Chapter Seven
A ball is the perfect opportunity to test the young man of your choice. Mark his attentions and his behaviors, but also his eye. The most perfect of gentlemen by appearances might act his part flawlessly, but his eye will never lie. Also, one can always trust a man who trods toes. No blackguard would be foolish enough to make such an obvious misstep and risk it all in such a shoddy way.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 4 August 1815
“Oh, lord, her mother chose her ensemble.”
“Don’t you dare say anything, Charlotte Wright.”
“As if I would. Poor little Prudence would faint clear away if one of us said a word about it. Never mind that others will say all sorts of things.”
“I don’t very well care what anybody else says about our Prue, but we must do what we can about that.”
“Oh, I didn’t think she could look so ill. Not with her complexion.”
“And I wrote that nasty piece about orange. Everybody’s going to pay attention now. Curse my sharp tongue.”
Georgie stared at Prue shamelessly, as did everybody else in the room. It truly was the most horrid shade of orange she had ever seen, and it put Mrs. Renfrew’s ensemble quite to shame. And Prue’s cheeks were flaming already, which only made everything worse.
Despite Prue’s diminutive stature, her mother was anything but. They could not have been more different in appearance and in nature, and Mrs. Westfall had the utmost contempt for her daughter, but nobody knew why. There were no other children, and Mr. Westfall had been dead for years. But rather than cling to her daughter, Mrs. Westfall had turned tyrannical, and there was no apparent end in sight.
Mrs. Westfall wore a dark shade of blue, far more flattering to her coloring, and she paraded about the room with a preening sort of look. Prue followed behind dutifully, her eyes lowered, unable to look at anyone. But she could not have missed the whispers or the snickering of those around her.
Georgie certainly didn’t miss them.
She heard every single one of them.
“Lord have mercy,” Izzy whispered next to her, sounding choked up and emotional. “Please let the dancing begin or someone else do something foolish.”
Georgie nodded without speaking. She couldn’t have managed a word herself.
She noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye and her breath caught as she saw Tony striding forward, dressed in pristine eveningwear. He had the audacity to bow to Mrs. Westfall, to whom he had not actually been introduced.
She looked up at him with her usual haughtiness, her face turning mottled.
Georgie would have given a fortune to hear what Tony was saying, but he was too far away, and not even Mrs. Westfall could manage a volume that would reach across the room.
“What is he doing?” Charlotte muttered under her breath. “Marjorie is going to pop off his head.”
“Hush, Charlotte,” Izzy hissed, waving a hand at her.
Georgie watched intently, ignoring the way Charlotte called Prue’s mother by her given name. She was always saying that when Mrs. Westfall behaved as the mother of Prue ought, she would give her the courtesy of her proper address.
She could hardly blame Charlotte for that, but she could not bring herself to do the same.
Impossibly, Mrs. Westfall’s expression cleared, and she turned to her daughter, quite literally dragging Prue forward.
Georgie bit back a smile as Tony bowed to her and extended his hand.
“Take it, Prue,” Charlotte hissed. “Come on and take it.”
“Her mother will crown her if she doesn’t,” Izzy muttered. “Come on, Prue.”
Georgie wasn’t minding Prue as much as she was Tony. Was he truly so bold as to stand before an entire room of whispering gossips and take the hand of the most timid creature of them all? He didn’t seem the slightest bit put off by Mrs. Westfall, nor by Prue’s hesitation. Instead, his hand only seemed to grow more and more steady, his intent constant.
Prue needed consistency. And patience, understanding, warmth…
In short, everything her mother was not.
Prue’s trembling hand reached out and took his, and he was quick to whisk her away, leading her towards the line that was forming for the first dance of the evening.
Charlotte exhaled noisily, fanning herself quickly. “Well, that was smartly done of Tony. Prue’s going to be a stammering storm the entire time, and undoubtedly after they’re done. Izzy, go see if Lady Hetty has arrived yet and make sure there’s a chair for her. Georgie, find Grace, she’s always managed to set Prue to rights.”
Georgie wrenched her gaze away from Prue and Tony, dancing rather well, if silently, and looked at Charlotte with a raised brow. “And what will you do, Charlotte?”
Charlotte dimpled a smile at her, her dark eyes twinkling. “Distract everyone from Prue’s ensemble.”
