CHAPTER FIVE
“What the devil do you think you are doing?” Nick growled at his longtime friend and fellow former officer, Damon, Marquis of Hawksworth.
“Saving you from yourself,” came the self-assured reply. “Couldn’t you see the lady didn’t want anything to do with you?”
“I made a promise.” Nick clung stubbornly to his desire to have all of this finished, one way or the other.
“Well, if you really do wish to wed her”—Hawksworth’s tone was more of a question—“I suggest you leave the lady alone for a bit.” He pressed a glass of wine into Nick’s hand. “I thought all of you fellows on Wellington’s staff had a good deal of address, or did his standards fall after I sold out?”
Nick opened his mouth and closed it again. He actually did want Lady Beresford to refuse him, but he didn’t want Silvia any more incensed with him than she already was. Which meant he had to corner Vivian when Silvia wasn’t around. “You are generally correct. I merely see no reason to postpone this. If she rejects me again, I shall have to look for another woman to be my wife.” Such as Silvia, if he could get her to tell him what he had done to deserve her ire. Conversely, he didn’t wish to see another man hurt Vivian again. His cousin had done quite enough of that. “By the way, who was that pup with her?”
“Oho, I’d be careful of who you are calling a pup.” Hawksworth gave Nick one of his irritating, superior, I know more than you do looks. “That was the Earl of Stanstead, and although he may be young in years, he is not a man to be taken lightly. He boxes with Jackson, fences with Angelo, and the times I’ve seen him shoot he never missed. If you were to fight him, even with your experience, I don’t know that I would wager on you.”
Just then, a woman in a cream gown caught the corner of Nick’s eye and he turned. Silvia. She was enchanting. Even if she could flay a man’s skin with the sharp edge of her tongue. Though she didn’t look to be doing that now. She smiled up at the gentlemen dancing around her. She’d never smiled at him that way, except the once. Nick let out a low moan.
“If you’re ill, we should leave,” Hawksworth said. Then he apparently got a look at what, or rather who, Nick was staring at. “She is an Incomparable.”
“Don’t even think about it.” Nick surprised himself by snarling. Hawksworth lifted one dark brow. “She may look like a sweet young lady, but she’s a shrew. I have reason to know.”
His friend’s other brow joined the first. “To you or to everyone? Her partner appears to be enjoying himself.” Hawksworth’s lips formed a sardonic smile. “I never knew you had such a difficult time with ladies. It must have been caused by Waterloo, or are you still upset that you had to sell out? Without the uniform, you now must actually work at being acceptable.”
Nick scowled. “At least I’m not aping the Dandy set.”
His friend laughed. “My dear Beresford. I never copy. I am leading the Dandy set. Let’s depart before you do something that will reflect badly on both of us.”
Maybe Hawksworth was right. It was time to retreat and attack at a later time.
The strains of the violins heralded the coming waltz. Rupert escorted Lady Beresford to the floor—after her husband’s cousin had left, and he had taken the opportunity to further his acquaintance with the lady, until Marcus poked his nose in their conversation and others of their friends and relatives had joined their little circle.
Rupert learned her given name was Vivian, derived from the Latin vivus, meaning alive, yet she was not. Something held her back. She had smiled and joked easily with her cousin and Phoebe, yet when forced to converse with the men, she was hesitant and shadows appeared in her dark blue eyes. Although she had stood up to her husband’s relative, her hands had trembled slightly, as if she was afraid of the man. Rupert was sure her husband had abused her in some fashion. All his protective instincts came to the fore. He would find a way to help her overcome her fear.
Once Vivian was in his arms she felt as light as a snowflake. For the first several minutes, she was tense, as if waiting for something, then she opened up and became more animated. He asked, “How long have you been in Town?”
“Only a couple of weeks. I cannot say it has changed much in the intervening years.”
Rupert knew he shouldn’t pry, but she had already let slip some information, and he couldn’t help himself. He needed to know more about her. “Did your husband not like London?”
“My”—she pressed her lips together in disapproval—“late husband came quite frequently.”
It was the way she emphasized late that made him understand even more what her feelings were. “You didn’t get along.”
In his arms, Vivian stiffened. “Let us merely say that there were too many people in our marriage and leave it at that, shall we?”
Feeling easier than he had since he’d discovered she’d been married, he led her through the turn, holding her tighter. “We shall. Have you been anyplace interesting since you’ve been here?”
“Not really. We’ve spent a great deal of time shopping and making morning visits.”
“If you’ll allow me, it would be my pleasure to show you around.”
Finally she smiled, and her face lit up. Rupert made a mental note not to discuss her late husband again. “I’d enjoy that very much, my lord. Thank you.”
“Tell me what you remember about London from before, and I’ll fill in the gaps.”
They spent the rest of the dance planning outings for the next couple of weeks. Then her brows drew together. “Would you not rather be squiring one of the young ladies around?”
