June Calvin Read online

  She took herself firmly in hand. She had no wish to disappoint her parents, nor to lock herself into a miserable marriage, so she must keep her wits about her.

  “I had thought to wear the yellow carriage dress, Mother.”

  “We must go upstairs at once and survey your wardrobe.” Taking her willing daughter’s hand, Lady Elizabeth led the girl from the room as they pondered exactly how Davida should dress for this most significant occasion.

  Chapter Two

  Lord Pelham arrived promptly and was pleased to find Miss Gresham ready. She drew him to her parents and introduced them. He was pleasantly impressed by Sir Charles’s quiet dignity and Lady Elizabeth’s poise as they greeted him. There was nothing of the mushroom about any member of this family, he decided with relief.

  He graciously accepted a cup of tea and took a small cake from the serving tray, but soon rose. “If you are ready, Miss Gresham, I would like to arrive in the park . . .”

  “I know, at the height of the fashionable hour.” Davida twinkled at him. “You want positively hundreds of people to tell Lady Elspeth you were seen driving a dashing brunette about.”

  Lord Pelham laughed. “We understand one another very well.” Then, taking a second look he added, “Indeed, you are very dashing in that red spencer.”

  After much consultation, Davida and her mother had selected a cream-colored muslin carriage dress with scarlet piping, and she wore over it a somewhat daringly colored scarlet spencer with military frogging. It was a fashionable echo of the uniforms of His Majesty’s troops. A chip-straw bonnet with scarlet trim framed her face, and she carried a matching cream-and-scarlet parasol.

  Davida dimpled up at him as he led her to his curricle. “Not what every young miss wears, I fear, but I do look so insipid in pastels.”

  “No one could ever find you insipid, Miss Gresham!” Pelham’s gallant response was instantaneous and unaffected. They chatted in perfect harmony as he skillfully maneuvered his curricle and matching bays through the busy London traffic.

  As he drove, Davida had the opportunity of studying him. He was such an attractive young man! He had a high forehead onto which tumbled chestnut curls which would be the envy of any girl. In profile his nose was long and straight, and his chin firm. When he glanced at her she noted approvingly the slight cleft to his chin and the high, well-defined cheekbones. His mouth was thin but well shaped and mobile. But the pièce de résistance of his appearance were fine eyes so dark blue that they sometimes seemed black, fringed with enviably long dark red-brown lashes.

  On this lovely spring day the park was filled with carriages, riders on fine bits of blood and bone, and walkers of every description. Pelham gladly introduced Davida to numerous members of the ton who greeted him along the promenade. Davida certainly felt that her objective had been accomplished, for several promising young men seemed most eager to make her acquaintance.

  Some of them she had certainly met before, yet being seen with Baron Pelham seemed to give her a certain cachet, just as she had hoped. She was gratified to have several young men ask for the privilege of calling on her.

  Lord Pelham did not miss the favorable reaction his companion was receiving. “I’d better make sure you save me two dances at Almack’s this evening.” He slanted a conspiratorial look at her.

  Davida flushed and looked away. “Perhaps at the Stanhope Ball? I do not go to Almack’s.”

  “What nonsense. Why ever not?” Correctly interpreting her silence, he asserted, “I’ll speak to Sally myself. Lady Jersey is an old friend of our family.” He threw back his head and laughed with glee. “That will really get back to Elspeth. Lady Jersey and her mother are thick as thieves.”

  How she loved to see him laugh. Davida admired the strong column of his throat above his cravat, the white gleam of his teeth, the rich, throaty sound he made. The trend of her thoughts surprised her. This would never do. She must remind herself that he was spoken for!

  “You love her very much, don’t you?”

  Pelham’s cobalt blue eyes closed for a second in pain. Then he turned a determined look on her. “Yes, and I shall win her back. I know she cares for me, you see. It was a foolish lovers’ quarrel.”

  “I do hope driving out with me will help.”

  “It can hardly hurt. She isn’t speaking to me at all right now.” Pelham’s mouth drew into a bitter line and he steered the curricle into a less busy path.

