The Random Gentleman (2 page)
Belinda, who thought this was hitting below the belt—her grandfather was an addict of fisticuffs, and had described to her many a fine mill he had witnessed—was nevertheless constrained to agree that she could not totally disregard her dead father’s carefully arranged plan for her. She was understood to say that she supposed she would have to meet the creature, at least. “But sir,” she continued, “have we not already accepted the invitation of Lady Freya Goncourt for a ball this evening?”
“Gal’s Osric’s sister,” her grandfather informed her. “Married that French émigré fellow. Widowed.”
“But I
like
her!” began the girl, annoyed to find herself feeling kindly toward anyone in the haughty Osric’s family.
“Might like him, too, once you meet him,” suggested the Earl. “They tell me he’s a deuced good-looking man. Got the females after him in swarms,” he offered hopefully.
“Indeed?” retorted Belinda icily. “What a charming prospect for the lady unfortunate enough to be his wife! The thought of sharing even such an abundance of male beauty and charm is repugnant to me! Every feeling must be lacerated!” Then, leaving her high flight and descending to her normal style, “I’m damned if I’ll meet him!”
“Belinda!” groaned the Earl, reduced to despair.
After a severe glance, the girl relented a little. “I’ll agree to meet this Nonpareil tonight, but only because I like his sister very much, and because you and my father committed me at least to considering him. But I warn you, he will have to be something quite out of the ordinary before I will accept this gothic arrangement of yours.”
“You are a disrespectful baggage,” snapped her grandfather, then added with a groan, “and I only hope the fellow will make you happy!”
Mollified by his evident concern, Belinda kissed his cheek, and told him he was a wicked schemer, but she forgave him.
Looking dazzlingly fair in white satin embroidered with tiny golden rosebuds, a wide golden sash clasping her small waist, and a soft frill of lace framing her golden head, Belinda mounted the wide stairway that evening on her grandfather’s arm. At the top, Lady Freya Goncourt greeted her guests with the charm which had made her one of the Season’s first hostesses. She held out both hands to Belinda when it was their turn to be received.
“My dear Belinda, how enchantingly pretty you are looking this evening! And Lord Sayre! How good of you to come! A dreadful squeeze, I am afraid, but then we shall have other times to enjoy a comfortable coze!” and her smiling eyes invited them to share her pleasure at the projected union of the two families.
“Did everyone know of it but me?” muttered Belinda to her grandfather. She was about to move on into the reception rooms when Lady Freya bent toward her.
“I am charged to make Osric’s apologies,” she whispered. “His Majesty sent for him an hour ago to discuss some point of Foreign Office policy. He should be back any moment. It is vexatious,” she added, “but one cannot refuse when royalty requests.”
“I quite understand,” soothed Belinda, but a little frown set itself between her brows. Surely, if this Osric was as deft at diplomacy as Grandpa implied, he could manage one fat, selfish old man, even if he was the King!
She set herself to enjoy the ball, and within five minutes had every dance promised, to her grandfather’s chagrin. However, he said nothing, trusting that His Grace of Romsdale would be clever enough to remedy the situation when he appeared. Belinda seemed to be enjoying herself very much—at least her cheeks were charmingly flushed and her eyes very bright. The Earl wondered wistfully if he might take himself off to the card room for a few relaxing hands of whist, but decided to wait in the ballroom until His Grace had made his entrance.
By the time supper was announced, without the arrival of the guest of honor, whispered comments were being exchanged in corners and on the dance floor. The Earl sought out his granddaughter among the dancers, and then wished he had not. For upon her beautiful little face was an expression he had learned to dread during her childhood—her mulish look, he characterized it with less grace than truth.
