Magical Weddings (5 page)

But he told himself it was foolish to hesitate, for he was perfectly safe from the ladies’ wiles. A mere Mr. Montrose was hardly a plump-enough rabbit to interest the Carew sisters so long as higher-ranking gentlemen remained in the lists, so he could safely amuse himself by watching the competition, or perhaps even by dabbling in the sport of flirtation. It might be entertaining to see if he could throw a few barriers in Draycott’s path as the baron devoted himself to one or more of his three potential brides.

Simon debated whether he should warn Celia about the baron. Draycott’s tedious pomposity would surely be evident to her soon enough. But what if Celia thought the baron’s awkwardness was only a quirk, brought about by his self-conscious eagerness to impress her?

She was such an innocent–her mother had raised her on fairy tales–that it wouldn’t be out of reason for the girl to assume that the very first gentleman who showed the barest interest in her must turn out to be her Prince Charming. And since even a man as self-absorbed as Draycott would be smarter than to come straight out with his shallow reasons for courting her, she might be enough of a foggy romantic to accept him regardless of his oddities.

Simon supposed he’d better tell her that she was no more than a number on a list to the baron. Even though he didn’t cherish any of the warmer feelings for his cousin, it wasn’t as though Simon didn’t care what happened to her.

Or for that matter, what happened to his five hundred guineas.

****

The Carew sisters pounded out a duet on the pianoforte–someone who cherished a more charitable feeling toward the pair than Celia did might have called their effort music–while Lady Hester and Lady Stone exchanged banalities by the fire. They were discussing the gentlemen, and Celia’s ears perked when she heard Simon’s name.

“A shame such a handsome man is not an eligible match,” Hester murmured.

“But it’s so much fun to sample the merchandise, no? Now
and
later.” Lady Stone gave a wicked little chuckle as Hester turned slightly pink.

Celia’s jaw went slack. Surely their hostess wasn’t seriously suggesting to an unmarried girl that she plan ahead for a lover–but it seemed to Celia there was no other interpretation. Hester had obviously understood, too. Unless that becoming flush meant she wasn’t just looking ahead to a day when a complaisant husband wouldn’t mind her taking a lover, but that she’d already–as Lady Stone put it–
sampled the merchandise
. The notion that Simon might be carrying on some kind of
affaire,
right under Uncle Rupert’s nose, was a facer.

Lady Stone’s companion returned from her errand, and Celia discreetly patted the chair beside her own, inviting Jane to sit.

Jane paused to murmur something to her employer and then crossed the room. “Is it only me,” she said quietly, tipping her head toward the pianoforte, “or would you rather listen to cats yowling?”

Celia choked on a giggle.

Jane turned red, as if startled by her own words. “Your pardon, Miss Overton.”

“Do please call me Celia. And I lost my composure because I was thinking much the same thing. Shameful of me, I know, but…”

Jane smiled, and suddenly the sparkle in her wide-set brown eyes lent grace and charm to what had seemed an ordinary countenance. “Still, I should not have said it. After just a few weeks in Lady Stone’s employ, I fear I have forgotten how to hold my peace.”

Celia must have looked as puzzled as she felt. Wasn’t saying only what the employer wished to hear the very definition of a successful companion? Of course, Lady Stone
was
something of an original… but even the most sharp-tongued lady seldom appreciated when someone in her employ was outspoken.

“Lady Stone likes you very much, by the way,” Jane went on. “How did you happen to meet her?”

“My uncle was taking the waters in Tunbridge Wells last summer, when…”

Dimity, her piano piece finally finished, sank into the chair next to Jane. “Prudence insists that practice is never wasted, but I refuse to play more until the gentlemen arrive. I assume you did not have the benefit of lessons or a pianoforte, Miss Overton?”

“I don’t know why you’d think that,” Celia said calmly. “But it is true that the pianoforte has never been my favorite pastime.”

In the silence, Lady Stone’s raspy voice carried further than usual. “Your father insists on a title for you, Hester? But you’d still be
my lady
, you know, no matter who you married.”

Dimity sniffed. “As though Lady Hester needs instruction from Lady Stone in proper forms of address!”

Prudence came to join her sister. “She’s perfectly correct, but it would be just too uncomfortable, I’d think, for a couple to be addressed as Lady Hester and–for example–the mere Mr. Montrose.”

