A Wedding Wager (20 page)

“How d’you do.” Sebastian stepped forward, hand outstretched in ready welcome. He despised snobbery, as did most of those secure in the knowledge of their own immutable place in Society’s hierarchy. “Wedgwood … anything to do with the china family?”

“Everything to do with it, sir.” Jonas took the hand with a relieved smile.

“The Wedgwood family is very prominent in Society
in Stoke-on-Trent, Mr. Sullivan,” Abigail put in with a timid smile.

“A long way from here, my dear,” Marianne declared. “We need not bore Lady Serena and Mr. Sullivan with tittle-tattle from the provinces.”

“Indeed, ma’am, I find such conversations most interesting,” Serena said. Her mind was dancing along. Here lay the perfect answer. Abigail and Jonas Wedgwood. Abigail clearly felt an attraction, judging by her wide-eyed look and blushes, and it was as clear as day that Mr. Wedgwood had no interest in Bruton Street but the sweetly pretty Abigail. Foster this, she thought, and they would be home and dry. The general would be left to find some other prey, and she … oh, sweet fortune … she would be free.

“We were hoping, ma’am, that you would permit Abigail to accompany Mr. Sullivan and myself on a short walk in Green Park. ’Tis such a beautiful day, far too lovely to be cooped up inside. My maid will accompany us if you think it necessary.”

“Oh, no, my dear Lady Serena, I consider you a perfectly adequate chaperone,” declared Mrs. Sutton. “You are like an elder sister to dear Abigail.”

“I am flattered you consider me as such.” Serena studiously avoided looking at Sebastian.

Abigail jumped eagerly to her feet. “I’ll fetch my hat and pelisse.” She whirled out of the room in a flurry of muslin skirts.

Jonas looked dismayed, but there was little he could do. He hadn’t been invited to sit and stood awkwardly twisting his hat in his lap, until Serena said, “If your way takes you in the direction of the park, perhaps you’d care to walk with us that far, Mr. Wedgwood.”

“Oh, I should be delighted,” he said with alacrity. Mrs. Sutton set her lips but said nothing.

Sebastian drew the young man aside and began a conversation on a pamphlet he had read about ceramics, and Serena listed with admiration. Sebastian’s manners were always faultless, but she was greatly surprised that at some point in his carefree existence, he had taken the time to read about such an esoteric subject. He was certainly putting Jonas at his ease.

Abigail returned, wearing a most fetching straw bonnet adorned with brown velvet roses and a brown velvet pelisse lined and trimmed with gray fur. She looked enchanting, Serena thought, glancing at the two men, both of whom were regarding Abigail with open approval.

“Miss Sutton …” Sebastian offered his arm with a smile. Mrs. Sutton looked a little less tight-lipped and even managed a small, complacent smile at the sight of her daughter.

“A short walk will do you good, my dear. But no more than an hour. I don’t wish you to catch cold.”

“Indeed, no, ma’am,” Sebastian said solemnly. “That would never do, but have no fear, at the very first shiver, I will escort Miss Sutton home without delay.”

Serena glanced at the clock. It was almost a quarter
to noon, high time they were gone. She smiled at young Mr. Wedgwood. “Shall we, sir?”

“Oh, yes … forgive me, ma’am. Will you take my arm?” He proffered his crooked arm with a bow.

Serena curtsied a farewell to Marianne, and the four of them departed. Only when they had turned the corner of Bruton Street did Serena take a relieved breath. For the moment, they were safe. Abigail was chattering away to Sebastian, who listened with head bent towards her, offering an occasional comment.

“Are you to stay long in London, Mr. Wedgwood?” Serena addressed her companion cheerfully, seeing the longing looks he cast upon the couple walking a little way in front of them.

Jonas was too well brought up not to give his companion his full attention. “I have been on business for my uncle, ma’am, and have his leave to prolong my stay in town for a little pleasure. I am putting up at the Queen’s Head in Henrietta Place.”

“And what is it about London that gives you pleasure?” she inquired with a smile.

It proved to be a happy inquiry, and the young man launched into an enthusiastic description of the lions at the Exchange, the delights of Vauxhall, and a ridotto he had attended at the pleasure gardens at Ranelagh.

When they reached the entrance to Green Park, Jonas seemed not to notice and accompanied them through the gates. A herd of cows tended by a trio of milkmaids grazed on the grassy expanse, and Abigail
exclaimed with delight, “Cows in the middle of London. How amazing … it’s just like in the fields at home.”

