June Calvin Read online

  “Princess Charlotte wears them,” Sarah defended her friend staunchly.

  “And on a breezy day in the park, I think them much more apt than petticoats to preserve the decencies,” Davida insisted.

  At that moment, Perry carried in a card on a tray and handed it to Lady Elizabeth. Noting the turned-down corner, she read it, her brows lifted in surprise. “Yes, of course, Perry, show him in.”

  She smiled archly at the two curious girls, obviously enjoying their puzzlement until moments later Lord Pelham swept into the room.

  Davida felt a tightening of her breath as he drew near. Really, the man was too attractive, and especially now, for this morning he wore an air of serious purpose, rather than the boyish vulnerability she had seen yesterday.

  “Lady Elizabeth, Lady Sarah, Miss Gresham.” He greeted each one and seated himself across from Davida.

  Davida felt a curious little flutter to her heart’s rhythm as she looked at Pelham, so handsomely attired in a form-fitting brown morning coat. His neck stock was rather casually tied, and he wore the fashionable trousers.

  “Lady Sarah has perhaps told you something of what happened at Almack’s last night?”

  “Yes, it seems I am become a fancy piece. I should have known better than to wear that scarlet spencer.” Davida smiled archly at him.

  Pelham frowned. “’Tis no laughing matter, I fear. Her careless words have unleashed a storm of speculation. Betting at White’s, scandal broth likely being served with tea this morning. You know how the ton loves a scandal. The last thing I wanted to do was to risk your reputation.”

  “And the last thing I wanted to do was to make things worse between you and Lady Elspeth.”

  Sadness softened Pelham’s features for an instant, but then he returned to his purposeful mien. “I wish to request the opportunity to escort you to the Stanhope ball. My mother will be accompanying us.”

  “Bringing up the siege guns, Lord Pelham,” Lady Elizabeth observed.

  Pelham smiled grimly. “We shall need the best weapons at our command.”

  Davida shook her head. “I thank you, Lord Pelham, but I have long since planned to attend with Lady Sarah and her aunt.”

  Pelham half bowed in his chair toward Sarah. “I shall be glad to escort you and your aunt, too, Lady Sarah. To continue Lady Elizabeth’s metaphor, we can use all the reinforcements we can get in this battle.”

  Sarah responded as Davida knew that she would. “Of course. My aunt will be delighted to renew her acquaintance with your mother. She often speaks with pleasure of their come-out together.”

  “But your mother is not well,” Lady Elizabeth remonstrated. “Did I not hear that she is an invalid?”

  “She suffers from rheumatism and goes about very little, but she agrees with me that this step is entirely necessary, else Elspeth’s hateful remark could lead to Davida’s social ruin.”

  Davida sat back, stunned. “It is very serious, then.”

  “Very.”

  “Yes, I thought so when Sarah told the tale.” Davida’s mother nodded her head. “We deeply appreciate your standing by her in this.”

  “It is only right that I do so. In fact, I hope to take Miss Gresham with me now to meet my mother. She wishes to know her before introducing her to Lady Jersey.” He bent his gaze on Davida, determination flashing in the dark, intent eyes.

  Davida rose, giving him her hand. “Thank you, my lord. I will be pleased to come with you.”

  “Don’t look so solemn, Miss Gresham. Remember, whatever happens at the Stanhope ball, you will have the pleasure of my company to look forward to.” A roguish twinkle lit his eyes.

  She laughed. “Oh, indeed, sir. For that I will endure any scandal.”

  “And rightly so!” Lord Pelham chuckled softly.

  “Davida will need to change clothes if she is to accompany you now,” Lady Elizabeth observed. Davida was dressed in a simple round gown of yellow sprigged muslin, and had on a frilly cap. And pantaloons! Her mother dropped her eyes significantly, and Davida nodded that she had understood the message.

  “Wear that charming blue dress you had on the other morning when you rescued me from making a cake of myself in front of Lady Elspeth.”

