The Bluestocking and the Dastardly, Intolerable Scoundrel

  Suddenly, she was very weary. “Why are we here, then?”

  “For you to feel loved. Merely that. To enjoy and be welcomed for a night. And though I have been decidedly unkind in not pointing out how lovely you look this evening, let me please rectify that oversight immediately, for you are an unbelievable, magnificent fairy in a gown I could have never imagined or thought of before. It is exceptional, and I truly believe you may be the most beautiful creature to have ever graced the Stanthorpes’ ballroom.”

  She grinned and glanced up toward the ceiling. “If we were anywhere else, I would whack you senseless for such fanciful words.”

  “Then it is perhaps best that we are not anywhere else.”

  He took a step forward, and it was truly the first time she noticed their differences in size. Why, her head merely came below his shoulder. If he was not the most irritating man in all of London, she would even go so far as to call him handsome—remarkably so. But it was his manner of enjoying larks a bit too freely that would always unsettle her.

  “The music has started. Lady Lamb, could I persuade you to throw me to the gossiping wolves and dance the set?”

  It was those blasted eyes. They pried and questioned and were framed by the face of a handsome devil. Heaven knew she should run to her coach and leave the premises straightaway when all of a sudden, she remembered dear Mrs. Crabtree! “My companion! Er, yes. Let us go in at once and look for her. I wonder she has not banged the house down searching for me.”

  He grinned and tucked her arm into his, and then opened the door and quite efficiently led them both down the hall and into the ballroom together. “Did I not tell you? I caught Mrs. Crabtree as soon as you left and asked her to procure seats, informing her we would join her momentarily. I imagine even now that she is seated, waiting for us. And look! Yes, there she is, with chairs and a little cup of lemonade too. Now, no scowling, my dear, for everyone is looking our way.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

  There was one last set forming, and with a wave to a very contented Mrs. Crabtree, Compton maneuvered Lady Lamb through the horde to join at the end. Which is precisely how he received the sharpest pinch under his wrist he had ever known.

  He flinched and quickly overturned the minx’s hand before she could think to give him another. “You do not have to maul me to get your point across. Now smile. Anyone would think we were having a lovers’ spat.”

  Her eyes glittered dangerously, but she kept a surprisingly affable look upon her face as she gave a little curtsy to begin the number. “You could have stated that Mrs. Crabtree was well and we did not need to come rushing to the ballroom. It is deceitful to play such shams on your partner, as well you know.”

  “Not if I wish to dance with her. I fear it is merely a delightful way to ensure that I do.”

  Lady Lamb followed the dance and stepped toward him. He made certain her devilish fingers were well away from the undersides of his wrists as their hands touched, and then twirled her around.

  Those enchanting eyes of hers were positively radiant with emotion. He could not look away even if he desired to. She missed a step, and he smoothly dipped with her so no one watching could tell which one of them was at fault. Her face flushed as she broke away from his eyes and focused more on her feet. “No, do not glance at your slippers, my dear. I will not lead you wrongly. However, if you do not keep your gaze on me, they will know, and you will give them fuel for the fire.”

  “I am not meant to be here. I have not the practice nor the grace to do the quadrille justice.”

  “Would you prefer to walk about the room? We do not have to finish this dance, if you do not wish it.”

  She shook her head. “To walk off this floor in the middle of a set? My lord, the scandal! It would give them even more to speak of. Never.”

  Her foot faltered once again, and he was quick to match her step. Compton could see the rising anxiety upon her features. Truth be told, this was one of the more intricate quadrilles, and not for the faint of heart. With a sharp glance about the room, it was clear to see everyone watching her and judging each stride. How could he have been so blind to have believed they would have watched him when she was clearly ten times the most beautiful woman in the room?

  As he dipped once more to cover another misstep, his heart clenched in agony for her. Why were the songs so long? They could not have been dancing but two minutes at most, and they had at least thirteen more of this torture before them. Already he could see the fans fluttering from the women against the walls, hiding their cruel words.

  He simply could not keep her here upon this floor enduring such censor. Lending an ear to the beat, he found a delightful six-eight time, which would put them into a medium-paced waltz if he were brave enough to pull her out of the set and begin dancing the outrageous new dance instead.

  Her surprise would cover the impropriety on her part nicely, and all eyes and gossip would be once again placed upon his shoulders. No one would expect her to know the steps of the dance, as it was only performed abroad. And the added closeness of the movements would allow him to glide her much more effortlessly. Was he not a scoundrel by the ton’s rules anyway? But did he dare?

