Teaching the Earl (2 page)

"Almack's," breathed Mama with reverence as they stepped into the hallowed rooms. "I keep pinching myself. I don't quite believe it. You did so well, darling, to convince Lady Cowper you are properly genteel. I am so proud of you."

"All I did was smile and stay silent."

"That is it precisely. Though I think she marked your very pretty manners too. Mrs Granson was an excellent investment. I hope she'll do as well teaching your sisters. But never mind that now. You must not look too excited, or we shall be marked as Cits."

"Heaven forbid." Elizabeth smiled indulgently at Mama. "Though I rather think it is you who must be calm."

Yes, indeed. I think I shall have a glass of orgeat to settle my nerves. Come."

They moved across the room with pretended serenity, though Elizabeth could feel delight bubbling up in her like a wellspring, pure and sweet.
It was such a triumph, to enter these rooms. She was a part of Society, albeit a small, humble part. Papa's money had bought her acceptance and her own mannerly restraint and immaculate conduct would keep it. She was careful not to look about her, gape, point or stare. A swan on still water was she, gliding, gliding, head held high and steady, well enough to make Mrs Granson proud if that doughty lady had only been here to see.

"They are so beautiful. All in drift
s of white like snow, or clouds," she said quietly. There were clusters of young women through the room, all wearing delicate white muslin, or the softest pastels.

"No more or less than at the
Fitzwarton's ball. Or the Seton's ball, for that matter."

"Much more beautiful, I swear it.
Flowers. That's what they are like. Blossoms in spring."

"None of them are prettier than you, my dear."

"You are a partial audience, Mama, and I don't believe you."

"Modesty is very becoming too, there's my good girl. I don't expect you to capture any gentleman's attention tonight. At least, make no effort to. We shall find our place among the women, and be retiring. Appear to have no expectations. But be dignified and gracious, of course."

"Of course." Elizabeth received the glass of orgeat her mother handed her, and took a cautious sip. The scent of almonds and orange flowers filled her mouth and nose. "This is too sweet," she whispered.

"Hold it and pretend to drink it. You may keep the same glass all evening if you like, and never drain it. It will give you something to do with your hands if you are not asked to dance."

Dreadful thought. "I hope I will be asked. I'd like to dance."

"I think you'll
have at least one invitation, even though you're not generally known. See, there are the Setons, and Michael is here with them. He is sure to stand up with you. You must refuse anyone who has not been introduced to you."

"I know."

"Not that you will encounter such poor behavior here, I don't think. The patronesses are very strict."

"I
know."

"Yes, of course you do. I'm sorry. I'm only nervous. So much rests on this. Don't let that frighten you, of course. You will do very well, I'm sure of it. If all goes as I hope for you then we can expect your sisters to be well-received also. It will mean great things for all the family."

"I know, Mama. Let us go talk to the Setons, before you worry yourself to death."

They stood by their friends, were joined by more acquaintances, and introduced to others. Elizabeth proved popular, and danced almost every dance, cautiously demure, unusually quiet, but simmering away inside with a froth of pleasure. How her sisters would gasp and sigh when she told them she had danced with a baron, no less. He had not been a very good dancer, nor very handsome, but he was extremely cordial.

Michael danced better. He seemed to have developed a partiality for her company. He was so kind to her, and attentive, nineteen years to her eighteen. Yet he seemed callow next to the gentlemen who stood around talking amongst themselves or surveying the crowd, impeccably dressed and leisurely. Oh, how they swaggered and tilted their heads back and looked bored. More than one had lifted a quizzing glass to inspect her with dashing rudeness, so she did not know whether to glare or blush. She turned her head away and fluttered her fan in front of her face.

In a lull in the dancing, there came a moment when she met the eyes of a middle-aged woman across the room. The woman looked directly at her as if measuring her carefully. She seemed the very definition of aristocracy, with a cool, haughty face, high cheekbones and a small, tidy mouth. She wore black; elegant and uncompromising. She reached out a hand to lay it on the forearm of a man standing near her, and he turned his head. Elizabeth looked away before she could be seen to stare, and a moment later sent a darting glance back to them and away again.

Both the strangers were looking at Elizabeth now. He was very handsome, in a lean, dignified way. There was such a likeness between the two of them they must be related.

From the corner of her eye she saw they now approached, and she waited, almost holding her breath.

"Mrs Seton, how delightful to see you," came the woman's voice, commanding even in greeting. As everyone else turned their heads and smiled in polite welcome, Elizabeth could examine the pair.

Definitely related,
though it was difficult to break down the individual features of his face to compare them to another's, as he made such a strong impression. He was very compelling, his brow broad, nose lean and cheekbones prominent. He had dark shadows under his eyes and seemed distant from them all, as if he did not quite listen. For a moment those grayish-green eyes rested on her face, and then he looked at his relative who still spoke, then at the crowd beyond her, disconnected from them all.

". . . and of course my son," said the woman in black, "who is now the Earl of
Carhampton, following the untimely death of his cousin."

"A sad loss for your family," Mrs Seton said.

Elizabeth's eyes went to the black armband on the man's arm. The
Earl's
arm. He was in mourning. That explained the air of sorrow that hung about him. She wished she could take his hand and hold it, and sit with him in sympathy and let him know he was not alone. A peculiar idea, when he already had his mother with him. Yet despite her black dress there was nothing in the brisk snap of her manner to make one think she mourned.

"It is so congenial to meet with you here. And your friends," the Earl's mother said.

