A Sisterly Regard Page 9

Did he recognize her? His smile and bow were all that was correct as he smoothly requested her company for a set. Wishing for the first time she were so popular that her dance card had filled immediately upon her entrance, Phaedra reluctantly allowed him to sign his name. Her reluctance was noted by Chloe who quizzed her about its cause when they were briefly alone a short while later.

  "I cannot explain why I do not wish to dance with Mr. Dervigne," she whispered, "but I will admit he makes me uncomfortable."

  "You are being excessively silly, Phaedra. Such polished manners he has, and such presence. I vow, he puts all the younger gentlemen to shame. I was quite impressed with him and allowed him two sets, you know." She smiled at an approaching gentleman. "You are too particular in your likes and dislikes, sister," she concluded, just before laying her hand on the proffered arm. "Why Sir Harold, I have been looking forward to this moment for quite the past hour."

  The next hour flew by as Phaedra found herself enjoying herself far more than she had expected to. Then Mr. Dervigne came to claim his dance. It was a country dance, so there was little opportunity for conversation, but she still found herself ill at ease. His low-voiced compliments when they came together were not so warm as to approach impropriety, yet they edged ever so slightly beyond what was pleasing. When he took her hand in the figures, his grasp was more firm than was comfortable. At the end of the dance, he escorted her back to her parents. When he bowed over her hand, he pressed a moist kiss upon her palm.

  She snatched it away, wiped it upon her skirt.

  Ignoring her obvious distaste, he said, "Miss Phaedra, such a pleasure. May I request your company for a drive in the park tomorrow? I have a new phaeton. Having you accompany me on its maiden run would give me great pleasure."

  "I am sorry Mr. Dervigne. My mama does not allow me to go driving in phaetons, for there is no place for my chaperone."

  "Oh, but surely, your mother will agree to such a harmless pastime. I promise you that all the best young ladies are seen in phaetons these days."

  Rather than argue with him, she said, "My mother's rules are quite strict. You may ask her, but I am certain of the answer she will give you. Thank you for the dance, Mr. Dervigne." She curtsied. I cannot like him. He does not exactly frighten me, but I would not choose to be alone with him.

  Mr. Dervigne, she noted, did not approach her mama, but instead went to Chloe to claim his dance with her.

  Chloe had watched Mr. Dervigne with Phaedra and wondered why her sister seemed less than flattered by his attentions. Within a few minutes of the beginning of the next set, she decided she liked his polished manners and obvious interest. She responded to his compliments, offered each time the figures of the dance brought them together, with the demure smiles and fluttering lashes she had practiced well before her mirror. When the music stopped, she accepted his offer of punch and accompanied him to the refreshment tables. He provided her with a cup of Almack's overly sweet but flavorless punch, then drew her aside from the crowd.

  "Miss Hazelbourne, I must confess that I find you a most fascinating young lady. I wish we could have a less public opportunity to get to know one another."

  "Why thank you Mr. Dervigne. I should be glad to have you sit with me during the next waltz." Lord Everingham's name was on her dance card for that event, but she hoped Mr. Dervigne would catch the hint and obtain permission for her to dance the waltz. Lady Mary had told her that the patronesses sometimes yielded to an established gentlemen's request before they would ordinarily grant permission to a young lady. "Unless, of course, I receive permission to waltz with someone else."

  The gentleman was oblivious to her hinting. "Unfortunately, Miss Hazelbourne, I am already engaged for the waltz. I had in mind something more, ah, private."

  "Like what, sir?"

  "Perhaps you would care to drive in the park with me one day soon. I have a perch phaeton, you know."

  "Oh, how marvelous! I love perch phaetons." Chloe had never ridden in one but thought them terribly dashing. "I would be pleased to drive with you, Mr. Dervigne."

  "The park is so crowded, though," he said slowly, as if in a quandary. "One cannot really appreciate a phaeton at the slow speeds permitted there. Perhaps you would prefer a short drive in the country?"

  "Oh, yes. I would like that above all things." Chloe clapped her hands. Now here was a gentleman to cultivate. He offered something more exciting than the bland pastime of driving sedately in Hyde Park. "I am free on Monday next. Shall I expect you then?"

