June Calvin (16 page)

“Monty, you can’t be jealous of the Prince! And I don’t think you should speak of him so. He is all that is kind.”

“Oh, I don’t deny that he can be charming. Too charming, in spite of his girth!”

They quarreled amiably until the dance was over. The Prince then led her mother into a set for a quadrille. Davida’s partner was Threlbourne. “A smashing ball, Davida. And you look absolutely radiant.” Gil’s freckled countenance was lit with pleasure at her success.

“Thank you, Gil. It is so much different from what I expected. To think a few short weeks ago I knew hardly anyone in London.”

“And now the cream of the
ton
is here in your honor. You’ll be quite unbearable.”

She dimpled up at him. “’Tis every young lady’s dream—to be such a success she can be unbearable!”

“And yet you won’t be. You are too fine a person.” Gil looked at Pelham, further along in the set with another partner. “Hope he appreciates you.”

Remembering Elspeth’s words, Davida suppressed a little shudder.

“What’s wrong?”

“Somebody walked on my grave, I think.”

“Now, none of that. Let me tell you about the new team I’ve just purchased.”

“Another one?”

Before she knew it, Davida was standing up with the Prince, and it was a waltz. Casting a quick glance at Pelham, who was frowning on the sideline, Davida smiled up at her sovereign as she turned with him. He was surprisingly, agile and light on his feet, considering his size, and charming as well.

He began by praising her mother’s beauty in fulsome terms that left Davida somewhat uneasy. The Regent’s penchant for mature ladies was quite openly discussed in
ton
drawing rooms. How terrible it would be if the Prince developed a
tendre
for her mother.

Her mind continued in this alarming whirl when the Prince went on to boast of her father’s war record. “We need loyal Tories like him. Backbone of the realm. I’m going to try to persuade him to stand for Parliament.”

Davida tried to imagine her home-loving country farmer of a father as a member of the House of Commons, but she couldn’t. Baffled, she gave her head a little shake. “I would be truly amazed if he should do so, but he certainly casts his vote for our Tory member, as you may well know.”

After the dance, the Prince led her to her parents and Pelham, and chatted with them for a while. He invited them all to join him in Brighton for the summer. The invitation was general, but his eyes were on Lady Elizabeth. Davida’s mother calmly deferred to her husband, who excused them on the grounds that he was involved in an extensive project to drain a marsh.

With an inward sigh of relief Davida realized that her father was more than able to fend off the Prince Regent’s interest in his wife.

As for Pelham, he thanked the Prince graciously for his invitation, but indicated that he had already planned an extensive honeymoon to be spent showing Davida around his various estates.

The Prince took the refusals affably, and after a few more minutes of trivial conversation, left the dance. The rest of the ball went by in a happy blur, and it was an exhausted Miss Davida Gresham who returned to her home and fell into her bed almost the minute the maid took off her gown.

She fell asleep immediately, but awoke with a start early in the morning from a terrible dream in which Pelham and Elspeth were dancing together as Davida watched. In her dream everyone was staring at her accusingly and saying, “A shabby thing, a shabby thing,” over and over.

As she lay there trying to shake the unpleasant dream and get back to sleep, Elspeth’s words came back to taunt her. She seemed so utterly convinced that the only thing keeping Pelham in their engagement was a sense of honor. She had quoted him as saying it would be shabby to cry off. Did that mean he wished to do so? Was Pelham only pretending to be happy about their engagement?

She sighed and sank back into the covers. Surely no one could pretend so well, and so long. She could swear he felt some affection for her. But what did he feel for Elspeth? Perhaps nothing, as he claimed. But the very passion with which he expressed his anger toward her Suggested otherwise. People rarely wanted to wring the necks of those for whom they felt nothing.

Eventually, sleep reclaimed her, but not before she had firmly made up her mind to dwell only on the pleasant memories of the success of her come-out ball. Any presentiments of trouble were firmly suppressed.

Chapter Nineteen

D
avida and Monty were to be wed on the first Wednesday after the third and final crying of the banns. Their last ball as an engaged couple was to be the Raleigh ball, held on Friday at the Raleighs’ palatial country estate just an hour’s drive from London. It was to be a huge event, with everyone who was anyone being invited.