“
I
wouldn’t be interested in a man with no title,” Dimity went on, “though I could wish that Lord Stone was a livelier sort of man.”

“And less well-named,” Jane said under her breath. “He’s immovable as a boulder.”

Celia bit her lip to keep from laughing. From the little she’d observed of him, she supposed Lord Stone did bear a certain resemblance to a rock.

Prudence surveyed her sister. “Have you set your mind on him then, Dimity?”

Dimity shrugged. “Well, not so firmly that I couldn’t be persuaded otherwise. But since he and Lord Lockwood are the only earls present, I shall defer to you as the older sister and leave Lord Lockwood for you… Oh, here are the gentlemen.” She smiled brightly as they trooped in.

Celia realized her attempt at sprightly conversation over dinner hadn’t won Lord Lockwood’s heart, for though he nodded at her across the room, he didn’t seek her out.

For an instant, she was almost hurt. But how foolish it was, when she had found his company tedious, to feel wounded because he didn’t immediately pursue the acquaintance! Besides, she noted, he didn’t seek out the other young ladies either; he took a seat beside Lady Stone, opposite Lady Hester. Celia shot a sideways look at Prudence, who appeared not to have noticed either her sister’s gibe or Lockwood’s avoidance.

Baron Draycott made a beeline for the Carew sisters. “You promised to play for us,” he reminded Prudence. “I shall turn the pages if you like.”

Viscount Billings was only a few steps behind him, and as the sisters returned to the pianoforte, he followed without casting even a glance at Celia or Jane.

“We seem to be invisible,” Celia said, with an effort to be cheerful.

“Invisibility is a companion’s lot,” Jane answered. “Perhaps sitting by me makes you hard to see as well.”

Celia scarcely heard her, for the last pair of gentlemen to come into the room–Lord Stone and Simon–stopped near the door and appeared to be completely absorbed in their conversation. Celia wondered what they’d found in common. Perhaps Simon had taken their hostess’s advice to heart and was already attempting to convince Lord Stone to invest in one of Uncle Rupert’s schemes.

She turned back to Jane, noting that the young woman’s gaze had also fallen on the newcomers.

“What’s the story about your cousin?” Jane asked.

The question sounded almost careless, but Celia wasn’t fooled; there could be nothing casual about Jane’s interest.

Clearly Jane was a born lady, but if she’d had a wealthy family she wouldn’t be working as a companion to a crotchety old female. Without a decent dowry or an elevated rank of her own, Jane was hardly the sort of bride a titled gentleman would seek out. Only if one of them tumbled madly into love with her would he even consider making an offer.

Therefore it was no wonder that Jane’s eye had fallen on Simon. A pleasant young man of reasonable good looks, possessing excellent manners but not acting high in the instep, must seem very inviting to a young woman in Jane’s circumstances. Because his money came from trade, Simon was just as much on the outskirts of society as Jane was. For Jane, the fact that he earned a living with his own efforts–the very thing that made the Carew sisters turn up their noses at him–might even seem an attractive characteristic.

The entire idea sat oddly on Celia’s mind, possibly because Jane’s circumstances were an uncomfortable reminder of her own. If Uncle Rupert were to remain adamant about his refusal to fund a dowry for her, then Celia too would have to captivate a gentleman so completely that what she brought to the marriage wouldn’t matter to him–and that fact was much less fun to think about than Simon’s possible entanglements.

Jane cleared her throat. “Miss Overton?”

Oh. Yes. Jane asked about Simon.
A friend would warn her, Celia supposed–and though they had met only hours before, she counted the young woman as a friend. “My cousin has been quite taken with Lady Hester.”

Jane sounded skeptical. “I would never have guessed it. They’ve scarcely looked at each other.”

So she’d been watching him, had she? “Simon is too discreet to wear his heart on his sleeve. As for Lady Hester, she can flirt with him any time at home, but to do so here might risk upsetting the opportunity for a match her parents would approve.”

Jane frowned.

Ruthlessly, Celia changed the subject. “You’ve been just a few weeks with Lady Stone, you said?”

“About two months. Her companions appear not to last long, for I believe I am the third this year.”

“She must be very difficult to work for.”