“Oh, Charlotte,” Izzy moaned, “don’t do anything foolish!”
Charlotte scoffed loudly. “Oh, sweet Izzy, haven’t you learned by now? I never do anything foolish. I always know exactly what I am doing.” She nodded at them both and glided away, heading directly for a small group of gentlemen, all of whom watched her cream and gold swathed figure approach with interest.
“What do you think she’s going to do?” Izzy hissed to her, fidgeting with her blue muslin that was two seasons old.
Georgie shook her head slowly, watching the dance again. “I haven’t the faintest idea, Izzy, and I am glad for it.” She sighed, allowing herself to smile more. “I think we’d better prepare a spot for Prue. She looks done for already.”
Izzy chuckled a little. “She looks better away from her mother, and if Tony is half the man I think he is, Prue will actually smile. In public.”
With a small hum of satisfaction, Izzy turned and headed off in another direction.
Georgie stayed where she was, despite Charlotte’s instructions. Grace was about somewhere, and she would take note of Prue’s distress easily enough and come all on her own. Elinor would flutter about trying to do something useful, but only make more of a fuss.
All of that could transpire as it would, and Georgie wouldn’t care overly much.
She watched Tony dance with Prue, smiling as warmly as he might have done with any other young woman, one without a terribly unbecoming dress and a terribly unflattering mother. He danced well, which must always be appreciated, and no one would ever have suspected that a rescue had taken place. Prue did not talk much under usual circumstances, but when dancing she was sometimes worse.
Not this time.
Her embarrassed flush was rapidly fading, and Tony kept up a steady stream of words, though none of them could be heard over the music. Prue looked more at ease than Georgie had seen her in months, if not years. She had never known that Prue was such a lively dancer, nor would she have expected it.
Had Tony known that, too?
He couldn’t have. As far as she knew, he’d only danced with Prue once, shortly after meeting her, and she would not have been so comfortable with him then.
Georgie would never claim to know much of men, but she had never met one who acted the part of a true gentleman with a good heart and pure motives. Not even Grace’s brothers, or her cousins, could fall into that category.
She’d always wanted someone to prove that such men really existed outside of the overblown imaginations of young ladies, but she never thought she would actually find one. Truthfully, she was not entirely convinced that Tony was such a man either, nor could she claim that he was some grand epitome of gentlemen. All she knew was this was a good deed, and she was feeling something rather significant about it.
If it was sincere.
And she intended to find that out the moment Prue was secure in Lady Hetty’s care.
She glanced across the room to see Izzy chatting warmly with Lady Hetty, who watched the dance with an almost wistful expression, despite the customary frown she wore. But she nodded at something Izzy was saying and answered accordingly, making Izzy laugh. Grace was already hovering behind them, a vision in a rose-colored gown, yet nobody seemed to take notice.
Georgie would never understand how Izzy and Grace had escaped the notice of every man in England, given their caring natures and warm hearts, not to mention their pleasant features and possession of all the fine accomplishments of young ladies. They would each have made any man a perfect and charming wife.
But that was another set of cares for a different time.
The dance finished to general applause, and the musicians started to converse about the next piece as the dancers dispersed. Georgie watched Tony and Prue, who moved to the chairs near Lady Hetty, purposefully situated in the exact opposite direction from her mother. Prue looked as contented as she ever was, perhaps the slightest bit self-conscious, but perfectly comfortable on Tony’s arm.
And then she smiled.
Good heavens.
Georgie looked over at Izzy in shock, who had seen it and was barely containing her own smile of pride. Prue smiling in public was not a completely foregone conclusion at any given time. Usually, however, she smiled only when surrounded by the rest of them or when Lady Hetty had said something particularly witty. Never, as far as Georgie could recall, had it happened in the presence of a man.
She wasn’t sure she liked this, but she was also near to tears.
The conflict of emotions and impulses was setting everything awry.
Tony saw Prue seated next to Lady Hetty, who said something to him that made Tony grin. He responded, bowed to each of the girls, and then left them all, heading in Georgie’s direction.
Well, not in her direction specifically, but generally speaking.
Georgie moved quickly to intercept him before he could do anything else.
