Miss Cresswell's London Triumph (17 page)

This last question was so unanswerable that he tossed off the last of the brandy and tumbled into bed, hoping that total oblivion would erase those tantalizing but disquieting memories of the evening and allow him to pursue the less taxing, more pleasurable society of people such as Arabella and Lady Jersey, who could be counted on to demand so much flattering attention from him that he could give himself up to the pursuit of agreeable sensations. He needed someone whose gaiety and coquettishness would counteract his naturally serious personality, not someone who would exacerbate it. Flirting with beautiful worldly women from India to the capitals of Europe had taught him that life could be pleasurable. He had learned to appreciate the beauty, wit, and the delights of civilized society. It had made him more aware of the social needs of others and of his own desire and capacity for taking pleasure in the more sensual aspects of life, including fine food, wine, music, and art, all of which, in his headlong pursuit of his studies, he had rejected as wastes of time. These discoveries had expanded his perspective, enhanced his faculty for enjoyment, and had made him a richer person emotionally.

Upon returning to London, he had resolved not to become like the old reclusive Ned, who had shut himself off from the rest of the world in devoting his attentions to his scholarly pursuits to the exclusion of all else. Along that path lay shallow-mindedness and self-centeredness. Unlike Horace Wilbraham, he resolved to avoid those at all costs. Somewhat to his surprise, he had succeeded so well in this resolve that he had been avidly pursued by the ton. Courted at first because he was a novelty who exhibited those perennially popular attributes of bachelorhood and wealth, Ned eventually came to be sought out because he was good company.

Ned and Cassie were not the only ones subject to post-festivity reflections. Bertie Montgomery was also pondering the evening's events as he sat at his ease swathed in a gorgeous dressing gown and sipping brandy in front of a fire. For all his insouciance and his intense devotion to fashion, Bertie was a sensitive and perspicacious observer. After having delivered Cassie to Horace that evening, he had hovered protectively on the edge of the group, fearing that one of the participants at least was so caught up in the discussion that he might completely ignore his previous social commitments. Bertie's quick ear for the nuances of social discourse had, on hearing the Earl of Aberdeen's infelicitous remark, immediately noticed Cassie's shocked expression of disbelief, quickly banished though it was, and the stiffening of her spine, more eloquent of her displeasure than any possible facial expression could have been. Not wanting to break in on the conversation, he had left her with Horace, but had lingered long enough to witness her departure from the ballroom closely followed by Ned. His curiosity aroused, he had kept a close watch on the French windows long enough to witness their subsequent reappearance.

To any other observer, nothing would have appeared at all amiss, but to Bertie, who had watched Cassie metamorphose from an adventurous tomboy to a vivacious young woman, she had seemed unwontedly subdued the rest of the evening. Bertie Montgomery was not completely the amiable brainless fop that all of society believed him to be. Though quick to admit that he did not have as much in his upper story as his friend Lord Julian Mainwaring, he did maintain that he was not entirely cork-brained. In fact, he had more than once astounded that exacting peer with his incredible grasp of the art of antiquity. He had not, as he had responded in his own defense, wholly wasted his youth, and his friendship with the Cresswells had sprung up more because of a common interest in classical Greece than from physical proximity. Though his ancestral estate was not far from Cresswell, he had spent more time with them while they were in Athens than he had when they were in Hampshire. It was only after Lord and Lady Cresswell had died that he had become such a frequent visitor to their household as to seem to be another brother to Frances and uncle to the twins.

