To Win the Lady (14 page)

‘Oh, dear, do
you think so, Aunt?’ Felicity said. ‘So soon? And what must I do?’

‘He will ask permission
to address you and when he does you must tell him you are honoured and will
think seriously about it. Promise to give him his answer in two or three days,
when you have had an opportunity to discuss it with your family.’

‘It all seems a
tarradiddle to me,’ her niece said. ‘We’ve talked of nothing else for days.’

‘It is the way
it is done, my dear.’

‘And Georgie?’
She turned to look at her sister who was leaning back in her seat with her eyes
closed as if she were not listening. But she was, because she sat up and pulled
her hat straight. ‘You must do exactly as you wish, dearest,’ she said,
surprising herself for her voice sounded so level and down-to-earth. ‘Do not
let anyone browbeat you. If you like the Major...’ She could not go on for a
lump which had suddenly constricted her throat.

‘Oh, I do. He
is very handsome and very attentive, but I cannot say I love him.’

‘Love will come
later,’ Mrs Bertram said firmly. ‘It does not do to have passionate feelings
before the wedding; it doesn’t do at all.’

‘End in tears,’
Georgie murmured, but she was thinking of something else entirely.

‘Quite right,’
their aunt said. ‘And I think you should leave the details of the marriage
contract to Colonel Bertram. I will write to him tomorrow. Something as important
as this will surely bring him home.’

But she had no
need to write to her husband for he arrived the very next day with news that
put his wife into a fine froth.

Once he had
been welcomed by his wife in the restrained manner she used in company, he
greeted the girls cheerfully and they responded with affection, though it was
many years since they had seen him.

He was not a
tall man, but he had a presence which commanded respect. He had a squarish
face, buffeted by wind and weather so that his skin looked almost leathery, but
he had piercing blue eyes which seemed to take in a situation at a glance and
missed nothing, which was why he was such a good commander in the field and
why, in peacetime, he was a respected negotiator. When his services as a soldier
were no longer required, he was pressed into service as a diplomat.

‘Must go up and
change,’ he said, indicating a small portmanteau which his man was at that
moment carrying upstairs. Then, turning to his wife, he asked, ‘Coming, m’dear?
I’ve something of import to tell you.’

She followed,
leaving the two girls to amuse themselves until husband and wife returned and
by then it was time for dinner.

‘The Colonel
will be returning almost at once,’ Mrs Bertram told them over the turbot. ‘He
has been appointed to be an aide at the Embassy in Paris.’

‘May I offer
our congratulations, Sir?’ Georgie said.

‘Thank you. But
that is not all.’ He paused and sipped his wine. ‘I am afraid I must take Mrs
Bertram with me. I expect to do a great deal of entertaining.’

The implication
of that slowly dawned on the girls; without Mrs Bertram they could not stay in
London. ‘Oh, do not give it another thought,’ Georgie said. ‘We can go back to
Rowan Park. The Season is at an end now anyway.’

‘But I had just
got the Major up to the mark and Lord Barbour would take little persuasion to
offer for you, Georgiana; he is already enamoured.’ She turned to her husband.
‘A week, another week, and I shall accompany you with a clear conscience.’

‘Do not trouble
yourself on our account, Aunt,’ Georgie said, feeling nothing but relief at the
thought of going home to Rowan Park where she felt safe and at ease.

But her aunt
would not hear of abandoning her mission; nor would she allow Georgie to return
home without Felicity as she had originally intended. ‘I’ll bring my ball
forward to next Thursday,’ she said as soon as she had inveigled her husband
into admitting that he was not expected at his new post for another week. ‘I
think it can be done and it will be a fitting end to the Season. All will come
about, you will see.’

With a heavy
heart, Georgie agreed to stay.