  “She’s such a stubborn, moralistic chit. Tell me, Miss Gresharn, would you cut up rough merely because your fiancé went to the pantomime without you, to see Grimaldi perform? Honestly, you’d think she were the bishop, not her father!”

  Davida smiled. “Perhaps she was jealous that she couldn’t go herself. I know I’d love to go. I hear Grimaldi is brilliant.”

  “Hmmm.” Pelham considered this interpretation of his fiancée’s behavior, neatly guiding his bays past a knot of pedestrians as he pondered. “It’s true that the theater I attended is not such as a gently bred female would wish to be seen at. But no, I doubt that’s it. She could go see him at Drury Lane. The fact is, Elspeth has no taste for popular entertainments, and I can accept that. But she disapproves of everything I do except dance attendance upon her. It was just becoming too boring. I don’t intend to live under petticoat rule, frankly, and I told her so. That’s when she threw my ring at me.”

  Privately Davida thought their problems seemed deeper than a mere lovers’ quarrel, but she felt truly sorry for Lord Pelham. She laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sure she regrets it now. Perhaps you should call on her or send a note and . . .”

  “What? Apologize? I’m not sorry. I meant what I said.” He set his mouth in a stubborn line.

  “Yes, but I daresay you still regret the quarrel. You could say that.”

  Pelham smiled then, a warm, slightly slantwise smile that made Davida’s heart do a sudden flip-flop. “You are a sophist, Miss Gresham.”

  She laughed. “All’s fair, you know.”

  “Tell, me, Miss Gresham, why haven’t I seen you more often this season? You and Lady Sarah Harwood must be two of the most reluctant young ladies to be presented this season.”

  Her always rosy cheeks took on a deeper hue as Davida denied being reluctant. “It’s just that my parents have never made a practice of being in London for the season, and so haven’t a wide acquaintance. As for Sarah, the duke is almost reclusive since his wife died five years ago. He simply couldn’t face a season in London, so her Aunt Helen, Lady D’Alatri, is bringing her out. She is a very lively and interesting person, but given more to intellectual pursuits than the social whirl.”

  “Ah, yes, Lady D’Alatri. Something of a bluestocking, is she not? She is very interested in music, I believe. A member of the Philharmonic Society?”

  Surprise showed in Davida’s voice as she acknowledged this. “Oh, I am not entirely a fribble, Miss Gresham,” Pelham assured her, amusement lighting his features. “I play several instruments, and though I cannot hope to attain the proficiency that would gain me entry into the Philharmonic Society, I never miss one of their concerts if I can help it.”

  “What instruments do you play, Lord Pelham?” Davida was captivated that this handsome young man, who inclined toward the Corinthian, should be so musical.

  “Well, I play the piano rather well, the violin somewhat better, and the flute very badly. This winter I believe I will take up the cello. If someone in our county can learn it, we would have a fairly good string quartet. Are you musical, Miss Gresham?”

  Davida was pleased to be able to answer in the affirmative. “I suppose you could say my instrument is my voice, though I can play the piano respectably. My greatest delight so far in London has been to hear the operas presented at King’s Theatre.”

  With a quirk to his mouth that said he knew the answer already, he asked, “Why do you specify King’s Theatre?”

  Davida was entirely serious in her reply. “Oh, at Covent Garden and Drury Lane they quite butch
er them, making tragedies end happily, interrupting scenes of great intensity for some burlesque. It is just too bad of them. They simply ruined a production of Mozart’s Don Giovanni that I particularly wanted to hear performed as it was written.”

  “You sound almost fierce, Miss Gresham.”

  Embarrassed, Davida turned away. “I should be more careful. A young lady shouldn’t take anything seriously but her gowns and her bonnets, I’m told.”

  He laughed again, that marvelous deep laugh, and reached out a hand to turn her face to his. “That sort of young lady is a dead bore, Miss Gresham. And I entirely share your opinions. I take my opera very seriously; in fact, I sometimes attend final rehearsals, in order to hear the music without the obnoxious noise the audience makes during performances.”

  “Do you really? How I wish I could do that!”

  “I don’t know if that would be possible.” He hesitated a minute. “You see, sometimes the musicians and directors are rather rough-spoken when mistakes are made.”