He saw her coming, took in her expression, which she had not thought to be so very imposing, and heard him groan as she approached. “Oh, now what? What could you possibly disapprove of now?”
It was all Georgie could do to avoid making a very unattractive face at him. “I beg your pardon?”
Tony lifted one of his brows at her, making her envious that she could not reciprocate the motion. “You are determined to find fault with me, despite my having absolutely no ulterior motives, and I really am growing quite fatigued with defending myself at every turn. Might I spare myself the trouble of this conversation?”
Georgie was fully aware that people were staring at them, no doubt wondering what the dashing Captain Sterling would do after dancing with Miss Westfall, but she could not make herself move. “No,” she said firmly. “No, you may not.”
He sighed a little too dramatically and tilted his head at her. “Then would you, perhaps, accompany me to the north corner of this ballroom? There is a footman with beverages there, and I would very much like one.”
She scowled up at him but nodded and turned to proceed with him in that direction. “Do you have to sound so polite about it? Anyone hearing you would think me a shrew.”
“I am always polite, Miss Allen,” Tony replied with ease, clasping his hands behind his back. “I find it to be the mark of an exemplary gentleman.”
Georgie looked up at him in disbelief. “I don’t believe that for a moment.”
“No, really, I do feel that way.”
She rolled her eyes, knowing he was deliberately provoking her, and hating how good he was at it. “I’m sure you do, but it does not follow that you are always polite. That is what I doubt. Especially given our acquaintance.”
“And yet you introduce me to nearly everyone,” he mused, looking thoughtful. “Clearly you must have some good opinion of me, or you would not be nearly so keen.”
“It is because I pity you,” Georgie snapped, keeping a bland smile on her face for the benefit of those watching. “Poor, pathetic creature you are, and in such want of friends and associates.” She tsked and shook her head sadly. “It is almost more than my generous heart can bear.”
Tony snickered under his breath, coughing into a gloved hand slightly, then turned a warm smile to her. “Generous heart. That is exactly how I would describe you, Miss Allen. Please, ask me your questions.”
Georgie shook her head, exhaling in what was almost irritation, but not quite. “Why did you dance with Prue?”
“Because I like her.”
“We all like her, Captain,” Georgie reminded him firmly.
“Yes, but it would be odd for any of you to dance with her at an event like this.”
She had to try her utmost to avoid covering her face with her hand. “You know what I mean.”
“Oh!” Tony said, as if the realization had only just dawned on him. “Oh, why did I go to her almost immediately after her entrance and practically steal her away from her mother?”
Georgie gave him a patient nod.
He straightened up a little. “Well, it seemed the thing to do. Everybody was just staring and whispering, and I know how sensitive Prue is. My feet were moving before I had really thought about it, so I can only say it was my first instinct.”
Instinct. His instinct had been to go to Prue and save her from her embarrassment.
Her heart gave a weak flutter in her chest, which she quickly shushed.
“What is her mother like?” Tony murmured, lowering his voice, though his expression remained perfectly composed. “I have a fair idea, but I want to hear it from you.”
“Well,” Georgie started, exhaling quickly, “that could take quite a long time, and the language required might not be entirely appropriate for such a distinguished setting.”
Tony laughed. “Try.”
She smirked, inclining her head at her aunt Faith, who watched her with a suspicious expression. “Mrs. Westfall has the sort of personality that makes one wish for a firearm.”
Tony coughed in surprise, putting his fist to his mouth, though the curve of his lips could still be seen.
Georgie nodded, smiling. “She berates Prue whenever she can, in public or out of it, and can be heard to complain quite vocally about everything that is wrong in her life. If you are so fortunate as to converse with her, you will find that there is nothing that is going well. Particularly not with her eligible daughter, whom she finds to be the very worst trial of all.”
Tony grumbled under his breath unintelligibly, but the meaning was clear.
“Quite,” Georgie quipped, looking over at Mrs. Westfall, who sat in a chair with a cup of punch that was clearly not her first, and was watching Prue with distaste. “The mercy of it all is that she does not care what Prue does, so we are able to steal her away quite often.”
“Would that someone would permanently steal Prue from her mother,” Tony muttered, his brow furrowing darkly. “That would solve everything.”
She slid her glance to him slyly. “Are you offering, Captain Sterling?”
