The Aim of a Lady (19 page)

“I see you do not intend to lead a quiet life in London this visit, Miss Savile. George has never before even introduced you to me when you’ve been here.”

“I have seldom stayed for more than a few days, Mr. Cranmer, but then George has never before been engaged.”

“I’m pleased everything worked out for him. Do you stay long this visit?”

“I hardly know. Do you live in London, Mr. Cranmer?”

"Yes, for the most part. It is tiresome to journey to Yorkshire very often,” he replied lazily.

“Ah, yes, very tiresome,” she agreed with mock sympathy. “Do you not long to see the countryside? To ride wherever you wish? To hunt and fish?”

“I would rather dance with beautiful women and attend the theatre. But if you prefer outdoor diversions may I offer to take you driving in the park this afternoon?” He smiled at her engagingly.

“I would like that, Mr. Cranmer."

He came for her in a dashing phaeton with a pair, one white horse and one black, with red plumes. Diana had forgotten how elegantly attired were all those strolling, riding and driving through the park of an afternoon. Cranmer was a charming companion; he had tales of most of the people they passed, and seemed to know everyone. His beaver was constantly tipped, and he occasionally introduced her to someone as George Savile’s sister. They had just turned and were heading back toward the gates when they met Lord Alma and the same young woman Diana had seen with him the previous evening. Alma was riding Crusader gingerly and Fanny was mounted on a small chestnut mare.

Although Cranmer should merely have acknowledged them, he had a nose for mischief and could not resist reining in his pair. Diana was tempted to pinch him, but she maintained her poise and smiled kindly at the couple.

Alma seethed inwardly. He had no intention of introducing Fanny to Diana; it was not done. It was unnecessary, however, as Cranmer was acquainted with her and performed the introduction himself. Fanny, looking radiant in a blue riding outfit with silver braid, smiled at Diana and murmured, “So pleased to meet you, Miss Savile.” Her eyes were dancing merrily and Alma whispered menacingly, “If you say anything, Fanny, I shall..." But it was Cranmer who blandly commented, “Miss Savile lives in the country; Fanny, and seldom gets to town. She is quite an accomplished archer, I believe,” he remarked, turning to his companion for confirmation.

Diana did pinch him then, surreptitiously, and said coldly, “I doubt that Miss Hopkins is interested in archery, Mr. Cranmer.”

During this interchange Alma sat his horse rigidly, his face frozen in grim lines. Fanny replied, “Oh, I find archery a fascinating sport. So much more ancient than all these firearms, almost primitive, and surely just as dangerous.”

Alma abruptly suggested that they should not keep their horses standing and politely bid Diana and Cranmer farewell.

“That was very naughty of you, Mr. Cranmer,” Diana scolded. “It was obvious from Alma’s face that she is not someone I should be introduced to, and I cannot imagine what possessed you to speak of archery.”

“I could not resist it,” he admitted with a grin.

Diana considered him gravely for a moment. “George told you,” she said accusingly. “He should not have.”

“No, I suppose not,” he replied judiciously. “Still, since he had..."

“You thought you would work a little mischief. You may take me directly home, Mr. Cranmer,” she said coldly.

Cranmer glanced at the angry little face beside him and said apologetically, “I am sorry, Miss Savile. I thought it amusing that you had shot Alma with an arrow. I see I was wrong.” He urged the horses to a better pace and swung out through the gates.

When Diana realized that Cranmer knew no more than he had just said, she supposed it might have seemed amusing to him, but she was not in a mood to overlook the discomfort she had suffered. For his part, Cranmer thought she felt upset about the accident and did his best to cheer her out of her annoyance with him. He was only partially successful, for she was still distantly polite when he helped her to alight from the phaeton. “George has asked me if I would accompany the three of you to the Austin ball this evening,” he said hesitantly. “If you would prefer that I do not, you have only to say so.”

Ashamed of herself, Diana said sadly, “No, Mr. Cranmer, I would be pleased for your escort. I didn’t mean to sulk.” She raised her hazel eyes to him and smiled uncertainly. “I hope we will be friends.”