It was his familiarity with both classical scholarship and the mind of Lady Cassandra Cresswell that had led Bertie to hazard some very accurate guesses as to what had happened. As someone who shared a common interest in antiquity, Bertie had become acquainted with Horace Wilbraham, but finding him to be a less than original scholar with no appreciation whatsoever for aesthetics, he largely ignored him. In fact, Bertie had been astonished to find Horace under the Comte de Vaudron's aegis, for the comte was someone he profoundly respected both as a brilliant scholar and as a man of the world, but he had known the comte to be overworked and thus surmised that whatever Horace lacked in brilliance, he made up for in pedantry and could therefore be counted upon as an amanuensis. Bertie had been less surprised at Cassie's friendship with Horace, knowing her dislike of fashionable bucks and her often expressed wish to find a friend who could share her interest. There was no doubt that Horace Wilbraham was well connected and well enough to look at. Bertie had wondered how long it would be before Cassie discovered her infinite superiority to him both in education and intellect. If his guess were correct, she had discovered it that evening along with several other rather unpleasant truths. Though not inclined to become romantically involved himself—he shuddered at the thought of running the risk of messy entanglements which invariably made one lose all sense of social grace and propriety— Bertie had a tender heart. He sympathized with Cassie's disillusionment and unhappiness and resolved to do something to help her get over it. I shall take her for a ride in the park tomorrow, he decided. Having cleared his conscience in this manner, he swallowed the last drop of brandy and buried himself luxuriously in a mound of pillows.

Daylight did not bring further enlightenment to those who had fallen asleep the previous night mulling over the implications of the scenes at the ball. However, each one arose with a heightened awareness, looking forward to further revelations or understanding that the next day might bring. The only person who did not awake to a sense that somehow the world, or his perception of it, had altered was the precipitator of the entire thing—Horace Wilbraham.

Though intelligent enough, Horace had devoted himself to scholarly passions more because of his interest in classical antiquity and a concerted application of this interest than because of any high degree of brilliance, sensitivity, or natural aptitude. This singleness of purpose which had allowed him to progress as far as he had in his studies had also completely blinded him to the people and events around him. He moved through life in a state of unconsciousness that would have been fatal to anyone who did not have servants and a family, disgusted though they were by his chosen occupation, to look out for him. Thus he remained totally oblivious to the offense he had given his lady love. In fact, he had not even noticed that she had never danced the dance she had promised him. So it was in a state of happy insensibility that he presented himself at Grosvenor Square the next morning. At the ball the Earl of Aberdeen had graciously suggested that Horace and Cassie visit him to discuss their work, and never one to lose the slightest chance of advancing himself, Horace was quick to accept the invitation. He would have preferred calling on this learned peer alone, as lately the creeping suspicion that Cassie might be more accomplished than he in their field of endeavor had occasionally caused him some uneasiness. However, he had reassured himself with the excuse that in acquiring the expertise, Cassie had the advantage of having been immersed since infancy in the world of classical antiquity and had been constantly in the company of its brightest scholars. This had made him feel somewhat better, but he continued to find her natural quickness and brilliance of conversation rather unsettling, especially when other parties were present. However, the earl had spent time in Greece with the Cresswells and become a close friend of her parents, so there was no help for it but to include her.

Cassie, sitting in the library flanked by Ethelred, Nelson, and Wellington, was forewarned of Horace's approach by Teddy, who, on his way to claim his aunt's assistance in cricket practice, had seen Higgins greeting Horace in the front hall. In an effort to avoid condescending pats on the head and ponderous questions about the progress of his Latin, Teddy had beaten a hasty retreat, calling, "Cathie, Cathie, that man ith here, but you promithed me that you would help me with my batting today, remember?"

Fully aware of who "that man" was, Cassie frowned. Teddy, who ordinarily possessed the friendliest of natures, had so little regard for Horace Wilbraham that he could never remember his name and usually referred to him as "that man who took me to the park the day Wellington saved my boat." This had proven to be such a mouthful that it had eventually been shortened to "that man."

"Don't worry, dear," Cassie consoled him, touched by his confidence in her prowess and his crestfallen face. "He isn't going to be staying long. I shall be with you directly."

Teddy looked dubious. Horace was a frequent enough visitor at Grosvenor Square that every member of the household was fully aware of his tendency to hold forth at length and keep Cassie unavailable to the rest of Mainwaring House for hours.

" That man,' " Higgins often grumbled, adopting Teddy's epithet as he complained to Cook. " That man' kept me holding the door for an age while he prosed on at Miss Cassie."

