A Suspectible Gentleman Part 11

"The three favourites?" Tempted to tear three reputations to shreds, Sarah hunted for something complimentary to say of each. "Lady Catherine astonishes me with the breadth of her accomplishments.

Her musical performance is superior, her sketching admirable and her conversation witty. I have often heard you laughing at the stories she tells of your London acquaintance."

"She has a talent for making an on-dit amusing, to be sure, but her wit is not infrequently malicious."

"Well then, Vanessa: she is quite the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, always excepting Eliza, of course."

"Eliza is quite the silliest of my sisters, and her friend takes after her. For all her speaking looks, Miss

Brennan has not a sensible word to say for herself."

"You are harsh. At least Lydia is kind enough and intelligent enough to take an interest in your orphanages. She is interested in education and adores children, I understand."

"I mean to set up my nursery, not to spend my days in it, and as a sole topic of conversation, it will quickly pall."

"Heavens, Adam, you are excessively hard to please. Do you feel no slight preference for any of them?"

"Miss Davis is the best of the bunch, I suppose. However, I've no intention ... Mama?"

Lady Cheverell came up to their table. "The orchestra is returning to the ballroom, dearest. If you and Sarah were to make a move in that direction, the rest will go, too. Whatever have you done to your hair, Adam? Let me smooth it down."

Adam sat patiently while his mother patted at his head, finis.h.i.+ng with an unsuccessful attempt to persuade

the errant lock to stay back.

"Thank you, Mama." He stood up and kissed her cheek. Offering his arm to Sarah, he proceeded toward the door of the supper room.

There was an immediate move to follow.

"'All we, like sheep..."' quoted Sarah.

He looked down at her and laughed. Their inexplicable awkwardness with each other had pa.s.sed, but

she could not help wondering what he had been going to say.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

Adam was in love.

But he was not ready to admit it, even to himself. He only knew that his feelings for Sarah had changed irrevocably in that moment when he looked up and saw her regal figure standing in the doorway. For the first time, he had seen her as a woman, not just as a companion of his childhood and the best of friends.

Busy about the duties of a host, he had not had time to consider the revelation or its consequences. When at last his turn came to dance with her, he had been unable to treat her with his usual teasing informality, yet he had not known what should be in its place. As if sensing his uncertainty, she had been distant. The constant parting and rejoining of the dance had frustrated his need to break through the sudden barrier between them.

And then, when he was able to speak to her properly, he had started on a serious subject on which they were in complete sympathy, only to realize that this was neither the time nor the place.

Not until they returned to the ballroom did he feel at ease with her again, and he found himself back on the old, friendly footing. It was comfortable, but it was not what he wanted.

His first partner after supper was Miss Davis. Not once in the course of the dance did she interrupt his thoughts by addressing a remark to him, for which he was duly grateful. He left her with Louise and went to look for Miss Brennan. She was standing by the open French doors onto the terrace, fanning herself and whispering with Eliza.

"Adam, it is unbearably stuffy in here, and poor Vanessa is feeling a little faint," his youngest sister informed him. "I promised her you would take her out onto the terrace."

It was a warm, moonlit night, and several couples were visible taking the air, strolling about or leaning against the stone bal.u.s.trade. Miss Brennan looked her usual imperviously beautiful self, neither flushed nor pale, but Adam could scarcely accuse her of deceit. He succ.u.mbed to good manners and escorted her outside.

"That is a little better," she murmured, with a sigh designed expressly to draw attention to her exquisite bosom.

She let go Adam's arm and drifted down the shallow steps to the garden. He followed perforce.

"Miss Brennan, I believe we ought to return to the ballroom," he protested. "There is a chill in the air and it will never do for you to catch cold."

"I shall be warm enough if we walk a little. Do let us go just so far as the jasmine bower. Its fragrance is so sweet at night. It will revive me."

She seemed in little need of reviving, for she took his arm again and walked determinedly away from the house. Soon they were beyond the reach of the lights in the ballroom, their way illuminated only by the moon.

Then Miss Brennan tripped.

Adam reached to save her from falling. Somehow, she was in his arms, pressed full-length against his body, her face raised to his. Instinct won out and he bent his head to drop a kiss on her rosebud lips.

He came to his senses immediately but her arms were around his neck, clasping him to her with unexpected strength. If he stepped backwards, the move instinct now belatedly suggested, they would overbalance. He tried to pull away gently, without success. Her eyes were huge and dark in the moonlight, and quite unreadable.

