To Win the Lady (6 page)

‘I certainly
mean to give it a try,’ she told Dawson. ‘But I shall need all the help you can
give me. Will you do it?’

‘Of course, Miss
Paget; you do not have to ask. And that goes for everyone else in the yard.
But...’ He paused.

‘You have
doubts?’ And when he hesitated she added, ‘Come, Dawson, you can speak freely.’

‘I was thinking
of Mrs Bertram, miss. She gave me a fair old dressing-down when she first
arrived for allowing you into the stable during a foaling. She would not
approve...’

Her laughter
pealed out. ‘No, she wouldn’t, would she? But you must leave me to deal with my
aunt. At the moment she is fully occupied looking after my sister. And as I
have promised to join them for a few days we will postpone discussion of how we
will bring Bright Star along until I get back.’

Dawson had been
at Rowan Park, man and boy, for almost half a century and he knew Sir Henry’s
methods as well as anyone. If anyone had the training of Bright Star it would
be him, but he knew his place, and besides, Miss Paget was a brave, resourceful
girl and he would do all he could for her, as he had done for Sir Henry. ‘Miss
Paget, Mrs Bertram said I was to drive you to London.’

‘So she did. I
had forgot. I’ll drive myself.’

‘Miss Paget,
begging your pardon, that won’t rightly do and you know it.’

‘Oh, very
well,’ she conceded. ‘Tom can drive me.’ Tom was his son, a strapping boy of
eighteen who had been working at Rowan Park almost since he could walk. ‘Very
well, Miss, I’ll give him his instructions.’

‘You know what
to do about Bright Star while I’m gone?’

‘Yes, Miss
Paget - gently does it for a week or two,’ he said with a smile. If, while she
was away, she were to find a nice, easy-stepping husband, with a well-lined
pocket and a liking for horses, then no one would be more pleased than Bert
Dawson.

But it was not
prospective husband which filled Georgie’s mind as she journeyed to London the
following day, but impatience to keep her promise to her aunt and return as
soon as possible to making Bright Star famous and vindicating herself.

She arrived
late in the afternoon to find her aunt and sister in her well-furnished though
by no means opulent drawing-room taking tea with Lady Hereward and Mrs Melford.
They were busily engaged in discussing the age-old subject of husbands and the
getting of them. And Felicity, clad in newly purchased sprigged muslin, was
listening silently with something like awe.

‘If only you
had come earlier,’ Lady Hereward said, addressing Felicity. ‘Such loveliness
would have taken the ton by storm a month ago. Now those young blades already
betrothed will be cursing their haste.’ She smiled encouragingly. ‘But let us
not give up, for I am sure we can contrive to find a handful who are not
already spoken for. I will go over my invitation list again and see whom we may
present to you.’

‘Oh, I wish you
would not,’ Felicity said, squirming uncomfortably. ‘I would not like to be
thought forward...’

‘Nonsense, my
dear,’ her aunt said. ‘It is the way it is done. Has no one instructed you on
how to go on?’

‘No,’ Georgie
put in. ‘For there was never anyone to do it.’

‘Oh, you poor dears!’
exclaimed Lady Herward. She was a very tall, angular woman, made to seem taller
by the high feather which swept up from the crown of her bonnet. ‘Harriet, you
never told me. We must remedy the situation at once.’ She looked from Georgie
to Felicity and then back again and Georgie almost laughed aloud because it was
obvious that she did not think anything could be done for her.

Georgie was
dressed in a double-breasted caraco jacket, trimmed with braid, over a simple
dove-grey carriage dress, and though it was not the height of fashion she would
certainly not have described it as dowdy. It had hung in her closet unworn
since her father’s death, when all visiting had ceased in the light of her
mourning and the need to keep at work. She was, she knew, becoming something of
a workhorse herself, and a few days in London, shopping and paying calls, would
have brightened her life, if only she could have spared the time. She returned
Lady Hereward’s smile, surprising that good lady into realising that the girl
was very far from plain.

‘Do not think
of me, my lady; I must return to Rowan Park almost immediately...’

