Stephanie and the Wicked Deceiver (Wild Marchmonts #2)

10. Those Halcyon Days

Chapter 10

Those Halcyon Days

‘ I do think you are doing well, Hedley! You could not even keep your back straight previously.’

‘I am so marked by your crop that I seem to remember these days.’ His tone was light, but Fortescue and Armitage exchanged glances. It did not seem that Hedley was giving himself over to hide his prowess today at all: a decision – or a symptom?

‘Well, I am not disappointed in my student. Even Proudfoot looks like a real beast today. I might mount you on Qianlong Emperor later.’

‘No side saddles!’ the earl protested. ‘I cannot imagine how females manage such instruments of torture.’

‘I might get out another horse from the stable when we return,’ Stephanie mused.

‘No!’ said Pettigrew. ‘I thought you said, “not yet”!’

‘I did, but I find riding Proudfoot rather uninspiring.’

‘Do you have a stronger horse in your stables?’

‘I do.’

‘Where did you purchase them?’ she asked.

‘Tattersalls, for the most part.’

‘Oh, how I wished to visit but females are not welcome, and Mama refused to let Richard take me.’

‘Your brother is wise.’

‘Oh, I don’t know that, but when I asked he said we had no need of more horses and he was quite right.’ She giggled a little. ‘I believe the cost of stabling our family horses in London is already prodigious. Richard was just being practical. One should not buy what one does not need.’

‘A novel view for a young lady. I suppose you need all that you presently possess?’

‘Well, the extra dresses and things for London seemed excessive, but they are, after all, the “ Costume for the Occasion” , as Mama says. She is very strict about such things. I must not wear my country clothes and embarrass my sisters.’

‘But you would prefer to?’

‘I do not much mind what I wear, supposing it is practical, and I told you already that Mama made adjustments to my clothes so that they were. But the smarter clothes helped when I had to meet London visitors to the house, you know. My cousin Dorian Marchmont is very, very fashionable, you see, and he told me that I looked well in my new clothes. He said that if I wore my old navy dress, which I had put on one day when I was going for a ride, I would make Mama look as though she had preferred children , which would give her a bad reputation. So after that, I never wore country clothes in London.’

‘I am surprised such things were packed in your London trunk.’

‘Oh, I hid them inside when my maid Sukey did not observe. She is not so clever as Morag, who is really Mama’s maid. Morag would have found out in a minute.’

‘If your other clothes have adjustments, as you say, why do you wear these dreadfully dull clothes and the awful bonnet before us?’ said Pettigrew, having ridden abreast of them.

‘It is a dreadful bonnet, is it not? But it is full proof against the sun, so it is very practical.’

‘Practical is your favourite word,’ sniffed Horace. ‘I suppose you are vain enough to wish at least to avoid more freckles.’

‘Oh, freckles are not the worst of it!’ exclaimed Stephanie, not at all insulted by the jibe, Hedley noted. ‘I go quite red and then my skin peels off, you see.’

‘Peels off?’ Pettigrew was startled.

‘Yes. Naomi says that God made a mistake matching my colouring and personality. For the sake of my red hair, He ought to have given me a scholarly personality that is content to be indoors for the most part.’

‘That is definitely not your personality. But it maybe the Almighty’s joke , not a mistake.’

‘Yes, so that dunderheads like you may make jests about my freckles for your own amusement,’ the girl retorted.

Hedley found himself saying suddenly, ‘I like your freckles.’

There was a second’s pause and Stephanie’s reaction was hidden from them by the large forward poke of the dreadful bonnet. Then she looked over at him and said, her face a little flushed, ‘Well, thank you, my lord, but you should not like my peeling skin.’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Pettigrew was obtuse to the heightened atmosphere that had Armitage and Fortescue holding their breath. ‘I should like to see that!’

Stephanie found him within crop’s reach when she bent over and delivered a sharp blow to his arm. ‘Ow!’ he cried.

‘I have borne a great deal from you, Horace Pettigrew, but do not go too far!’ She smiled at the earl. ‘I do not know how you all bear with him, Hedley.’

‘Let us go back for some tea,’ Hedley suggested. ‘Miss Galloway had promised to order it for us all.’ He was finding it difficult to cope with her smiles. He felt that Stephanie was not fully aware of the difference in herself recently; those smiles, which had used to come at him casually, were now a little tremulous in the middle. It was as though she began them as usual and then was overtaken by consciousness.

