Lord Sidley's Last Season (11 page)

Marian expressed her sympathies. To keep all of
them from dwelling on Sidley’s painful situation, she
asked the Pooles about their home and the country surrounding Aldersham.

“What can you be saying, Miss Ware,” Sidley asked
on coming up to them, “that has the Pooles looking
so solemn? And on our very first night as well! I expected you to thrill them with the latest on dits from
town”

“Oh, but I might do that!” Katie volunteered.

“If you would be so kind, then, Lady Katherine, as to cheer the Pooles,” Sidley said, “I must reprimand
Miss Ware.”

Katie laughed and launched upon a tale, while Marian, in some irritation, allowed herself to be led apart.
She tried not to think of Sidley’s gloved hand upon her
bare elbow and, once he released her, concentrated upon
his diamond cravat pin.

“At this moment, and for just a moment, none of my
guests needs anything at all,” he observed easily. And
looking over the room, Marian saw that that was indeed
the case; none of his guests looked in the least neglected. “Will you not look happy about it?” he asked.

“I must be `happy’ to be reprimanded, my lord?”

“No other lady here has been so distinguished,” he
said with a smile.

“I should rather not be so `distinguished,’ when I am
undeserving.”

“Are you undeserving?”

“Of a reprimand, certainly.”

“Perhaps. And yet, Miss Ware, I feel I must reprimand you. For yours is a most becoming gown, which
you have worn in my presence only once before.”

“You are mistaken, my lord. This is the first time I
have worn this gown in your presence.”

“Is it?”

“It is. The gown was new three weeks ago, Lord Sidley, and I have worn it on only one other occasion-to
the Osbornes’ rout.”

“Yes ! Ozzie’s rout”

“You did not attend the Osbornes’ rout”

“Did I not?”

As she met his gaze, Marian read the amusement
there, as well as the truth. He must indeed have attended the Osbornes’ rout and remembered her in the
gown.

She wondered how she had missed him or, more particularly, how Katie had missed him. The Osbomes’ had
been a noisy, stifling crush, it was true, but failing to note
Lord Sidley seemed incomprehensible.

As she gazed up at him, she thought she must look
stricken. For she realized might have met him more
than a week earlier than she had; she would have delighted in simply knowing of him those few additional,
precious days.

His own look had sobered. “That will teach you,”
he said softly, “to ignore the attentions of gentlemen”
He glanced away from her. “I see that my aunt gives me
the gimlet eye. We must parade ourselves to dinner.”
And smoothly surrendering Marian to Dicky Poole, who
would escort her into the dining room, Sidley freed himself to lend an arm each to both his aunt and hers.

Vaughn, Sidley thought, could not fault him this evening. He had paid scant attention to the girl, even declining to introduce her to his aunt. And he had given
Lady Adeline free rein with the seating, whichfollowing precedent as closely as an informal gathering
might allow-placed Miss Ware at the center of the
table, practically out of hearing. That Sidley should
chafe at the fact was something Vaughn need not know.

Each time she turned to Dicky Poole, on her right,
she turned toward Sidley’s end of the table. Thus he
caught all of her smiles for sunny Richard. There appeared to be too many smiles. And Dicky’s manner this
evening was much too raffish, out of keeping for the
steady country squire he had become.

“Lord Sidley,” Mrs. Harvey simpered, drawing his attention, “you have a most hospitable dining chamber
here”

“I thank you, ma’am. I am surprised, as we rarely dine
in it. ‘Tis rather cavernous for two”

“No doubt that will change, my lord, when you entertain more,” Lady Katherine suggested.

“If I do, dear lady, I hope you will often be in the
company.”

At that she worried her lower lip. Lady Katherine was
a lively enough girl, and certainly decorative. Sidley
could only hope she would outgrow her affectationsbut not, please heaven, on his watch.

He thought he should be particularly attentive to Delia
TinckneyDwight on his left, as he considered it probable
he would be offering for her. But he knew he would not be
doing so until Miss Ware had run off with her sailor.

