Miss Darby's Debut, page 13
Penwyck’s gaze remained fixed on the fuzzy blur of images speeding past the coach window. “The girl’s head is full of romantical notions. She would do well to forget she ever knew Jeffrey Randall. Despite the Montgomerys’ less than exceptional consequence, I expect Deirdre could land a younger son, a baronetcy, perhaps better. She must allow her father to select a proper young man for her to marry.”
Which sounded precisely like something Tessa’s stepfather would say. Tessa flew into a rage. “You are the most unfeeling man I have ever known!” she cried. “I daresay you have never, ever been in love! I daresay beneath that calculating, aristocratic veneer you have never experienced strong feelings in your life!”
A dark brow cocked as the earl appeared a trifle amused by Tessa’s outburst. “You are presuming a great deal on a subject about which you know nothing, Miss Darby.”
“Your actions have told me a great deal!” she cried. With a pious sniff, Tessa thrust her chin up and glared at the odious man.
How was it possible she had enjoyed dancing with him only a few hours ago at her come-out ball? She had thought he looked quite handsome and dashing then, and he had appeared genuinely kind and solicitous. But today he had once again assumed his infuriatingly aloof persona.
The earl’s lips twitched as he gazed lazily at her. “Precisely what have you observed. Miss Darby?” he inquired.
Tessa clamped her lips tightly shut. She should have known better than to attempt a proper conversation with the starched-up earl. Why did she let him rile her so? And why did she feel so compelled to rip away that self-righteous mask and uncover the real man beneath? Of course, she did not truly know how he felt about anything, but the maddening part, the irksome part, was that she wished to know him, and know him well. There was something undeniably attractive about the disagreeable Lord Penwyck. It had succeeded in drawing her in and now it held her quite against her will. Because she did not wish to find the irritating man attractive, she loathed him for making her feel what she did not wish to feel!
“Well?” Lord Penwyck prodded. His taunting gaze locked with hers.
Tessa’s blue eyes narrowed and, because she could not help herself, she blurted out, “In the short time I have known you, sir, I have observed enough about you to know I do not like you the least little bit!”
It gratified her that the uppity Lord Penwyck seemed taken aback.
Penwyck was taken aback. Not only had no woman ever spoken so candidly to him before, no woman had ever told him straight out she did not like him. Miss Darby’s words stung him to the quick.
Suddenly he felt exactly as he had felt as a boy of five when an elder cousin of his, whom he had looked up to, had mean-spiritedly pushed him into the lily pond in the meadow. Penwyck’s cousin knew very well he did not know how to swim.
It had further stunned Penwyck when, after tossing him into the water, the older boy had simply turned and run away. Penwyck had learned to swim that day, but he had very nearly drowned in the process.
He felt as if he were drowning now, that if he did not do something to right things between himself and Miss Darby, she would run away . . . and leave him.
“So,” he said hesitantly, “you do not like me.”
The young lady’s auburn head sat at a stubborn tilt. She had on a dark-blue toque bonnet that perfectly matched the deep blue of her eyes. Suddenly, Penwyck was beset by a tantalizing image of her in her nightclothes this morning. She’d looked quite alluring with her long auburn hair flowing about her bare shoulders and her lovely breasts bouncing beneath her thin wrapper as she hurried alongside him. Waiting for her to speak now, Penwyck worked to ignore the effect that vivid image was having on his body. He was glad when she began to speak.
“Perhaps I did not mean I do not like you, sir. What I meant to say was I ... there are qualities about you I do not like.”
Penwyck digested that and decided she had given him something to cling to. He felt a whit better.
“I see. Well, then . ..”
He cast about for something further to say. But because nothing further occurred to him at the moment, he simply cleared his throat and turned again to stare from the coach window. Sheets of bitter rain were sliding down it.
He became aware of the persistent splat, splat, splat of raindrops pelting the roof of the coach. The angry sounds grew louder and louder.