He was nearly sure she did not understand it herself, but Hedley felt that he might, for he was conscious of her every expression, every casual touch. It had crept up on him; the shy smiles of debutantes in London, or the more erotic lures of older ladies, did not have the same effect on him as the friendly pat on the back from this extraordinary child.

But she was seventeen, and while no one in London would blink at the gap in their ages, she was different . She was more innocent yet sometimes so much older, but completely uninterested in men except as brotherly companions, just as her younger sisters Tabitha and Berthe might be.

If she were a trifle more aware, Hedley might hold her hand a little longer when he helped her from a carriage, or look his thoughts when he met her gaze, or compliment her extraordinary eyes, but he could not. The more time he spent in her company the more he knew what he wished for, but he could not drag her to realisation. He would not. She needed to grow a little, to go for her Season next year and meet gentlemen in the more ordinary way.

He wondered if he could wait, as her mama seemed to wish, until Stephanie turned around and saw him. But what if another man made her see in the interim? Hedley, not noticeably modest in his previous life, was afraid. Stephanie liked him, but it was not enough.

If he had displayed his true prowess to her with horse and foil, would she have been attracted rather than merely friendly? A sporting man, after all, must be someone who was fitting for her as a companion.

Stephanie stayed for tea and conversation and the whole party was very lively, but she broke it up after an hour. She surprised Hedley by saying with more sensitivity than he thought she possessed, ‘We must go now. Morag will be dreadfully bored and frustrated because she sits still. At Reddingate she has things to do, at any rate.’

‘Come back for dinner,’ the earl suggested. ‘I have invited some guests.’

‘Oh, very good. Must I wear London attire?’

‘Yes. Evening dress, my dear! We entertain a duke!’

Stephanie, who was the granddaughter of a duke, seemed unimpressed by this. She said vaguely, ‘Oh, very well, evening dress it is. If my maid has packed one.’

Morag, seated beside her in the gig on the way home, said, ‘You are spending a great deal of time at Hedley Court. I do not think your Mama would approve.’

‘But you told me Mama was acquainted with the previous earl. It seems to be unexceptional.’

‘What do you know of unexceptional , you dreadful girl?’

‘Well, I am nearly as jumpy as you when I have nought to do, Morag. You must see my friendship with Hedley and the others as a way to keep me from trouble.’

‘There’s a different kind of trouble in your association with young gentleman!’ Morag protested. ‘You do not know!’

‘You are too cautious. Mama would quite understand.’

‘She sent you here as punishment to brood in solitude and perhaps set your ideas to be more careful of yourself and of your reputation. And what must you do but meet a pack of hounds and join them? It is not fitting for a young lady to spend all her time with gentlemen.’

‘Gertrude is at Hedley now. Since she came, I may reject all your silly notions about respectability. There could be no one more respectable than Gertrude. And I do think she is nice, don’t you?’

‘Miss Galloway is a true gentlewoman but she does not accompany you on your rides.’

Stephanie laughed. ‘Well, what on earth can occur while riding?’

‘Indecent conversation!’

‘Pietro is with me, and now Hedley’s maid, Sarah. If indecent conversation occurred, they would have informed you of it. I admit Horace Pettigrew is indecently insulting to me, but he is just a child.’

‘He is six years your senior, but I do agree he is a badly behaved child. But it is not him I worry about.’

‘Then who on earth? I should think Sir Rupert is probably a rake, and that Hedley and Fortescue might be gallant with ladies in town, but not with me !’

‘Why not you?’

‘Because I am their friend . They only tease me, I assure you.’

‘That is how it starts,’ worried Morag.

Stephanie laughed. ‘You shall iron my green silk for the evening and that will put you in a better mood. I am to meet some guests – and there is a duke, too.’

‘So, I heard them say. Do not fear. I shall make you presentable.’

The invitation that the duke had received had him scratching his head. That Hedley would invite him was not without precedent, just as the duke had invited Hedley to join him and his friends to a cosy dinner at Hardcastle, but the earl must know that Cressida was here, so whatever was he playing at?

Hedley had spent time and effort avoiding his persistent daughter and the duke did not much blame him. But he sighed and conveyed the news of Hedley’s return and invitation to Cressida, who had ridden over daily to the Court’s lodge gates to await news of the earl’s return.

Cressida was beside herself with gleeful anticipation and began to plan her outfit for the evening.

‘Hedley says it is nought but an informal affair,’ said the duke. ‘And so it must be if he calls us to dine on the day of the invitation’s delivery. I pray you, Cressida, do not refine too much upon it. I usually dine with Hedley a couple of times when I am here, so this invitation is unlikely to be directed at you ! Nevertheless, you will welcome dining with some more enjoyable companions, my dear. But Cressida, I adjure you to conduct yourself well this evening.’