“No. I’m perfectly happy to dance attendance on you.”
Her shoulders dropped as she relaxed. “Thank you again, my lord.”
“It is entirely my pleasure, my lady.”
Rupert fought the urge to tug her against him. Perhaps it was fortunate most of the fathers in Town believed he was too young for their daughters. It gave him the perfect excuse to spend more time with Lady Beresford, Vivian. To him she would be Vivian, until she gave him permission to use her name. Something, Fate maybe, had drawn him to her. Now he wanted to see how it played out.
“May I have the supper dance? It is also a waltz.”
He almost lost himself in the blue of her eyes before she replied, “I’d like that exceedingly.”
Vivian could hardly believe how divine a waltz was when dancing with a gentleman who wanted to stand up with her and not someone else. She did not stop herself from tightening her grip on his shoulders. Where did Lord Stanstead come by his muscles? The rest of him must be as solid. Which meant he would not be at all interested in what her body had to offer. She was so repulsive to look at no man would be tempted to bed her. She was too fair, and dark hair was in fashion. In short, there was nothing right about her. No matter, she would enjoy his attentions while she could. She wasn’t going to re-marry in any event.
He’d drawn her closer during the turn and his shoes brushed the hem of her gown, coming perilously close to her leg. Sensations she had never experienced before almost overwhelmed her, and she could feel the heat rise in her chest and face.
“I’m sorry.” He loosened his arms. “I should not have held you so closely.”
Oh, how she’d love to say he could hold her how he pleased, but . . . “Thank you.” Their gazes met as she looked up. “As I said, I am not used to dancing.”
His eyes seemed to warm. “It won’t take long before you’re standing up for every set and dancing until dawn.”
“I shall leave that to Miss Corbet. I have more sedate plans.” Such as finding a house she could call a home, and dancing with Lord Stanstead once more.
A few moments later the music ended, and he dropped his arms, releasing her. Suddenly she was slightly chilled. “Thank you, my lord. I have rarely enjoyed a waltz so much.”
“The pleasure was entirely mine, my lady.” He returned her to her cousin just as if she were a young lady. “I shall see you for the supper dance.”
The warmth she had experienced before returned. “I look forward to it.”
He strolled off, but was quickly waylaid by Lady Beaumont and introduced to a young lady. Vivian tried not to feel disappointed. Naturally he would stand up with ladies who required partners, and although he would honor his appointment to dance with her again, she refused to allow herself to want more. That was not the reason she was in Town.
She glanced around the ballroom. At least Lord Beresford appeared to have left, and she would not be subject to him again this evening. She might be better served by writing to him and informing him that she would not entertain another offer of marriage. If he wished to fill his nursery, he had better look elsewhere.
“Vivian?” Clara’s voice brought Vivian back from her thoughts.
“What were you scowling about? If anyone were to see you they’d think you were not enjoying yourself.”
“I’m sorry. I”—she pasted a smile on her lips—“I’m having a wonderful time, or would be if I knew Lord Beresford was actually gone and not merely hidden by this crowd.”
“You may rest assured he is no longer here. I saw Lord Hawksworth take him away.”
Some of the tension in her shoulders receded. The less she had to do with any Lord Beresford, the better she’d feel.
Silvia laughed lightly at a quip her dance partner, Lord Oliver Loveridge, made about having to be careful of bumping into others. From the corner of her eye, she saw Nick Beresford glare at her, and she made a point of smiling brightly at Lord Oliver. Nick stalked out of the ballroom with another gentleman. Well, good. The cur wouldn’t be bothering either her or Vivian anymore this evening.
Silvia had never known him to press his attentions where they were not wanted. Then again, to her detriment she’d discovered she hadn’t known him well at all. And one never knew what his cousin, the previous Lord Beresford, had told Nick—probably nothing about Mrs. Raeford. Normally, Silvia would have thought he’d have known about her. He and his cousin had been close. But since Nick had left Oxford, he had been gone. Except for the month he had spent at Beresford a few years ago. A time she wished she could forget. He was still as difficult as he’d been before. Apparently the army hadn’t taught him anything except how to break the hearts of unsuspecting and trusting young ladies.
Suddenly she was jerked out of her reveries by Lord Oliver’s bored drawl. “My apologies, Miss Corbet. That oaf should not be allowed on the dance floor. He is ruining the line.” His lips formed a sneer. “One wonders how he even obtained an invitation.”
She followed Lord Oliver’s gaze to a young, slightly overweight man who’d turned a bright shade of red. The lady with him was slightly flushed, but apparently exerting a calming influence on him. How dare Lord Oliver denigrate the other gentleman in such a fashion! Handsome is as handsome does, and Lord Oliver had just lost much of his charm.
Well, she would not allow his behavior to stand in her presence. Silvia pressed her lips together. “Accidents happen, my lord. I’m quite sure he did not mean to cause a problem.”