  And then Lady Lamb faltered yet again, and he in deep contemplation did not notice until it was too late. The room erupted into smirks and covered giggles.

  Without another thought, he dipped and twirled her into his arms. One-two-three. Four-five-six. They spun out of the quadrille and into the center of the room between the four sets of dancers. One-two-three. Four-five-six. The gasps and twitters and quivering fans were filling the area, but it was her large, disbelieving eyes that captured him.

  “Lord Compton! Whatever are we doing?”

  “We are creating something else for them to talk of, my dear.” He moved her around swiftly, and her feet had no choice but to keep up as his arm around her waist became stronger. “Follow me. I promise, no one will blame you for this dance. All fault is now mine.”

  She stiffened in his arms. However, the one-two-three, four-five-six of the steps became more and more familiar with each stride. It was quite simple to learn the waltz when one kept to the basic paces.

  Yet he could see the fear and shame which sought to overtake her in that moment. “Trust me, I beg of you. Ease yourself. I am assisting you as best as I can. Allow me to teach you to soar and enjoy.”

  Twirling and stepping to her fate, he could tell the indecision was immense—yet he knew the moment she began to compose herself. Her worried eyes met his with frankness, and then a small sliver of pleasure shone through. At that point, she laughed, her voice escalating above all the rest to prove to society that she cared not a fig what any of them whispered.

  In that moment, stepping and spinning in her arms, Lord Alistair Compton tumbled completely and utterly in love with Lady Ice, and every soul in the room watched him do so.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN:

  The rest of the evening was spent in blissful reverie. Compton was reprimanded and several closed fans tapped his arms and shoulders in playful chastisement over his waltz, but he was forgiven. Mainly he was excused because he had brought such a charming lady into the arms of the ton again. Several rules of etiquette were exempted because of her that night. He overheard many a lady share the sad story of the heiress losing both of her excellent parents and being shut up in the country until now.

  After supper, their hostess allowed Lady Lamb to speak to her husband about Parliament, which bored Lady Stanthorpe close to tears every night and so she welcomed the respite of another person for him to prattle on to. Lord Stanthorpe, having been around a strong wife and daughters, was more than keen to answer the lady’s questions about the issues brought up most recently. Compton learned later that he was mighty transfixed with the gel and invited her over any time she wished to learn more.

  “You bring her round, and we will be happy to receive you both,” Lord Stanthorpe boomed as he approached Compton in a fine drawing room that adjoine
d the grand hall.

  “I certainly will.” Compton tilted his head in acknowledgement as the man gestured for him to take a seat on the high-backed chairs clustered together away from the din.

  The older lord nodded as they both sat. “Good, good. And if you ever find yourself requiring a seat in Parliament, please allow me to assist you.”

  Compton’s eyes nearly rose to the top of his forehead. “Me? You must be jesting.”

  “Nay. I have spoken to more than one professor of yours, all with glowing reviews of your diligence in studies and learning. We could use some respectable, resilient young men like you these days. Men who can and do alter the world for the better. Heaven knows, if you are fortunate enough to capture the heart of Lady Lamb, she would continue to inspire and support you through it all. Capital woman! She is remarkable, is she not?”

  “You have not known the half of it,” Compton agreed. “But I daresay, I fear I will not be the scapegrace who captures her soul. She is much too intelligent to have the wool thrown over her eyes by the likes of me.”

  Lord Stanthorpe laughed and reached over to pat his shoulder. “Well, my boy, perhaps it is not my place to reprimand you for engaging a lady’s name at White’s. Nay, I can see by your expression that you are well aware of your portion of idiocy there. Then, perhaps my best counsel to you is to raise your spirits and prove your worth to her. Any fool can see you care for the gel. And despite the imprudence of your very recent past, I believe you to be a superior man than you see yourself to be.”

  Compton could not fathom how this conversation had turned so awkwardly personal, but instead of balking, a small part of him relished the need for such sound guidance. “Thank you, Lord Stanthorpe. Your words have meant more to me than you comprehend.”

  He chuckled, his girth bouncing with him. “Aye, my boy, you must remember I was young once as well. At one time, there was the most fine-looking woman in all of London, and I was frantic to make her notice me. I did many a fool thing to win her heart—thankfully, women are much gentler beings than we offer them credit for, and merciful as well. Do they ever need to be merciful! She did at last become aware of me, and notice me regardless of the outlandish effects I attempted to achieve in her favor. My poor beloved Lady Stanthorpe ended up marrying me too. I am a very fortunate man indeed, for I would not be half of what I am without her.”