“I feel sure we will,” he replied sincerely, moved by her frankness. When she had disappeared into the house he promised himself that he would not displease her again if he could avoid it. She was entirely too feisty and too trusting to be taken lightly, and she was George’s sister.

Chapter Sixteen

When Alma and Fanny rode away from the phaeton, he was in a mood to box her ears and did not speak for some time. She was regretting the impulse that had led her to say anything at all, and she eyed Alma through her lashes. Never had she seen his demeanor other than easygoing...or passionate. The man riding beside her was angry and withdrawn. When their silence had continued unbearably long she reached out a hand and touched his sleeve. He was tempted to shake off her hand but instead patted it and smiled ruefully. “I know I should not be angry with you, Fanny. It was just a little joke of Cranmer’s. I’ll wager Di—Miss Savile snapped his nose off for it, too.” He laughed at the imagined scene, consequently regaining his good humor. “I cannot be with you this evening, Fanny, so let’s go to your house now,” he murmured with a lecherous wink. She laughed and agreed.

Alma had reconsidered attending the Austin ball, knowing Diana was in town. He had planned to go, but he was sure to meet her there and he could not feel comfortable with her now. She had been dressed in the most becoming amber dress for her ride with Cranmer, lace at her throat framing the tiny face with its intent hazel eyes. Alma wondered idly if she had read his books.

At length he dressed for the ball, determined to ask Miss Savile to stand up for a set early in the evening so that his duty would be done and he could avoid her for the remainder of the evening.

When he arrived he noted with chagrin that she was already surrounded by a number of young men but he patiently joined the circle. He managed to solicit a set well into the evening. Resigned, he stood up with Allison Dodge and then Jenette Barsett. After two further sets with other young ladies of his acquaintance, he adjourned to the card room for a while. Cranmer had just finished a hand of whist and offered Alma his place but Alma refused. He went instead to George, who was speaking with his host. When George was alone Alma said, “I understand Lord Franston has agreed to the match, George. When does the announcement appear?”

“In the morning.”

“Have you settled everything with Vallert?”

“I hope so. Hot-tempered young devil.”

“He’s been buzzing around your sister tonight. Perhaps you should check the papers tomorrow for an announcement of their engagement.”

“Diana does not like him.”

“That did not stop him with Miss Sanfield, as I recall.”

George considered him thoughtfully. “I dare say he would not repeat the performance, but I will keep an eye on him. Cranmer says you were with Fanny in the park, and he forced an introduction on Diana. He was apologetic.”

“I could have wrung his neck, George. He introduce your sister as being from the country, and a noted archer.”

George laughed. “I imagine Fanny found that very amusing.”

“Yes, she remarked that she thought it dangerous sport,” Alma grumbled, his hand unconsciously touching the spot of his almost healed wound.

“I told Cranmer no more than that Diana had shot you with an arrow, Ellis.”

Alma eyed him defiantly. “I wish you had not.”

“You take the matter too seriously, Ellis. I wish you could see its comic side.”

“Perhaps some day I will,” Alma replied grudgingly. “I must get back to the ballroom. Excuse me.”

The groups were already forming for the cotillion when he made his way to Diana, who was fending off Vallert. “Forgive me, Miss Savile, I was speaking with your brother in the card room. I believe this is our dance.”

“Yes,” Diana replied, disgruntled. "I was having a difficult time making Lord Vallert understand that I was already spoken for for the cotillion.”

Alma turned to the belligerent Vallert and murmured, “You seem to have a great deal of trouble accepting no as an answer, my lord. Miss Savile shoots people who annoy her."

Vallert stalked away and Diana stared at Alma in amazement. “How could you say such a thing to him?”

“Your brother has advised me to see the comic side of the incident, Miss Savile, and in my heavy-handed way I was trying to do so.”

“Well, I did not shoot you because I was annoyed with you. I did not even know you.”

“You see, there is all the more reason to warn Vallert,” Alma mocked.

Diana gave a gurgle of laughter as they were parted by the movement of the dance. When they were rejoined he asked, “Is George to be wed in town?”

“Yes, Lord Franston is not interested in making the effort to have the wedding at his seat, and Alonna thought it simpler here.”