“You are too kind.” He cut a glance at the unfortunate man.
“Not at all.” She would have pierced Lord Oliver with a look that had made men tougher than he tremble, had he been looking at her, that was. “Let he who is without sin throw the first stone.”
Lord Oliver jerked his head back to her. His eyes widened in something akin to shock. “I beg your pardon?”
This was it. What she was about to do would sink her Season before it began. Well, let his lordship do his worst. She would not lower her standards for a shallow, arrogant young man or indeed, anyone at all. “My father is a rector. It is for all of us to be kind to others, and even kinder to those who do not have the same advantages or talents.”
“Indeed.” Although how he got the word out since he had not opened his mouth, she didn’t know.
Fortunately, before she could respond the set ended, and she was soon returned to Cousin Clara and Vivian.
“I never wish to stand up with him again,” Silvia roundly informed her group.
Clara glanced around the room as if searching for someone. “I’m surprised not to see his mother about. She’d take him in hand. What did he do?”
“He mocks those less fortunate than he is.”
“In that case”—she sighed—“we must find another more suitable gentleman. Unless you wished to spend your life reforming him, that will never do.”
“My only concern is that he is just the type to make trouble.” Silvia chewed her bottom lip. “I’m afraid I was not reticent in expressing my disapproval.”
“I should not worry about it, my dear,” Cousin Clara said soothingly. “If he attempts to make fun of you, he’ll only look a fool.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry to be such a trial.” Silvia had known this was not a good idea. She was not malleable enough to please most young men. Unfortunately, her father truly wished her to find a gentleman to love and marry. There was nothing for it. She would do her best, and be grateful that Cousin Clara was more than capable of guiding and helping her.
“Nonsense. There will be a gentleman for you.” Clara’s tone softened. “I was much like you when I was young. My father couldn’t stand missish young ladies, and I had four older brothers. I was never a Diamond, but was considered an Original. I scared off my share of young men, older ones as well, then I met Telford.” A misty look entered her eyes. “I told him I couldn’t abide fops and weaklings, nor would I take orders from anyone. It was fortunate for him that my father didn’t care for my other suitor. Three weeks later we married.”
“Was it always wonderful? My parents almost never fought.”
“Oh no, not us. We’d go at it like cats and dogs.” Cousin Clara smiled. “But the making up was worth it.” She cleared her throat. “Now, where is your next partner? Ah, I see him coming. Nice young man, good family. He’s not up to your weight, but he’ll do for a dance or two.”
A tall, slender young man bowed. “Miss Corbet,” he said with a toothy smile, “my set, I believe.”
He knew the steps to the cotillion and was graceful, but Silvia felt like his older sister. Somewhere there was the right man for her. All she had to do was find him. It would help if Nick went back to Beresford so she could put him out of her mind.
Clara turned back to her conversation with her friend, Almeria Bellamny. “Did you see how young Stanstead and my cousin looked at one another?”
“I did.” Almeria shifted her girth on the sofa. “The doctor is right. I must lose some of this weight I’ve gained. He does have me on a reducing diet.”
Clara bit her tongue from commenting. Even as a young matron, her friend’s fondness for sweets was well-known. “What do you think about Lord Stanstead and Vivian?”
“It is hard to know.” Almeria drew her brows together in a frown. “He is a conundrum. Despite his age, I would normally say it would be a good match, but he made a cake of himself over a young lady last year. Still, when she married another gentleman, he didn’t indulge in a fit of dismals or engage in the forms of low entertainment as many of his peers would have done. Which means to me that his heart was not truly engaged. He has been set on making his mark in the Lords. One hears good reports of him there.”
Clara was not overly pleased with this report. “I wonder if he is too young to know what he wants in a wife.”
“Does any man—or woman for that matter—know what they really desire until they find the right lover?”
“He seems to be a good-tempered man.” Vivian would need someone like that if even half of the little Clara had been able to coax out of Silvia was accurate, which Clara had no doubt it was.
“He is that,” her friend agreed. “I’ve never seen him come close to losing his temper. Patient as well.”
“Both points in his favor, I should think.” She took a glass of champagne from a footman.
Almeria glanced around the crowded room. “I will say, that I can tell you where your cousin is by watching Stanstead.”
Raising her quizzing glass, Clara followed her friend’s gaze. The gentleman stood with a circle of other men; however, his attention was focused on the dance floor. “Indeed.”
Almeria’s lips tipped up slightly. “If he takes after the males in his mother’s family in temperament as well as appearance, when he falls, he’ll fall hard.”
“One can only hope.” And help ease the path of true love. She had purposely assigned Vivian a room in the other wing where she could come and go as she wished without anyone being the wiser. Perhaps, when they arrived home, Clara would have a small talk with Vivian in order to ascertain her interest in Stanstead. It might be a good match.