Lady Olivia To The Rescue (12 page)

“There, you see, Jinks! I am not alone in my opinion. Bring me the pale green. It always makes me feel like a girl again.”

“Speaking of feeling like a girl, Aunt, what did you say to Mr. Jenson yesterday to fluster him so?”

“Say? Why, nothing. What should I have said? The man is a ninny. Do you know, when I told him that we would be going to both the Osgood’s rout and the Winterses’ musicale, he said he did not know if he could attend? Something about patients again. I was completely put out with the man and still am.”

Aunt Amy took refuge in a long sip of her chocolate, but her pale blue eyes were fierce, daring Olivia to argue with her.

Raising her brows, Olivia said, “And you certainly let him know when he came to the Winters’ musicale.”

“He deserved no better,” said her aunt.

“I can see how you might be upset, Aunt, but did it never occur to you that Mr. Jenson might not have received invitations to the musicale or the rout? He is from a good family, but he has not cultivated society through the years because of his medical work. It is possible he does not even know either family.”

“As if I would not smooth things over with both Lady Winters and Lady Osgood,” she sniffed. “Still, I had not thought of that.”

“Yes, and by telling him about it like you did, he probably thought you were simply pointing out the fact that he does not travel in the same circles as you and I.”

“I never! Oh, dear, yes. I can see where Charles might think that exactly. As I said, he is a complete ninny,” she added, but her tone was tender.

Her aunt climbed out of bed and strode to the small secretary that stood on the far side of the room.

“I shall have to remedy this,” she said, sitting down. After pulling out paper and pen, she hesitated, her shoulders sagging. Turning back to Olivia, she said, “If I write to him, there is no way to guarantee that he will even respond.”

“What if Pansy took a turn for the worse?”

“Do you think she might?” asked her aunt.

“If we asked her to,” laughed Olivia.

“No, no, he would see through that in a minute. He is, after all, an excellent physician. And though I do not wish for him to think I was boasting about our social standing, I still would not like for him to think that I was so desperate for his company that I would lie about Pansy’s health.”

“But you are that desperate, are you not?”

Her aunt expelled a girlish giggle and nodded. “Olivia, I’m afraid I am smelling of April and May, but I have no clue about him, you know. There was a time, years ago, when he professed to love me.”

“He does seem to show up on our doorstep with amazing regularity.”

“Yes, but that is often because someone is ill.” Her aunt crossed the room and plopped down on the bed beside her. “Am I only being a foolish old woman?”

“I cannot think of two less likely words to use to describe you, my dear aunt.” Olivia put her arm around her shoulder and squeezed. Hopping off the bed, she added, “Whatever we decide, we must get going if you are to make it to your fitting on time. The ladies have been working hard, I know, for they gave me a peek the other day. As for me, I have decided to have a new gown for the ball as well. ”

“Oh, it is a special occasion. But I thought you said the maroon one would do.”

“Yes, and so it would, but now I think I would prefer to wear blue. I saw the most beautiful cloth at Layton and Shears. We can stop there first and then proceed to the widows’ home for your fitting.”

“It was not a navy blue,” warned her aunt.

“No, a beautiful sky blue, sparkling with silver threads,” said Olivia, dreaming of Lord Sheridan’s reaction upon seeing her in such a gown.

“We must be careful, my girl.” Olivia raised her brows and her aunt added, “Lest we make all of London fall in love with us.”

“What have you got there?” asked Richard, peering across the narrow table where Sheridan was writing.

“A list of men for Lady Olivia. I have let my idea slide, but I think it is time to put it into action.”

Richard picked up the paper and scanned it, chuckling as he handed it back. “Pendleton? You cannot be serious! The man is an ancient. The difference in age is immeasurable—it would be like Methuselah wedding a schoolgirl.”

“There have been similar marriages,” grumbled Sheridan.

“Perhaps, but you don’t seriously think Lady Olivia would ever agree to such a farce.”

“Not really. I had Hardcastle on there, but he is taken. He would be the most likely candidate if it weren’t for Miss Featherstone.”

“Hardly, he and Lady Olivia are more like brother and sister. Rumour has it that she turned him down years ago.”

“I didn’t know that. Very well, then there is your cousin, Thomas.”

“Not the marrying sort, my cousin. Now Campion, there’s a paper skull for you. Even if he could somehow be transformed into an acceptable suitor, she would run circles about the lad.”

“He is not so bad. He received the highest marks at school.”

“Which he only just left.” Holding out his hand, Richard said, “Here, hand me the pen and paper.”

He wrote for several minutes, holding his hand across the top of the paper to keep Sheridan from seeing what he was writing. Finally, with a flourish, he handed it back.

“Here is a real list. Make what you will of that.”

“Palmer? Good God, man. Palmer’s interested in nothing but politics, and he has voted against every measure that would give relief to the poor. And Brady? All he cares about is snuff.” Sheridan slashed the names from the list and glared at his friend.

“There are others. Keep reading.”

“Not Adler! You cannot be serious about Adler. The man is a womanizer and a pervert. And Vincent prefers boys to girls.”

“Then cross them off. There are several others.”

Muttering, Sheridan continued to read, wielding his pen after each name. “Foster—too poor. Carstairs—too annoying.”

At the end, he looked up at his friend. Richard grinned and shrugged. Sheridan carefully crossed out the final name.

“Not fair, old boy,” Richard complained. “I don’t give a fig about politics. I do not indulge in snuff. I prefer girls to boys, and though I am not as rich as you, I do have sufficient funds. What’s more, Lady Olivia likes me. She doesn’t find me in the least annoying.”

“And what about womanizing? I notice you did not compare yourself with Adler.”