The Raleighs liked to entertain on a grand scale, so not only the ball room, but several drawing rooms and card rooms were filled to capacity indoors. The extensive gardens had been decorated with fairy lanterns, and refreshment tents had been set up to hold the overflow, as not all could possibly fit in the dining rooms.

As Pelham escorted Davida through the crowds, he contemplated the gardens beyond the windows with pleasure. “We must go outside after we have danced awhile. Mayhap we can find a dark path in the garden, and . . .” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and Davida felt that surge of warmth that so often overcame her around her fiancé. “Sounds delightful,” she murmured, giving him a dreamy smile.

Her response kindled a warm glow in his cobalt eyes. “Indeed, I think we should plan to meet out there, for we are likely to be separated in this crush. As I recall, there is a large fountain at the center of the garden, with dozens of nymphs sporting in the water. If I don’t make it to your side when they begin the supper dance, have your partner bring you there. We’ll take supper in one of the tents.”

As he predicted, they were separated in the crush after the first dance. Davida’s mother found a comfortable chair among the other chaperons, and her father retreated to the card room. A steady stream of dance partners kept Davida happily entertained, though she would have preferred to be with Monty.

A brief meeting with Lady Elspeth caused her a few moments of uneasiness. Monty’s erstwhile fiancée stared her up and down and demanded, “Where is Lord Pelham? I am surprised you let him out of your sight, Miss Gresham. The two of you have become inseparable. Do you not fear never to find him again in this crush?”

Davida wasn’t sure how to respond. There were several people listening, doubtless eager to turn into scandal any hint of animosity. So she just laughed and said, “We’re meeting at the central fountain in the garden for supper. I’m sure he will manage without me for that long.”

***

Pelham tired of dancing and the crowds and found his way to the fountain in time to blow a cloud before supper. As he stood contemplating the drifting couples all around him, some of them exploring the quieter walkways as he meant to do soon with Davida, he heard his name called.

He turned, irritated, for he recognized the voice. “Lady Elspeth.” He bowed formally but his stance was wary. “Surprised to see you here without an escort.”

“I wanted to speak to you privately for a moment.”

“I really have nothing to say to you, Elspeth, at least nothing you would take any pleasure in hearing.” He gave her a stern, hard look. “I said it all that day in my library.”

“I want us to cry friends, Monty.” Elspeth walked out of the darkened path behind him. “Can we not at least be friends?”

“Of course.” His expression softened. “I would like that, Elspeth.”

“Are you enjoying the ball?”

“These sad crushes are beginning to be just a bit tiresome, I must admit.” Pelham started to turn around to search the walkway leading from the mansion for Davida, but Elspeth stopped him with an urgent, “Wait!”

“What is it, Elspeth?” He turned back to her reluctantly. “I must watch for Davida. She is to meet me here.”

“I’d best leave before she arrives. Let us shake hands, Monty.” She held her hand out to him.

***

Davida had danced every dance, and by the time the supper dance was announced, she was exhausted. She was promised to Gilbert, and when the redheaded viscount found her, she turned to him eagerly.

“Gil, my feet feel like stumps! Do let us pass this one up. I am to join Monty in the garden at the end of it anyway.”

“Naughty, naughty!” Gilbert’s grin was teasing rather than condemning, which didn’t for one second relieve the blushes that sprang so readily to Davida’s cheeks.

“Beast! We’re going to get our supper in one of the tents. It’s far too stuffy in here, and too crowded as well.”

“I’ll certainly agree to that.” He helped her maneuver through the crowds and out the massive French doors which opened onto the elaborate garden.

“That was the simple part. Which fountain?”

As they stood looking out over the terraced scene, they could see the tops of dozens of fountains above the lush shrubbery. “Oh, my!” Davida wracked her brain. “I think he said it was near the center, and there were nymphs . . .”

They moved down the garden paths, peering to right and left. “Lost?” A deep voice that she recognized too well caused Davida to jump. “Or getting in practice for a true
ton
marriage?”

