Cupid's Choice: She's a shy beauty in distress. He's a chivalric gentleman. (10 page)

“I understand you, Sir Frederick, and I shall do just as you suggest,” said Lord Holybrooke with a nod and tightening of his lips. There was a steely look in his gray-blue eyes. “My sister is very dear to me, as you may imagine. I shall do all in my power to protect her from pain.”

“She is fortunate to have you for her champion,” said Sir Frederick. “Ah, I hear a set being struck up. Excuse me, my lord.”

“Of course. And thank you, Sir Frederick. I suspect that I stand in your debt,” said Lord Holybrooke in a slightly stiff manner that spoke louder than words of his awkwardness associated with their conversation.

Sir Frederick nodded, said a quick laughing word to turn off the young earl’s mild embarrassment, and went off to find Miss Holland. He was surprised to discover that she was already being led into the set by none other than Sir Peregrine Ashford.

“Well, well! Peregrine’s curiosity has been piqued,” he murmured, smiling. He settled himself to one side to watch the dancing and was glad to see that Miss Holland was acquitting herself rather better than she had done in her first dance with him. At the end, he sauntered over to claim Miss Holland’s hand from his friend.

“You stole a march on me, Peregrine,” he complained. “The lady was promised to me.”

“It was your own fault, Freddy, as well you know,” said Sir Peregrine with an expressive grin. He stepped away, leaving Sir Frederick only nominally in control of the field.

“Whatever did Sir Peregrine mean by that? And he was wearing such a droll look, too,” asked Guin.

“Never mind,” said Sir Frederick hastily. “Let’s take our places, Miss Holland.”

Invitations and morning calls began to descend with gratifying regularity upon the modest town house off Albemarle Street. Mrs. Holland happily received them all. It became one of her chief pleasures to read through the invitations and to write out the RSVPs herself. She seldom rejected any entertainment, and where there was a conflict due to date, she decided always in favor of the more prestigious invitation.

Engaged in addressing RSVPs early one morning in the back sitting room, she remarked, “It is shaping up very well, very well indeed.”

“You’ll have us all knocked into flinders if we attend even the half of those,” said Colonel Caldar from his chair, waving his hand at the stack of gilt-edged cards sitting at his sister’s elbow.

“While I admit it will be difficult for one of my delicate constitution, I shall not begrudge any effort on my children’s behalf,” said Mrs. Holland dramatically. She dipped the pen again in ink and hummed a little tune as she wrote.

Colonel Caldar looked as though he might have wished to say something in reply. Instead, he only shook his head and straightened out his newspaper again.

Guin sighed as she watched her uncle disappear behind the pages of the newspaper. She had hoped her uncle would make a firmer objection to the number of social engagements her mother deemed essential to accept. It was doubtful that Mrs. Holland would have actually attended to anything Colonel Caldar said, but one never knew, after all.

Guin strongly wished that she could cry off now and again, but it was utterly impossible. She knew her mother would never allow her to do so. Mrs. Holland herself too much enjoyed the social gatherings, and she had not let go of her original intention to snare a husband for her daughter, both facts which Guin knew very well.

The Holland ladies were never denied to visitors. Mrs. Holland was especially fond of welcoming eligible gentlemen who might conceivably make an offer for her daughter. There had been a mere sprinkling of the latter since Guin’s come-out party, and the gentlemen’s interest in her thus far was lukewarm at best. Miss Holland was known not to be an heiress, after all.

However, Lord Holloway had called more than once. The gentleman had a disconcerting habit of watching Guin while he directed the majority of his conversation to Mrs. Holland. His lordship’s sly regard gave her an uneasy prickle down her spine, and she disliked the way he held her hand overlong whenever common civility demanded that she give it to him. On one occasion he had even lightly stroked her wrist with his thumb. She had snatched her hand away, feeling the heat come instantly into her face when she met his heavy-lidded gaze.

Guin said nothing about her discomfiture in Lord Holloway’s presence to her mother. She knew well enough what would be Mrs. Holland’s reaction. However, she did mention it to her brother, and she was surprised when he forcibly recommended that she maintain as much distance between herself and Lord Holloway as possible.

“Why, Percy, of course I will. But why should I?” asked Guin, surprised by his vehemence.

Lord Holybrooke frowned. “I can’t tell you that yet. But don’t let Mama bullock you into encouraging Lord Holloway.”