‘Papa! What do you mean?’

‘You have humiliated me on more than one occasion by an unwomanly display of arrogance or ill-temper. I assure you that Hedley will not be impressed by either. He has no height of manner himself and does not admire such in others.’

Cressida, whose face had darkened in anger, narrowed her eyes at his last sentence. ‘Thank you, Papa. You are very wise.’

But when they arrived at Hedley Court, she had a harder job keeping her temper than she had anticipated.

Before dinner Fortescue had demanded, ‘You really invited the duke and Lady Cressida? Why on earth?’

‘I feel that it might not be such a bad idea to confront the danger,’ Hedley told him. ‘Perhaps Cressida can at last be brought to see my disinterest and to realise that Stephanie has no more idea of pursuing me than she has of pursuing Miss Galloway!’

‘I suppose it might stop your pursuer appearing when we least want her.’

‘Yes. If she exposes me to Stephanie, I fear for my life.’

‘So, you should!’ remarked Armitage.

‘Yes, yes. You advised against it, but now I am forbidden even by her mother to tell the truth.’

‘Fear not. If Stephanie discovers the deception, I shall hide the foil,’ Fortescue said helpfully.

‘She will probably discover it. Stephanie will very likely let it drop about her useless tutelage,’ said Horace Pettigrew, in a doom-laden voice. ‘She’s silly enough, and you will have made a cake of yourself in front of Dorchester!’

‘It is not yourself we speak of Horace, but Miss Marchmont,’ said Fortescue. ‘She is not quite so silly as you!’

The earl and Sir Rupert exchanged a dubious but hopeful look.

Hedley welcomed Dorchester and Lady Cressida into the blue salon where Pettigrew, Armitage and Fortescue were all lounging, though they immediately got to their feet to greet the guests. The company was already acquainted and only had to be introduced to Miss Galloway; the duke bent gallantly over her hand, old rake that he was.

Miss Galloway took this with humour in her eye. Hedley knew that she was not one of those spinsters who shook at the veriest male touch or their slightest attention; since she had become her own self by living with her friend, she was a forthright, amused observer of society. The duke appreciated it and twinkled back.

‘You must let go of Miss Galloway’s hand, Papa,’ Cressida intervened. ‘I suppose it must make the dear lady nervous to receive such distinguished attentions.’

Sir Rupert Armitage stepped forward and threaded Miss Galloway’s hand through his arm. ‘I am afraid Miss Galloway may have become more acquainted with male attentions at the Court. As Hedley’s only female guest, she has become our goddess, you know.’

‘Indeed,’ said Hedley, kissing Miss Galloway’s free hand with equal gallantry to the duke.

‘You are a fool, Cressida,’ said the duke in an under voice. ‘I warned you.’

Lady Cressida pulled herself up and blushed. What on earth was there to complain of in what she had said? she thought. But it was obvious, even to her intellect, that the gentlemen had leapt to Miss Galloway’s aid as though she had been insulted.

She attempted a comeback. ‘I am sure Miss Galloway must be a favourite with you all, gentlemen. I only wondered at her taking my flirtatious Papa’s attentions as an insult.’

‘I am flattered by the duke’s attention and not bothered by my friends’ teasing. You must not mind them, Lady Cressida!’ Miss Galloway responded.

This assumption of hostess did not quite meet with Lady Cressida’s humour but she smiled anyway, realising that she must display her softer side this evening. It was evident that the plain spinster was a favourite here, and Cressida would graciously indulge her until Hedley was securely at her side.

Warm wine was served against the evening chill, and it seemed that dinner was somewhat delayed. Cressida tried to reach Hedley several times but the other gentlemen were so assiduous in their attentions to her that she could not. She was, of course, used to such admiration. Armitage was a rake and a flirt, but wealthy enough not to seek her fortune. Pettigrew was two years her senior only, and she had little idea as to his fortune, but he was just a boy and the chatter he directed at her was general but pressing. Had she been to the Otterlys’ ball last Season? Why was she not yet in London? Was she addicted to hunting like her papa?’

Fortescue spoke to her about her dress and hair and was very charming. He asked her about her reading habits and seemed a little uninspired by her answers.

There was an altercation in the hall and a young lady came in, followed by her older maid who was saying in a chiding tone, ‘Miss Stephanie, I must see to your hair!’

