Miss Armistead Makes Her Choice (3 page)

She was far too beautiful to fail to recognize his admiration of her; as such, he had expected her to be immune to the veneration she had surely recognized in his expression. Instead, her face betrayed an emotion to which he could assign no name save that of wonderment and, in spite of his hand at her
elbow, she descended as did a hot knife through butter, staring into his eyes all the while.

“Caught another one in your net, have you, Elizabeth?” Miss Hale twittered. “Still, it shall be of no account now that you are betrothed to your Duncan.”

Colin felt as if the ground had shifted under his feet. “Betrothed?” he asked of no one in particular, unwilling to believe that he could have been so wrong about these three women. Certainly, he could not be, not so close on the heels of his having been so very wrong about Miss Cecily Ponsonby.

“Well, yes, Mr. Lloyd-Jones,” Mrs. Armistead said faintly. “We have come for the procurement of bride clothes for Elizabeth, you see. We intend to vastly enjoy society whilst we wait for her intended to join her in a month or so. Once they are married, Miss Hale and I shall return to India.”

Colin could feel the frown that furrowed his brow as he fell back a step and regarded the women with fresh eyes. The scheming mother now looked to be the frightened traveler she was and Miss Hale less the innocent ingénue, while the beautiful coquette was nothing but a misunderstood maiden. The shock of these revelations was nothing compared to the taste of ashes in his mouth when he realized that the gorgeous Miss Armistead was not in the least obtainable, his patent admiration of her not in the least proper, and that he had made a fool of himself over a woman for the second time in as many weeks.

With a swift intake of breath that, even in his own ears, sounded suspiciously like a gasp, he turned away from the trio of women he had so willingly assumed to be imbued with every possible unsavory intention and sunk his face into his hand. Not for the first time that night, he was grateful for the pact that he and Tony had made; he needs must never be in the company of any of these women again. The very moment a silent prayer for speedy deliverance was sent aloft, the butler rapped at the door and entered with news that the team and carriage were ready and waiting to convey the ladies to their lodgings.

Colin pulled the ravaged edges of his pride about himself in order to bid a proper farewell to
Mrs. Armistead, her daughter and her friend and heaved a huge sigh of relief when the library door had shut behind them. As he stared into the fire, he recalled that Tony had warned him about gazing overlong on the face of one as beautiful as Miss Armistead and knew that his friend had the right of it. He had never felt quite so pulled in before, and never on so short of an acquaintance. His eyes went again to the invitations on the mantle and with a flick of his wrist he dispatched them to the flames. There was nothing, now, that could dissuade him from keeping his distance from Miss Armistead and all of her ilk for the remainder of the season.

Chapter Two

Miss Elizabeth Armistead did not wish to be observed. As such, she stood behind a potted palm in a dark corner of the Carruth’s ballroom, a circumstance that had little to do with the repeated requests by her aunt to partner a spotty-faced boy. She was persuaded his governess should certainly arrive to carry him home to bed any moment, never mind that he was over six foot tall and, of all things, an earl. No, indeed, her hiding place afforded her the opportunity to glean much from the breathless conversations that sailed past her unawares.

From these, she discerned that a recent
contretemps
on the dance floor had been occasioned by one Miss Ginerva Delacourt who was rumored to have said something unforgivably shocking. However, no one agreed on the words she spoke. Some said she had called her dancing partner, Lord Eggleston, a simpleton while others insisted that her words, in reference to his lordship’s mother, were “weighs a ton”.

Under the circumstances, Elizabeth felt it was likely she had merely uttered “Mother Eggleston” and was being unduly censured for what must surely be the fault of his lordship’s feeble hearing. From what Elizabeth could determine Lord Eggleston was on the windy side of forty and had no business inducing a young woman such as Miss Delacourt to dance in the first place. The fact that Lady Eggleston was, indeed, doomed never again to sit on a daintily constructed chair merely added fuel to the fire.

Elizabeth, who watched the proceedings unfold, found Lord Eggleston’s behavior in the wake of his outrage far inferior to Miss Delacourt’s as he had stalked off to leave her quite alone on the dance floor. This had caused such confusion amongst the other dancers in the set that they were soon seen to mill about in so disordered a fashion that those watching from the perimeters of the room began to point whilst chortling into their respective handkerchiefs. It was with a great deal of composure, chin held high, that Miss Delacourt had walked away in the opposite direction of her feckless dancing
partner.

