Mary Balogh - The Proposal

Gwen’s eyes moved unwillingly to him. To Hugo. He was smartly dressed, as usual. But he still looked like a fierce, barbaric warrior masquerading as a gentleman. And he was scowling more than he was frowning. He must be equally shocked to discover that this was not to be a private audience just with her.

Well, she thought, if they wished to move in tonnish circles, they must grow accustomed to being in a room with more than one member of the ton at a time, and with more than one titled member. Though Hugo had, of course, had a taste of it at Newbury Abbey.

Her heart was thumping uncomfortably.

“Miss Emes,” she said, getting to her feet and stepping forward, “how delightful of you to come. I am Lady Muir.”

“My lady.” The girl slid her arm free of her brother’s and sank into a deep curtsy without removing her wide eyes from Gwen’s.

“This is my mother, the Dowager Countess of Kilbourne,” Gwen said, “and the countess, my sister-in-law. And Lady Ravensberg, my cousin. Lord Trentham, you have met everyone before.”

The girl curtsied again, and Lord Trentham inclined his head stiffly.

“Do have a seat,” Gwen said. “The tea tray will be here in a moment.”

Lord Trentham sat on a sofa, and his sister sat beside him, so close that she leaned against him from shoulder to hip. There was bright color high in her cheeks. If she had been a child, Gwen thought, she would surely have turned her head to hide her face against his sleeve. She had not taken her eyes from Gwen’s.

She was passably pretty, Gwen decided, even if not a raving beauty. And she was well enough dressed, though without flair.

Gwen smiled at her.

“I daresay, Miss Emes,” she said, “you are happy to have your brother in London.”

“I am, my lady,” the girl said, and there was a pause during which Gwen thought that making conversation might well prove to be very difficult indeed. How could she help a girl who would not help herself? But she was not finished. “He is a great hero. My papa was fit to bursting with pride before he died last year, and so was I. But more than that, I have adored Hugo all my life. I have been told that I cried for three days straight after he went off to war when I was still very young. I have longed and longed for him to come home ever since. And now at last he has, and he is going to stay at least until the summer.”

She had a light, pretty voice. It was slightly breathless, which was understandable under the circumstances. But her words lit up her face and made her several degrees prettier than Gwen had thought at first. And finally the girl looked away from Gwen in order to glance worshipfully at her brother.

He looked back at her with obvious affection.

“Your words do you credit, Miss Emes,” Lauren said. “But men will go off to war, you know, and leave their more sensible womenfolk behind to worry.”

They all laughed and the tension was somewhat eased. Gwen’s mother asked after the health of Mrs. Emes, and Lily told the girl that not all women were sensible enough to stay home from war, that she had grown up in the train of an army and had even spent a few years in the Peninsula before coming to England.

“It was England that was the foreign country to me,” she said, “even though I was English by birth.”

Trust Lily to talk instead of simply to ask questions. She had set the girl more at her ease, Gwen could see.

The tea tray had been brought in, and Lily was pouring.

This was not just a social call, Gwen reminded herself, despite what her mother and Lily must assume. She exchanged a glance with Lauren.

“Miss Emes,” she said, “I understand that it is your dream to attend a ton ball during the Season.”

The girl’s eyes went wide again, and she blushed.

“Oh, it is, my lady,” she said. “I thought that perhaps Hugo … Well, he is a lord. But I suppose I am just being silly. Though he has promised that he will arrange it before the Season is over, and Hugo always keeps his promises. But …”

She stopped talking and darted an apologetic glance at her brother.

He had not told her, then, Gwen thought. Perhaps he did not believe she would keep her promise and had not wanted to disappoint his sister.

“Miss Emes,” Lauren said, “my husband and I, together with his parents, are to host a ball at Redfield House at the end of next week. It will be early enough in the Season that I daresay everyone will come. It will be a great squeeze, and I shall be flushed with triumph. I would be delighted if you would attend with Lord Trentham.”

The girl gaped and then closed her mouth with an audible clicking of her teeth.

Dear Lauren. This had not been arranged in advance. Gwen had thought of taking the girl to a smaller affair, at least for her first appearance. But perhaps a grand squeeze—and Lauren’s ball was bound to be that—would be better. There would be larger crowds and therefore less reason for self-consciousness.

“That,” Lord Trentham said, speaking for almost the first time since he stepped into the room, “is extremely kind of you, ma’am. But I am not sure—”

“You may come under my sponsorship, Miss Emes,” Gwen said, looking at Lord Trentham as she spoke. “But with your brother as an escort, of course. A young lady ought to have a female sponsor instead of just her brother, and I would be delighted to assume that role.”

Her mother, she was aware, was very silent.

“Oh,” Miss Emes said, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that Gwen could see the white of her knuckles. “You would do that, my lady? For me?”

“I would indeed,” Gwen said. “It would be fun.”

Fun?

What do you do for fun, Lord Trentham had asked her once at Penderris, and she had wondered at the word addressed to an adult woman.

“Oh, Hugo.” The girl turned her head and gazed up at him imploringly. “May I?”

His hand came across to cover both of hers in her lap.

“If you wish, Connie,” he said. “You can give it a try anyway.”

I thought we might give it a try. He had spoken those words at Newbury after he had offered Gwen marriage. He met her eyes briefly now, and she could tell that he was remembering too.

“Thank you,” the girl said, looking first at him and then at Lauren and then at Gwen. “Oh, thank you. But I have nothing to wear.”