Gilbert chose to ignore the suggestive comment. “I say, Harry. You wouldn’t know the way to the central fountain, would you? The one with all of the nymphs?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure you should take
Miss
Gresham there.” Though he gave his usual emphasis to the “Miss,” there was nothing sportive about Curzon’s tone.

“Do give over, Harry. You know good and well . . . just escorting Davida to Monty.”

“My point exactly.” Curzon looked enigmatically at the two irritated, puzzled people before him. “Ah, well, tried to warn you. Continue along this path, then turn to the left when it crosses the next by the Apollo fountain.”

Davida looked behind her after they passed Curzon. He was standing still, watching them, a brooding look on his face. A sense of foreboding filled her.

It was a sense that was fully justified as they continued down the indicated path. Ahead of them was the nymph fountain, and as they rounded it they came upon Monty, his back to them, deep in conversation with Elspeth and oblivious to their approach.

Gilbert swore softly; Davida couldn’t make out his words but fully entered into his feelings, for just then Monty took Elspeth’s hand, then jerked her into his arms and kissed her. Moments later he pushed her from him almost violently.

Davida stopped in her tracks, an unwilling audience to this meeting between Elspeth and Monty. What she saw and heard was not calculated to give comfort to his current fiancée.

***

When Pelham took Elspeth’s hand to shake it, she grasped his firmly, then suddenly tugged sharply on it, at the same time bringing her other arm up to curve around his neck. Caught off balance, Pelham had to grab her firmly to keep from falling.

Straining upward, she brought her lips to his. He registered her womanly curves and her warmth, and for an instant he held her, his mouth softening on hers. Then he pulled away, setting her firmly at arm’s length.

“Kiss me one more time, Monty,” she whispered. And then, louder, a harsh sound to her voice, “Kiss me the way you did that day in your library.”

Startled by her actions, Pelham stood motionless for a few moments. In a low voice he demanded, “What May Game is this? I told you . . .”

“Yes, I know.” Her voice grew louder. “You told me that you cannot let Davida cry off. As you said, it would be a shabby thing to do, no matter how much you wish it. Our love must go unrequited. But won’t you give me one last kiss?”

“We had our last kiss the day after you jilted Whitham. I told you then, and I tell you now—you must accept it. I am going to marry Davida, no matter . . .”

Pelham didn’t get a chance to continue, because suddenly Elspeth, who was positioned so that she could see the walkway, gasped, “Davida. How long have you been . . . Oh, dear. We were just . . . that is, we were just saying good-bye. Please don’t be upset at Monty.”

Pelham spun around to see Davida’s white, unhappy face as she stared at the pair. Just behind her stood Viscount Threlbourne, looking very indignant.

“I knew it. . . . I knew it. . . .” Davida began backing away.

“Wait, Davie, I can explain.”

“No, Monty, let her go. This has gone on long enough.” Gil took Davida by the shoulders and turned her, nudging her back down the garden walkway. “You and Elspeth have kissed and made up. Be done with it. Davida is better off with a broken engagement than an unhappy marriage.”

He blocked Pelham’s path while Davida fled up the walkway as if all the fiends of hell were on her heels. When Pelham tried to shake free of his friend, Elspeth grasped his arm, her small hands surprisingly strong as she clung to his coat. “Let her go, let her go. As Gil says, it’s for the best. Now she’ll cry off and we can be wed.”

People were staring at Monty and Elspeth, and at Davida’s hastily retreating figure. Pelham turned back and firmly detached Elspeth’s hands. “You are making a fool of yourself before all the
ton
, Lady Elspeth. Kindly don’t include me in your folly.”

“But it’s me you love. I know it is!”

He looked down at her and realized that he could quite honestly deny any love for her. All he felt was disgust with his former fiancée and concern about Davida. “No, Lady Elspeth. Any slight remnants of feelings I had for you have been quite completely destroyed by this charade. You knew Davida was listening, didn’t you? You deliberately gave her a false impression. Dishonest, cruel creature! I have done with you, once and for all!” He turned his back on her tears without a qualm.

Hearing this speech, Gilbert braced him by the arms while looking at him questioningly. “Get out of my way, Threlbourne.”

