Sally James (8 page)

They created the sort of stir Denzil had predicted. Not only was his companion extremely beautiful, young, and unknown, and therefore an object of curiosity, but it was unheard of for Sir Denzil Trewyn to escort a female in his curricle. He was regarded as an experienced flirt, and mothers warned their daughters not to be taken in by him, but he had not yet made any girl conspicuous by inviting her to drive with him. Soon he was hailed by a group of men riding magnificent horses, and smiling encouragingly to Miranda, he drew up beside them.

“I thought you were out of town, Denzil?” one of them said. “What brings you back so unexpectedly?” He glanced at Miranda as he spoke.

“Business,” Denzil replied coolly. “Allow me to present you to my ward. Miranda, Lord Vaughan, Sir Timothy Baines, Mr Thomas. Gentlemen, Miss de Lisle.”

They competed for her attention, and she shyly replied to the remarks they made, all the time regarding them with a candour and interest they found devastating. Soon Denzil put an end to it.

“The horses will take cold. Good day to you.”

That was the first of a series of similar encounters, including some with ladies, who eyed Miranda with varying mixtures of curiosity, perplexity, and suspicion.

“I suppose you are aware Araminta is due back in town next week?” one spiteful looking girl a few years older than Miranda asked.

“No. I did not even realise she was away,” Denzil replied, his lips twitching slightly in amusement.

“I assumed you must have known.”

“Why should I?”

The girl seemed a little disconcerted.

“I made sure your sister would have told you.” she managed, and turned to speak to her companion.

“Who is Araminta?” Miranda asked when they had driven on. “She seemed very interested in her.”

“One of last season’s belles,” he answered easily.

“The women do not seem as friendly as the men,” she said consideringly, and he laughed so heartily several people turned to stare at them, for they were at that moment held up in a line of carriages.

“They are contemplating your beauty and setting theirs against it, finding you vastly superior,” he explained. “You will soon learn to recognise jealousy and envy.”

“Oh,” was all she vouchsafed to that.

“Has Judith planned which friends she is asking to her dinner party?” he asked to turn the subject, and she mentioned a few names. “Do you feel ready for meeting people in such a party?”

“I think I shall enjoy it. Oh, Denzil how immensely grateful I am to you for rescuing me!”

Chapter Six

The interesting intelligence that Sir Denzil Trewyn had suddenly produced a ward, that she was ravishingly lovely, and that he had actually driven her in the park in his curricle, proved a fascinating topic of conversation in the clubs and at dinner parties that night. Cynical roués pronounced the word ward sneeringly, but even they were given pause when it was revealed that the charmer was residing with Lady Beverley, for there had never been a breath of scandal attached to her name, and she would countenance no illicit liaison.

Optimistic mothers and ambitious daughters dwelt fearfully on the lyrical descriptions of her beauty, and many wondered whether the elusive Sir Denzil was at last caught. Some concluded dolefully that she must be a considerable heiress, though it was conceded Sir Denzil was wealthy enough not to need to marry a fortune.

The first Judith and Miranda knew of the speculation was when a morning caller was announced.

“Mrs Floode, my lady,” Parsons announced woodenly, and Miranda looked up from the magazine she was perusing to see a tall, commanding woman sweep into the room.

“Why, Ma’am, how very pleasant to see you,” Judith exclaimed mendaciously. She had known this meeting was bound to come, and had been looking forward to it with considerable misgiving.

“Lady Beverley, how excessively kind you are, as always,” Mrs Floode gushed, and then turned expectantly towards Miranda, surveying her with keen, hard eyes.

“Miss Miranda de Lisle,” Judith presented the two ladies, and they greeted one another.

Mrs Floode sank down into a fragile chair, disposed her reticule and shawl about her, and then addressed some general remarks to her hostess, while Judith recovered her forces. Then the visitor turned to Miranda.

“Are you making a prolonged visit to town, my dear?”

“I do not know, I have no idea,” Miranda told her, and the forbidding eyes of her interlocutor shot up.

“Miss de Lisle is my brother’s ward,” Judith interposed, “and I am taking her in charge for her coming-out. We have no plans other than to remain in London until Christmas.”