“Would you care to drink a cup of milk, Miss Sutton?” Jonas asked, stepping up quickly beside her. “The milkmaids will draw you a cup, fresh from the cow. If you’d like.”

“Oh, yes, of all things.” Abigail started off towards the cows, and Jonas followed quickly.

Sebastian glanced at Serena and grinned. “Shall we leave them to it for a moment?”

“Absolutely. Don’t you think that would be a perfect match?”

“I doubt Mrs. Sutton would agree,” he commented. “She seems ill disposed to one of their own.”

Serena shrugged. “We’ll see. Mr. Sutton is much more practical, and he adores Abigail; she’s the apple of his eye. I don’t think he would stop her marrying a man she loved, even if he didn’t come up to her mama’s standards.”

Sebastian nodded. They stood a little apart, conscious of the public arena, but they were both acutely aware of the current of excitement, of anticipation, running between them. “When will I see you again?” he asked softly.

Serena understood that he was not talking about a social call. “I wish we had somewhere of our own,” she murmured. “I don’t like the idea of dodging around your brother, and while I’m sure Margaret will let me
borrow her house occasionally, it makes everything seem so hole-in-the-corner, sordid almost.”

“There is nothing in the least sordid about what I feel for you,” Sebastian stated, his tone almost harsh. “The only sordid aspect of any of this is the loathsome influence of your stepfather. If you would agree to leave him, we would find a way out of this morass.”

Serena sighed. “Don’t start that again, Sebastian. I’ve told you, ’tis impossible at the moment. I’m the only person who can protect Abigail from him, and until I know she’s safe, I’ll not leave her in the lurch.”

“So, you’d martyr yourself for the sake of a chit whose mother is determined to use her to advance her social pretensions?” He sounded harsher than he had intended and saw too late the quick anger flash in her eyes, the sudden tautness of her mouth.

“I’ve no interest in having this conversation.” Serena walked away from him, over to the herd of cows, where a milkmaid was dipping a cup into the pail of milk she had just drawn from the cow.

“This is delicious, Lady Serena,” Abigail called. “You should have some.”

“Yes, allow me, Lady Serena.” Jonas was in the act of paying the milkmaid for Abigail’s cup and opened his purse readily again as Serena approached.

“No … no, thank you, Mr. Wedgwood. I’m not overly fond of milk.” Serena forced a smile. “I think we should be getting back, Abigail. I’ve just remembered a pressing engagement with my dressmaker.” She ignored
Sebastian, who had come up behind her. “Perhaps Mr. Wedgwood would be good enough to escort us back to Bruton Street. Mr. Sullivan has also recollected a previous engagement.”

Sebastian glared but restrained himself from the swift rejoinder that came so readily to his lips. He bowed to Abigail. “I will do myself the honor of calling upon you again, Miss Sutton, if you will receive me.”

Abigail’s enormous eyes widened, and she fluttered her eyelashes. “Oh, yes, indeed, sir. Please, I do wish you would.”

Sebastian nodded a farewell to Jonas. “Mr. Wedgwood … a pleasure. Lady Serena.” He bowed formally, then turned and strolled away across the park.

Jonas, left in possession of the field, beamed delightedly. “Ladies, may I …” He offered his right arm to Serena and his left to Abigail, and the three of them returned to Bruton Street.

“I believe that’s General Heyward’s horse,” Abigail observed as they turned onto Bruton Street. The general’s black gelding was tethered to the railings outside the house, and Serena swore to herself. She had intended to stay out for at least another half-hour, but Sebastian had put a stop to that.

“Yes, I forgot … my stepfather said he had business with Mr. Sutton,” she said vaguely. “I believe we must leave you here, Mr. Wedgwood.” She offered her hand to their escort as they reached the front door.

He kissed her hand, paid Abigail the same courtesy, and then waited until they were inside the house before going on his way with a jaunty step.

“Ah, there you are, dearest.” Marianne came out of the library at the sound of the front door. “General Heyward is here, with your father in the library. He was asking after you. Go into the library and make your curtsy, child.” She glanced at Serena. “Won’t you come through, too, Lady Serena?”

“No, I thank you. I have an engagement with my dressmaker,” Serena said. “If Morrison would be kind enough to fetch my maid.”