“Did you mean what you said to Elspeth just now?”

“With all my heart. Now move!”

Gilbert allowed himself to be thrust aside, and turned to soothe Elspeth’s tears.

As quickly as he could without attracting more attention, Pelham hurried up the walkway, frantically searching for Davida. But she had disappeared into the throngs, and his search was in vain.

When Davida had last seen her parents, they were in the card room nearest the ballroom. With unseemly haste she pushed her way through the crowd and hurried to them. “Take me home,” she gasped.

“Why, Davida, darling, what is it?” Her mother, alarmed, rose from the table.

“Take me home now. Please, Papa, before I disgrace us all!”

The look on her face convinced her father. He stood, excusing himself, and began escorting the two women toward the front of the mansion. “But what of Lord Pelham?” he asked.

“He will find his own way home. Doubtless Lady Elspeth will take him up.” Her pain and grief were in her face. The bitterness in her tone caused the Greshams to exchange alarmed glances.

Once they were settled in their carriage and under way, Davida stammered out a tearful account of what she had seen and heard in the garden. “He jerked her into his arms and kissed her. I heard her saying he wouldn’t let me cry off because it was a shabby thing to do. He didn’t deny it. He just told her she must accept it.”

Her mother’s response was ready sympathy. She put her arms around her sobbing daughter and rocked her like a baby.

Her father sat back in the carriage, his face stony and unreadable in the dim light. When Davida had cried out her first rush of grief, she lifted her head.

“I can’t marry him now, Papa, you do see that. It is as I feared all along. He still loves her. He regrets proposing to me. Shabby. Shabby! He won’t let me cry off because it wouldn’t be proper. But he would always regret it. Oh, Papa, don’t you see. He’ll be miserable, and so will I.”

At last her father spoke. “She is a schemer. I believe she arranged for you to see them together.”

“Yes,” Davida admitted. “I expect she did plan it. She knew I was meeting him there. But it was clear that she was repeating what he had said to her. And I saw him take her into his arms. I saw him kiss her. Perhaps they planned it together.”

“I can’t believe that of Lord Pelham,” her father growled.

Lady Elizabeth sighed. “Nor can I. He seems too honorable a man for that.”

“You’re right, of course. He is. He is also too honorable to break off with me now, no matter how much he may want to. But I can and I will. I won’t be married to a man who loves another woman.”

“Careful, daughter. We haven’t heard from him yet. I would like to hear his explanation first.”

Near hysterics, Davida shrieked, “I heard all I needed to hear tonight. I won’t marry him.”

“Calm yourself, Davida. Your father won’t force you . . .”

“Madam, please do not speak for me. I will do what is best in the long run for my daughter, not give in to feminine hysterics. An engagement broken four days before the wedding will be an embarrassment to Lord Pelham, but he will overcome it. But Davida, we are not high enough in the
ton
to flaunt its standards. You’ll never recover from it. Your hopes of a good marriage—perhaps any marriage at all—will be dashed.”

“I’d rather not marry, then.”

“And I am convinced Pelham will make you a good husband in spite of . . .”

“No!”

“And you care deeply for him. Deny it if you can.”

“I do love him. Which is why I
won’t
marry him.”

Angrily father and daughter faced each other across the carriage.

“You’ll do as I say, daughter.”

“Papa!”

“Charles, please . . .”

“Quiet! Let’s not share this with the servants.” The carnage had stopped and the footman was opening the door.

Silently the three trooped into the entryway. “Go to bed, Davida. We will talk more of this tomorrow.” Her father’s face was so set and stern that Davida felt her spirits sink completely.

“Yes, Papa,” she whispered, stumbling up the steps until her mother joined her and put a steadying arm around her. She barely heard her mother’s soothing words. There had been something implacable in her father’s face.

She allowed herself to be undressed and put to bed like a doll. But after the candle had been extinguished, Davida lay sleepless, her mind as busy as her body was still. Endlessly she went over her relationship with Montgomery Villars, seeking any hint that he might truly care for her, but finding nothing that could convince her. She found, to her intense dismay, plenty of evidence of lust, but that was not love.