Marjorie Farrell (5 page)

“After the Season is over, and if Celia has accepted an offer, you will go to Millicent as we planned, Arden.”

“As you planned,” said Arden, almost choking on a piece of sandwich. “I still cannot believe you would do this to me.”

“I cannot return to the front without knowing that you are in good hands, my dear.”

“But I already am in good hands, with Ellen and Celia,” she protested.

“I have told you why I think Ellen is no longer an appropriate companion. Come, let us not waste our last few days quarreling.”

“I am sorry, Father, but I cannot stay if you do not wish to quarrel,” replied his daughter, pushing her chair away and muttering that she would see him at dinner.

The earl poured himself another cup of tea and looked well-pleased. If he could pull this strategy off, he would have no worries about his plans against the French. Arden was so adamant against going to Millicent’s that Gareth was bound to look more attractive to her. Although “scruffy-looking fellow” was hardly a sign of instant attraction. He hoped Gareth was visiting his tailor this afternoon!

Gareth had indeed visited a tailor and managed to find something suitable that had been returned by another customer. Fortunately, the man for whom it was made had not been constructed along the lines of Lord Heronwood. Unfortunately, he was not constructed along Gareth’s lines either. Luckily, the pants could be altered while Gareth waited. But the coat, well-tailored as it was, had been made for a heftier man, and could not have been said to hug Gareth’s shoulders, despite their breadth. It didn’t precisely hang, but it was noticeably ill-fitting.

“It is clean, however,” said Gareth, grinning at his aunt’s look of mock horror as he entered the drawing room before dinner.

“Pour me more sherry, Nephew,” she teased, “or I will go off in a faint over your appearance. I suppose that was the best that you could do?”

“For tonight, at any rate. I have ordered two more coats and a pair of trousers which he assures me will be ready by tomorrow evening.”

“Thank God. You will never capture any young lady’s interest with clothes that hang off you like a scarecrow.”

“You are a fine one to talk, Aunt. You have been the despair of your society friends for years over your lack of interest in clothes.”

“For myself, perhaps. But I am able to recognize what is fashionable, despite my lack of interest in my own wardrobe. Will you be looking over the young ladies, Gareth?” she asked more seriously.

“As a matter-of-fact, Aunt Kate, there is one woman whom I have agreed to…well, I’m not sure what I agreed to. I did tell you that I visited the Earl of Stalbridge earlier today?”

“Yes, to deliver your dispatches.”

“It seems that the earl is quite concerned about his daughter, and what will become of her when he returns to Spain. She has not had a successful Season, but he wants her settled so he can return to the campaign with a free mind.”

“What is her name? I am sure I have heard something from Gloria about the young lady. You remember Lady Marchmont, Gareth? She keeps me
au courant
on all the latest scandals. Usually I just listen out of sheer politeness, but I must confess that with your uncle’s illness, I have become quite dependent on gossip, just to keep my mind off things.”

“Her name is Lady Arden Huntly, but evidently she is known as…”

“Arden the Insufferable! My goodness, I’ve heard all about her!” exclaimed his aunt.

“Well, I met her briefly, and she certainly is an arrogant young woman.”

“And what exactly have you agreed to, Gareth?”

“The earl wants me for a son-in-law, is the long and short of it,” announced Gareth sheepishly.

“He wants you to marry his daughter!” exclaimed his aunt again.

“What he really wants is to know that her future is settled before he leaves. Evidently he blames her arrogance partly on himself for leaving her with her mother’s sister. She has been too lenient, so if Lady Arden does not receive an offer, he has decided to send her to his own sister, Lady Somers.”

“Millicent Brooke should not be given charge over an animal, much less a young girl,” replied his aunt. “I remember her as a proud, cold woman. She froze her husband into the grave, I have no doubt.”

“Aunt Kate, I have never heard you be so critical!”

“Well, it is quite true. She was too cold to allow him into her bed more than was necessary to get an heir. He turned to opera dancers and was killed in a drunken fight over one in Covent Garden. She still wears mourning, but only because she looks good in black.”

Gareth choked on his sherry.

“Oh, I know it is uncharitable of me,” said his aunt, “but one cannot always be charitable, Gareth. And I confess that it gives me great, if unholy pleasure, to call Millicent what she is: proud and unfeeling.”

“It sounds as though she would be a good match for her niece, then. Maybe she can bring the Insufferable around.”

“No, my dear, coldness and arrogance will not produce anything but more of the same. And we don’t know that Arden is as bad as she is painted.”

“So the earl would have me believe. He is not eager to send Arden to his sister’s. He is merely eager to know that she will be in stronger hands than Mrs. Denbeigh’s. Enter Captain Gareth Richmond. He is convinced that I am the only man who would be right for her.”

“What exactly did you promise, Gareth?”

“That I would pay my attentions to her, and woo her if she proves attractive to me. As the earl said, I will be looking to get married, now that I am soon to become a marquess,” continued Gareth. Horrified at where the conversation had led him, he started to apologize to his aunt.

“No, no, he is right, Gareth. Although I would not like to see you rush into anything, marriage will be a concern for you now.”

“Well, I admire the earl, but I’m damned if my affection for him will lead me to leg-shackle myself to a black-haired, long-nosed witch!”

“So, she resembles her father?”

“Her nose is not as pronounced,” grinned Gareth, “but, yes, there is a strong likeness.”

“Too bad she is not more attractive, then,” his aunt said deviously, intrigued by the vehemence of his response.

“Oh, she is attractive enough, although not in the common way. But then I am used to Spanish beauties myself,” he mused.

“Well, if you are not utterly put off by her, perhaps your commitment will not prove burdensome.”

“It may not, Aunt, but don’t get any matchmaking gleams in your eye. I will escort her to suppers and dance with her, but I do not think that you will see me betrothed.”

