The Husband Season

‘She sounds like a spoiled filly to me.’

‘No, you mistake me. She is a charming young lady, if a little headstrong, which don’t signify to the young blades who crowd round her at Hadlea. Whether she will enjoy the same adoration in town, I cannot say. She will be at the concert, so you may be able to judge then.’

‘I shall look forward to being introduced to her and making up my own mind,’ Adam said.

* * *

He was busy in the meantime lobbying for support for the mill workers and the repeal of the Corn Laws, but found very few takers, certainly not among his peers. What he needed was support in the Commons, but even there, the rules for standing for that institution were such that very few of them could claim working-class roots. If only he could prevail upon the likes of Orator Hunt to compromise on their demands, he might have some success, but Hunt seemed to have gone to ground. He had asked Alfred Farley if he could winkle out his whereabouts.

Alfred might be a valet who looked after his clothes and brought him his shaving things of a morning, but he was more than that. He had been serving him since he had found him in a back alley in Seven Dials, half-starved and begging, four years before. Something about the man had made him take pity on him and he had learned he had once been a soldier and had served under Adam’s brother, but he had been discharged when he’d taken a piece of shrapnel from a cannonball in his leg. It had healed, but his leg was scarred and he walked with a limp. He was not an ideal valet, but he was a faithful servant and could be relied on in a crisis.

* * *

Adam had had to put all that aside in order to attend Mark’s concert. He could hardly fail to do so considering the house was in an uproar of preparation and Mark distracted. The house was large, airy and well furnished, if a little old-fashioned, not that such a thing would have put off his guests; the Wyndhams were known and respected in town as well as at Hadlea, and he did not for a moment share Mark’s doubts that no one would turn up. All was ready on the night, and after a light repast with Mark at six o’clock, he went up to his room to change.

He had long given up the exaggerated dress he had adopted in his youth and now favoured simplicity, but it was an elegant simplicity that set off his splendid physique and spoke volumes for his tailor, not to mention Farley, who had learned to make sure his cravats were starched to exactly the right stiffness, enough to maintain their folds, but not enough to cause him discomfort. Tonight he favoured a dark blue tailcoat in superfine that he had been assured was called midnight blue, matching pantaloons and a white brocade waistcoat with silver buttons. Never one to be fussy about his hair, which had a natural curl, he succumbed to Farley brushing it and combing into some semblance of style.

He could hear people arriving as he left his room to go down to the first floor, where he found his cousin standing sentinel at the ballroom door that had been furnished with a small stage and rows of chairs.

‘How goes it?’ Adam asked, standing beside him.

‘Well, I think. The chairs are filling up.’

‘So I should hope, considering you have the cream of the musical world to entertain everyone.’

They heard voices down in the hall as more guests arrived, and in a few moments, a party came up, led by a matronly woman in a hideous purple gown and a turban with a long feather, escorted by young Cavenhurst, but he hardly had eyes for them because they were accompanied by a young lady who caused him to catch his breath.

‘Lady Cartrose, how do you do,’ Mark said, while Adam endeavoured not to allow his twitching lips to become a broad grin. ‘May I present my cousin, Lord Kimberley.’

Pulling himself together, Adam bowed. ‘Your servant, my lady.’

‘And this is my sister-in-law, Miss Sophie Cavenhurst,’ Mark went on, unaware of the unspoken message going from Sophie to Adam, though that gentleman was fully cognisant of the appeal in her blue eyes.

‘Miss Cavenhurst, your obedient servant,’ he said, bowing.

There were more people coming up the stairs, and Mark was obliged to turn to greet them. ‘Adam, will you take Lady Cartrose and Miss Cavenhurst to find good seats before they are all taken up? I will join you later.’

‘With the greatest of pleasure,’ he said, offering them an arm each and smiling to himself when Sophie hesitated before taking it.

They found four seats in the middle of the room, and he found himself seated between Sophie and her aunt. He had a little time to study her while she perused the programme she had found on her chair. She was lovely, there was no doubting that, with her fresh complexion, fair curls and expressive blue eyes, which he could not see because she was determined not to look in his direction. He could hardly believe she was the same girl he had rescued from the soldiers, nor the one he had seen flaunting herself in that high-perch phaeton with that coxcomb, Sir Reginald Swayle. He hadn’t known his name at the time, only having been introduced to him at White’s.

‘Are you enjoying your stay in London?’ he asked her.

‘So far,’ she said, without looking at him.

‘Only so far?’

‘Well, one never knows what is around the corner, does one?’

‘No, nor whom one might meet,’ he added.

‘Very true, and sometimes they are not the people one would wish to meet.’