“Goodness, my lord, what a frown!” Katie exclaimed.
“Is the idea really so distasteful? I understood from your
aunt that you were used to attending the local fair!”

For a moment he could only stare at her. “The fair.
Yes. I beg your pardon, Lady Katherine. I have been
inattentive. Whatever you might wish will always be
acceptable to me. ‘Tis a pleasant enough outing. Should
you like to try it?”

“Above all things! Perhaps tomorrow, if the weather
is fine?”

He gave Lady Katherine a tight smile and turned to
Delia. “I know you are well-acquainted with the county,
Miss Delia. Have you a fondness for fairs?”

“Indeed, my lord,” she said with a smile. Yet what Sidley heard was Marian’s voice, farther along that side,
teasing-yes, teasing-Dicky Poole about the planting
of hops. Vaughn, seated to Miss Ware’s left, was not
distracting her at all, as he was fully occupied in keeping Benny and Lord Formsby from coming to blows
over Becca Harvey’s attentions.

Though Sidley willed Vaughn to look his way and
take direction, the thought alone effected nothing.

“My father’s family also is Kentish,” Delia was saying with a nod toward her father, involved in a discussion with Clara Poole, who, like Miss Ware, claimed the
table’s center. “But his people live closer to the channel,
near Dover. In fact, on one visit some years ago, we
passed by Aldersham en route, and though Lady Adeline
was away, took a tour.”

“Did you? You must have met our housekeeper, Mrs.
Combes”

She nodded. “We were treated most kindly, my lord”

“And how did the place show?”

“To great advantage, I assure you, Lord Sidley,
though it was autumn and your magnificent roses were
not in bloom. I recall wishing I might return to see them
in the proper season.”

Sidley wondered whether he should suspect the girl
of tailoring her prospects as carefully as Lady Katherine did her own. But he decided that Miss Delia’s gaze
lacked guile. She had no thought other than to further
the conversation in as pleasant a manner as possible.

As he again heard Dicky Poole’s laughter, he gave
Miss Delia a broad smile. “My aunt is exceedingly fond
of her roses. She will give you slips of any you desire.”

“I am no gardener, my lord.”

“Oh, but I am,” Mrs. Harvey asserted. “Do you think
Lady Adeline would be so kind as to favor me so, my
lord?”

“Lady Adeline is invariably hospitable, ma’am.
‘Twould be her pleasure, I’m sure” His aunt had always proved gracious, even when confronted by irritatingly forward guests. For the remainder of the meal he
engaged the three ladies in a general conversation on
the trimming of bonnets, the proper constitution of
ices, and the merits of Scott’s various novels. He forced
attention to the chatter and limited his glimpses of Miss
Ware. Yet he was still relieved when Vaughn claimed
both her attention and Clara Poole’s.

As Sidley at last caught his aunt’s gaze, he signaled a
preference for ending dinner, and the ladies abandoned
the gentlemen in removing to the drawing room.

His aunt captured him for a few seconds before her
own departure. “Do stop scowling, Sidley,” she said
very low.

“I am not scowling.”

“You certainly appear to be so”

“That I cannot help,” he claimed. But she was already out of hearing.

Vaughn settled in on his left. “You must rally, Sidley,” he said as the gentlemen sipped their port. “You are looking as lovesick as any fresh-cheeked pup, and
green with jealousy too”

“I am supposed to be sickening for something,
Vaughn. I might as soon look it.”

“Poor Dicky Poole does not deserve such glowers.”

“Poor Dicky Poole,” Sidley countered, “does not appear in the least tormented”

“I know you are newly afflicted, but I shouldn’t have
expected you to act as juvenile as Benny and Lord
Formsby. You might need as strict a hand”

“I’d have welcomed your intervention-had it led
you to turn to her more frequently.”

Vaughn shook his head. “You’ve forgotten, my
friend, that your impediment is not Dicky but Lieutenant Reeves”

“You must tell me then, Vaughn, how you manage
such complexities.”

At which Vaughn glared at him and removed himself
to the other side of the room.

