Читать книгу The Untamed Heiress - Julia Justiss - Страница 14

WHILE HELENA ACQUAINTED herself with his home and staff, Adam made a number of business calls, ending with a visit to the Standish mansion on Grosvenor Square. Though the ornate drawing room was full of guests, Miss Standish looked up and smiled when she heard him announced.

The heiress would never be described as a Beauty, but Adam was pleasantly surprised to discover that the plump little girl who’d followed him about like an eager puppy had grown into an attractive young woman, her smile engaging, her pale blue eyes intelligent, her blond hair charmingly arranged. Her wealth was revealed by the excellence of her gown’s cut and fabric rather than by a showy effusion of trimming or a superfluity of jewels.

His first impression favorable, after paying his respects to her mother, Adam walked toward the sofa where she sat surrounded by guests. To his gratification, upon seeing him approach, she waved him to a chair.

If, while she made polite chat with her other guests, the young lady occasionally slid him a glance under her lashes, Adam was also covertly inspecting her. Some of the anxiety that had tensed his shoulders and settled in an ache at his temples eased, for not only was her appearance pleasing, her behavior was exemplary.

He observed none of the capricious airs or haughtiness of manner often exhibited by a young woman who knew herself to be a sought-after matrimonial prize. On the contrary, she gave equal attention to both the young men paying her court and two prosing dowagers. While deftly parrying the fulsome compliments of several highborn peers, she also offered a few kind words to a stammering young man from a minor family whom she might have snubbed with impunity.

Adam’s impression of Priscilla’s mother, stridently directing the conversation around her, was less positive. But Mrs. Standish had already been a stiff, overbearing woman in Priscilla’s childhood—which was why her daughter had escaped Standish Hall to follow Adam whenever possible.

If he discovered that he and Priscilla still suited, they’d not be living under her mother’s thumb anyway, Adam reminded himself. Waiting for an opportunity to move closer, when the dowager at Miss Standish’s elbow said goodbye, Adam swiftly commandeered the vacant seat.

Turning back from bidding another guest farewell, Miss Standish saw him and smiled again. The odd impression struck him that, though pleasant enough, even up close her smile lacked the magnetism of Miss Lambarth’s. He shook off the thought as Miss Standish addressed him.

“Captain Darnell—or I suppose I should say ‘my lord’? I understand you’ve left the army. So sorry about your poor papa, by the way. He was a fine gentleman and you must feel his loss keenly.”

“Thank you, Miss Standish, I do. But now that Bonaparte is corralled at last, ’tis good to be home.”

“And your friends must delight to have you here unharmed. Though I applauded the bravery that had you mentioned in the dispatches, I did fear for your safety.”

So she’d kept track of him. Despite himself, Adam was touched. “That was kind of you—given that more often than not, when you were scolded for some mischief when we were children, ’twas I who’d led you into it.”

“Ah, but the adventure was always worth the scold,” she replied, her smile deepening and a glow in her eyes.

Adam had been the recipient of feminine admiration often enough to recognize it in Miss Standish. Heartened by that excellent sign and seeing no reason to proceed by half measures, although she had just refused several other supplicants this favor, he continued, “If you dare risk your mama’s censure again by driving out with a gentleman whose only claim upon your kindness is an attachment from youth, let me escort you to the park this afternoon. I regret that the war and the…exigencies of my family led to our losing touch, and should like to reestablish our bond.”

There could be no mistaking his intent. For a moment, the little group around her fell silent—doubtless marveling at his temerity. Her smile fading, Miss Standish simply stared at him, and Adam feared he might have been too bold.

But his circumstances were urgent, he told himself as he awaited her answer. If she felt herself above renewing their relationship, better to find out right now.

Despite that brave conclusion, he was relieved when Miss Standish finally replied, amused reproof in her tone, “I see that time has taught you neither patience nor prudence, Lord Darnell.”

“No, ma’am. War rather teaches a soldier to value audacity and surprise.”

She laughed outright. “Two qualities I would have thought you amply supplied with from the beginning! Very well, Lord Darnell. I will drive with you.”

Ignoring the mutters of disapproval from his vanquished rivals, Adam fixed a time. Hardly daring to believe he had progressed so far in a single morning call, he bid Miss Standish and her mother goodbye and departed.

Given the partiality the heiress had just shown him, if in the relative privacy of his curricle they were able to reestablish the easy camaraderie of their childhood friendship, he thought exultantly, he might wrap up this courtship business and have Claygate on the road to recovery sooner than expected.

LATER THAT MORNING, Helena put aside her book to receive the corsetiere’s assistant. Marveling at the fineness of the garments, she fingered each one with delight as the girl lifted them from the boxes: feather-light linen shifts, petticoats and stays embroidered with tiny bows and blossoms, night rails of silk whose lushness whispered against her skin. Rejecting only the flannel items, she told the shopgirl she would take all the rest.

After nuncheon, Lady Darnell and Charis returned with new treasures: gloves of kid, chamois and net in every shade of the rainbow; slippers and half boots of French kid; twilled silk and Norwich wool shawls; fans of wood, bone and ivory with intricate painted panels. The ladies also brought a few hats that could be trimmed to match her gowns and would do until she could visit the shops herself.

Soon after, the mantua maker arrived with her samples. Determined after years of rough homespun to drape herself in the softest and most delicate of weaves, Helena was persuaded only after much argument to accept some sturdier cotton cloth for day wear.

Helena then further distressed her aunt by rejecting all the material in the white and pale shades they informed her were the colors considered most suitable for young ladies. She instead selected cloth in gold, scarlet, deep blue and coral hues. Worse yet, in her aunt’s opinion, after reviewing fashion plates, Helena refused to consider any style cut low over the back or bosom.