That made him smile, and he shook his head. “Alas, Miss Allen, I think Miss Westfall deserves far better than me. But I’ll see what I can do about it.”
“I’ve tried myself,” Georgie admitted with a sigh as they reached the footman with beverages. “I can’t convince any man to consider it, not even the ones I think highly of. I don’t know why.”
Tony gave her a quick look.
“Oh, all right,” she snapped with an impatient flick of her wrist. “I know very well why. But it isn’t her fault, and it shouldn’t detract anyone from trying for her. If they tried, they might just find out how sweet and good she really is and forget all about everything else.”
“You say that as if patience were a virtue all men were blessed with.” Tony sipped from the beverage he held and shook his head. “It’s not.”
Georgie snorted softly. “Really? I’d have thought…” She trailed off instantly, a sight catching her eye that made thought and word vanish.
Lucy Wilton was heading for a side corridor, her hand clasped tightly in that of Simon Delaney, who she knew was not only a scoundrel but was also supposedly courting Caroline Briggs. There was no reason he should be tugging Lucy anywhere, especially since she was all of fifteen and too young and too silly to be out.
“Georgie?” Tony asked, his voice somehow far away.
She seized his arm in a crushing grip. “Tony,” she gasped, her eyes fixed on Lucy’s flushed and excited face.
No one marked the pair of them. They weren’t making any sort of fuss about their escapade, and everybody was watching the dancing. It was the perfect escape opportunity.
Tony followed her gaze, and his eyes narrowed. “Wait here,” he growled.
She held his arm tightly. “What are you going to do?”
He looked down at her hand, then smiled a little at her. “I’m going to rescue the damsel. And perhaps thrash the villain. The moment I bring her back, do something with her.”
Georgie nodded quickly and forced herself to release his sleeve. “I’ll get Jane Wilton to come. She’s the one Lucy will listen to and will be discreet.”
Tony gave her a short nod. “Go, Georgie. Go now.” He moved away from her with ease, seeming to weave between the guests without any sort of hindrance. He exited out the same door the couple had, and Georgie had to restrain a shiver.
Lord only knew what he would face.
But she had her marching orders, and she wasn’t about to disobey them. She scanned the room in search of Jane Wilton, careful to keep her composure and act without the appearance of haste. There wouldn’t be any good in drawing attention to the situation. It would only harm the Wiltons, and it wouldn’t help the Spinsters at all either.
Charlotte saw her and left her four gentlemen, stepping discreetly to her side. “What’s happening?” she asked in a quiet voice, taking Georgie’s arm with a fond smile. “I can see the look in your eyes, even if no one else can.”
“Lucy Wilton,” Georgie hissed quickly through her teeth. “Simon Delaney.”
“No!” Charlotte gasped, if one could gasp without changing expression.
Georgie nodded once, smiling at Mrs. Westfall, who did not return it. “Tony’s gone after them, I’m to fetch Jane and we’ll keep everything as quiet and contained as we can.”
“Of course,” Charlotte replied a bit distractedly. “Of course. I’ll alert the others. Quietly, of course. Tony should be able to set things right before anything untoward occurs.”
“But will he?” Georgie murmured before she could stop herself.
Charlotte gave her an odd look. “Georgiana Allen, have you taken leave of your senses? Or have you really become such a skeptic that you can’t see one of the good ones right before your eyes?” She lifted a dubious brow, then moved away, seemingly perfectly at ease.
Georgie watched her go, her brow furrowing. She knew Tony was a good man, certainly, but what did that matter? Good men behaved in ways not becoming them all the time, and despite Tony’s clever wit and kindness where they were concerned, she could not know how he would respond. She would like to think he had good motives, both for helping Prue and for helping Lucy Wilton, but…
Well, it hardly mattered at the moment. He was helping them for the time being and that was the most important thing.
She spotted Jane in conversation with Mr. Greensley, which was unfortunate, as that was a rather good pairing. She hated to break it up, but surely there would be more opportunities for them. Mr. Greensley was a good sort. He would undoubtedly try again, if Jane were the woman he wanted.
“Miss Wilton,” Georgie said with as much warmth as she could. “Mr. Greensley. I wonder if I might steal Miss Wilton away for a moment. I desperately need her advice on a gift for my cousin, and she is so good at these sorts of things.”