  Davida nodded, flattered that he had noticed her favorite dress, and hurried upstairs. After her maid had swiftly helped her remove the offending pantaloons and change into the blue walking dress, Davida took a moment to tidy her hair. The visage that looked back at her from her mirror was unfamiliar. Instead of her usual naturally rosy countenance, she beheld a pale, frightened face.

  With a shaking hand Davida replaced her brush and pinched her cheeks to give them some color, before donning the leghorn bonnet she had purchased the day before. How long ago that seemed! Just this morning she had arisen feeling smugly excited that she had begun to make progress in the ton. Now, because of her impulse to assist Lord Pelham, she was on the brink of complete social ruin.

  ***

  Lord Pelham’s mother was a pleasant, friendly person who seemed very disposed to like Davida. Rheumatism had left her somewhat bent and with gnarled hands, but Lady Pelham was still an attractive woman, whose graying red hair suggested the source of the red glints in her son’s deep brown curls.

  She received them in a charming drawing room which had been cleverly decorated to include some fine older pieces of furniture along with the more modern, lighter furniture. Though all was understated, with no ostentatious display, Davida had no doubt that everything in the room was of the first quality, and some of the paintings were doubtless priceless.

  Lady Pelham quickly put the somewhat overawed Davida at ease by a low, chuckling laugh very like her son’s as she ventured, “You may perhaps be beginning to regret attempting to help my son get his ox from the ditch since it seems to have landed your own there straightaway.”

  “I greatly fear it is a case of fools rushing in, Lady Pelham.”

  “No, the foolish one is our naughty Lady Elspeth. She has a rash tongue when she is upset, I fear.” Lady Pelham’s soft, cultured voice subtly conveyed her disapproval.

  “I do not know her well, but she is very lovely,” Davida murmured.

  “True. And blondes are all the rage now. At first I feared Monty was attracted merely by her beauty. Her features are quite classical. And it was something of a triumph to catch the acknowledged toast of the season, wasn’t it, my dear?” She shot a shrewd glance at her son, who frowned uncomfortably at his parent. “She has many other fine qualities, however. If she can learn to moderate her behavior she will make my son a good wife. He tells me you are related to the Duke of Harwood.”

  Startled by the change in topic, Davida stammered, “Yes, because in a manner of speaking, my father and he each provided the other with brides.”

  “Oh, good. I sense a romantic tale!” Lady Pelham settled back against the cushions, smiling encouragingly at Davida. “Do go on, dear.”

  “My father should be the one to tell it, I suppose. He delights in recounting how His Grace used to run tame in our home as a young man. You see, though Sarah and I are of an age, my father is twenty years older than His Grace. The old duke was a rather cold, forbidding man, Papa says, with little time for his sons.”

  “Ah, yes, but as I recall, Lord Stephen had plenty of time for gaming!” Lady Pelham grimly summed up the previous duke.

  “Yes, I believe so. At any rate, after father came back from America . . .”

  “He served in the colonies, then?”

  “Oh, yes!” Davida’s pride was evident in her voice and radiant expression. “As I explained to Lord Pelham yesterday, my father was knighted there. But when his older brother died, he had to sell out and come home, as my grandmama was all alone, with no one to run the estate. So Papa began to learn all about agricultural improvements. He had never planned to be a farmer, but he’s a very proud man, and whatever he does, he wishes to do well at it.”

  “An admirable trait,” Lord Pelham interjected.
He gave Davida an encouraging smile.

  “His Grace—I mean Viscount Barton, as he then was—admired it, I suppose, for from the time when he was about seventeen, as I heard the tale, he and his younger brother practically lived with my father. He wanted to learn all there was to know about farming, for he intended to improve his land instead of wasting his life on gaming as his father was doing.”

  A restless movement on Lady Pelham’s part warned Davida she had better get on with her tale. “My father was somewhat famous in our county when he returned from the war, so one day the old duke invited him to the abbey to meet his guests. Among them was his cousin, the Earl of Westbury, and his granddaughter, my mother.”