There was mud on the young woman’s cloak and, indeed, her crown of red curls seemed a trifle disarranged. ‘In a minute, Morag. I must just apologise to the gentlemen!’

‘What happened?’ asked Pettigrew.

Fortescue added, ‘Are you quite alright, Stephanie?’

‘Oh, a blasted wheel broke from the phaeton on the way here and Morag and I were led on Pietro’s horse in the gloom. Poor Trojan, to have to bear such weight as ours.’ As she spoke, she untied her cloak, shook her hair (which tumbled more red spirals) and went forward. ‘Oh, you are the lady at the lodge gates who seemed cross with me. Why were you?’ she enquired of Cressida in her serious manner.

Lady Cressida flushed and stiffened in mortification, but Stephanie had already moved her eyes to the others in the company.

Hedley laughed and came forward. ‘This is Lady Cressida Parkinson, and this is her father, His Grace, the Duke of Dorchester.’

Stephanie held out a hand in a forthright manner that made the duke smile. ‘How do you do, Your Grace? I am Stephanie Marchmont, and it is very nice to meet you.’

The duke shook her hand, finding his own wrung a trifle in response, and it was as though she only just remembered the curtsy that should accompany her greeting. He watched as Stephanie turned to his daughter.

‘And you, Lady Cressida. Why were you cross the other day, by the way?’

The duke saw that the enquiry was born of puzzlement rather than malice and expanded his cheeks as his daughter clenched her fists, but Miss Marchmont seemed unaware.

Hedley came to the rescue. ‘I think you should tidy yourself a little first, Stephanie, if only for your maid’s sake!’ He smiled at Morag. ‘Lady Cressida will tell you why she was cross when you come back.’

‘Very well,’ said Stephanie cheerfully, her green silk further exposed as the shawl she was wearing beneath her cape fell to her elbows.

‘Good gracious, you possess an evening gown!’ Pettigrew said despite himself when he saw her form in the pretty silk peeping beneath the cloak.

‘If you tease me, Horace Pettigrew,’ Stephanie warned, ‘you know what I shall do to you on the morrow. You must behave yourself. We have guests!’

‘So we do, dear one,’ said Miss Galloway. ‘So go along with Morag. Your hair is quite falling down your back.’

‘I do not mind it,’ said Stephanie.

‘Yes, my dear,’ Miss Galloway bit back her amusement. ‘But remember the guests!’

‘Oh, very well,’ Stephanie said resignedly. As she went off like a reluctant schoolgirl, she turned her head to the earl. ‘I shouldn’t think we should be long, Hedley. You can start dinner without me.’

Everything – every single thing this red-haired girl said – annoyed Lady Cressida, from acknowledging her papa and her as guests, (with the concomitant assumption that she was not), to addressing the gentlemen so intimately, to her calling the earl Hedley , as though he were her family member or intimate, to her complete lack of feminine reticence or modesty.

Miss Marchmont must be younger than herself by a year or two; what gave her the confidence? Even meeting Papa, an honour of which most were cognisant, did not make Miss Marchmont tremble or blush. The only good thing was that she did not seem to care for her appearance; and that her face, though it had some fine bones, Cressida supposed, had a freckled complexion and those strange rimless eyes that no one could admire. Fortunately, though herself blonde, Cressida’s own lashes were dark and framed her blue eyes well.

Hedley laughed at Stephanie’s request to start the meal. ‘I think, don’t you, that we should await all our guests?’

Stephanie shrugged and left the room.

‘How precisely did you become acquainted with Miss Marchmont?’ asked Lady Cressida in her sweetest voice.

‘Oh, she is a friend of mine ,’ said Miss Galloway. ‘And then we discovered that she is also an old friend of Hedley’s family.’

There was a pause before Cressida began again. ‘It is not like you to be from London at this Season, my lord.’

‘Nor you, Lady Cressida,’ said Fortescue to divert her attention. ‘Or so I suppose for such a fashionable young lady as yourself.’

But Hedley chose to answer, despite Fortescue’s well-meaning interjection. ‘I was recuperating from an injured arm and my friends have been keeping me company.’

‘Very good of them, I’m sure.’ Lady Cressida smiled around winningly, which made her father roll his eyes.

‘Oh, no,’ said Armitage suavely. ‘Hedley has excellent brandy.’

‘I should not like to believe that this delay has kept you from the ladies, Sir Rupert.’ Cressida was attempting to be pleasantly arch but it was not quite coming off.

‘Now, how so? I have my charming Misses Galloway and Marchmont to while away my time in complimenting.’ The baronet’s slanted eyes glittered wickedly. Cressida felt the sting.