"Oh Adam," she breathed, "you do love me after all."

"Miss Brennan..."

"You must call me Vanessa."

"Vanessa. I must apologize for insulting you so. I cannot think what came over me. Say you forgive me and let us-"

"Of course I forgive you, dearest Adam, for it was done in the heat of pa.s.sion. Only say that you still respect me."

"I have the utmost respect for you, ma'am, but-"

"Then I accept your offer. What more can a girl ask in a husband than love, pa.s.sion and respect?"

"I did not precisely offer for you!"

At last she released him and stepped away. "My lord, never say that you have been trifling with my affections? Oh, how shall I bear the shame!" Her voice held an edge of hysteria and tears gleamed on her cheeks.

"Miss Brennan-Vanessa!-it is all a misunderstanding..."

"Oh, Adam!" She cast herself into his arms again. "I knew you could not be so cruel. Let us go back to the house and announce our happiness to the world." She brushed his hair back from his brow.

"Lord, no. We cannot do that. Think how humiliating for Lady Catherine and Miss Davis, and Louise and Mary would be furious. Besides, I ought to address myself to your father."

"But Papa is gone to Vienna to prepare for the Congress."

"There you are, then! It would be most improper to announce our engagement before we have his permission. It must be a secret between us, and we must be careful not to let anyone guess."

"Not even Eliza?"

"Especially not Eliza. She'd never be able to resist triumphing over Louise and Mary. Promise me you will not tell?"

"Oh, very well, I will not tell. But if you are thinking of crying off..."

"Why should I think such a thing?" asked Adam blandly. "Come, my pet, or we shall miss the beginning of the next dance and that will be sure to arouse suspicion."

He delivered his betrothed to her next partner, then led Lady Catherine out onto the floor. He saw Sarah, sitting out a dance with his uncle, and carefully avoided meeting her eyes. Under his breath he cursed Vanessa Brennan.

Sarah watched Adam and Catherine performing with equal grace and expertise the complicated figures of the quadrille.

"Fine couple, an't they?" observed Sir Reginald. "The gal has dashed fine bloodlines, too. Earldom goes back to Henry VII, and it never hurts to add another earl to the family tree. What's more, she's no niminy-piminy miss he'd be bored with inside a month."

"You think Adam will choose Lady Catherine, sir?"

"Doubt it. The wench has a sharp tongue in her head and Adam's too softhearted for his own good. He don't like to hear her malice, though what's scandal without a spot of malice, I ask you?"

"Nothing, I am sure, sir. Is it true that Tsar Alexander insulted the Regent's favourite?"

Sir Reginald chuckled. "I was there when Prinny introduced Lady Hertford to him. He bowed without a word, then turned away muttering 'She is mighty old.'" He went on to regale her with gossip about the Regent's difficulties with his uncooperative royal guests.

Sarah listened with half her attention. Jonathan was dancing with Lydia for the second time, prompting her gently when she missed a step. As Sarah watched, he said something to the girl which made her laugh. Her usually solemn face lit and for a moment she was more beautiful than Vanessa would ever be. She really was the best of the three. Sarah was growing fond of her, and wished she would learn to be her natural self in Adam's presence.

The viscount and his partner crossed her view again. Though Adam was smiling, he looked tired and hara.s.sed. He had always risen n.o.bly to the occasion in hosting his mother's b.a.l.l.s, but Sarah knew he preferred a small party of friends to this display of the cream of the county. Lady Catherine was chattering brightly, apparently unaware of his distraction. She was not a sensitive person. Sarah was glad Sir Reginald thought his nephew would not choose the earl's daughter, for she could not like her.

Nor did she care for Vanessa's vanity, which absorbed her to the exclusion of all else. She had seen Adam escort Miss Brennan into the garden, but the girl's smug expression upon their return was not very different from her usual air of self-satisfaction. She was currently basking in Mr. Swanson's flow of compliments, unable to recognize their irony. Swan did not like Vanessa either.

"I think you are tired, m'dear," said Sir Reginald. "You ought to have laughed, or at least made some comment."

"I beg your pardon, sir. I was woolgathering, I fear. I am a little tired, for Sat.u.r.day is generally a busy day with us. And tomorrow-today, rather-being Sunday, Jonathan and I plan to leave after this dance, or he will forget his sermon halfway through. Dare I ask you to repeat the story at which I ought to have laughed?"