  “Oh.” Davida lowered her head in disappointment. “Mama would never let me go then. She is most strict.”

  Pelham looked at the crestfallen girl sympathetically. “I understand. I have a very strict mother, too. And my father, when he was alive, was an absolute paragon of propriety.” An awkward silence drove him to change the topic.

  “You and Lady Sarah are very good friends, I believe.”

  “Oh, yes, almost like sisters. We were practically raised together. We are related, you know. Double third cousins or some such thing.”

  Pelham looked intrigued, but before he could pursue the topic further, they were hailed by a friend of Davida’s, Lieutenant Reginald Prescott of the Royal Guard.

  Davida’s cheeks pinked when she saw who it was. She very much suspected that Lieutenant Prescott had offered for her and been turned away by her father. From his friendly manner, he apparently bore her no ill will, however.

  “Give my regards to your father, Miss Gresham,” he urged her as he turned his horse to trot alongside them. “Regular Tartar, Sir Charles. Look out for him, my lord. He was my father’s commanding officer in the colonial war.”

  Pelham grinned and turned to her. “I didn’t realize your father was a military man, Miss Gresham.”

  Proudly Davida informed him that her father had served with distinction, advancing to Lieutenant colonel and receiving a knighthood as a result of his service. “He was with General Cornwallis when he surrendered. The general hinted he might receive a title but it never came to pass.”

  Pelham wryly observed, “Losing a war, especially an unpopular one, is not, I suppose, the best route to advancement!”

  Davida laughed. “I suppose not.”

  “Wish I’d gotten my colors before we licked Boney,” Lieutenant Prescott asserted. “What I wouldn’t give to see some real fighting.”

  As they parted from Prescott, Pelham observed, “He might not be so sorry it was over if he had any true sense of his own mortality. My younger brother was just like him. If he were still here, I wouldn’t be in quite such a push to marry.”

  “What . . . what happened, if you don’t mind telling me?”

  “No, I’m very proud of Theodore. Like your father, he was a war hero. My father didn’t want him to fight, being ardently opposed to the restoration of the Bourbon dynasty, but Theo was hot-blooded, and very impatient with being a younger son. So father bought him his colors. He was killed during the storming of Montmartre in 1814.”

  Pelham stopped and looked away for a moment, obviously composing himself. “Only twenty—so young to die! But before he died he was much decorated and praised in the dispatches. Father was proud of him, no matter how he felt about the cause.”

  Davida nodded. “Yes, I can understand that he would be.” Remembering her younger brother Peter’s intense interest in all things military, she glanced curiously at Pelham. “And you, did you never wish to follow the drum?”

  “At one time it had its attraction, but I am, like my father, too much the Whig to wish to go to arms to restore the Bourbons. At any rate, as the oldest son and heir, I was made firmly aware of my duty to remain at home, to safeguard the name and learn how to manage our estates.”

  “Well, at least now I know how to deflect my father’s aspirations.” Davida spoke without thinking, then blushed deeply when Pelham insisted on an explanation.

  “You see, my father is quite determined I shall marry a title or a fortune, or both.”

  “What father isn’t?” Pelham teased.

  “I am glad you can joke about it! I find this mercenary approach to matrimony very disagreeable. It must be tiresome for you to always be fending off matchmaking parents. At any rate, if Papa begins to hear wedding bells when you call on me, I’ll just tell him you’re a confirmed Bonopartist. That will put him off.”

  Pelham grinned appreciatively. “He’s a strong Tory, then?”

  “The staunchest. God, King, and Country! He has no patience with any but the strictest loyalist views.”

  “We are not so far apart as you think, Miss Gresham. I am all for God and Country, and the King, too, as long as Parliament can keep him on a short chain.” He winked wickedly at her and whipped up his team.

  Their ride ended as pleasantly as it began, and Lord Pelham secured the promise of two dances at the Stanhope ball the following Saturday, but archly warned her he still intended to collect two at Almack’s soon, as well.