Stephanie came in at this juncture, hair prettily restored and the slight mud stain on her hem brushed off. ‘I do not remember you giving me a single compliment, Sir Rupert.’

He cocked an amused brow at her and said with his satyr’s smile, ‘That is because you are a naughty and forgetful child.’ He looked to Hedley, who was now standing stunned at Stephanie’s appearance. They were all admiring, he thought, but Hedley was in trouble. He touched his friend’s arm to break his gaze before it became noted.

‘I find you do not hear compliments, Stephanie,’ Baron Fortescue remarked, ‘though other young ladies, such as my sister, seem to treasure them.’

‘Pooh! All your compliments are merely teases .’ Stephanie turned to the duke’s daughter. ‘I understand that you know them all, Lady Cressida. You must know that they are the most wicked of deceivers.’

‘You visit the Court frequently, Miss Marchmont?’ Cressida’s voice was tight, her eyes on Hedley. He was frowning slightly at the redhead but Stephanie did not notice.

‘Oh, daily – sometimes several times a day.’

Hedley sighed and exchanged a wry glance with Armitage.

Tonight Stephanie looked ravishing in a pretty silk with a respectable, though still low, bodice. He could see that his three friends, as well as the duke, were all moved by her unselfconscious beauty.

Morag had indeed ‘done something with her hair’: it looked stunning pulled up and tumbling down her back in shinier, more organised curls. Her style drew attention to the strange colour of her eyes. The unfashionable freckles that seemed to highlight her bone structure gave her a freshness that was indisputable. The dress fitted her form in a way that drew the eye, and her naked arms were slim and lithe, yet feminine and delicate. The sweeping neckline, while fairly modest by the fashions of the day, reminded every man present that she was female – and a lovely female to boot.

Though Stephanie’s manner was not at all flirtatious, her appearance was annoying the jealous duke’s daughter anew. ‘You do ?’ she asked, and it came out as plaintive.

The duke drummed his fingers on the carved wooden handle of his seat and gave Hedley an apologetic look.

‘Yes,’ Stephanie answered without much inflection.

‘Why?’ Cressida’s voice was shriller still and the duke closed his eyes.

‘Oh.’ Stephanie looked a bit flummoxed at this. ‘Because I visit Miss Galloway, for it is most uncomfortable for her to be always with so many ill-behaved gentlemen.’ She was at once scoffing at her friends and inviting Lady Cressida to join the joke, but the duke’s daughter looked colder still.

‘Yes, indeed!’ said Gertrude Galloway supportively.

‘ I should visit more often, too, Miss Galloway!’ said Cressida, trying to reassert her sweetness.

‘Oh, I am quite sure that would bore you, my lady,’ said Gertrude Galloway, noting Hedley’s look of frustration. ‘It is only that Miss Marchmont and I are such particular friends.’

‘Oh yes,’ said Stephanie airily. ‘We talk of, of embroidery … and … and…’

‘Knitting!’ finished Gertrude Galloway with a straight face.

Lady Cressida believed she was being excluded but there seemed no point in pursuing it. At least the gentlemen must not be present at such boring conversations as those.

Dinner was announced and Hedley led out Lady Cressida while the duke took Miss Galloway’s arm with suitable gallantry. Armitage offered Stephanie his arm, which made her giggle. As they walked through the hall to the dining room, she whispered, ‘If you have the opportunity, tell Hedley to be easy. I would not betray the secret of his lessons for a king’s ransom.’

‘He’ll be grateful,’ Armitage whispered back.

They were seated in order of precedence. The earl sat at the head of the table, giving the other end to the duke. Lady Cressida sat at one side of the earl, Fortescue on his other, with Stephanie beside the duke facing Pettigrew at the other end. In the middle Miss Galloway sat opposite Armitage, the pair of them a trifle amused.

Lady Cressida wondered what Armitage had whispered in Hedley’s ear before he sat down, and why it had caused the earl to look both amused and warm at the same time. She looked on jealously as Hedley met Miss Marchmont’s gaze all the way down the length of the table and mouthed ‘Thank you!’, to which the chit grinned and blushed.

It was she , however, who was now seated by the earl, and Lady Cressida meant to take advantage of it.

Later, however, the atmosphere in the duke’s coach on the way back to Hardcastle was turgid. Cressida’s attempts at drawing out Hedley had been met with grace and politeness but hardly with warmth. When he conversed over the table in Fortescue’s direction, he had been much more animated and he had even joined in conversations held by the most distant guests, including her papa who had held forth for some time on hunting.