"Have you been introduced?" asked Mrs Seton. "Mrs Alexander, Lord Carhampton, allow me to make known to you Mrs Cross and her eldest daughter, Miss Elizabeth Cross. Mrs and Miss Cross, Mrs Alexander and Lord Carhampton."

He bowed while the women curtsied, and now Mrs Alexander assessed Elizabeth's Mama, who murmured a quiet, "Charmed, I'm sure," showing just the right degree of civility and deference. Not too much, in the face of such a coolly appraising inspection.

"Christopher, there is a set forming," said Mrs Alexander. "Perhaps you would enjoy a dance." Her words were a suggestion. Her tone was not.

Lord
Carhampton looked at his mother, something passed between them, and she pinched her lips together and glanced away. Then he turned to Elizabeth, inclined his head in inquiry and held out his gloved hand. "Miss Cross, would you do me the honor?"

She inspected his face, smiled at him so his lips twitched upward in a vague response that did not reach his eyes,
then put her own hand in his. "I'd be delighted," she said in a calm way, and congratulated herself on her composure. An earl! She held the hand of an earl. Now he looked directly at her she could not imagine he needed comfort from one such as she, he was so controlled, so distinguished.

He led her to the dance floor, and she was acutely conscious of her uplifted hand in his, and held it high so the weight of her arm did not drag on him but rested light as thistledown. He was a tall man, and though she herself was tall, standing next to
him she felt small and feminine; such a pleasant sensation.

The dance was a cotillion, and he assayed it gracefully, the crossing and swapping of partners making it impossible for any conversation. His gaze held hers now, and again she smiled, loving the challenge of the quick hop and skip, completing it all perfectly and knowing she showed well. This was success indeed.

When the dance finished she was warm. He took her hand, and placed it in the crook of his elbow. "You dance extremely well."

"Your excellent lead made it so easy."

His eyebrows lifted in the faintest hint of surprise. Was he not used to compliments?

"Would you care to take a turn about the room?" he asked.

"Thank you."

His arm was very firm under her fingertips, and even above the combined smells of perfume and pomade and beeswax, she imagined she caught his scent. Sandalwood, perhaps it was, and cloves. She turned her head a little towards him to catch it better, and he looked down at her and smiled his sad smile.

"Are you enjoying the evening?" he said.

"Very much, thank you. Everyone is extraordinarily kind."

"It's easy to be kind to one who is so pretty."

"Oh." She looked down,
then peeked up at him through her lashes. "What a lovely compliment."

"Have you been in town long?"

"We usually live here, except in the heat of summer." It amazed her that he might be interested in her life, yet here he was, questioning her about it.

"And then where are you located?"

"In Brighton."

"Ah, our
seaside resort." He nodded as if he knew the place.

"Yes. It's beautiful there, with the sea and the sunshine."

"And promenades along the shore."

"Precisely."

"Mrs Seton said you are the eldest daughter of your family?"

So he had been listening, though his mind had seemed elsewhere. "There are nine of us, and four girls in total."

"A very prosperous number."

"Papa likes to say he is blessed, and Mama says she is cursed."

"Are you all so troublesome, then?"

She felt her lips quirk at the idea, tilted her head toward
him and confided, "I think it’s only that she must find husbands for us all. The task is so daunting."

"No doubt you will pop off quickly, and then she'll see it's no chore at all."

"Do you think so? That’s a pleasant thought, though my season has been so enjoyable thus far, I wouldn't mind another."

"Have you taken to this frivolous life?"

Was this a deeper question? She replied carefully, to avoid making a bad impression. "Not precisely. Only I would not like to be married off and disappear into the countryside, never to attend another ball. That would be very sad, I think."

"I understand they have balls in the countryside," he said gravely.

"Now you're teasing. I know that. But the London balls are in a class of their own; such amazing spectacles, so very grand. If I had them as a constant diet I'd become insufferably bored and jaded of course, but if I never had them again?" she shook her head, "No, that would not do either."

"Would it not?"

"Decidedly not. I would shed tears into my teacup." She pouted in a way that Papa had told her was adorable, and was rewarded with another faint smile, this one more genuine.

"Tragedy indeed."

"And what of you? Are you enjoying the Season?"

A shadow seemed to come over his face, and th
e smile disappeared. "I find I’m not in the mood for it."

"Yes of course.
The death of your cousin. I'm so sorry."

For a moment he frowned at her as if puzzled,
then his brows lifted. "Among other things."

"So you'd rather not be here?"
Which would explain his absent-mindedness. Poor man. So elegant and impressive, yet hurting underneath. Again there was that strange urge to comfort him, and tell him he was not alone. Yet she did not know him well enough. One did not impose on an earl.

But her question seemed to bring him back to himself, because he met her with flattery again. "How could that be, when I find one such as you here?"

What a charming man. So brave. To dance and flirt to entertain her, when his heart must be heavy as lead inside him.

"You are too kind."

"Now I must give you back to Mrs Cross, but it has been a pleasure to meet you." He bowed over her hand, and once again she saw that faint glimmer of a smile - there then gone - so swift she almost missed it.

It warmed her.

He deposited her at Mama's side. As he turned away from the group he met his mother's gaze, and the woman quickly excused herself and hurried after him. As she came up beside him he said something to her in a low voice, and nodded in firm decision, then carried on to the door and went out. Mrs Alexander stopped still in the center of the floor, and pivoted to look back towards Elizabeth. Her eyes were bright and hard as she stared, and the smile that curved her thin lips was not at all as charming. Then she, too, went out.