“Do you stay in town long?”

“I’m not sure. I have been enjoying myself this time, so I feel in no hurry to leave.”

“Have you done anything with the chariot?”

“No, but I have in mind to write a play centered around it, for Christmastime, you know. I thought to entitle it The Wounded Warrior,” she replied with an expressionless face.

Alma regarded her suspiciously but made no comment. Diana continued, “It would be the story of a warrior-god come down to earth to offer his magnificent presence to the humble people who worship him. Tragically, on landing in a turnip field with his blazing chariot he stubs his toe.”

“Diana..." Alma said warningly.

Undaunted, his partner went on blithely, “The villagers make every effort to succor him, balms and potions, even incantations. All their efforts are to no avail. His toe swells to the size of his head and he is unable to walk amongst his admirers.”

“Diana..."

“Do you not think it a good subject for a play, Alma?” she asked innocently. “But wait, you have not heard all of it yet. The villagers in desperation decide to sacrifice a maiden to this god, in order that his toe may heal.”

“Not another word, you wretched girl!”

“I must say you are not encouraging of my artistic genius,” she declaimed. “Well, perhaps George will tell you of it some day.”

“He had better not.”

“So few people are interested in amateur dramatics,” she sighed. “Frank Edwards is, you know, though he is intent on acting. Romeo, I think.”

“I have noticed.”

“I have met several people in London who would do well in the theatre,” she mused. “I should like to see Lord Vallert play Iago and Lord Franston as King Lear. Now Cranmer would make an excellent Falstaff, and do you not think perhaps your friend, Miss Hopkins, isn’t it, so charming as she is, would be ideal as..."

“Spare me, young lady. I should have given you a copy of
Pilgrim’s Progress
for your birthday instead of a book on medicinal herbs,” Alma said sternly, his eyes dancing. “And you have only been in London two days.”

“It is the rarified atmosphere here, I think. One cannot help but be influenced by it. I have taken,” she said, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “to writing verse.”

Alma had no chance to reply to this information because another partner was awaiting Diana. He stood at the side watching her trim little figure move through the steps of the dance, her face smiling up at her partner. At least they were past the discomfort that had followed his rash behavior, he thought with relief. Lord, he would never understand what had come over him, and what was more, he had no intention of trying. There was Fanny now to satisfy any cravings he might have, and he could continue to lead the contented life he was used to. Alma left the ball soon after.

* * * *

The announcement of the engagement of Alonna Sanfield and George Savile appeared in the papers the next day. Vallert found that, for all his protestations of a misunderstanding and his explanation that he had done the honorable thing when he discovered that Miss Sanfield’s affections were previously engaged, he was regarded with a certain amount of incredulity, even mockery, by his acquaintance. He chafed under this ignominy and instead of appreciating George Savile’s efforts to help him save face, he began to resent them.

Then there was the matter of Savile’s sister. Diana Savile had not been accepting of his advances the previous evening, and when he followed a bouquet of flowers with his own presence, he was denied. The more he thought of this insult, the angrier he became. Vallert was not used to having his wishes opposed, for he had been spoiled from childhood by an indulgent mother who still considered him a paragon of every virtue, an opinion he had easily adopted. There was no excuse for first Alonna Sanfield and then Diana Savile to treat him so disrespectfully.

As the days progressed and Vallert saw Diana at various parties and musical evenings his interest in her increased, while hers in him appeared to sustain no improvement. He was encouraged, however, that she evidenced no partiality to anyone. Cranmer usually escorted her along with her brother and Alonna, but Diana showed him merely a friendly gratitude. Vallert had witnessed the distance at which Diana kept Frank Edwards and Walter Dodge; the only person she treated with more than normal courtesy was Lord Alma, who was not often present at these entertainments. Vallert did not like the familiarity between them, but it did not amount to flirtatiousness on either side, so he discarded any attachment in that direction. No, he had a perfectly free field and he intended to use it.

It was a week, however, before Vallert happened to overhear someone mention that Diana frequently rode in the park early in the morning. She would be accompanied by a groom of course, but that did not need to bother him unduly. With his offer to escort her, the groom could be sent home, or diverted.