that intolerable mushroom!” Robert sprang to Annabel's defense.

Meredith laughed, touched by Robert's fierce loyalty to her sister.

“Well, Mr. Stanton, I suppose I should be grateful I will be spared the rigors of Almack's. On the night of Annabel's debut there, I will think of you all with a great deal of pity as I pass a cozy evening at home with Miss Noyes and a good book.”