Suddenly, blurred images began to dance before his eyes:
Miss Darby passing out leaflets from the side of a hansom cab in Hyde Park. Penwyck had been appalled at his first glimpse of her . . . and yet he’d been strangely fascinated with the tall beauty. She was so very unlike any other young lady in Town.
Another image formed before his eyes. Miss Darby looking extraordinarily pretty the night he drew her into his arms and attempted to teach her to dance. She’d been shy at first, but her confidence grew as the lesson progressed. She’d smiled often, then.
Had she liked him then?
That image dissolved and a picture of her laughing over dinner with old Lord Dickerson took its place. Penwyck squirmed uncomfortably on the coach bench.
He had observed her laughing a good deal last evening with Lord Chesterton and Sir Richard Warwick and Lords Marchmont, Fenwick, Powell, and Kirshfield. Penwyck’s eyes narrowed jealously. She’d even laughed with the new Frenchman in town. Monsieur de la whatever-his-name-was.
Penwyck’s chest grew tight as his nostrils flared with rage.
Miss Darby had danced and danced and danced and laughed and laughed and laughed. She appeared to like every last one of her many suitors.
But she did not like him.
Which felt bitterly painful, as painful as icy water filling his lungs.
There must be some way to right things!
At length, he turned to face her.
“Perhaps I might speak with Mr. Montgomery again,” he began quietly, “on Deirdre’s behalf.”
One of Miss Darby’s finely arched brows lifted as a puzzled look flitted across her pretty face. “Speak with him?”
“If Deirdre truly loves Mr. Randall, I see no reason why they should not be allowed to marry.”
Miss Darby’s sapphire blue eyes widened with joy. “And you will tell her father that?”
“I will do my best to persuade him, Miss Darby.”
“Oh, thank you, sir! I am certain you can persuade him. You are a very persuasive man. I have never known a man as strong and sure as you are, sir. Deirdre will be very happy!” Her pretty mouth softened. “As am I.”
Penwyck drew in a long, relieved breath. The sight of Miss Darby’s lovely features once again smiling felt like the sun bursting through the clouds and chasing the rain away.
It was turning out to be a glorious day after all.
Chapter Thirteen
Penwyck thoroughly enjoyed the few minutes of light-hearted conversation he and Miss Darby fell into as the Montgomery coach returned them to Portman Square.
He listened with genuine interest as she told him about a time when she and her brother, David, got caught in a downpour as they were returning home from visiting a neighbour who lived adjacent to their father’s plantation.
Penwyck asked several more questions about Miss Darby’s life in America about what sort of crops Senator Darby cultivated on his plantation and if there were Indians in close proximity to the farm. Tessa smiled before telling him most American Indians now lived further inland, on the central and western plains of the continent, a good distance from the more civilized eastern cities.
Apart from the Indians, Penwyck was pleased to note Miss Darby’s upbringing was, in essence, not so very different from his. One exception was that he had been shipped away to school and she had been educated at home, as were a good many young ladies in England.
Penwyck’s spirits were so elevated following their pleasant discourse that by the time they arrived home and discovered the flagway in front of the Penwyck town house a veritable gully, he very gallantly swept an only mildly protesting Miss Darby into his arms and carried her the few steps up the path and into the house.
Once the earl had set Tessa down inside the marble-tiled foyer, she, feeling a trifle dazed by the experience, hurriedly excused herself and fled up the stairwell to the safe haven of her bedchamber.
What had come over Lord Penwyck just now? And what had come over her? After he had announced in the carriage he would speak to Mr. Montgomery on Deirdre’s behalf, the two of them had begun to converse as if they were friends. The high-born earl had never before expressed an interest in her life in America or asked about her brother, David. Tessa realized with a sudden pang she missed her brother quite dearly. It would be wonderful if David could come to London. She would love to introduce him to Lord Penwyck.
What had she just thought?
A frantic look on her face, Tessa began to pace nervously before the hearth in her bedchamber. A minute later, she realized she was so overset she had not yet removed her rain-soaked pelisse or bonnet!
Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the oval looking-glass atop the dressing table, she realized she looked inordinately flushed.
She stared with wonder at her own image in the glass. Had Lord Penwyck actually scooped her into his arms and carried her up the walk into the house?
She’d never been carried by a gentleman before. The experience was quite disarming, but it was very chivalrous of him. The hem of her gown and pelisse would have been soaked with mud otherwise.
She hurriedly slipped out of her damp garments and absently removed a dry gown from the clothespress.
She had quite enjoyed the light banter she and the earl had exchanged in the carriage. A small smile softened the anxious look on her face. The arrogant earl really was a nice man.
No! He was not a nice man!
Recalling the disquieting feel of his powerful arms holding her aloft and her soft bosom pressed to his chest, her insides suddenly began to tingle. What is the matter with me?
When the odd tingling sensation became a shudder of longing, Tessa fell weak-kneed onto the bed. Was she taking ill? Pondering the oddity, she lay flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling.
Some moments later, a light scratch sounded at her bedchamber door. A fresh pang of alarm stabbed Tessa as she lurched upright, but disappeared the instant she opened the door and a housemaid stepped inside.
“Lady Penwyck be asking after ye. Miss. Will ye be coming down for breakfast this morning, or would ye like a tray sent up?”
“I confess I am feeling a bit chilled. You may tell Lady Penwyck I would prefer to breakfast in my room, thank you.” Tessa ran her hands up her damp arms. “You may also tell Lady Penwyck that I—I would like to rest a bit this morning.”
“Very well, miss.” The maid bobbed a quick curtsy.
Lady Penwyck received Tessa’s message as she was seating herself at the breakfast table. Although she was sorry Tessa was not feeling well, the extraordinary events of that morning had not diminished her spirits the least little bit.
“Not yet ten of the clock,” she exclaimed joyfully to her son, who, having changed into dry clothing, was joining her for the morning meal, “and more than a dozen invitations have already arrived and twice as many cards!”
Penwyck, taking his customary place at the head of the table, merely nodded. That following Miss Darby’s successful debut last evening a barrage of invitations had already been delivered did not surprise him. Apparently his good friend Ashburn had the right of it when he predicted Miss Darby would become the newest darling of the ton. Indeed, she was a diamond of the first water. Penwyck’s initial assessment of his mother’s protégée had been quite wide of the mark. Miss Darby was not only lovely to look at, she was charming and intelligent. Penwyck had found their conversation this morning in the carriage both enlightening and delightful. It was easy to see why so many gentlemen flocked to such a charming young lady.
“I can hardly wait to read about Tessa’s debut in the morning papers!” Lady Penwyck added. She snatched up the small crystal bell that reposed near her plate and gave it a resounding jingle.
When a servant appeared at her elbow, she sent the fellow off in search of The Times and The Morning Post.
“I declare I am all atwitter!” she announced gaily.
“Miss Darby’s debut was indeed a resounding success, Mother. I am certain the papers will give it quite a glowing account. You and Mrs. Montgomery are to be commended.”
“Well, the bulk of the credit belongs to Gracie. I am not nearly so organized as she—or as you, for all that. But it was a marvellous party, was it not, Penny dear? Tessa looked splendid!”
“She did, indeed.”
“Of course, our work is not yet done,” Lady Penwyck added smugly. “We have yet to accomplish our most important goal.”
Over the rim of his coffee cup, Penwyck aimed a question at his mother. “What goal would that be. Mother?”
“Why, marriage, of course. Our work is not done until Miss Darby is affianced.”
Penwyck’s coffee cup seemed of its own accord to escape his grasp and drop with a loud clatter onto the saucer. “I-I see.”
“Why else would one go to such lengths to present a young lady to Society if not to land her a husband?” Lady Penwyck laughed gaily. “For all your brilliance, Penny dear, you can often be quite . . . well, silly.”
Penwyck’s lips thinned with sudden annoyance.
“I predict Tessa will receive upwards of a dozen offers! Several young men showed quite a good deal of interest in her last evening. What do you think, dear?”