"Impertinent puss." He chucked her under the chin. "'Tis yet another tale of the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Catherine of Oldenburg, who has more impertinence in her little finger than you have in your whole charming body. She invited herself to a banquet at the Guildhall which was intended to be for gentlemen only. Prinny had hired the best Italian singers to entertain the company, and when they started up the Grand d.u.c.h.ess stopped them, saying that music made her nauseous. There wasn't a thing poor Prinny could do."

"She sounds a thoroughly unpleasant lady," said Sarah severely. "And now I must ask you to excuse me, sir, for the dance has ended and I see my brother coming to fetch me. Shall we see you in church tomorrow?"

His laugh rumbled out. "I may, perhaps, rise in time to attend evensong. Dashed if I don't, just for a glimpse of your pretty face. Good evening, Miss Meade."

As she and Jonathan went to take leave of Lady Cheverell, Sarah saw that Adam was already dancing again, with Jane. She hoped he was enjoying himself with the only sister who had no axe to grind. After expressions of grat.i.tude had been exchanged, for a delightful evening on one side, and for their attendance on the other, Lady Cheverell said apologetically, "I doubt there will be many at morning service tomorrow. I daresay the dancing will continue until dawn. I shall bring as many as I can to evensong." "Your brother has promised to attend, ma'am." "Reginald? Heavens above, he must be feeling his age. Integrations of mortality, you know." "Well, perhaps promised is too strong a word. And from what he said, his motives are not notably religious." Lady Cheverell looked relieved. "I imagine he told you all he wanted was the sight of your pretty face," she said, with an unerring understanding of her brother. "Well, never mind that. We expect you to dinner on Monday, and Louise has organized an excursion to Salisbury on Tuesday. I cannot tell you what a help it has been to have you both practically members of the party. So difficult, always, with mostly family." "I regret I shall be unable to go to Salisbury on Tuesday," Jonathan told her. "I have been neglecting my duties shamefully and must not spare a whole day." "What a pity! But you will go, Sarah?" Sarah exchanged a glance with her brother, who smiled indulgently and nodded. "I ought to plead the same excuse," she said, "but I should love to go." Knowing their plans, Gossett had already sent for the gig, so very soon they were driving back towards the village. At first Sarah was silent, wondering if she really did want to spend another whole day watching Adam at his wooing.

"Perhaps I should not go," she said tentatively. "It is true that I am falling behind on a hundred tasks. I have done nothing about my school."

"Enjoy yourself while you can," Jonathan advised. "The daily routine will return soon enough."

She took his words to heart, in a way he could scarcely have meant them. She would enjoy her friends.h.i.+p with Adam while he was still unattached, for no matter whom he married it must change their relations.h.i.+p for ever.

"I shall be glad to know you are along," her brother continued after a pause, "to keep an eye on Miss Davis. She is such a fragile child, and she trusts you even more than Louise."

"I cannot think that she will come to harm, but I shall certainly look out for her. I like her, do not you?"

"She is enchanting."

The depth of feeling in Jonathan's voice surprised Sarah. She hoped it meant no more than that his

compa.s.sion had been aroused. Baron Davis of Clwyd, expecting a wealthy viscount for a son-in-law,

was not at all likely to look favourably upon a poor country vicar. * * * *

Lord and Lady Lansdowne were two of those who went to church in Little Fittleton that Sunday. They had been invited to spend the night at Cheve after the ball, and were to stay till Monday morning so that the marquis and Adam could discuss politics.

Sarah was therefore prepared to find that the chief topic of conversation at dinner on Monday was politics. What she was not prepared for was Lady Catherine's part in the discussion. She seemed utterly oblivious of the fact that the Marquis of Lansdowne was a noted liberal, and that Adam's sympathies lay with the reformists. Her own views, though expressed with all the eloquence at her command, were mere repet.i.tion of her father's opinions, and the earl was a member of the most repressive Tory government in years.

Mary, aware of her brother's growing amus.e.m.e.nt, tried to silence her protegee by changing the subject.

"Of course the Corn Laws are necessary," she said, "or English farmers would cease to grow wheat and then we should not have any flour. This gateau is quite delicious, Mama. I must have the receipt."

"Collecting receipts, Mary?" Adam enquired. His eyes met Sarah's and she read mischief. "I did not know you frequented the kitchens."

"Naturally I do not, but I should not consider myself truly accomplished did I not know what goes forward there. A new receipt never comes amiss. Catherine knows that it will be her duty to supervise menus when she is married."