‘Oh, no, you do
not,’ interrupted her aunt. ‘You must stay at least until after Lady Herward’s
ball. It would be churlish to refuse. And besides, it is your duty to your
sister. I have a young man in mind for her and you must meet him, seeing as
your bufflehead of a father stipulated that you must approve of the man your
sister marries.’

‘Oh, please
stay,’ Felicity pleaded. ‘I really do need you, for I am nervous as a kitten.’

Georgie stilled
her conscience over Bright Star by telling herself that Dawson knew what to do
and once she returned to Rowan Park there would be no release; she must work
and work, with no time for anything else, and a few days of enjoyment would set
her up for that. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I’ll bear you company for a
se’nnight.’

Felicity
clapped her hands delightedly. ‘Oh, we shall have such fun! I have been
learning to waltz, you know. Apparently it is permitted since Lady Jersey
allowed it at Almack’s. You will have the waltz, Lady Hereward, won’t you?’

‘Of course; all
the young men expect it, though there are some dowagers who disapprove of a
young man putting his hand about a lady’s waist.’

‘Oh, I think it
does no harm as long as the couple stay a good foot apart,’ Mrs Melford put in.
‘John dances it very well.’

‘Is John
looking for a wife, Melissa?’ Mrs Bertram enquired. ‘I collect he is a
good-looking boy.’

‘And that is
all he is,’ his mother said sharply. ‘A boy. He needs another year at least
before he settles down. And then we have expectations that he will offer for
Juliette.’ She smiled at Lady Hereward as she spoke; Juliette was Lady
Hereward’s daughter. ‘It has been understood since they were children.’

‘And what does
John say about that?’ Mrs Bertram demanded.

‘He adores
Juliette, has done since they were both in leading-strings.’ She paused. ‘But
Baverstock! Now there is a young man who needs a wife.’

Georgie, with a
swiftly beating heart, found herself listening intently as the three women
began discussing Richard Baverstock just as if he were a yearling in one of her
father’s sales. She felt suddenly angry, but she could not for the life of her
have said why.

‘He is Viscount
Dullingham’s only son,’ Mrs Melford said, addressing Lady Hereward, knowing
that Mrs Bertram was already aware of the young man’s history because he was
one of her husband’s officers. ‘It is said he quarrelled with his father years
ago, which is why he bought into the regiment. He is a major now.’

‘Has his father
cut him off?’

‘It was
rumoured so, though I cannot believe he really did it, but the Major is already
nine and twenty and still unmarried. What father of any note would allow such a
situation to continue? You may take my word for it, he is in want of a wife.’

‘He is a very
handsome man,’ Harriet put in. ‘A trifle large, but he carries it well. He
distinguished himself in the Peninsula and was mentioned in Wellington’s
dispatches.’

‘Ah, but does
he know how to go on in Society? Some of these young officers are a little
wild, you know.’

‘He will settle
down,’ Mrs Bertram said complacently. ‘He is a gentleman and it goes without
saying that he knows how to behave.’

Georgie looked
from her aunt to her sister. Felicity’s face was alight with anticipation; she
could just imagine her falling for the gallant major. She did not know why she
did not tell them she had already met the gentleman, but somehow she thought it
might put a damper on Felicity’s pleasure, and besides, her sister must make up
her own mind and not be swayed by anything she had to say about him. Once she
knew Georgie had met him, she would bombard her with questions, and, however
carefully she considered them, her replies were bound to colour Felicity’s own
opinion when she met the young man. Suddenly Georgie felt blue-devilled and
could not explain why.

‘I will invite
him to my ball,’ Lady Hereward said. ‘Do you have his direction?’

‘I believe he
has gone home to Cambridgeshire,’ Mrs Melford said. ‘I do not know if he can be
prevailed upon to return. Lord Dullingham will perhaps want to keep him by his
side after so long an absence.’

All the ladies
became silent at this news for it was a considerable stumbling-block and,
except for Georgie, all had set their hearts on making the match. Georgie did
not know why she had reservations.