  "At two, I think. That should be early enough," he told her with a smile.

  Chloe returned his smile, excited at the prospect of driving with an experienced, older man. Mr. Martin, arriving to claim his second dance, interrupted their conversation, greeting Dervigne with cold politeness.

  "Has that fella been sayin' anything impolite to you, Miss Hazelbourne?" he asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

  "Why, no," she answered, puzzled by his question. "Why do you ask?"

  "Just wondered. Not the sort a girl like you should know. Bad man."

  The movements of the dance separated them before she could find the words to defend Mr. Dervigne. She decided Mr. Martin must be jealous of the older man's poise and consequence and chose to ignore his words.

  * * * *

  Reggie had been speaking with Lady Jersey throughout the country dance, but was keeping his eye on one of the participants. Her apricot gown stood out among the whites and pinks that were so much more common. As it ended he said, "Now, Sally, will you give permission for the Misses Hazelbourne to waltz?"

  "No, I will not," that lady replied. "There has been too much talk of behavior that was less than acceptable, but the accounts differ as to which of them is guilty. I would not be doing my duty if I were to encourage such carryings on by appearing to condone them."

  "You have been listening to gossip again."

  "Of course. I always listen to gossip. How else am I to amuse myself? No, Reggie, you must find someone else to waltz with. Now, there is that poor, shy Miss Graham. She has done nothing to disgrace herself. I would allow you to waltz with her, though I should not, for her mother is the most pushing female that I have ever met."

  "I will dance with her later, Sally, if you will first give me permission to waltz with Miss Phaedra Hazelbourne. In fact, if you will grant permission for both the Misses Hazelbourne, I will dance with Miss Graham twice. Come Sally, do not be so stiff-necked."

  "No, Reggie. And do not put on that pleading, little boy expression. You will not get around me that way. Besides, if I were to give the Misses Hazelbourne permission to waltz, the guilty one would next waltz with Lord Everingham. And while I would like to see his mother confounded with his finally showing some backbone, I do not want to anger her."

  "I will tell you which one behaved injudiciously--for that was all it was, I believe--if you will give the other permission. As a matter of fact, I believe that neither has behaved in a way to deserve your disapproval, no matter how her actions appeared."

  Lady Jersey chuckled. "For shame, Reggie. No one likes a tattle-tale." She cast a flirtatious glance upwards. "You will continue to pester me until you achieve your aim, will you not?"

  "Of course," he said, wafting his handkerchief gracefully. "You know me well enough."

  "Well?"

  "I would like to waltz with Miss Phaedra Hazelbourne," he said. Lowering his voice, he added, "Just remember, I told you nothing more than the name of the young woman I wish to waltz with."

  She snatched the handkerchief from his hand and pretended to swat him with it. "Honestly, Reggie, you are a caution. Come, then. I will need you to let me know which of the two she is."

  Reggie assumed an expression of innocence as he followed Lady Jersey across the room. He indicated which of the sisters was Phaedra with a slight nod of his head.

  "Miss Hazelbourne," said Lady Jersey to the surprised girl, "I would like to recommend Mr. Farwell to you as a partner for the waltz."


  Phaedra could barely find the words to thank her, so astounded was she. She looked at him with consternation as he took her hand to lead her out.

  "But, shouldn't you be dancing with Chloe? I mean..."

  "No Miss Phaedra, I should not."

  "It is not right that I should be granted permission to waltz before my elder sister," she protested.

  "You may give me credit for attempting to obtain permission to waltz with your sister first, for to do otherwise would be a lapse of good ton. But I was unable to do so, and so I settled for you as my second choice." He smiled down on her. "You do waltz, do you not, Miss Phaedra? It is not too unintellectual for you?"

  Phaedra's distress disappeared with a rush of anger. "Yes, but I am surprised that you would lower yourself to dancing with one who bores you to sleep. You need not, Mr. Farwell. I can return to the chairs and relieve you of this onerous chore."