“Indeed? I had no notion Denzil had a ward.”

“Did you not? I do not believe many people did,” Judith said coolly, and went on to enquire about a mutual acquaintance. But Mrs Floode was not to be deterred by Judith’s obvious unwillingness to vouchsafe further information. She disposed of the acquaintance speedily, and returned to Miranda.

“Do you belong to the Gloucestershire de Lisles?” she queried.

“I have never heard of them,” Miranda responded truthfully.

“No, for I must suppose that if you were connections of theirs Denzil could not be your guardian. I thought I knew all your connections, Lady Beverley. But I believe there is another family, far more obscure, in Yorkshire. Perhaps you are related to them?”

“No.” Miranda smiled sweetly, and Mrs Floode’s fears grew. They had not exaggerated about this girl!

“Miranda has not been to London before, and I am looking forward immensely to showing her all the sights,” Judith volunteered.

“Where have you been living then?” A direct question that could not be ignored.

“In Cornwall.”

“Then your estates are near to Denzil’s?”

“I have no estates,” Miranda replied quietly, and Mrs Floode’s fears lessened slightly. She was not, then, the great heiress some had surmised. Less of a threat to Araminta, who had a substantial portion.

“Cornwall is reputed to be a wild place, but I have never been there. It is an omission I mean to repair in the near future, as you may guess, Lady Beverley!”

“We love it, despite the wildness, Mrs Floode,” Judith replied, growing a trifle curt at this innuendo.

“People lost on the moors, and wrecked on the dangerous coast,” Mrs Floode mused.

“It is only dangerous to those who omit sensible precautions.”

Mrs Floode laughed indulgently. “We have all heard of the Cornish wreckers. But does not Denzil sail? I understood he went down to his estates every year at this time partly to indulge in that pastime?”

Miranda shivered slightly, and Mrs Floode’s sharp eyes were immediately turned onto her.

“Do you not care for sailing, Miss de Lisle?”

“I have enjoyed the only time I have been in a boat,” Miranda said, “but I fear it too. I shall never forget the first time I saw him! I thought he was dead!”

“Miranda had the misfortune to discover a shipwrecked sailor not so long ago,” Judith cut in swiftly. “Not a pleasant experience, you will agree, though the poor fellow was happily not dead, merely exhausted.”

“Doubtless you and your companions fetched help.” Mrs Floode was not really interested until Miranda, not understanding Judith’s cough of warning, replied that she had been alone.

Mrs Floode stared. “Alone! Well, you seem to have been permitted a great deal of licence, Miss de Lisle, more than most well brought up females have.”

“It is somewhat different in Cornwall, where we are very isolated,” Judith said coldly.

“So it would seem. It does sound most strange to me, but I shall hope to go and see for myself soon. And how is Denzil, Lady Beverley? It was a delightful surprise to hear he was back in town. Araminta will be so pleased when she returns next week, for she had thought not to see him again for months.”

“He is well, thank you. Where is Araminta staying?” she added, hoping to turn the conversation into less dangerous channels.

“With her cousins in Essex. She writes she has had two more offers, but has turned them down, the naughty little puss. But I need not tell you how very selective Araminta is! My daughter and Sir Denzil are great friends, Miss de Lisle, as I expect you already know,” she almost tittered as she confided this to Miranda. “Well, my dear Lady Beverley, I must away, and I do hope I will see you again soon, Miss de Lisle.”

The bell was rung, and she was escorted out.

* * * *

“Bitch!” ejaculated Judith, utter loathing in her voice.

Miranda was amused. “You do not appear to like her. She is excessively inquisitive. Is everyone like that?”

“No, thank heavens! But I abhor the woman! You must be very careful what you say to her, Miranda, about the island and how you met Denzil, or there will be all sorts of spiteful rumours flying about the town. If she once thought you were not really his ward, she would do her utmost to ruin you, and you must not allow her any such opportunity.”

“I am afraid I said too much! I am sorry, but I will be careful. I find it so difficult to think before I speak, for I never had to before!”