“Of course,” Mr. Greensley replied with a smart bow. “Please.”
Jane looked at Georgie with a bewildered expression as she pulled her away. “Miss Allen, surely by now you have heard that I am dismal when it comes to presents. My sisters talk about it constantly.”
Georgie nodded quickly. “Yes, I am well aware. I need your presence more than advice on presents. Come with me.”
They strolled back around the side of the room, apparently deep in conversation, though it was all a pretense. The moment Jane had the slightest understanding of what her sister had done, Georgie was charged with keeping her restrained and at her side, so she wouldn’t march off to confront Lucy and Delaney herself. A fuss such as that would only cause more gossip, and it would be a miracle if the secret could remain a secret if such a scene were to occur.
Lucy came through the doorway then, looking perturbed but not altogether distressed or disheveled. Georgie released Jane’s arm and watched as she took her sister by the hand and hauled her away, Jane’s jaw set while Lucy looked merely resigned.
No one would pay any attention to that sort of sight. The sight of older sisters dragging wayward younger ones was quite commonplace, and Lucy Wilton had already earned herself the sort of reputation that would make nobody question what was happening. No one would suspect anything untoward.
Georgie allowed herself a silent sigh of relief, and glanced back at the doorway, wondering where Simon Delaney had gotten to, and what Tony was about. But so long as Lucy was safe and out of the way, she was perfectly content.
She smiled to herself and skirted around the edges of the room to join the others and Lady Hetty.
Charlotte, as usual, was not with them. One could only expect her to be engaging her usual collection of men, all of whom were doomed to fail in their pursuit of her.
“What’s happened?” Izzy murmured beside her.
“It’ll keep,” she replied, patting her cousin’s hand. She took a deep, cleansing breath. “It’ll keep.”
“Oh no, it won’t!”
Charlotte was suddenly before them, looking excitable and lively, her dark eyes dancing, her dimple making an appearance.
Georgie looked past Charlotte for a moment, then back at her. “Where did you come from?”
“Everybody always asks me that,” she quipped, adjusting her gloves. “I never know quite what to say.”
Grace heaved an irritated sigh. “Not generally speaking, Charlotte. Where did you just come from at this moment? Specifically.”
Charlotte looked behind both shoulders as if anybody was listening, which they were not, then leaned forward. “I’ve been eavesdropping on Tony and Simon Delaney.”
Izzy gasped. “Simon Delaney? Is Tony a friend of his?”
“If he was before,” Charlotte retorted with a little smirk, “he certainly isn’t now!”
She quickly related to them what she had heard, which was only the tail end of the conversation, in which Tony had scolded Simon Delaney for taking advantage of a young girl’s nature. Simon had insisted that Lucy Wilton had professed to know exactly what she was doing. Two questions further had revealed that Lucy had not, in fact, known what she was doing. Tony had sent her back into the ballroom and told her that if he did not have her as a partner for a dance in ten minutes, he would send out a search party.
“So that’s why Lucy looks as though she’s eaten lemons,” Grace mused.
Lady Hetty harrumphed. “She always looks like that.”
“Thank the Lord for Tony,” Izzy breathed, putting a hand to her cheek. “That could have been disastrous.”
Prue was too shocked and flushed to even manage a stammer.
Poor dear.
“That’s not the best part,” Charlotte added, looking rather smug. “You should have heard what Tony said to Simon Delaney.”
“Oh Charlotte!” Izzy squealed softly. “Can you recall it?”
“She can always recall it,” Grace and Georgie said together.
Charlotte shrugged. “I can. Simon Delaney was most put out and said many things that I will not repeat out of feminine delicacy.”
Georgie snorted at that.
Charlotte ignored her. “Then Delaney said something about seeing her a spinster like us. And Tony, oh, he was magnificent. He said, ‘Better a spinster like them than ruined by a toad like you.’ And Delaney said, ‘You don’t even know her!’ Rather put out he was.”
“What did Tony say to that?” Prue asked, her voice awed.
It was the first time she’d called him Tony, and they all knew it. That seemed significant somehow.
Charlotte smiled warmly at Prue. “He said, ‘No, nor do I need to. And if I see you anywhere near her, or any other female not bound to you by blood or marital ties again, I will make certain you are run out of London by more powerful men than you could ever think to name’.”