She had been met by a tiny woman with red hair upon which perched a turban whose arrangement was endangered by her ferociously raised eyebrows. It was only then that Miss Delacourt had bowed her head. Elizabeth doubted any but herself, who was free to gape to her heart’s content, had seen how the young lady dashed away her tears, so deftly was it done.

Elizabeth’s own eyes filled as she reflected on what she had witnessed. Not for the first time that night, she thanked her lucky stars that she was safely betrothed to Duncan Cruikshank, a man who cared for her as much as she cared for him. She need never again be concerned for her future as was Miss Delacourt and, perhaps more so, the red-haired woman at her side.

Elizabeth continued to observe as the woman marched out of the room into the colonnaded gallery alongside it, Miss Delacourt following behind, her head once again held high. With a sigh, Elizabeth began to emerge from her hiding place until she noticed that Miss Delacourt and her red-haired doyenne were headed in her direction. It would be some time before they reached the end of the gallery and returned to the dance floor to obtain the exit from the room, but Elizabeth knew that if she stirred an inch, she should be caught out. How much more appealing it seemed to regard the two women from her current position in hopes of overhearing as much of their conversation as possible.

She had not long to wait.

“What you could have been thinking, I cannot imagine!” the tiny woman demanded.

“It hardly matters now what I was thinking,” Miss Delacourt observed. “I am to be vilified regardless of the truth.”

“It would not be so,” the older woman said as she stopped to catch her breath just the other side of Elizabeth’s palm, “if you hadn’t the distinction of being known to say exactly what you please. I can see that it has put you quite beyond the pale.”

“Grandaunt Regina, you cannot believe that the purely innocent, though, admittedly unfortunate, remarks I made at Lady Jersey’s rout are still being bandied about. That was three weeks
ago.”

“They are and they will until you make a respectable marriage or quit London society altogether, one or the other. For now, I think that is precisely the solution.”

“Which is the solution?” Miss Delacourt asked with an arch look. “Or is it both? Though I fail to see how it matters as I have no say, one way or the other.”

“That is quite enough,” the woman huffed as she turned to resume her journey to the exit. Miss Delacourt once again bowed her head but not before Elizabeth heard the young lady mutter something nonsensical having to do with the superior company of roses over the
ton
.

Once they had marched out of earshot, Elizabeth drew a deep breath and emerged from behind the palm tree. The dancing had re-commenced and the high society lords and ladies chatted amongst themselves as if nothing had occurred. She was relieved to see that the brouhaha had blown over and, as a final boon the ladder-tall, young earl was occupied on the dance floor. Quickly she located her mother and aunt and made her way to their sides.

“Why, Elizabeth,” her mother said sharply, “I had believed you to be doing the jig.”

“No, Mama, I was merely amusing myself on my own. I suppose I wandered off a bit.”

“Well, see that you don’t,” Elizabeth’s Aunt Augusta insisted. “It is not seemly for a young lady to wander off, as you so summarily phrased it.”

“Elizabeth wouldn’t dream of provoking gossip, would you Elizabeth?” Mrs. Armistead urged as she turned to her daughter, her eyebrows raised high above her spectacles.

“Of course not,” Elizabeth replied in mild tones she did not feel. She couldn’t say why, exactly, it vexed her so much that her mother was in agreement with her sister-in-law unless it was that it happened so very rarely. “However, it is rather distressing to be chastised for my intrepid nature when it was praised only a few days since. I suppose it was due to the company we were keeping while at the home of Mr. Lloyd-Jones; doubtless you wished to present me in the best light.”

“But of course I did. You are so much more than your beauty, my dear, and I wish all to
perceive it,” her mother soothed.

Elizabeth felt her mother’s attempts to be of no consequence; Mr. Lloyd-Jones was as incapable of seeing past her outward appearance as every other man she had met, save her father and, of course, her betrothed. At first she had believed Mr. Lloyd-Jones to be different, but then he had looked at her with such naked admiration in his eyes and she knew that he was as caught up in her outward appearance as any other. She felt astonished by the keen sense of disappointment she felt upon the realization of the truth.