  "Don't be stupid," he said, pulling her into his arms. "I am waltzing with you because I chose to. Now, will you engage in polite conversation, or must we brangle throughout the dance?"

  Phaedra had only waltzed previously with her father and sister, so she found herself required to concentrate on her steps for the first few moments. When she finally felt confident, she smiled up into his face.

  "Mr. Farwell, you dance beautifully."

  "That is much more the thing, Phaedra. Now if we can manage to get through this dance without ripping at one another, I will feel the evening has been a success." His arm tightened about her waist slightly and he swung her into a sweeping turn. "Are you excited about the Duchess's ball?"

  "Oh, yes, even though I know it is considered hopelessly provincial to be so," she answered breathlessly. Waltzing with Mr. Farwell was so much more spirited than with Chloe. "But I do love to dance, and the Duchess' ballroom is so much nicer than Almack's."

  "More comfortable, too. And the food and drink will be edible, unlike the stale cake and weak punch which they serve here."

  "Yes, but don't you see. If Almack's were to serve food and drink to please the palate, we would all stuff ourselves and then be too lethargic to dance."

  "Is that what you intend to do at your ball?"

  "Why of course. I am told that there will be lobster patties and buttered crab and ices and everything. Papa has told Mama that we are to be allowed to drink champagne, too, since it is our ball. It has always been forbidden us before. I tasted it once and must confess that I quite enjoyed it."

  "So you will not only stuff yourself into lethargy, but you will also drink yourself into insensibility. And you are the serious sister. I shudder to think what Chloe will do."

  Phaedra had started to chuckle at his partaking of her nonsense, but at his criticism of her sister, she stiffened in his arms.

  "My sister's behavior is none of your concern, sir."

  "Oh, come now, Phaedra, I meant no insult."

  "I will thank you not to make free of my name, sir."

  "My sincere apologies, Miss Phaedra." His teeth gleamed whitely as he grinned down at her, clearly unrepentant.

  She was not mollified and thereafter answered his attempts at resumption of the silly repartee with monosyllables. She was relieved and in no good mood when he escorted her back to her mother. Her "Thank you, Mr. Farwell" was polite, with nothing of friendliness in it.

  She realized something was amiss as soon as she sat beside her sister. Mama's lips were compressed and her brows lowered. Chloe glared from behind her fan.

  "What has happened?"

  "You--you traitor," whispered her sister. "How could you accept the waltz with Mr. Farwell. I should have been given permission before you. I am the elder. You should have begged off."

  "Chloe, I told you to hold your tongue," Mama warned in a low voice.

  "I will not. Phaedra knew that she had no right to waltz before me."

  "She had every right. The patronesses of Almack's are the sole judges of who shall be given the permission to waltz here. They obviously felt that Phaedra had shown herself to be a properly behaved young lady."

  "But she could have refused. She knew how important it was to me."

  "Yes, Chloe, I could have refused," Phaedra told her, "and I am sorry I did not. Mr. Farwell was horribly rude."

  Phaedra's head began to ache after Chloe's attack. As a result, she had little enjoyment of the rest of the evening, despite waltzing twice more, once with Mr. Martin, who was a surprisingly good dancer, and once with Lord Wilson, a very young but extremely handsome man. Chloe sat both waltzes out, trapped between her parents on the sidelines.

  Papa took himself off to his club after handing them into their carriage. "I've need of some manly company after doing the pretty all evening," he told them, seemingly oblivious to the currents of ill will swirling among the women. Phaedra knew that only the presence of their mama held Chloe in check during the drive home. Once they were alone she would receive the brunt of her sister's rage.

  Mama took her aside as she started up the stairs and told her to lock her door against her sister. "For if you will refuse to listen to her hysterics, she will cry herself to sleep and you will not suffer."

  "Oh, Mama, I must listen. If I do not, she will work herself into such a state that she will be ill for days. If I allow her to vent her spleen upon my head, we will all be the better for it. Then tomorrow she will be all smiles again and so much easier to go on with. And the Duchess' ball is the day after tomorrow."