  A quirked eyebrow told Davida that Pelham had not realized she was so well connected. Satisfied with the effect, she continued. “My mother was quite impressed with my father. Even today, she loves to reminisce about how handsome he was in his military regalia. But she was very shy. She couldn’t bring herself to speak to him. So His Grace—I mean Viscount Barton—took matters in his own hands. He told my father he should make a push to get to know the tall, shy girl in the corner, because she had a fancy for him, and a fine dowry, too, with no restrictions on it.”

  Pelham’s laugh rang out. “An irresistible combination for your father, I gather.”

  Davida frowned. She had not meant to depict her father as a fortune hunter. “My father loves my mother very much. And he used her dowry wisely, to the benefit of herself and her children. He has become the second landowner in the county, after the duke.”

  “I’m sure Monty meant no criticism, Miss Gresham.” Lady Pelham leaned forward to pat Davida’s hands while smiling indulgently at her son. “ ’Tis very much the way of the world. But I admire your loyalty to your father. So that is how the duke gave your father his bride. And did I understand you to say he returned the favor?”

  Davida nodded. “A year later he accompanied my father to visit a relative who had some exotic sheep for sale. There His Grace met my father’s second cousin and fell in love with her. Though he was only eighteen, he determined to marry her or no one.”

  “So young! And pray tell, how did Lord Stephen take that?”

  “He took it very badly, as you can imagine, and not just because of his son’s age. Cousin Eleanor, like my father, was the offspring of a mere country squire, far below the notice of the heir to a dukedom. The match was forbidden. The duke introduced his son to many eligible females, and even tried to arrange a marriage, but without success.”

  “For three years they waited for one another. On the day of his majority Viscount Barton had the banns cried in our parish church, and they were wed three weeks later.”

  “Did his father come to accept her?” Pelham’s curiosity was obviously as great as his mother’s.

  “Not for some time. He refused to even meet her until . . .” Davida’s cheeks pinked and she stumbled a bit. “That is . . . when she began increasing. The old duke was dying, and most eager for his son to have an heir, so he relented. He died before Sarah was born, however.”

  “I suppose in a way that’s to the good.” At Davida’s questioning look, Pelham explained, “If he had not died, he would have been most disappointed in a daughter, I expect. And I believe Sarah is the only child?”

  “Oh, I see what you mean. Yes, he would have been devastated if there had been no heir. But there is a younger brother, remember. By now he has three sons, so Harwood has no concerns about the succession.”

  “That is a charming story, my dear, and it certainly sets my mind at ease about introducing you to Sally Jersey. The granddaughter of an earl and a near connection of a duke, with a war hero for a father, certainly need not fear to apply for vouchers for Almack’s.” Lady Pelham rang for tea, and asked Davida to pour.

  Although it was quite unexceptionable for Pelham’s mother to ask a guest to pour when her own hands were so crippled, Davida was aware by the keen way Lady Pelham watched her that she was still on trial. However, after she acquitted herself gracefully at this task, the dowager seemed much satisfied. As she was rising to leave, Lady Pelham assured her, “I will ask Lady Jersey to call on me, and introduce you at the Stanhope ball. She will be quick to see your merit.”

  Tears stood in Davida’s eyes at the kindness she saw expressed in Lady Pelham’s face. “Thank you, ma’am. I shall do my very best to deserve your patronage.”

  “A very prettily behaved child, Monty. In future you must be more careful how you involve others in your lovers’ quarrels!” After this stern admonition, Lady Pelham waved them away with a smile.

  When Lord Pelham had returned her to her anxiously waiting parents, Davida was pleased to be able to give them a favorable report. She had won over Lady Pelham. But still to be answered was whether that grande dame could win over the rest of the ton.

  Davida’s father was quite perturbed when he learned that his daughter was in danger of being considered Lord Pelham’s fancy piece. He almost forbade her to have anything more to do with her new friend. Her mother had to exert herself considerably to talk him around.

  With a good deal of trepidation Davida prepared herself as best she could for the Stanhope ball, where she might be received into the very highest levels of society—or where she might receive the cut direct from everyone!

  Chapter Four

  Davida was promised to Lady D’Alatri that Thursday evening, to attend a lecture on mesmerism. When she returned, Perry informed her that her parents wished to see her in the library.