  Davida watched the tall, elegant form stride away, firmly suppressing a strong twinge of regret that he wasn’t interested in her. She hastened up the stairs, eager to tell her parents of her success in the park. There were several very eligible young men planning to call on her, and wouldn’t her father be in alt to hear that Lord Pelham thought he could obtain vouchers for Almack’s?

  Chapter Three

  The next morning Davida’s best friend, Sarah, daughter of the Duke of Harwood, called on her, full of excitement. “Oh, Davie,” she breathed as she rushed into the morning room where Davida was alone, lingering over breakfast and the newspapers. “You’ll never guess what was all the talk at Almack’s last night!”

  Davida smiled affectionately at her plump blond friend. It had been hoped by both girls that Sarah’s father’s sponsorship would have been enough to secure invitations to Almack’s for Davida, but as yet it hadn’t happened. Still, Sarah had faithfully introduced her to those members of the ton with whom she was acquainted, and the two had gone together whenever they both had invitations to the same event.

  “Such a dust-up! You cannot credit it! Good morning, Cousin Elizabeth.”

  Davida’s mother came into the room looking rather distracted. “Good morning, Sarah. Davida, dear, have you seen my half-glasses?”

  “I believe you left them on the piano, Mother.”

  “Come listen, Cousin Elizabeth. You’ll be amazed at the latest on-dit!” Sarah gave an enthusiastic little bounce as she motioned Lady Elizabeth to a chair.

  “By all means.” Davida’s mother settled herself, all eagerness.

  “Well, you know that Lady Elspeth Howard jilted Lord Pelham?” Mother and daughter exchanged interested glances and nodded their heads.

  “Last night he asked her to stand up with him, and she said, right out loud so everyone could hear, ‘I don’t dance with men who flaunt their fancy pieces in the park for all to see’!”

  Davida and Lady Elizabeth drew in identical breaths of dismay. Sarah, unaware of any undercurrents, hurried on. “And Lord Pelham got very cold and icy and said that the girl he was driving with was all that was respectable. And then Lady Elspeth said, ‘Strange, I do not see her here tonight.’”

  “Oh, dear,” Lady Elizabeth moaned.

  “Wait, you haven’t heard the whole. Lord Pelham’s face turned brick red, and he fairly snarled at her, ‘But you shall see her when I escort her to the Stanhope ball Saturday.’”

  Then she said, in the most cutting tone, “And shall she be wearing scarl
et and pantaloons again?” Whereupon he not only walked away from her, but left Almack’s.”

  Sarah waited for some comment or question from her two auditors, but it was slow in coming, so she added, “I can’t wait until Saturday to see who it is, can you?”

  “No, no indeed,” Davida managed. “Did no one know her?”

  “Well, as to that, there was all sorts of speculation, everything from Lord Pelham’s truly planning to bring a fancy piece to the ball, to its perhaps being Lady Mercer. But I’ve saved the best, and funniest, for last. Guess what it is?”

  Davida shook her head. “I can’t.” But she had a strong feeling that she could.

  “Sir Charles Moresby said it was you. He said, ‘You know the gel, I daresay. Miss Gresham is a bosom bow of yours, ain’t she?’ And Lord Threlbourne thought it was you, too. Said Lord Pelham had introduced you to him in the park.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Oh, of course I said it couldn’t have been you, you scarcely know Lord Pelham.”

  Davida chuckled ruefully. “Knowing him is turning out to be more dangerous than I thought.”

  For the first time the look of glee faded from Sarah’s round face. “What do you mean, Davie?”

  “I mean, it was I who was driving with Lord Pelham in the park yesterday.”

  “Never say so, Davie!”

  “I am afraid it’s true. I was wearing my scarlet spencer. You know the one.” Then Davida told the whole story to Sarah, who clapped her hands and pronounced it famous. “And it certainly worked, for Lady Elspeth was furious.”

  “It worked, but did it help or hurt?” Davida’s brow knit in a worried frown. “It sounds to me like it drove them even further apart. I hope he does not repent it.”

  “And I hope you do not repent the day ever you laid eyes on Lord Pelham,” her mother moaned. “I should have vetoed the pantaloons. No matter how lacy and decorative they are, some will persist in seeing them as fast.”