Belinda was in fact very angry. She had thought well of herself for coming to meet this Osric halfway. Perhaps he might share her annoyance at the foolish pact their fathers had made; they could laugh a little and set all to rights. Perhaps he might prove to be an interesting man, older and more knowledgeable than the love-smitten youths who formed her court, and they might decide to explore the possibilities offered by the engagement. Certainly he would count himself fortunate to be affianced to the acknowledged Belle of the Season! But none of these resolutions to the problem could be explored until the wretched man presented himself—and he had not done so! As the evening proceeded, Belinda began to catch the faintly malicious murmurings which linked her name with that of the absent guest of honor. The final straw was put in place by Belinda’s archrival, Miss Dulcinia Wegg, whose mamma was the intelligencer whose tongue wagged so frequently at Belinda’s expense. The odious Dulcinia—a black-haired beauty, divinely tall—accosted her rival in front of two of the Season’s prime catches, Milord Lacey and Daughton.
“What is this I hear about an engagement between yourself and dear Freya’s brother?” asked the brunette beauty.
“I am sure I don’t know,” smiled Belinda. “What
do
you hear? Perhaps you should ask your mamma? She is never at a loss for the latest
on dit
.”
This shrewd thrust was received with bright-eyed amusement by the two young men, and a tight-lipped smile from Dulcinia.
“I was sure the gossip must be mistaken,” she came back smoothly, “for it seems to me the gentleman is most anxious not to show his face, and since he is the guest of honor, one would say he must have a powerful reason to serve his sister so!”
“Perhaps the poor old fellow was exhausted, and had to take to his bed,” was the best Belinda could come up with. “Older men tire easily, you know. My grandfather dozes off every night after dinner.”
Most fortunately the music struck up at this moment, and Belinda was carried off by Lord Daughton to waltz in the ballroom. The young nobleman, proud of his partner, thought he had never seen the exquisite little creature to better looks. He told her so, and his warm admiration did much to restore her damaged spirits. So much, in fact, that she went to find her grandfather immediately after the dance was ended and informed him that she was suffering from a migraine and wished to return home at once.
The Earl opened his mouth to protest, caught the look on his beloved grandchild’s face, and capitulated at once. Offering her his arm, he led her quietly to the cloakroom, made their excuses to Lady Freya, accepted her anguished apologies courteously, and sent a footman after their carriage. By the time Belinda appeared at the front door in her modish velvet cloak, her grandfather was able to lead her down to their carriage and help her into it.
Their journey home was silent.
The following morning, after a very restless night, Belinda was unlucky enough to come down to the breakfast parlor just as two callers were arriving at the front door. The butler followed her into the parlor with their names, and Belinda heard with a sinking heart that Miss Dulcinia Wegg and Miss Sylphe Courtney wished to be received by his mistress.
In very pride, Belinda was compelled to receive them. She offered them a cup of coffee with as good a grace as she could muster. Dulcinia’s sharp eyes had already assessed the dark shadows under her rival’s eyes; she was all pretty concern for dear Belinda’s health. That young lady fended off their condolences with poise and was holding her own very nicely until Dulcinia dropped her bombshell.
“Oh, by the way, Belinda, you and your grandfather left too early last night. The dear Duke arrived and put new life into the party! Such a divinely handsome man! So youthful when one considers the honors that have been heaped upon him! The word is that His Majesty is to bestow an additional peerage upon Osric, as I am sure you must have known! But of course we must not speak of it until it is official!”
Oh, must we not? thought Belinda. How did
you
get into this? But she said nothing, merely smiled as though she had known it all the time.
This deception was not permitted by her determined adversary. The next attack was an oblique one. “Osric has such a droll wit!” she began, laughing lightly. “He had us in stitches! When I told him what you had said about him being exhausted and needing to rest in bed like your grandfather, he was most amused! He said—so wittily!—that to a schoolroom chit, twenty-eight years must seem quite aged; and then he went on to inform us that in Italy, where he has just been stationed to negotiate a most important treaty, the name Belinda means a snake! We all were quite carried away with his droll comments!”