Guin had agreed to it, but with the slightest sinking of her heart. If Lord Holloway requested permission to pay court to her, she knew precisely what would be her mother’s answer. Mrs. Holland would leap at the opportunity to see her daughter betrothed to such a distinguished
parti.
Guin wasn’t at all certain of her own strength of will in withstanding her mother’s wishes. She could only hope that Lord Holloway would continue to hold back a declaration of any sort.

Guin couldn’t imagine actually becoming betrothed, but she had come to view the probability with almost fatalistic resignation. If Mrs. Holland had anything to say about the matter, it must be the inevitable conclusion to the London Season. She just hoped that it would be someone other than Lord Holloway.

Not for the first time, Guin reflected that the only gentleman with whom she was acquainted, excepting her brother and Colonel Caldar, of course, that she had ever felt completely comfortable with was Sir Frederick Hawkesworth. However, she thought of that gentleman as so far beyond her that it would be idiotic to ever pretend that he would come to care for her.

Sir Frederick was polished, worldly and a member of the diplomatic corps, whereas she was naught but a tongue-tied provincial. It was marvelous that he had not taken her in instant disgust. Strangely enough, Sir Frederick seemed to like her.

Guin sighed. Liking was not the same as caring. Even she knew that. She wondered, and not for the first time, whom her husband would be. If she knew anything at all about her mother, Mrs. Holland would make certain that the gentleman was a touted catch. If it was not Lord Holloway, it would be someone else equally distinguished in position and title.

Guin wondered what other unacceptable gentleman could be expected to capture her mother’s ambitious gaze. It was a worrisome thought which she could not easily overcome. She had long ago accepted that her own opinion counted for nothing in her mother’s scheme of things.

If she had but known it, Guin’s apprehension over her future was echoed in full measure in her uncle’s own mind.

Hidden behind the newspaper and not comprehending a word of what he was staring at, Colonel Caldar reviewed for the thousandth time his unpalatable reflections. He was becoming gravely troubled on his niece’s behalf, for he had observed disturbing signs that his sister had turned the sights of her large ambition on achieving a spectacular match for Guin. Mrs. Holland’s infatuation with Lord Holloway’s northern assets was merely an example.

Indeed, from certain things his sister had let drop, the colonel began to regret that he did not have any right to question what was to be done with his niece’s future. He had actually begun to fear that Guin might be thrust into a marriage which she did not care for.

Later, when he broached the matter to his sister, Mrs. Holland merely laughed away his concerns. “My dear brother, Guin will naturally be guided by me. She would never disoblige me by rejecting any suit which
I
found acceptable!”

Colonel Caldar took a turn about the sitting room, his hands clasped behind his back. With a deep frown, he threw over his wide shoulder, “That’s just it, Aurelia. My niece is a biddable girl. She is too pliant for her own good. I am not saying that you would force her into a distasteful marriage, but, seeing that you are the stronger personality, you might override her preferences.”

“These are mere phantasms, Arnold. I assure you that I shall take the greatest care in choosing a proper husband for my daughter,” said Mrs. Holland. She smiled, a somewhat malicious gleam coming into her eyes. “I never took you, a soldier, to be of a nervous disposition, Arnold.”

Colonel Caldar also smiled, but there was little humor in his expression. Somewhat cryptically, he replied, “There are battles and then there are battles, Aurelia. Some have the power to make my blood run cold.”

“I don’t pretend to understand you,” said Mrs. Holland, lifting a shoulder in a dismissive gesture.

“No, you wouldn’t,” said Colonel Caldar heavily, his unhappy thoughts on his niece’s situation.

Mrs. Holland promptly forgot the interview, viewing her brother’s concern to be unimportant. She had weightier matters to consider. Mrs. Holland had rarely bothered with her daughter except to take for granted that Guin was always available to fetch and carry for her. However, for several weeks before their removal to London, Mrs. Holland had begun to give some thought to her daughter’s future.

She had never had much affection to spare for Guin, not when her son Percy had always commanded the greater portion of her tepid emotions. That had not changed, of course, but it had occurred to Mrs. Holland that her daughter had also gained stature through her son’s good fortune.

Driven as always by ambition, Mrs. Holland started to plan for a brilliant marriage for her daughter. It never occurred to her to inquire what Guin’s wishes might be, or indeed, to question whether Guin’s desires coincided with her own. It mattered nothing. What was of paramount importance to Mrs. Holland was the social and financial status of the gentlemen who could be considered eligible suitors.