The reminder, however, did compel Sidley to rise to
his duties as a host, to discuss affably the latest mill at
Fives Court and the peace terms out of Paris. By the time
the gentlemen rejoined the ladies, Sidley had recovered
his humor. But he was irritated anew to find Marian Ware
engaged in cutting silhouettes for the others, while her
cousin hovered near, like any hawker with a popular
commodity.

“Is Marian not excellent at catching these profiles,
my lord?” Lady Katherine asked.

“She is indeed. But, Miss Ware”-and the girl paused
long enough in “catching” Mrs. Harvey to look up at
him-“do leave off. We cannot have you taxing yourself
so on your very first evening.”

“I do not mind it, my lord.”

“‘Tis not sufficient that you should not `mind.’ Whatever you do here should elicit greater enthusiasm than
that. Do abandon this. As you have so eagerly volunteered to start my portrait, I must take you to see the
gallery.”

“But I haven’t-”

He deftly removed the small shears from her hand,
then took her elbow and drew her to her feet. “You see
how easily ‘tis done,” he said softly. “You are above such
parlor tricks.” Her gaze held his, surprise and a desire to
dispute with him warring in the changeable dark depths
of her eyes.

“I should very much prefer to see the gallery anyway,
Lord Sidley,” Mrs. Harvey claimed, rising as well.

Sidley felt the insult to Miss Ware; he was tempted to
tell the woman that anything bespoke from Miss Ware’s
hand must always claim preference. But he refrained and
turned to his guests, and soon the chattering entourage
was making its way along the gallery commemorating
all the former earls of Sidley and their relations.

Sidley wished to know what Miss Ware thought of
each of the paintings, whether drawn by Van Dyck,
Kneller, Gainsborough, Reynolds, Ramsay, or many others. He had grown familiar with them as a boy and had his own particular favorites for style and expression. But
she eluded him as he led first Lady Katherine, then Miss
Delia, then Clara Poole past the portraits. Miss Becca
Harvey he left to Benny and Lord Formsby.

“I think, Lee,” Clara said in some amusement, glancing behind them at the Harvey heiress, “that you face
an easier choice than your aunt might have imagined.”

He followed her gaze to Miss Rebecca. “Never an option, Clara. She is far too young.”

“But Lady Katherine is not”

“Lady Katherine is also too young.”

Clara’s eyebrows rose. “You have decided, then?”

He looked away from her. “I near a conclusion, Clara.
But it is hardly a decision. More a necessity.”

“That is a shame, Lee. You deserve better.”

“As do you” He smiled as he lightly squeezed her arm.
“Now tell me, what do you think of Great-grandfather
Exbridge?”

“He looks a tartar, as we’ve always known him to
have been! I remember Simon as a boy making faces
at him.”

As her eyes glistened, Sidley slid an arm about her
shoulders. “Simon would have wanted you happy, Clara.”

“And you as well, Lee.”

“Perhaps the two of us, then … Perhaps …” But she
was firmly shaking her head. And he knew that the suggestion was one he should air only the once. They were
friends; they shared grief. But that was not enough. Clara
Poole would only ever be a sister.

“Dicky seems most taken with Miss Ware,” she
commented. “‘Twas not what I thought at first, but he is
laughing a great deal.”

Sidley no longer heard her. The observation disturbed him. That Clara should notice what he thought
apparent only to himself annoyed him beyond measure.
He thought the attachment troubling enough that, when
the party broke up later that evening, he was unduly
abrupt as he informed Marian Ware that he would appreciate her appearance, with her paints, in his library the
following morning.

Sidley had not stipulated the hour. Marian fretted over
that as she collected her painting supplies from the sitting room she and Katie shared. When she stepped quietly downstairs, she suspected she was much too early;
she was an early riser in any event. Katie, by contrast,
was likely to sleep past noon. But if Lord Sidley was not
on hand, Marian would take a walk and have one of the
servants summon her.

She had only glimpsed the library the previous evening. Now, in the clear morning light, she admired its
airiness, the soaring shelves of books, the tasteful, muted
appointments in gold and deep red. Her eyes found the
magnificent marine scene over the hearth.