‘I will send
the invitation anyway,’ Lady Hereward decided. ‘There is plenty of time for it
to reach him. And if I also add a note that I shall be mortally offended if he
refuses, it might bring him back.’

Georgie, during
the rush of shopping and visiting that ensued in the next few days, almost
managed to forget Rowan Park and Richard Baverstock and horses and everything
else that had occupied her mind before coming to town. Mrs Bertram had already
bespoken a wardrobe for Felicity, which set Georgie fretting about how she was
going to pay for it all, for she could not let her aunt stand the whole
expense, and now the good lady was determined to do the same for her. In vain
did Georgie protest.

‘I am not having
a niece of mine going about like a frump,’ Mrs Bertram said. ‘What will my
friends think of me, if I did that? And how you can expect to find a husband if
you do not make the least push I do not know...’

‘Aunt, you are
backing the wrong horse in me,’ Georgie said on one particularly trying morning
when her aunt insisted on taking her to the best modiste in town to purchase a
ballgown. ‘I shall never have occasion to wear it again after Lady Hereward’s
ball...’

‘I should hope not!’
exclaimed her aunt. ‘One should never wear the same gown twice. And I wish you
would not use those stable expressions.’

‘Stable
expressions, Aunt?’ Georgie queried with a smile, wondering if her aunt had
ever heard a true stable expression, in spite of being a cavalry officer’s
wife.

‘You know what
I mean. Now, look at this silk; is that not a green to set off your colouring?’

‘Yes, Aunt, but
-’

‘Oh, it is
perfect,’ Felicity said. ‘I find green does not suit me, but for you...’ She
held the material up against her sister and looked at her with her head on one
side. ‘Oh, do have it, Georgie.’

The pattern she
chose was an open one, very simply trimmed at the hem and neck with matching
ruched ribbon and oversleeves of lace, and was not too high-waisted, which,
though fashionable, would have made her look taller than ever. ‘That’s
settled,’ her aunt said, allowing Georgie no time to demur. ‘Now for the
accessories. A pea-green taffeta underskirt, I think, white stockings and green
silk slippers, and, of course, a shawl and fan and a beaded reticule.’ She
paused to look carefully at her niece as all this finery was added to the pile
being boxed up for delivery. ‘Though what we can do about your hair I cannot
think. I will send for Michel just as soon as we return to the house.’

If Georgie
thought that meant her shopping was done and they were returning to Holles
Street, she was to be disappointed. They did not arrive there until well after
noon, by which time they had been to the Pantheon Bazaar and several other
establishments and her purchases included two or three gowns for morning calls,
a dimity undress gown for wearing on the rare occasions when she would be at
home, a carriage dress and jacket for excursions in her aunt’s barouche and -
if she was lucky enough to be invited - rides in the phaetons and curricles of
those gentlemen whose attention she had engaged, a new riding habit in ruby red,
for her aunt declared the one she had was worn to a thread, shoes, boots,
petticoats, shawls, a pelisse and a domino of green velvet with a satin-lined
hood. These, together with Felicity’s earlier purchases, which had been even
more extravagant, had taken every penny she had from the sale of Paget’s
Pegasus and Bright Star. While she was left wondering how soon she could expect
another transaction quite as good, her aunt was sending out for the hairdresser
Mrs Melford had recommended to her.

Monsieur Michel
arrived soon after they had taken a light luncheon and his reaction to being
instructed to do something about Miss Paget’s hair was to throw up his hands in
horror and declare, ‘C’est impossible! It eez...’ow you say?... a bush.’

‘Then she must
wear a wig,’ Mrs Bertram said.

‘A wig!’
shrieked Felicity. ‘Oh, Aunt, wigs went out years ago. Georgie will look a veritable
antidote.’

‘A leetle one,
like ‘er own ‘air, perhaps,’ Monsieur suggested. ‘I show you.’ And he delved
into his bag of brushes, combs and powders, and brought out a switch of hair,
which he fastened under Georgie’s own hair with a comb and let it fall on
either side of her face in loose ringlets. The result was striking; it made her
face seem wider and softer, though the false hair was much darker than her own.