In vain did Lady Darnell argue that though the designs might seem a bit immodest to a girl who was country-raised, in London such gowns were worn by ladies of every age. As ashamed of her scarred back as she was of her mangled thumb, Helena could not bring herself to tell the kindhearted Lady Darnell the real reason she refused to consider more revealing styles. Saying that such shoulder-baring gowns would make her cold, the only plausible excuse she could think of to try to placate her aunt, Helena then traced over the styles she liked best, proposing alterations.

After considering Helena’s suggested changes, Madame Sofie became her unexpected ally, holding up a hand to silence Lady Darnell’s renewed protest. “No, your ladyship, the young miss speaks truth. The neckline just so, in this gold silk, will be different from what others wear, but will much become mademoiselle, with her elegant taille. She will not follow fashion, she will lead it.”

Fortunately—since Lady Darnell still looked skeptical—Charis agreed with Madame Sofie. “’Tis brilliant, Bellemere! Helena’s gowns shall be of the prevailing style, not in it, and completely unique. Beside her, all the ton Beauties will look insipid!”

Helena cared nothing about setting fashion. She only hoped that when she met Lord Darnell again, wearing one of her lovely new gowns, she would see approval, rather than disgust, in his eyes.

Despite Charis’s agreement and the dressmaker’s firm support, Lady Darnell continued to wring her hands at the thought of dear Helena throwing away the chance to display her youth and beauty to best advantage. Only by insisting they had spent time enough on Helena’s needs and must now discuss new garments for Charis and Lady Darnell were they able to turn her thoughts in a more cheerful direction. The rest of the afternoon passed agreeably in that endeavor, with Madame agreeing to have several designs completed for Helena within the week.

After the dressmaker’s departure, Harrison brought in the tea tray, bending low to murmur to Lady Darnell before bowing himself out. Frowning, her aunt turned to Helena.

“My dear, Harrison just told me you paid a visit to the kitchens today in search of a temporary maid.”

She was about to be chastised for her sins, Helena thought, armoring herself against the coming scold and resentful of Harrison for immediately reporting her breach of decorum. But then, what had she expected?

A frisson of dismay dissipated her annoyance. Having once again demonstrated just how untutored she was, would Aunt Lillian’s warm affection for her cool?

Ready to suffer any punishment to retain her aunt’s good will, she replied in her most penitent tone, “Yes, ma’am, I did, and I do apologize. From the staff’s reaction, I saw immediately that I had made an error.”

“You should have let Harrison handle it.”

“So Mrs. Baxtor informed me. I tried to leave as quickly as I could once I realized my error, but I’m afraid the housekeeper must think me rather odd. I am sorry, Aunt Lillian. I didn’t mean to upset the household.”

To Helena’s immense relief, Lady Darnell patted her hand. “Don’t refine too much upon it, my dear! I suppose it must have seemed quite logical for you to inquire about it yourself. But such things are not done directly.”

“So the housekeeper also informed me,” Helena said.

Lady Darnell chuckled. “Mrs. Baxtor is a bit tart-tongued, but vastly efficient! You must treat servants fairly and with respect, but at a distance. Although it might seem otherwise, if you are too familiar, they will think you do not know your place and disdain you for it.”

Helena smiled wryly. “They are right. I do not.”

“But you soon will! Harrison said you made quite a good recovery. You mustn’t fault him for reporting the matter to me, for if you had not already won his respect, he would not have done so! He told me that with a bit of guidance, he expects you will make an excellent mistress. Which is quite a tribute, my dear, considering you have been with us barely a day.”

“I hope I will ever follow your guidance.”

“I am sure you will,” Lady Darnell replied, squeezing Helena’s hand. “Now, shall we have our tea?”

Having armed herself to suffer serious chastisement, it took Helena a moment to realize that Lady Darnell considered the matter settled. Still rattled by the encounter, Helena sipped her tea silently, unable to remember when she’d last made any error for which she’d not been severely punished. A bit more of the hard shell in which she’d had to encase her emotions softened as a wave of gratitude flooded her.

While she pondered the marvel of her aunt’s forbearance, Charis and Lady Darnell discussed the various entertainments offered by the Season and how much Helena would enjoy them when, several weeks hence, she was gowned, coifed and confident enough about her mastery of ton etiquette to attend. A riot of contending emotions roiled in her chest as she listened—awe at the easy dismissal of her error, surprise at Harrison’s unexpected championship, relief that she had not altered Lady Darnell’s affection.

Just then Charis mentioned a dinner the two ladies were to attend that coming Thursday. Recalling what she had planned for that day, Helena felt a pang of guilt.

A moment’s reflection, though, convinced her that it was essential she follow through with her engagement. ’Twas fortunate, then, she reflected as she sipped the rest of her tea, that she’d had years to perfect her skill at evasion, for if Lady Darnell were to discover the nature of this coming excursion, her sympathetic aunt would doubtless be much less understanding.

WHILE THE LADIES WERE TAKING tea, Adam was calling in Grosvenor Square to take Miss Standish to the park.

The lady first impressed him by keeping him waiting only a few minutes. Then, garbed in an unadorned carriage dress of medium blue that intensified the hue of her eyes, blond curls peeping out from under a fetching bonnet that framed her oval face, her understated elegance and modest demeanor again elicited both his admiration and approval.

After he’d handed her up and remounted himself, he signaled the horses to start and turned to her. “I must thank you for overlooking the impetuosity of my request and agreeing to drive out with me anyway. You would have been quite justified in putting this upstart in his place by refusing, if only to gratify your other suitors.”