With that laudable thought in mind, Mrs. Holland took long, considering stock of her daughter. She concluded that Guin was attractive enough, though woefully inadequate in social skills. That was the fault of having retained an inferior governess, but what she could have done differently when she’d had to hire a good tutor for Percy, all on a widow’s pension, she didn’t know. There was one thing she could do to enhance Guin’s chances and, little though she cared for the notion of the expense, Mrs. Holland decided that the investment had to be made.

Mrs. Holland told her daughter of her decision while they were out driving in the park. “We must make the best of you, Guin. I’ve decided to provide you with a new wardrobe. There must be day dresses and a walking dress or two, a new pelisse, and several gowns. Later, of course, there will be the cost of your court dress to bear.”

Guin was completely taken aback. She had never had an extensive wardrobe, and she could not imagine owning even half of what her mother had outlined. Her initial surprise was followed at once by the recollection of what her brother had said about the resources of the estate. She did not want to add to her brother’s burden by commanding a large outlay on clothing.

“I really don’t need so very much, Mama,” said Guin hastily. “I have three day dresses and a perfectly adequate pelisse, so indeed I wish you will not spend a fortune on me.”

Mrs. Holland’s expression was faintly contemptuous. “My dear Guin! What nonsense you talk! As though you know anything about it, which you don’t. I assure you, there is not a gentleman worth the name who would give you a second glance dressed as you are. You give all the appearance of being a schoolgirl in those plain bonnets and gowns, and you are already nine-and-ten! I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. Much though I grudge the necessity, I shall have to retain the services of a respected modiste.”

Guin swallowed nervously, knowing herself to be greatly daring in questioning her parent. “But, Mama, the expense—!”

Mrs. Holland gave a genteel laugh. “Really, Guin, I do not know where you have picked up these bourgeois notions of yours. When I had my come-out, I never gave a thought to the expense, for it was all for the object of making a good match.”

“But I do not know that I wish to make a match just yet,” blurted Guin. At once, she realized she had made a mistake in airing exactly what was in her mind. She quailed under the gathering wrath in her mother’s snapping brown eyes.

“Really, Guin! Sometimes I wonder how I could ever have given birth to you! You are all that is stupid and ungrateful.”

The wounding words flowed for several minutes, and by the end Guin felt sick and it was all she could do not to disgrace herself. She no longer even cared that the coachman had probably heard every word and would no doubt repeat the sum of her humiliation to the rest of the household.

“I—I am sorry, Mama,” whispered Guin miserably, twisting her gloved hands in her lap.

“So I should hope! I’ll not hear another word from you, Guin! You’ll do as I say,” said Mrs. Holland in a harsh voice. “I will dress you as befits your new station, and you will go to every function that I decide upon, and you will be as conformable as one could wish with whatever gentleman I choose for you! Is that quite understood?”

Mutely, Guin nodded, her tear-burned eyes downcast. Her stomach was tied in knots, and all she wanted was to escape from her mother’s displeasure. How much she wished for Percy’s comforting presence!

Late that afternoon, when Mrs. Holland was laid down for her habitual hour, Guin had the opportunity to pour out her anguish to her brother. The enormity of her plight made her start to cry again. She searched wildly for a handkerchief, and when she found it, attempted to dry her streaming eyes. Making a valiant effort to choke back her sobs, she exclaimed, “And it’s no use saying I must turn Mama up sweet, Percy! I cannot! You know I can’t!”

Lord Holybrooke was appalled at the depth of Guin’s unhappiness. He’d had no notion of it. Having known since childhood that he was the favored one, he had acted as a buffer between Mrs. Holland and his twin sister. Guilt struck him full in the face, for he was uncomfortably aware that he had made himself too scarce to protect her.

“Here, Guin! It will be all right, I swear it! Didn’t I tell you that I wouldn’t let you be bullied into anything you didn’t want?” he said, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders.

“But you’re never here anymore!” cried Guin, looking up at him with eyes awash with tears. “And Mama will make me accept someone’s offer even if I don’t want to!”

Nothing could have been more calculated to deepen Lord Holybrooke’s guilt than his sister’s unthinking reproach. Of course, Guin didn’t intend it to sound that way, but nevertheless a fellow had to read between the lines.

Since that first evening upon their arrival in town, the young Earl of Holybrooke had made swift strides into popularity. Indeed, Colonel Caldar joked that his nephew had left all of them behind, so fast had the invitations come. All of the family was included in invitations from hostesses. However, many times Lord Holybrooke was pressed to join other young nobles in their manly pursuits in activities that naturally did not include the females of one’s family.