The duke had done so primarily to stop Cressida exposing herself too much. While Hedley was civil but discouraging, Cressida’s remarks got warmer; it was upsetting that she was bringing herself polite rejection because of her own behaviour.

Armitage, Miss Galloway and Fortescue had all tried to converse with her on normal matters but Cressida had been brisk. If she had been sensible, she might have made friends of the earl’s friends for her own good, but she was too impatient and arrogant to do so, her father thought sadly. She had turned back again and again to the earl.

When Armitage had laughingly remarked that Stephanie’s dress was much more the thing tonight, Miss Marchmont had said generously that he looked very nice this evening, too. ‘Even Hedley is well dressed this evening!’ she had added. The duke had descried no particular admiration but only surprise in the girl’s tone. However, the remark had provoked his daughter’s jealousy again.

To fend off another embarrassment for Cressida, the duke had said, ‘Is he not always so?’

‘Oh, no! Generally, he wears the most dreadful coats!’

No doubt this girl had brothers! None of the others had looked shocked, only amused, but Cressida had tittered unpleasantly. ‘You must not be familiar with fashion , then, Miss Marchmont, for the world admires Lord Hedley as a leader in these matters.’

‘Oh, does it?’ Stephanie had sounded surprised. ‘I am indeed ignorant, but I cannot say that I liked his coats – especially the green one.’

Though Hedley appeared amused, Pettigrew was roused to protest. ‘That coat was a masterpiece of the tailor’s art, Stephanie Marchmont.’

‘Oh, don’t mind me, I know nothing at all about these matters,’ Stephanie grinned.

The girl’s complete lack of artifice might be called rudeness if it were not for the fact that she obviously regarded the elevated gentlemen as slightly annoying brothers rather than eligible partis . To the duke, that threw Cressida’s machinations into sharp relief but his daughter was too wrapped up in her own wilfulness to see it. Beneath her shallow jealousy she had been feeling hurt, her father thought unhappily. She had not been, for some time, a happy child and the one thing he might do to help was forbidden him.

‘Hedley invited us both to a small gathering next week,’ he told her now. ‘A little sport, I think, and some nuncheon.’

Lady Cressida suddenly looked brighter. ‘I shall ride over tomorrow and discuss it with him.’

‘You will not.’ Her father spoke with finality.

‘Papa!’

‘Cressida, do you not see that Hedley’s invitation is to tell you not to make any unannounced visits?’

‘Papa!’

‘You are not stupid, my dear girl. It is evident that the earl does not wish to embarrass you. He is aware of your admiration but does not return it in the same fashion. You know that pushing a horse onwards only leads to accidents.’

She flushed. ‘So, you are telling me that Miss Stephanie Marchmont may visit Hedley Court and I may not? Why? ’

‘Because she is Miss Galloway’s friend and evidently has become friends with all of the gentlemen staying at the Court.’

‘Designing minx!’ said Cressida.

‘It would be hard to find anyone less designing,’ said the duke. ‘The girl is more like a man than a female to them. Who, pray, does she have designs on? Pettigrew, whom she threatened and called a fool? Armitage, whom she told off for feeding the cat? Fortescue, whom she advised not to be a bore when his cricket story lasted too long?’

‘ Hedley! She has designs on Hedley !’

‘From what I saw, she criticised his coats and treated him with casual disinterest most of the time.’

‘She wore that gown to inveigle him!’ Cressida glowered.

‘Well, you wore your very charming gown to do the same. However, I do not think the child has any notion of being pretty, though she is, of course.’

‘Papa!’

‘You are more so, but because she is uninterested in her own charms she was able to stand a friend to all the gentlemen tonight. Had you been more pleasant to those around you, you might have been invited to Hedley as a casual visitor. As it was, the earl had to concoct a formal invitation to ward you off.’

Cressida sniffed and gave an angry sob. The duke, though upset for her, did not yield; if she did not keep herself in check, his daughter would bring more pain to herself. If only she still had her governess beside her, she would have guidance and save herself. Apart from not encouraging his daughter, he was at a loss as to how to keep her from the consequences of her admiration for a man who was plainly uninterested in her.

Before he had left for the French wars, she had been a much more natural and winning child. His Cressida was still there, but how to reach her?

‘Mind this, Cressida. You are not to go near Hedley Court until the day of our invitation,’ he said in his most stern voice.

His daughter answered, obedient but resentful, ‘Yes, Papa.’