‘I am sorry if that has happened to you,’ he said, assuming she meant him. ‘But sometimes we find ourselves in situations where it cannot be avoided.’

‘Quite.’

There was a long silence after this. She was evidently not in the mood to explain herself and as the seats were filling up and the musicians tuning their instruments ready to begin, he gave up trying. Instead, he turned to Lady Cartrose, but as she could not hear what he was saying above the noise of the orchestra and people talking round them, he gave that up, too.

Mark came in to introduce the quartet that was going to provide the opening music and everyone ceased chatting and turned towards the front.

The seats were so close together, Adam was very aware of the girl beside him; he had only to lean a little sideways and their arms and heads would touch. She appeared engrossed in the music, but there was a tension in the air around her that told him she was not unmindful of his proximity. What was she thinking? Was she wishing him anywhere but where he was? He ought to reassure her he would not speak of the episode with the soldiers, or her indiscretion in riding in the phaeton; it would not be the action of a gentleman. But perhaps it would be better to remain silent.

* * *

Refreshments were served during the intermission and Adam had perforce to escort his uncommunicative ladies to the dining room, where they were joined by Mr and Mrs Malthouse and Cassandra, and Lord and Lady Martindale with Lucinda.

It was immediately apparent that Miss Sophie Cavenhurst was not normally taciturn, because she entered into a lively exchange with Cassandra and Lucinda about the merits of the music and the audience and their dress.

‘Your gown is exquisite,’ Cassandra said to Sophie. ‘Where did you find that lovely fabric? That green reminds me of sage shot through with silver.’

‘My sister found it for me. It might have come from India. Both my brother and brother-in-law spent some time out there. They may have brought it back.’

‘And the style is so elegant. Don’t you think so, my lord?’

Thus appealed to, Adam turned towards Sophie as if to study her sage-green gown, although he had already decided he had rarely seen anything so becoming. It was exquisitely made and fitted the young lady’s figure beautifully. ‘Most certainly,’ he said. ‘But your own gown, Miss Malthouse, is a match for it. It suits its wearer to perfection.’

Cassandra blushed crimson. ‘You are too kind, my lord.’

‘You must not leave Miss Martindale out of your praises,’ Sophie said, smiling at her old friend. ‘I think that pale pink is just right for her colouring.’

‘I had no intention of leaving the young lady out,’ he said. ‘You are all three beauties of the first order. I am at a loss to choose between you and you must therefore excuse me.’ He bowed to each in turn and made his escape.

He joined Mark, who was standing a little to one side, making sure everyone was being looked after, ready to send for more dishes of food as those on the table emptied.

‘You haven’t lost your touch, I see,’ Mark said, looking towards the trio. ‘Three young ladies hanging on your every word. I fancy there will be three handkerchiefs thrown down ere long.’

‘I shall not stoop to pick them up, Mark. I collect I told you, I have no intention of marrying again.’

* * *

‘I wonder how long he will be in town,’ Cassandra mused. ‘Do you think he will come to my ball if I invite him?’

‘Oh, so you are going to set your cap at him, are you?’ Sophie said.

‘Why not? He is not unhandsome and he has a title.’

‘And wealth,’ Lucinda put in.

‘How do you know that?’ Sophie demanded.

‘I asked Papa and he said he has a vast estate in Yorkshire and owns a woollen mill, as well.’

‘Yorkshire. I am sure I should never want to live there,’ Sophie said.

‘No doubt he would bring his wife to town as often as she wanted to come,’ Lucinda said.

‘You, too, Lucy?’ Sophie queried.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Both of you bowled over by a handsome face and a few compliments.’

‘Oh, so you are not, I suppose,’ Cassandra said.

‘Of course not. Anyone can learn to pay compliments. Besides he is too old and a widower and I will not play second fiddle to a dead wife.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ Lucinda said.

‘What does it matter?’ Cassandra was not to be put off. ‘She can’t hurt anyone, can she? I am going to ask Mama to invite him to my come-out ball. He will be duty bound to stand up with me.’

‘Then, I wish you joy of him,’ Sophie said.

She knew she was being silly, but Viscount Kimberley disturbed her more than she was willing to admit. Her embarrassment at finding the man who had rescued her from the soldiers was her brother-in-law’s cousin was profound. She could not treat him like a stranger, could not dismiss the whole incident with a shrug of her shoulders, especially as he had afterwards seen her with Reggie in his phaeton. How much of that would he tell Mark? Mark might tell Jane and she would be fetched home in disgrace. If only tonight had been their first meeting, then she might have felt the same way as her two friends. She envied them. He was not laughing at them.

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