“True, but he is a pervert, and I am not. Nor am I a saint, but then I do not think Lady Olivia requires a saint.”

“She won’t have you.”

“Perhaps not, but I intend to have a run at it.”

“She is not an it,” mumbled Sheridan.

“No, she is a lovely young lady. We spent last night laughing and chatting. I cannot imagine a more pleasant type of wife.”

“I thought you planned never to marry.”

“Plans are made to be broken. Now, let us lay all of this aside. Lady Olivia and her charming aunt are going to be at the Featherstones’ ball tonight. Lord Featherstone will be announcing the betrothal of his daughter to Hardcastle. Lady Olivia has promised me the first waltz.”

“I will be along later,” said Sheridan. He sat back in his chair, crossing his ankles to indicate that he was in no hurry.

“Very well, suit yourself. I hope to see you there.”

Richard left the room, and Sheridan muttered, “Oh, you will most assuredly see me there. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Olivia patted her hair as she and her aunt went up the stairs and into the Featherstone ballroom. She felt a little shiver of excitement as she looked over the dancers.

“May I hope that smile is for me, Lady Olivia?” asked Sir Richard, arriving at her side. He offered an arm to each lady and led them into the room.

“I was certainly smiling in your direction, Sir Richard,” she replied.

“If you two are going to spend the evening making inane conversation again, I will leave you to it and find some sensible company,” said Aunt Amy. With a regal nod to them both, she left them to seek her friends.

Bending close to Olivia’s ear, he whispered, “I thought she would never leave.”

‘That is too bad of you, Sir Richard,” replied Olivia with a trill of laughter.

“I cannot help being bad when you are at my side. You look marvellous tonight, by the way.”

“Thank you, sir. Have you come to claim your dance?”

“Not a mere dance, my dear lady. A waltz. You promised me the first waltz.”

“Are you certain? I don’t recall any stipulations,” she lied.

“I am wounded that you could forget. But I shall forgive you, on one condition.”

“And what is that, Sir Richard?”

‘That you also save the supper dance for me.”

“Alas, it is already promised.”

“To whom?” he demanded, looking this way and that as if to spy the culprit.

“I cannot say, but I have a previous claim on that particular boon.”

“I am desolate, of course, but listen. The musicians are striking up the next dance, and unless my ears deceive me, it is to be a waltz. Shall we?” he said, offering his arm.

Olivia took his arm and was swept onto the floor. Sir Richard was a graceful man, and she had no trouble following his lead. Being so adept at it, she also had no need to concentrate on avoiding his feet.

If he were only someone else, someone with dark eyes and dark hair. Her smile became dreamy as she imagined she waltzed in Lord Sheridan’s arms.

As if she had conjured him, he appeared at the top of the stairs, watching them. Staring at them. She missed a step when she realized he did not have his cane.

“What is it, my dear?” asked Sir Richard, his gaze following hers. “Ah, so that is what has taken your thoughts away from me.”

“Not at all,” she simpered, gazing up at him with what she hoped were soulful eyes. “It is simply that Lord Sheridan doesn’t have his cane with him.”

“Hm, I wonder what can have possessed him. Well, never mind. You are mine for the moment, and I shall simply have to redouble my efforts. Your eyes are as blue as the Mediterranean Sea. A fellow could get lost…in…those… Oh, what’s the use. Stare to your heart’s content, m’dear. No one will notice.”

She took her eyes off the handsome marquess long enough to smile at Sir Richard. They continued their waltz in silence. She was aware that Sir Richard, gentleman that he was, tried to turn so that she would have the best view of his friend. When the dance was over and she thanked Sir Richard, he took her hand and lifted it to his lips.

“I wish you the best of luck, my lady. You will need it where my rather dense friend is concerned. Here he comes now. Best to act casual,” said Sir Richard, winking at her before extending his hand to Lord Sheridan.

“Good evening, old chap.”

“Evening,” said Lord Sheridan, his eyes on Olivia.

She tried to keep her colour even as she replied, “Good evening, Lord Sheridan. Where is your cane?”

“Cane? I have decided to change my spots.” He cocked his head to one side and smiled.

Olivia felt her face turning pink, and she coughed to cover her discomfiture.

“Demmed strange thing to do, all of the sudden,” said Sir Richard. “You once said you would forgo it if something or other froze over.”

“Actually it was something your aunt said to me, Lady Olivia. I cannot recall our conversation precisely, but it made me think that I have become too predictable. I thought I would see what it is that brings rogues like Richard here to this sort of affair.”

“You intend to dance?” said his friend.

Now it was Lord Sheridan’s turn to blush, and he demurred, “I…I hadn’t gotten that far in my thinking.”

“So you do not intend to dance?” asked Olivia in a small voice. Her blush deepened. She had practically asked the man to dance!

Lord Sheridan must have felt the strain of their conversation, too, because he hedged, “That, uh, remains to be seen.”

“Good evening, gentlemen.” Lord Hardcastle bowed before them and asked, “Lady Olivia, may I have the pleasure of the next dance?”

“Yes, please, Tony,” she said with obvious relief.

Lord Sheridan scowled, and she relaxed. Things were back to normal.

She looked up at her childhood friend and giggled. Lord Sheridan glared at Sir Richard and then stalked away. Though Olivia listened to Tony’s conversation and responded as needed, she watched him as he went to sit with her aunt.

“Why the deuce are you looking so out of sorts, my lord?” asked Amy Hepplewhite. She edged her chair closer to his, blocking her other cronies from listening to their conversation.

He sat uneasily without his cane to fiddle with or lean on. He hardly knew what to do with his hands. Finally, he crossed his arms.