“We will see to that,” Lord Trentham said.

“Neither do I.” Gwen laughed. “Which is not strictly true, of course, as I daresay it is not of you, Miss Emes. But this is a new spring and a new Season, and there is all the necessity of having new and fashionable clothes with which to astonish society. Shall we go in search of them together? Tomorrow morning, perhaps?”

“Oh, Hugo,” the girl said, looking pleadingly at him again, “may I? I still have all the pin money you have allowed me in the last year.”

“You may go,” he said, “and have the bills sent to me, of course.” He looked at Gwen. “Carte blanche, Lady Muir. Constance must have everything she will need for the ball.”

“And for other occasions too?” Gwen asked. “One ball is not going to satisfy either your sister or me, you know. I am quite certain of that.”

“Carte blanche,” he said again, holding her gaze.

She smiled back at him. Oh, this Season already felt very different from all the ones that had preceded it. For the first time in many years in town, she felt alive, full of optimism and hope. But hope for what? She did not know, and she did not particularly care at this moment. She liked Constance Emes. At least, she thought she would like her when she knew her a little better.

Lord Trentham got to his feet to take his leave as soon as he had drunk his tea, and his sister jumped up too. He surprised Gwen then, before he left the room. He turned at the door and spoke to her, making no attempt to lower his voice.

“It is a sunny day, ma’am,” he said, “without any discernible wind. Would you care to come driving in the park with me later?”

Oh. Gwen was very aware of her mother and Lily and Lauren behind her in the room. Miss Emes looked up at her with bright eyes.

“Thank you, Lord Trentham,” Gwen said. “That would be pleasant.”

And they were gone. The door closed behind them.

“Gwen,” her mother said after a short pause, “that was surely unnecessary. You are showing extraordinary kindness to the sister, but must you be seen to grant favors to the brother? You refused his marriage offer just a few weeks ago.”

“He really is rather gorgeous in his own particular way, though, Mother,” Lily said, laughing. “Would you not agree, Lauren?”

“He is … distinguished,” Lauren said. “And clearly he has not been deterred by Gwen’s rejection of his offer. That makes him either foolishly obstinate or persistently ardent. Time will tell which it is.” And she laughed too.

“Mama,” Gwen said, “I invited Lord Trentham to call this afternoon with Miss Emes. I offered to sponsor her at a few ton events. I offered to help clothe her suitably and fashionably. If Lord Trentham then invited me to drive in the park with him, is it so surprising that I would accept?”

Her mother gazed at her, frowning and shaking her head slightly.

Lily and Lauren were busy exchanging significant looks.

Apart from a plain, no-frills traveling carriage, which usually stood in the carriage house at Crosslands for weeks at a time without being brought out for an airing, and a wagon, which was necessary for the farm business, Hugo had never owned a vehicle. A horse had always served most of his needs when the distance he wished to travel was a little too far for his feet to convey him.

But during the past week he had purchased a curricle—a sporting one, no less, with a high, well-sprung seat and yellow painted wheels. He had bought a matched pair of chestnuts to pull it and felt like a dashed dandy. Soon he would be mincing along the pavements of London, using a cane as a prop, inhaling snuff delicately off the back of one kid-gloved hand, and ogling the ladies through a jeweled quizzing glass.

But Flavian, who was in town for a few weeks, had insisted that the yellow-wheeled curricle was vastly superior to the more sensible one Hugo had his eye upon, and that the chestnuts must take precedence over all the other horseflesh Hugo might have preferred. They were matched, while no other two were.

“If you must cut a d-dash, Hugo,” he had said while they stood together in the yard at Tattersall’s, “and why would you be in town looking for a wife if you do not intend to cut one, then you must cut it with a flair. You will attract ten prospective brides the first time you tool down the street behind these beauties.”

“And then I stop, explain to them that I am titled and rich, and ask if they would care to marry me?” Hugo said, wondering what his father would think of the purchase of two horses that were twice as expensive as any others simply because they were matched.

“My dear chap.” Flavian shuddered theatrically. “One must hold oneself more dear. It is up to the ladies to discover those facts for themselves once their interest is aroused. And discover them they will, never fear. Ladies are brilliant at such maneuvers.”

“I drive down the street, then,” Hugo said, “and wait for the ladies to attack me.”

“They will doubtless do it with more finesse than your words suggest,” Flavian said. “But, yes, Hugo. We will make a fine gentleman of you yet. Are you going to purchase the chestnuts before someone else snaps them up?”

Hugo bought them.

And so he had been able to offer to drive Lady Muir in the park rather than ask her merely to walk there with him.

He still felt like a prize idiot, perched up above the road for all the world to see. And the world was indeed looking, he discovered with some dismay. Although he passed any number of other smart vehicles on the way to Grosvenor Square only a little more than two hours after he had left there with Constance in the plain traveling carriage, his own drew more than its share of admiring glances and even one whistle of appreciation. At least the horses were manageable despite the fact that Flavian had described them rather alarmingly as prime goers.

Lady Muir was ready. Indeed, he did not even have to rattle the door knocker. As he was jumping down to the pavement, the door opened and she stepped outside. Her claim to Constance that she had nothing to wear was clearly a barefaced lie. She was looking very dazzling indeed in a pale green dress and matching pelisse and straw bonnet. The latter was trimmed with primroses and greenery, artificial, he assumed.