Or Freddie, in a fit of exasperation at having been made late once again to his appointment with Gentleman Jackson because Horace insisted on proving in minute detail the superiority of Chapman's Iliad to Pope's or some equally dull theory, would exclaim, "Lord, Cassie, ain't that fellow ever quiet?"

Even Lady Frances, the essence of graceful manners, had been unable to restrain herself from yawning in his company.

Nevertheless, all these people loved Cassie, and critical though they were of Horace's extended discussions, if they pleased her, well they were willing to put up with a good deal to make her happy. Teddy, subject to the unequivocal likes and dislikes of the very young, was the only exception.

Pleasure could not have been further from Cassie s voice and countenance now as she greeted Horace. Totally oblivious as usual, Horace ignored her rigid posture and frosty tone as he plunged into the reason for his visit. "Cassandra, the Earl of Aberdeen has been so kind as to invite me to call on him and he has most graciously asked you to accompany me."

Cassie's eyes darkened. "No doubt he wishes to learn more about your theories of the Panathenaic procession," she replied in a voice of dangerous calm.

"Why yes, I expect so," Horace responded, still unaware of the signs of Cassie's rising temper. Even Wellington and Nelson, blissfully asleep at the beginning of the encounter, and Ethelred, who had never seen Cassie angry before, recognized the danger signals and uneasily awaited further developments. Horace continued with becoming modesty, "He certainly appeared to be much struck with all my thoughts on the subject and desired to discuss them at greater length."

"Doing it much too brown aren't you, Horace?" Cassie inquired. If there had been any uncertainty as to Cassie's state of mind before, there was none now. She was coldly furious. "What a bacon- brain you must think me not to recognize my own ideas. And how you can appropriate them as your own so calmly without even acknowledging their origin, especially after you ridiculed them to the comte, is beyond comprehension!"

Horace looked to be genuinely surprised and hurt. "But Cassandra," he began in an aggrieved tone, "I did come to agree with you about the theory of the Panathenaic procession, you know. Besides, I thought we shared everything."

"That's precisely the point, Horace Wilbraham," she snapped. "You're not sharing the slightest thing, not even recognition for something that wasn't your idea in the first place."

"Cassandra, be reasonable," he begged. "Even if I were to acknowledge that you had some hand in it, no one would credit a woman, a mere girl moreover, with such ideas."

By now Cassie was so furious that she could hardly speak. Wellington, sensing this, was beginning to growl under his breath while Ethelred and Nelson had fixed Horace with baleful stares. "You seem to have completely forgotten that my mother was regarded as equally brilliant as my father whom you profess to hold in such deep respect and he always accorded her the acclaim due to her work."

Still ignorant of the danger he was in from all quarters, Horace went blithely on, "But that was because she had your father to guide her and she was able to be of use to him in his work."

Cassie looked murderous. Not too many years ago she would simply have planted Horace a facer as Freddie had taught her. But, she told herself, you're grown up now and you must not allow such a miserable excuse for a man make you lose your dignity. She straightened up, drew a breath, and adopting her most imperious voice and manner, she ordered, "Horace, I think you had better leave now."

"But Cassandra," he protested in bewilderment, "we're expected at the earl's."

"That is of little interest to me, Horace, as I don't wish to see or be seen with you ever again," she replied haughtily.

"Cassandra, what maggot have you got in your brain?" Horace asked uneasily as he finally realized that she was truly upset.

"If you haven't fathomed it by now, you never shall, Horace," Cassie responded. Her dignity began to disintegrate as he continued to stand there transfixed, staring at her stupidly. "Oh, do go away, Horace," she said crossly.

He might have remained that way forever had not Wellington, seeing that his mistress did not like "that man" and was having trouble getting rid of him, intervened. Looking significantly at Ethelred and Nelson, he growled viciously and, frowning ferociously, approached to snap at Horace's feet, closely followed by Nelson, who looked truly alarming with his ears back and teeth bared. Ethelred, unable to adopt such a dangerous mien, nevertheless managed to appear quite threatening. The fur-and-feather contingent succeeded where Cassie had failed, and Horace fled.