“Oh, it’s not that, really. I mean, it
is
a lot of work–arranging this house party, for instance–but she’s not unpleasant or even demanding.”

“Why is she giving this party, anyway? I appreciate that she’s adopting the role of fairy godmother, but I’d think the wedding alone would be enough, without adding complications.”

“Well, the Carew sisters and Lady Hester are to be Imogene’s bridesmaids, so they’d be here nonetheless. But to be perfectly honest, I think Lady Stone sweeps in and takes over simply to annoy her nephew. Rockhill is his–but as long as he remains unmarried, she’s the dowager, and she doesn’t hesitate to exercise what she sees as her rights.”

“So the poor man might end up married to Dimity Carew just to avoid having Lady Stone take over his house whenever she feels inclined?”

“Well, there’s a dilemma for you,” Jane said dryly. “I wonder if he’d rather share his home with Lady Stone for a fortnight now and then, or with Dimity Carew every day.”

Celia couldn’t stop the laugh which bubbled forth and filled the sudden silence which had fallen across the drawing room as the last few notes of Miss Carew’s pianoforte piece ended. Everyone looked at Celia, and she felt her face sizzle with embarrassment. “I beg your pardon, Miss Carew,” she said awkwardly. “I was not amused by your performance.”

Dimity gasped.

Now I’ve made things even worse.
“I meant, of course, that it was not the performance which I found amusing. Your musical abilities are quite…”

Dimity glared.

Was there any way to save the situation? In desperation, Celia began to applaud, and slowly the others joined in.

Baron Draycott let go of the last sheet of music and leaned over the pianoforte to murmur something to Dimity. But he wasn’t looking at her; he caught Celia’s eye instead, grinned, and winked.

She gulped and gave him a tiny smile in return. It appeared Baron Draycott had a sense of humor–so perhaps she’d found a kindred spirit after all.

But as she settled back in her chair, feeling more hopeful than she had all evening, she caught Simon looking at her, his brow creased in a frown.

Fortunately, Simon enjoyed quiet, because Rockhill’s breakfast room offered plenty of it. It also provided food in quantities that would feed an army, along with enough servants–all silently bowing and scraping–to give a man a serious case of nerves. Finally he succeeded in shooing them away.

Perhaps it was just as well he himself was required to work for a living, for it was certain he’d be no success at the layabout lifestyle the gentlemen of this party seemed to enjoy.

He was polishing off a sizeable breakfast when Lady Stone’s colorless little companion–Joan? Jean?–came in. She paused in the doorway, obviously startled.

Simon rose. “Good morning, Miss… I was beginning to think no one in the house bothered with breakfast at all.”

“I’m sure the gentlemen will be down before long, with the promise of a day’s hunting to lure them from their beds.” She colored, as though the reference had been a naughty one.

If such a mild entendre embarrassed her, how did she manage to cope with their hostess? Lady Stone appeared to exercise no reins at all on her tongue.

“The best part of the day will be gone by then,” he observed, “and the game will probably have gone to shelter–though I presume the birds won’t mind more sportsmanlike odds. May I help you to a slice of ham? I suggested to the butler that it wasn’t necessary to have three footmen watching every bite I took, but now the entire staff seems to have found occupation elsewhere.”

A rustle from the doorway drew his attention as Celia came in, fresh and dainty in green-sprigged muslin with matching ribbons threaded through the locks of chestnut hair piled atop her head. She glanced around the room and seemed downcast to find only Simon and the companion. “Where is everyone?”

She’s looking for Baron Draycott, no doubt.

Simon had made up his mind not to speak to her about the baron. The man was a blowhard, and his questions about Celia’s dowry had been both nosy and unsettling, but it had been only talk. He’d paid far more attention last night to the Carew sisters.

But then he and Celia had shared that secret smile across the drawing room…

Simon pushed his plate aside. “If I might have a private conversation with you, cousin? In the hall, perhaps?”

“But I want my breakfast.”

“My business will take only a moment.”

The companion looked from one to the other and murmured, “I must check on the menus for today, if you will excuse me.”

She’d barely cleared the doorway before Celia sat down next to Simon and reached for the teapot. She smelled of something light and summery this morning–rose water, he thought. The scent mixed pleasantly with the steamy aroma rising off her cup.