Chapter Five

The next day the whole house was put into an uproar as
Mrs Bertram endeavoured to bring forward all the arrangements for her ball,
summoning the cook and the butler to go over what was needed in the way of food
and drink, sending orders to the florists, booking musicians and setting the
housemaids to cleaning and polishing the ballroom, a task which until then they
thought they had plenty of time to do. There was less than a week to accomplish
everything which normally took three at least and no one thought it could be
done, except the lady of the house and she would brook no argument. It was
useless to tell her that her guests themselves might have other engagements on
that day; she was a forceful lady and if she said the last ball of the Season
would be the best and no one who was anyone would decline to attend, then they
had to accept that she was right.

By afternoon,
having satisfied herself that she would be ready, she prevailed upon Felicity
and Georgie to help her write out new invitations and they were kept busy until
well into the evening.

The last thing
either girl wanted after that was to go out, but Mrs Bertram’s great friend,
Caro Sopwithy, had arranged a musical soiree for that very evening and they
were required to attend. Georgie, who had the day before begun to pack ready to
return to Rowan Park, found herself unpacking again and fetching out a blue
crepe open gown with short puff-sleeves and a high bodice caught under the
bosom with a cluster of flowers and a long ribbon bow. The underslip of pale
satin had become a little creased but Fanny was on hand to press it and dress
her hair with the hairpiece she had worn before, so that when the time came to
leave she looked serenely elegant. It was certainly not how she felt. Beneath
the cool exterior there was a young lady in a state of panic.

It was too much
to hope that Major Baverstock would not be present, for she was sure her aunt
had made certain he would be, but she hoped fervently that she could stay far
enough away not to be obliged to converse with him. If she did, she would give
herself away; she would not be able to help it. She would be mortified with
embarrassment and if Felicity found out she would turn him down, no matter that
Richard himself was entirely indifferent to her. Her sister must never know.

Felicity was
demurely dressed in white figured muslin trimmed with silk rosebuds and with
more rosebuds in her coiled hair, the epitome of a young lady in her first
Season, and Mrs Bertram smiled her approval. ‘If not tonight, then next week at
the ball, you will have your offer,’ she promised her. ‘Oh, it will be a
fitting end to the Season and I shall leave for France content in the knowledge
that I have done my duty by you.’

But strangely
Felicity did not look at all elated by the prospect, though when Georgie
tackled her about it when they were alone in the upper room set aside by their hostess
for the ladies to leave their cloaks and repair their toilette she laughed. ‘I
am nervous, that’s all.’

‘There is no
need to be. He cannot fail to love you, Felicity, and I am sure he will never
do anything to hurt you. I’ll wager he will become your devoted slave in no
time at all and will do everything in his power to please you. You will be
ordering him about and arranging Dullingham House just as you want it and no
one to say you nay. There are servants in plenty so you won’t have to lift a finger
yourself.’ She smiled. ‘No more housekeeping on a shoestring as you have been
trying to do at Rowan Park. And you will have lots of lovely, healthy children
and be happy...’ She could not go on. The picture she was painting of life with
Richard was so desirable, she was making herself miserable.

‘But what about
you, Georgie? I do not like to leave you on your own...’

‘I shall not be
on my own. There is Fanny and Mrs Thorogood and Mrs Wardle and Dawson and Tom
and the horses...’

‘Horses!’
Felicity laughed. ‘I do believe you will be happy with nothing but horses.’

‘Of course I
shall.’ Georgie realised what a whisker that was as soon as she uttered it. Now
she knew she loved Richard Baverstock, she would never be truly happy without
him.

‘What about
Lord Barbour? I am persuaded he would like to offer for you, if you would only
give him the least bit of encouragement. Aunt Harriet seems to think he should
suit...’

‘Perhaps,’
Georgie said. It would not do to let her sister know how much she disliked the
man. ‘But I am in no hurry. Whoever takes me on must realise I am no yearling
and it is almost impossible to teach an old dog new tricks.’