Penwyck had managed to regain himself somewhat but was not yet prepared with a definitive answer to the question. “Well ... I ... I rather expect she will receive her share of offers, in due time.”
“In due time?” Lady Penwyck echoed. “Whatever do you mean by that, you silly boy?” she demanded affectionately.
Penwyck brought his coffee cup to his lips again. “I was given to understand Miss Darby was . . . well, that her father had... that she was already betrothed to an American gentl—”
“Oh, my, no! That is not the case at all,” his mother interjected. “Tessa has no intention whatever of returning to the colonies. She means to remain in England, you may be sure of that. Oh!” Her gray eyes widened and she gleefully clapped her hands together. “I’ve a perfectly splendid idea!”
Penwyck waited.
“You are quite good at drawing up lists, Penny dear. I should like you to draw up a list of young men who would be suitable candidates for our Miss Darby to wed.” She paused to consider. “Although I daresay it was difficult last evening to determine what sort of young man she prefers. She stood up with so many. I declare she must have danced with every young man present. She was a genuine belle of the ball! I do so wish her dear mother could have been here. Helen would have been so proud. At any rate, you are quite good at drawing up lists,” she said again.
Throughout his mother’s lengthy monologue, Penwyck had been working to collect himself again. Marriage was, of course, the only sensible answer to the dilemma posed by the disturbing Miss Darby. It was just that, for some reason, the idea of his selecting a suitable husband for her suddenly seemed . . . well, it seemed . . .
He squirmed uncomfortably, and because of a sudden he felt inordinately warm, ran a finger along the inside of his neckcloth, which in his haste to dress this morning must have somehow got wound a bit too tightly about his neck.
Of course Miss Darby would one day marry. And that his mother should call upon him to help select a suitable candidate made perfect sense, on the surface.
So why was it that, beneath the surface, somewhere in the region of his middle, or perhaps his heart, the idea of Miss Darby’s marrying sickened him?
Suddenly, the notion of his finding a husband for the delectable Miss Darby seemed the stupidest idea he had ever heard!
“—we shall be attending countless balls and soirees,” his mother was saying. “I shall leave it to you. Penny dear, to present Tessa to each of the gentlemen on your list. Perhaps it would serve if you asked her if she has a preference in—”
“Confound it, madam!” Penwyck suddenly sprang to his feet, his handsome features twisted into an angry scowl. “I have far more important things on my mind than searching out a proper mate for Miss Darby!”
That said, the tight-lipped earl stomped from the room in obvious disgust.
His mother sat staring after him. Presently, a thoughtful smile lifted the corners of her lips.
“Well, well. Perhaps we shan’t need a list of prospective suitors for Miss Darby after all.”
Chapter Fourteen
Before the day ended, Penwyck relented and told his mother he would speak with Miss Darby to ascertain her preference, if any, in a suitor.
With a sly smile, Lady Penwyck said she thought that quite a good idea.
Afterward, Penwyck quit the house and returned again to the Montgomery mansion to speak with Deirdre’s father on behalf of the ill-fated lovers.
Following dinner that evening, the earl did not retire to his study with a brandy or join one of his gentlemen friends at his club. Instead he accompanied his mother and Miss Darby to the family’s cosy but not so tidy sitting room at the rear of the house. He seldom ventured into this room, although it had been a particular favourite of his as a boy. He and his brothers had been allowed to come here in the evening and freely play with their toy soldiers and other games whilst Lord and Lady Penwyck sat reading or talking by the fire.
He assumed his mother and Miss Darby sat here often. The overstuffed chairs and sofas were littered with ladies’ magazines—Ackermann s Repository, the Lady’s Monthly Museum, and La Belle Assemblée—as well as a needlepoint sampler his mother had been laboriously stitching upon this past half decade.
“Why, Penny dear, do you mean to join us this evening?”
Lady Penwyck asked brightly as he followed her and Tessa into the room.
She began to clear a place for him on one of the sofas.