Georgie’s heart felt as though it was bursting in her chest at the repeated words, and she couldn’t manage to draw a proper breath. Tony had said exactly the words she could have wished and more. He had taken up their cause for his own without anybody instructing him.
“And Tony looked so tall and powerful,” Charlotte was saying almost dreamily.
Lady Hetty laughed once, leaning in. “He is tall.”
“And strong,” Grace reminded them.
Izzy nodded at them both. “And probably influential considering…”
“Yes, yes,” Charlotte replied quickly with a wave of her hand, “but he was full of vigor and energy and…”
“Charlotte,” Georgie interrupted gently, finding her voice at last. “Is that exactly what he said?”
Her friend looked almost outraged. “Yes. Exactly, Georgie. You know I never lie about eavesdropping.”
She did know that. They all knew that.
“And he didn’t know you were there?”
Now Charlotte looked mortally offended. “Of course not! What kind of eavesdropper would I be if people knew I was there? He marched straight out and joined in the waltz with his cousin’s wife without seeing me. I promise you, Georgie, he was not saying it for my benefit.”
Georgie looked out at the dancing now, where the waltz was coming to its conclusion. Tony escorted Lady Sterling off the floor, then turned and walked to Lucy Wilton, who was appropriately waiting and looking much chagrined. He never gave her a hint of a sour or superior expression. He was warm and engaging, smiling the entire time.
Lucy Wilton would be in love with him before the night was out.
And this was a man she was not sure she could trust? He had proven himself to be beyond what she had initially expected, and more than equal to the tasks they had given him. He was a fine ally for them and a fine gentleman besides. He’d treated Prue with kindness, he’d borne Lady Hetty’s eccentricities with ease, he’d bantered with Georgie skillfully, and he’d taken care of Lucy Wilton beyond imagining.
If Georgie couldn’t trust him, then she was beyond hope of ever trusting anyone.
She watched him thoughtfully for a moment. Perhaps he would not think so ill of her as others might, if she were to confide in him.
Rising from her seat with a wordless murmur to the others, she proceeded around the edge of the room again, stopping near the spot where Tony danced with Lucy. Her heart pounded so hard it began to pain her, but she could not back down now. Someone had to know, help her decide, set her mind at ease, and it was better that person be an outsider than one of the Spinsters in truth.
The dance concluded, and Tony bowed to Lucy, who, sure enough, beamed at him too fondly. He returned her to her sister, then saw Georgie coming towards him. He looked surprised but smiled and met her as the next dance continued.
“Come to ask me to dance, Miss Allen?” he asked.
She shook her head, trying to smile at him, but failing.
He frowned at once. “Georgie? What is it?”
He said her name so easily, and without any hint of rancor or teasing. She needed that, and she used it to buoy her wavering confidence.
“May I speak to you for a moment?” she queried.
He nodded and gestured towards the window nearby. Once there, he looked at her more carefully. “Georgie, Miss Lucy is secure, you saw me dancing with her just now. She’s a bit embarrassed, perhaps foolish, but she is well and whole. No lasting harm done.”
Georgie smiled, shaking her head quickly. “No, it isn’t that, you were marvelous with her. I am most appreciative. It’s just…” She straightened a little. “Tony, I’ve misjudged you and I am sorry for it. You have proven yourself worthy of trust, and to be a very fine man indeed. I should like to be friends with you in earnest, not just for the Spinsters.”
Tony’s brows rose, and he smiled. “I’m not sure I like where this is going, Georgie. You’re complimenting me, and that leaves me quite terrified.”
She laughed at that, the tension in her chest easing. “Yes, I fear I am a difficult person at times.”
“But only in the best of ways,” he assured her. “And I accept your friendship readily.”
Georgie chewed her lip for a moment. “Tony, if you want to know the true state of the Spinsters, I have… That is… may I confide in you about something? As a friend.”
He sobered, and his brow furrowed a bit. “Of course, Georgie.”
“Promise not to tell a soul?” she demanded.
He nodded once. “On my honor.”
Georgie stared at him, exhaling slowly. “I sometimes regret ever assembling the Spinsters. And I’m wondering if it isn’t time to end things.”