“Elizabeth, see here, the music has stopped and Lord Northrup approaches to ask you to dance after all!” Aunt Augusta enthused. “I cannot imagine why he hasn’t worked up the courage to do so until now. If only you had allowed me to introduce you to him, you might have been dancing all the evening.”

“Aunt Augusta, I am in your debt, but I do believe you have forgotten that I have come to London to make preparations for a wedding, not to find a husband.”

“Oh, pshaw!” her aunt insisted with a deft unfurling of her fan.

Lord Northrup was now upon them and, to Elizabeth’s dismay there was no escaping the following introductions. She assigned herself high marks for her forbearance, as well as a perfectly executed bow, but from the moment he took her in his arms and whirled her away to the strains of a waltz she made no attempt to charm him. She had been admired by more men than she could count, all of whom bore the same stunned expression on his face as the young earl. It was an expression she loathed, just as she loathed the hypocrisy of those who professed to love her, but only wished to possess her beauty.

In spite of the heat of India, she longed to go home, longed for the safety of a society that considered her no longer on the Marriage Mart. She had been born and raised in Bengal, yet she found her nature was far more inclined towards the atmospheric conditions of England. She had vastly enjoyed spending time in London during the course of her season four years prior and often wondered
if her attraction to her betrothed was as much due to his very Englishness as it was his other qualities. The fact that his home was in Scotland and they would repair to Edinburgh directly after the wedding was an eventuality to which she looked forward with great anticipation. And yet, she longed for what she had left behind.

Lord Northrup cleared his throat. “What a brown study, Miss Armistead! Of what are you thinking, might I ask?”

“But, of course you might ask, my lord. However, I fear the answer isn’t terribly diverting.”

“No doubt one as enchanting as yourself is possessed of nothing but thoughts equally so.”

“Very well, if you insist; I was thinking on my
modiste
appointment on the morrow.” She inclined her head. “Pray tell, does that enchant as expected?”

“Yes, indeed!” he replied with relish, the spots on his cheeks turning white against his reddening skin. “Though I can’t envisage how a new gown might possibly improve your appearance one whit.”

“If you say so, but I am persuaded the opinion of my betrothed will differ when I don my new gown for our wedding.”

His face turned red to the roots of his hair, most likely due to the fact that he had taken a deep breath which he held between his enlarged cheeks.

“Lord Northrup, you mustn’t take on, so. Your petulance very well may be observed by any number of young ladies, all of them currently most eager to be courted by you,” she said with a kind smile.

“Not one of them can hope to outshine you,” he blurted out on a gust of air. “You are the most beautiful girl in the room!”

“If you say so,” she replied tonelessly. “However, let us speak of you. I imagine that your mother, on any number of occasions, has led you to believe you deserve the very best of everything. And who is to say she is wrong? Certainly not I. However, I am persuaded you ought to pursue a younger lady if it is marriage you are considering.” Elizabeth peered about the room, her gaze coming
to rest on a very sweet-looking debutante with masses of dark hair, and a pair of fine gray eyes. “Why, I believe she will do very nicely. You must ask her to dance the next set,” Elizabeth insisted as she inclined her head in the direction of the dark-haired ingénue.

Lord Northrup turned his head in the direction Elizabeth indicated and grimaced. “By that you would mean Miss Analisa Lloyd-Jones. She is fair enough, I suppose.”

“Miss Lloyd-Jones; but of course!” Elizabeth wished to pose a dozen impolite questions of Lord Northrup, every one of them concerning Mr. Lloyd-Jones, but she managed to tamp down her desire. “She seems utterly charming.”

“Perhaps, but she is just out of the schoolroom. I don’t trail after children, I would have you know,” he insisted with a fractious air.

“And you left . . ?”

“Eton,” he supplied readily enough.

“How long ago?”

Lord Northrup had the presence of mind to hang his head. “I have only just taken my final exams. M’ father promises he shall send me to the Continent for my grand tour when the season is up and says that I shall come home a man,” he added, his former bravado returned in full.