“You will soon become accustomed to it, and fortunately most people are too well bred to probe as much as that woman! One day I shall give her a set-down! Now let us forget her. Will you help me write the invitations to the dinner party? I must send them out today.”

The invitations were duly sent. Everyone invited, having heard about Miranda, or seen her and wanting to become better acquainted, found that they fortunately had no other engagements on that night, despite the short notice, and were able to accept. Miranda’s evening dress arrived, and Judith took her shopping again. They had other callers, and again Denzil took Miranda driving, as well as giving her her first riding lesson, so that by the evening of the party she was beginning to feel confident in company.

Judith had invited two couples with daughters of a similar age to Miranda. Mr and Mrs Trent with their daughter Caroline were the first to arrive, but hard on their heels came two unattached young men, Sir Timothy Baines, whom Miranda had met on her first drive in the park, and a Mr David Stone. Both were in their mid-twenties, pleasant, good looking, with comfortable fortunes. They soon detached Caroline and Miranda from the older guests, and were talking in an animated group when the next guests arrived. These were the Willshaws and their daughter Emma. Emma knew Caroline well, and joined the group of younger people while her parents settled down contentedly at the far end of the drawing room. Denzil arrived next, and with him, for they had met on the doorstep, were the final members of the party, a brother and sister. Richard Fellowes was about Denzil’s age, and Mary slightly older than the other girls.

After all the introductions, and a few minutes of general conversation, dinner was announced. Mr Stone was gratified to discover he had been placed next to Miranda, and on her other side was Mr Willshaw, who sat at their hostess’s left. He was most attentive until he was compelled to turn to his other neighbour, Caroline Trent.

The other young men, Judith noticed with amusement, could scarcely keep their eyes from Miranda, however much politeness demanded they pay attention to their neighbours. While the first course, consisting of turtle soup, a chine of mutton, hot lobsters, and a pigeon pie, with green peas and trout, was on the table, she was the centre of attraction. But Richard Fellowes, who had not previously met Miranda, was especially badly situated, being seated on the same side of the table, and having to be satisfied with the occasional glimpse of her profile. Judith thought remorsefully that she ought to have realised this, and at least arranged he sat on the opposite side of the table. She resolved to repair this misfortune by throwing Richard in Miranda’s way afterwards, and turned to reply to a remark from Mr Trent.

Miranda was accustomed to dealing with questions by now, as she had already told several people the story she and Denzil had concocted on the journey to London. They seemed happy to accept it, and she thought in some dismay that she was almost coming to believe it herself.

“I wish it could be true,” she had thought to herself on more than one occasion, but she cheerfully regaled Mr Willshaw with it now.

When the second course was brought in, pork chops, a hare, game pie, a cold ham, cheesecakes, jellies and creams, and cakes, the party became merrier, for the company had been well chosen. Since most of the people there knew each other well, the formalities were gradually relaxed, and more general conversations were taking place across the table. At Judith’s end there was a lively discussion between the two older and the two younger men on the relative merits of the various sports they all indulged in, with laughing interjections from Judith and Emma. Miranda looked on, unable to contribute anything, but revelling in the new experience of being one of a happy group.

Suddenly there was a lull, and from the other end of the table Caroline was heard asking in her clear high voice whether Denzil knew Araminta would be in town within the next few days.

There was an embarrassed pause. Every one of the guests knew that one of the season’s riddles had been why Denzil had not offered for Araminta, she being the first girl he had favoured with his particular attentions for more than a few weeks at a time. Caroline blushed, Emma nervously giggled, Mr Trent coughed, and the two mothers rushed into the breach with irrelevant remarks. Denzil smiled, unperturbed, and when the embarrassed chatter had subsided as quickly as it had begun, replied that he had been so informed – by several people.

Miranda regarded him consideringly. She was quick and intelligent, and had already begun to piece together the hints and remarks she had heard. She was longing to meet this Araminta, of whom they all spoke either too much or too little. At that moment Denzil seemed to become aware of her scrutiny and looked across at her. At the mischievous look in his eye, she smiled back, and Mrs Trent, sitting opposite him and at that moment able to see Miranda, was struck by the glance. It seemed to her as if they shared some private joke. They certainly seemed to be on the best of terms.