“I wish I could meet this young woman, but there is no way I can leave your uncle.”

“No need to meet her, Aunt Kate,” said Gareth, putting down his glass and reaching over to give his aunt an encouraging hug. “Nothing will come of this, I assure you.”

* * * *

From Arden’s reaction to him at the Ross’s ball, an objective bystander would have guessed Gareth to be right. When her father introduced them early in the evening, she lifted her eyebrows slightly, wrinkled her nose and gave him only the tips of her fingers, as though he smelled of something slightly off. He knew that this was to remind him of his unkempt appearance in the hallway. He marveled at the illusion she was able to create of looking down on him. Now that she was not standing on a staircase, he could see that while they were almost of a height, he was still a bit taller. By a good inch or two, he reassured himself. He was amused that it bothered him that he could not look down either protectively or condescendingly on her, and he grinned at his own vanity.

Arden was strangely disturbed by him. He had a presence, she decided, as she tried to analyze her response to him. In fact, that undefinable response was what had caused her to exaggerate her reaction, in order to remind him of their first meeting. Who was he, after all, but one of her father’s officers? He and her
father would probably leave for the campaign together, and she
wouldn't see that tanned face and quick grin again.

She was claimed for a dance by one of the young lieutenants.
Gareth watched them and had to admit that despite her height
she was a graceful dancer. She did not return to their small
group, but joined her usual cronies, the lieutenants and the few young ladies who were always hanging on their sleeves. They
were all obviously listening to Arden and glancing over at him,
and he realized that she was probably entertaining them with
the story of their first meeting. As the whole group laughed,
he decided he was the latest victim of her wit, and wondered
what sobriquet he had earned. Well, no doubt he would hear
it by the end of the evening. He found himself beginning to get angry with this young woman who saw everyone as fair game, and decided it was time someone called her to account for her
behavior.

As a matter-of-fact, Gareth was only partly right. Arden was
amusing her friends with the tale of an unkempt ruffian fighting
to get in to see her father, but each time she reached for the
perfect phrase, which usually came so easily to her, she couldn't
find one. The group was waiting for the bon mot, the word or
two that would pin Gareth to the wall like an insect, but the
best Arden could do was compare him to his namesake in the
tales of King Arthur, who had been relegated to kitchen boy. It was weak, but it got them laughing and that made the
disturbing feeling go away. She saw him looking across the
room, and ignored him, turning to one of her companions and
reminding him that the next dance was his.

Gareth waited for a waltz before he approached her, and she had almost succeeded in forgetting his presence. Suddenly he was beside her, asking for the dance. She was about to refuse,
when she realized that her card, as usual, was not full. It would
be better to dance than to hold up the wall, she decided, and
he could hardly know she had been mocking him.

They said nothing for the first few measures, and Arden
concentrated on not letting the disturbance in her stomach
overwhelm her. Was this what people described as butterflies?
she wondered, and why would this…this person cause her to feel them? Gareth, though still angry, was not immune to
her closeness, and being more experienced, was well aware that
what he felt was a strong physical attraction. It surprised him,
for while he did prefer brunettes, he also preferred small
women, for he enjoyed the sensation they gave him of being the protector, or had thought he did. It was different to dance
with a woman whose stature and features, while not at all
unfeminine, proclaimed her strength. He would swear that she
was responding to him too, but he felt none of the signs of
vulnerability that a woman usually gave off. Instead, he felt her
tension, and he wondered if she would ever soften for anyone.

"I understand that this is your first Season, Lady Arden," he said.

"Yes, Captain," she replied, determined not to make conver
sation easy. Why should she want to converse with him anyway?

"Are you enjoying it?"

"I suppose so."

"It is unusual for so young a lady as yourself to have become
as notorious as your father says you are," said Gareth,
provokingly.

"Notorious?"

"Perhaps you do not know that you are known as the Insuf
ferable? But maybe it seems a sort of success to you, to gain
a title, even if not that of Incomparable."

Gareth was smooth, but Arden was not stupid. She knew this
was no innocent query. She could not believe he was deliberately
attempting to insult her. The title did not really bother her, in
fact she relished it a bit, but surely it was out of bounds, not
to mention ungentlemanly, for him to talk about it with her?
Again, she sought for a phrase that would "name" him, that
would enable her to put him on the defensive, and again, for
some reason, her tongue could not produce it.

"You are
…
you are…," she began to sputter.

"Yes?" he asked, with a false air of innocence.

"You are as rude as you appear," she burst out.

"Oh, I am disappointed," he said, sounding genuinely
grieved. “I had hoped I would have earned a real setdown from you tonight. I believe there is a certain cachet to earning a title from you, my lady. They promised me more wit.”

“Why you arrogant, unfashionable…”

“Unfashionable? Oh, you mean my coat. It does look a bit…relaxed, shall we say. Smile, my dear. It would never do to let yourself look upset. After all, someone like you cannot really be touched by anyone, is that not so?”

For once in her life, Arden was speechless. She put a smile back on her face and was able to get through the rest of their dance, but left him as soon as the music ended, not allowing Gareth to escort her off the floor.

Gareth looked after her, very satisfied that he had penetrated her armor, but also conscious that he would like the chance to hold her close again. His promise to the earl did not seem as onerous as it had in the beginning of the evening. At the least, it would be amusing to spar with the lady, even if one were not going to offer marriage at the end of it.

After leaving Gareth, Arden, instead of returning to her own group of companions, sought out her cousin. Celia had made good friends with several of the young ladies, and was with two of them and an assortment of attractive young men. Arden’s arrival caused the conversation, which had been quite lively, to become a bit strained, and slowly, one by one, the young people drifted off, leaving her alone with Celia.