  The library was her father’s sanctuary, away from the crocodile couches and sphinx chairs he disdained; to be summoned there was sufficiently unusual to make Davida uneasy.

  “Yes, Papa?” she queried, nervously fingering a stray curl.

  Sir Charles grinned at her. “Don’t look so alarmed, child. You’re not here for a scold. Your mother and I have been holding something of a council of war.”

  “War, Papa?” She returned his smile and slid into the indicated chair. Her parents were sitting side by side on a leather sofa, and she had the strong feeling that just before she’d entered the room they’d been sitting much closer to one another.

  “Yes, Davie, war! Petticoat doings, to be sure, but no less serious for all that. Now, about the gown you’ve chosen for the Stanhope ball. Your mother tells me you initially had some doubts about its modesty, but that fancy French modiste talked you around. Is that true?”

  A blush spread over Davida’s cheeks. The gown was of a deep rose color which she favored because it was highly flattering to her coloring. But the bodice had alarmed her by its plunging neckline, especially when the modiste had virtually ordered her to wear one of the new “divorce” corsets to lift and separate her bosom.

  “You have zee nice leetle figure, ma’amzelle, mais certainment not what will demand the gentilhomme’s attention, non? But with my design, you will be the cynosure of all eyes.”

  To her mother’s demur she had responded forcefully, “C’est le dernier cri, I assure you, madame.”

  “Your mother has confessed to me that she had doubts about that gown, and I see by those flags in your cheeks that you still do.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “We cannot risk anything daring now, Davie,” her mother explained. “I confess it was wrong in me to let Madam talk us into it. I think you should wear another gown instead. It is doubtless too late to have another one made, so we will have to select something very demure from your wardrobe.”

  A happy thought occurred to Davida. “There’s the one that she has yet to complete. You know, the pale green lawn.”

  “Yes, I had quite forgotten it. It is unexceptionable. We’ll call on her tomorrow and make sure it will be ready by Saturday.”

  “Well, that’s settled then. Now that you have your uniform, my little soldier, what do you say to some reinforcements?”

  Davida crossed the room and knelt in front of her father. “Oh, Papa, you’re thinking of going with us!” He
r father detested balls and routs, and routinely avoided them if at all possible.

  Sir Charles ruffled his daughter’s dusky curls. “If you don’t think I’ll spoil your campaign?”

  She took his hand and held it to her cheek. “I’d like to have you there above all things.”

  His voice was husky as he raised her. “Then your mother and I will take our carriage, as Lord Pelham’s will be quite full. Now run along to bed and get some rest. A well-rested soldier fights best!”

  Davida hugged both parents fervently and dashed up the steps, tears in her eyes. Her prayers that night were that she not let her parents down, but somehow be a credit to them.

  ***

  The Stanhope ball was, in some ways, anticlimactic after all the nervous excitement leading up to it.

  Davida had urged her seamstress to finish the new gown of pale mint green lawn, with a demure smocked bodice, high waist, and tiny puffed sleeves. The hem was caught up in scallops to reveal a lacy white underskirt. Worn with the pearls her father had given her for her eighteenth birthday, it was all that was proper for a young lady in her first season.

  Madame Poincarré had designed it for her rather disdainfully, as suitable for evenings with elderly maiden aunts and the like. Now it loomed as the single most important gown in Davida’s wardrobe!

  She spent an unusual amount of time on her toilet that night, nearly driving her maid frantic with requests to try her hair, first one way, and then another, before settling on her usual simple style of curls brought forward around her face, anchored with a ribbon that matched her gown. A matching plume was artfully pinned to the ribbon to curl enticingly along her left ear.

  Davida, Sarah, and Sarah’s aunt, Lady D’Alatri, were accompanied by Lord Pelham and his mother, as planned. Even as agitated as she was, Davida could not help noticing and sighing over the handsome figure her escort cut in his evening clothes. He looked wonderful in black, and the form-fitting evening britches and knit hosiery emphasized his muscular, well-shaped legs. Once again Davida must needs firmly remind herself that Lord Pelham was not free.