“What were they?” inquired Belinda, as though eager to hear and be amused. “Can you remember any of them?”
“But I just
told
you—” began Dulcinia, and then stopped speaking to glare at Belinda.
“You thought it was witty to say my name meant a snake? Well, perhaps it was the
way
he said it,” excused Belinda, neatly taking the wind out of the other girl’s sails.
Very soon after this unsatisfactory encounter, the two visitors left, and Belinda lost no time in going to her grandfather’s bookroom. With red flags of outrage flying in her white face, and great brown eyes hard with humiliation, the girl informed her grandparent what Dulcinia had told her. “And if you think I am going to be seated at our dinner table beside a man who called me a snake in public, you are much mistaken!”
“But the dinner is to announce your engagement!” protested the bewildered Earl. “Everyone’s been asked, and accepted! Even His Majesty was pleased to consent—!”
“You will of course do as you wish,” said this new, cold-eyed young woman. “I would not attend if my life depended on it!”
“Belinda—the girl got it wrong. Perhaps she made it all up. You know what the mother is like! But you are the hostess tomorrow night. It would offer a great insult to His Majesty—to all our guests—if you failed to appear. You can carry it off, child! You must do so—for your own sake! When I announce your engagement, it will give the lie to that little vixen’s spiteful gossip!”
“No,” said Belinda. “This is intolerable! Not even you, Grandpapa, could expect me to endure such an odious situation. To be paraded before this arrogant, complacent, finicking—
backbiting
lordling as though I were a blood mare he might consider adding to his stable—!”
“Belinda! You go too far with your plain-speaking!” the Earl bristled at her, his brown eyes glaring from under bushy white eyebrows. “All the man said was that your name means a snake in Italian—”
“
All!
And he said it with a laugh, in front of Dulcinia Wegg and Sylphe Courtney and who knows how many more—and they all laughed! Does it please you to know that your precious Osric made me a joke in public?” The girl glared back at her grandfather with eyes so dark with anger and chagrin that they seemed almost black. “You know the Weggs! The mother will have it all over Town that he called me a snake! I shall be a laughingstock!”
The Earl frowned. “Osric Dane is a diplomat and a friend of our family. It is surely unlike him to speak so. I cannot think what would have caused him to be so indiscreet—if in fact he was.”
Belinda had neglected to mention her own sneer at the Duke’s old age and exhaustion, and she did not repair the omission now. Instead she offered, “He is likely as reluctant for this match as I am. I wager he thinks that if he insults me publicly enough, even you will be willing to cry off!”
The Earl slammed his fist down on the desk, making the papers on it flutter. “That is the second time you have said ‘even you’ in that tone of voice, Miss! It could be that the Duke has heard of your outspokenness, your defiance of restraint! Your success during the Season has spoiled you, child, given you an inflated idea of your consequence. You are my ward, and you will do whatever I decide. Let us hope Dane has not taken a disgust of you from your unmaidenly behavior! However, I expect he will honor his obligation. And I will not allow a hoydenish miss to overset a plan which Dane’s father and yours agreed upon when you were both in your cradles—”
This harsh speech from her normally doting grandparent threw Belinda into a fine temper. The thought that the rude, arrogant Osric would condescend to “honor his obligation” to a hoyden put her into a passion.
“Cradles!” she snapped rudely. “You must be all about in your head, sir! The creature is at least ten years older than I am, and if he was still in his cradle when I was, I wonder at your desiring the connection with such a looby!” Entertained by the picture of the high-in-the-instep nobleman as a ten-year-old in a crib, the girl broke into harsh laughter.
Her grandfather thrust himself out of his chair in a towering rage. “You know he was in school then! By God, Belinda, if you were a boy I’d have you whipped! Is this the way you have been talking in society? If so, it is no wonder he called you a schoolroom chit! He’s a man of proven worth. He was successful at Oxford, a fine and gallant soldier, and one of England’s biggest assets abroad—!”