  The storm that broke over her head was the worst display of Chloe's temper she had ever experienced. Phaedra apologized and soothed and reassured, but to little avail. All that mattered to Chloe was that at her own ball she would not be allowed to waltz. Everything that had gone wrong this past sennight was, somehow, all her sister's fault.

  Phaedra made the mistake of pointing out that Chloe had brought all her problems upon herself by refusing to follow her mother's advice. It did no good. For the first time in their lives, she and her sister went to bed without making up their differences. Phaedra consoled herself with the thought that she was in the right. Chloe should not be too much given her own way.

  Even so, she slept poorly.

  * * * *

  Lady Gifford, still distressed over her elder daughter's willfulness and ill temper, and knowing the ordeal facing her younger daughter, was determined to enlist her husband's aid, in keeping Chloe in line. The girl had always minded him in the past, no matter how upset she had been. She waited up for him.

  He arrived a bit over an hour later and expressed his surprise at finding her still awake.

  "This could not wait until morning, George," she said, "I must persuade you to take Chloe in hand. I can do no more, and indeed, am at my wits' end." She sat up against her pillows.

  "Nonsense, Isabella," he said as he removed his cravat. "She behaved nicely tonight. I'm sure she has learned her lesson."

  "Oh, George, you know she has not. She was furious that she was not given the permission to waltz, particularly since Phaedra was. She is probably in Phaedra's room at this moment, making the poor girl miserable."

  "You must not pay attention to their little tiffs, love. Chloe would not do anything to distress her sister. Oh, I know she is high spirited, just like you used to be, but she's a good girl and don't mean any harm by it."

  "George, she has not been a good girl since we arrived in London. She has thrown tantrums at the least provocation and has made all of us miserable."

  "I won't believe that of Chloe. She has such a sunny disposition."

  "Only when you are present, love. When you are not, she is willful, stubborn, temperamental, and selfish. She is rude to the servants, and to Cousin Louisa she is more than rude, she is actively hostile. She closes her mind to everything I tell her. She flirts outrageously with everything in trousers."

  When her husband paused in his disrobing to stare at her, she took a deep breath and attempted to moderate her voice, which had grown quite shrill. "Why, just this evening Robert De
rvigne told me that she had agreed to drive with him in the park and he was sure that I would give permission for her to do so unchaperoned, for he drives a phaeton, you know."

  "That rake! He will drive my daughters nowhere. And what were you doing, giving him permission to dance with them? I won't have him about!"

  "One cannot refuse an invitation to dance from a gentleman who is accepted by the patronesses, you know that, George. I did tell him that under no circumstances would he be allowed to take Chloe driving without a chaperone. But you have changed the subject. Will you take Chloe in hand?"

  He came to sit beside her, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. "If you feel you cannot manage her, my love, I will. Certainly. But I cannot be with her every moment. I have business to conduct while we're in Town. Besides, a gentleman can't be a young lady's chaperone, not everywhere."

  "No, but when you can be there, I believe your presence will be enough to keep her in line. Will you accompany us as much as possible for the next few weeks, please?"

  "If only to keep Dervigne at arm's length. I don't want him hanging about the girls."

  "That's all right, then. I feel so much better to know you will be there to help me. Good night, love," she said. "Blow out the candle."

  A few moments later, her voice reached him in the dark. "George, do you know a Viscount Wilderlake?"

  "Hmm? What's that? I was half asleep."

  "I asked if you were acquainted with Wilderlake."

  "Don't think so. Knew his father." A yawn interrupted him. "Man was a gamester, squandered his fortune, or at least what his father before him had not lost at the tables. Left the son with pockets to let. Why?"

  Lady Gifford related their adventure on the journey to London. "He seemed like quite a nice young man, but we have never been in the way of meeting him. He did send a very nice note to thank us for our trouble."

  "Adding him to your list of possibles for the girls, eh? Well, as long as he's not the wastrel his father was, that's not such a bad idea. Not wealthy, but a good family."

  "Her Grace sent him an invitation to the ball. I want you to make sure we are introduced. He should do quite well for Phaedra, if he is serious. If Chloe can avoid destroying her reputation with her escapades, she will have no trouble finding a husband. But Phaedra is not appreciated as she should be."