The butler bowed and disappeared into the back regions to summon Bridget, who was enjoying a comfortable chat with the upstairs maid in the laundry room. Adjusting her bonnet, she hurried back to Serena and received the information that they were to walk back to Pickering Place with an inner grimace. But she was accustomed to Lady Serena’s passion for exercise and merely bobbed a curtsy in acknowledgment.

Marianne waited until the front door had closed on her visitor before reentering the library. Abigail was standing beside her father’s desk. General Heyward, cradling a wine goblet, was standing in front of the fire, beaming at her. He held her hand in his, having just kissed her fingers. “You are to be congratulated, Mrs. Sutton. Your daughter is a vision of perfection. I was telling Mr. Sutton the same thing. What a joy it must be
to have that lovely countenance and lively spirit around the house.”

In Brussels, Abigail had found the general’s fulsome compliments quite pleasant. But now they struck her as rather tasteless. She couldn’t imagine the Honorable Sebastian making such a forward comment. Or even the less exalted Jonas Wedgwood. She extracted her hand from his grip and looked askance at her mother, who was smiling and nodding, accepting the compliments as her due.

“So kind, General. So very kind,” Marianne murmured.

“Oh, yes, we’re very proud of our pretty puss,” William declared with his hearty boom. He chucked his daughter under the chin. “You’ve been walking with Lady Serena, have you?”

“Yes, Papa. We went to Green Park. Mr. Wedgwood bought me a cup of milk from the milkmaid … only fancy, sir, a herd of cows in a park in the middle of the city.” Abigail was more than happy to relate the events of her morning, and her father listened with a benign smile, while his wife, at the mention of Mr. Wedgwood, pursed her lips.

“Well, now, Sutton, if you’ve a mind to visit Tattersalls, we’ll go this afternoon.” The general was not interested in Abigail’s adventures in Green Park. He presumed Mr. Wedgwood was a member of the Wedgwood family and thus a friend from their hometown and easily dismissed as a significant character.

“Splendid … splendid. No time like the present. You’ll take a bite of nuncheon with us first, General. Just pot luck, you know, but Mrs. Sutton can set a more than decent table.”

The general accepted the invitation and offered his arm to Abigail as they went into the dining room. He took a seat beside her and set out to be charming. “Have you been to any balls yet, Miss Sutton?”

“Oh, no. I’m not really out yet, sir. I have to meet a wider circle of Society first, Mama says.” It was on the tip of her tongue to mention the upcoming dinner party, and she swallowed the words in the nick of time. Serena had discreetly implied that the general would not wish to be included in a party of young people, and Abigail could see the sense in this. He was a fine figure of a man, certainly, but he was definitely of her parents’ generation. She prayed that her mother would not mention it, either, but she needn’t have worried. Marianne was prepared to keep the general in reserve, but she had set her sights on a younger, more eligible candidate for her daughter.

“Oh, we must arrange a visit to the theatre, then,” the general said. “Show you off in your finery there. Mark my words, the minute you appear in my box, the questions will be flying, and I’m sure we shall receive any number of visitors in the interval.”

Abigail glanced at her mother. Marianne had finally persuaded her husband that a visit to the theatre as a guest of Mr. Wedgwood would do nothing to advance their
daughter’s cause. William, good-natured as always, had demurred but finally yielded to his wife’s greater knowledge of such matters, and Mr. Wedgwood’s invitation had been declined in a stiff letter from Marianne.

“Why, General, that would be delightful,” Marianne said. “But only a classical play would be suitable for a young debutante. Or perhaps a concert … something of the first style of elegance.”

“Of course, dear lady. Of course. You mustn’t forget, I have a daughter of my own. I should certainly know what’s correct entertainment for young ladies.” He drank deep of the wine in his glass and took a hearty forkful of the splendid veal and ham pie on his plate.

Mrs. Sutton seemed to find nothing strange in this comment. Lady Serena was a credit to her stepfather, she had often thought, although she seemed rather older than her years. But losing a mother would certainly force a child to grow up too fast.

“I wonder that Lady Serena is still unwed,” William declared. “I’d have thought you’d have found her a husband by now, Heyward. If she were mine, I’d have had her wedded and bedded long since. As beautiful and accomplished as she is.”

Abigail blushed furiously at her father’s lack of delicacy, but she could say nothing in front of their guest, who did indeed look rather put out.

“Well, as to that,” the general said after a moment, “Serena knows her own mind. She’ll find her own husband when she’s ready, but for the moment, she has
enough to do looking after me.” He laughed heartily and gestured to the footman to refill his glass.