Felicity
rippled with laughter at the mixed metaphor her sister had employed, but she
knew exactly what she meant. ‘Oh, dear, I do not think I envy him,’ she said,
eyeing herself in the mirror to make sure all was well before they went down to
the reception-room where the entertainment was to take place. ‘I think you
might fight.’

‘Very likely,’
Georgie agreed, picking up her reticule. ‘But you must know I am used to having
my own way over almost everything, so have no fear for me. Now let us hope the
music is lively for if it is not I declare I shall fall asleep in my chair.’

Mrs Sopwithy
had employed a string quartet, a soprano who was enormously fat and a tenor who
was to sing the latest ballads, some of which were a little risque, but he was
all the rage and it was a triumph that she had managed to engage him at all. If
the songs he sang were not for young ears, then it was up to the chaperons of
the young ears to take them to the drawing-room to play fishes or something
equally innocuous. At any rate the entertainment was lively enough to keep
Georgie and Felicity awake, though their aunt dozed a little.

They did not
encounter the Major until the intermission, when they went to the dining-room
where a light supper was being served. Georgie had not seen him in the
music-room and suspected he had been playing cards with Lord Hereward and
Colonel Bertram, who followed him into the room and took up their places beside
their respective wives, leaving him to join Georgie and Felicity who were
sitting with Juliette Hereward and John Melford, discussing the music.

‘There you
are!’ John greeted him. ‘I had almost given you up for lost.’

Richard bowed
to the ladies. ‘How could I absent myself from such dazzling company?’

‘Do sit down,
Major,’ Felicity said. ‘Tell us what you thought of the soprano.’

‘A trifle
overlarge,’ he said pithily. ‘But perhaps to have a big voice one needs a big
frame; what do you think?’

She laughed.
‘She certainly had a big voice. Did you manage to hear her in the card-room?’

‘Oh, bang on
target, Miss Felicity,’ John laughed. One might have expected Miss Felicity
Paget to be overshadowed by her tall, dominating sister, but she had a quiet
humour of her own which he found delightful. She was certainly no wilting
violet.

Richard smiled.
‘I am penitent, Miss Felicity. Shall you be entertaining us later? I have been
told you have a sweet voice.’

Georgie did not
wait for her sister’s reply; it was torment to sit so close, to watch the big
soldier paying court to her sister when she wanted it for herself. She could
almost have reached out and touched him and the thought of doing that set her
body tingling. It was not to be borne.

She excused
herself and wandered off alone, trying to calm the hammering of her heart and
the buzzing in her head. Would it always be like this? In the months and years
to come, would she learn not to mind so much? Would she ever be able to look on
him as a brother and behave lightly and affectionately towards him, love her
nieces and nephews and never wish they were her own?

Perhaps
Felicity would reject him. But no, she would not; their aunt had schooled her
too well, and besides, was that not what she, Georgiana Paget, had been
scheming for all along?

Angry with
herself, she brushed tears from her cheeks and sped along the corridor, paying
no heed to where her feet were taking her. It was stifling and she needed air.
She pulled open a door and found herself in a large conservatory, full of
potted plants and clinging vines. Beyond it she could see the garden and a
fountain playing. One or two people strolled about, enjoying the evening air
after the heat of the house, and she hurried across the marble floor towards
the open door to the terrace.

‘Miss Paget,
how opportune! We can take the air together.’

She did not
need to turn to know who had spoken: the booming voice of Lord Barbour was
unmistakable. He had been sitting on a bench just inside the conservatory, but
now he hurried to her side. ‘Hot indoors, ain’t it?’ he said, running a finger
round the inside of his huge cravat. Its ends were arranged over the top of a
striped brocade waistcoat stretched dangerously tightly over his portly
stomach.

‘Yes, it is,’
she said, trying to sound normal; if he guessed she had been crying, he would
make himself more objectionable than ever.

‘Need to cool
off,’ he said, though she was not sure if he was referring to himself or asking
her a question. ‘But someone as fetching as you ain’t any business to be out
alone.’