  “You are a general, a war hero, and the speaker for the House of Parliament, and you owe these great accomplishments to your wife?” Compton asked with incredulity.

  “Yes,” the lord replied with a twinkle in his eye as he sat back in his chair. “One day, you will truly understand the worth of the mate of a great man. Without her gentle nudging, extended belief, and constant positive reassurances, I would have given in to my personal fears long before now. However, it is that persistent adoration and support that builds a man. Makes him aspire to be all that she sees in him, and creates the exact person she perceived all along. Women are magical fairies sent to bestow prominence on the men who are clever enough to distinguish the great love they have before them.”

  In all his years, Compton had never heard such an intriguing statement regarding women in such a way, and yet, he knew what he was hearing was most definitely the truth of the matter. “Well, I am very envious of your state, then. You are fortunate indeed.”

  “Aye. You will be as well. When she comes around.” He nodded his head. “Looks as though the ladies have had the same idea as we, to escape the warm confines of that ballroom.”

  Compton glanced across the area to the red-headed beauty as she smiled in conversation with a few of the women around Mrs. Crabtree.

  Lord Stanthorpe laughed softly. “She is clever, like her father before her. And she is determined. I have never before thought to put a woman in politics, but if there was a woman who could persevere, it is she. Captivating. And not quite the thing at all—but it would seem the rules can be broken a time or two for someone exceptional, eh?”

  Compton nodded, no words necessary, for the two lords could not have thought more alike.

  “And I daresay she has won her bet. However, perhaps it was not that difficult to be defeated by one like her?” Stanthorpe had turned fully in his seat to observe the ladies they were speaking of.

  “I would lose ten times more to have this opportunity.”

  “When will you concede?”

  Compton took a deep breath and positioned himself to fully view Lady Lamb as well. “I do not know. Not yet. I am not quite prepared to see this end.”

  Lord Stanthorpe nodded and then said, “Well, my lad, you have yourself in a quandary, no doubt, but I would imagine that soon, you shall see the all the good that will come of it. Now, I am off to my study.” He groaned a bit as he stood, Compton quick to join him. “Lady Harrington should be satisfied that I managed to stay this long after supper. There are cards in the back room, if you would like to join the older men, though I would think a good share of young ladies would be very put out if you did.”

  Stanthorpe and Compton began to walk toward the doors nearest the ladies. “I am afraid if I begin to dance with another, my mouse may slip away from the trap.”

  The older gentleman sighed. “True, true. Well, best of luck to you anyway.”

  “Thank you, sir. And goodnight.” With that, the most interesting conversation Compton had ever had with a peer concluded, and oddly enough, the world seemed to right itself a bit more than it had before.

  Mayhap there was still hope to win her hand, though how did one go about doing such a thing without the lady having the least bit of interest in wedding anyone? He continued to stroll over to the door and then leaned up beside the wall not ten feet from Lady Lamb and her chattering gaggle of women.

  Lord Hamson sauntered up to him and then rested his shoulder alongside the door casing.

  Compton grinned. “Say, when did your wretched carcass arrive?”

  Hamson smirked and gave a bit of a shrug. “I have been here longer than you. In fact, I called out to you when you went dashing off after the chit and then concealed yourself in that parlor.”

  “Devil a bit! You did not.”

  “No?”

  “Pardon me. I honestly had no notion of you being here.”

  “Or anyone else, for that matter.” Hamson nodded in gesture toward the side entrance to the ballroom. Perceval and Atten waved when Compton beheld them.

  “Do not tell me.” Had they been there all along? To be enamored of a petticoat was one thing, but to be so completely immersed that you do not even recognize your closest companions?

  “Aye. All of us have been here, and you have never given any of the lot a by-your-leave or merely said good evening.”

  Could he have become a bigger nodcock? “I do not know where my mind has gone.”

  “Do you not?” Hamson glanced over at the pretty lady speaking with Mrs. Crabtree’s new friends.

  Compton smirked. He feared there was no use hiding anything. “Can you blame me?”

  Hamson shifted his stance to face the ballroom and grinned. “Nay, though I do accuse you of attempting to bamboozle us. Anyone but a fool could see that you are in love with the gel. And I am most certainly not a fool.”

  “What am I to do? I cannot deny it—I have no wish to deny it. You are correct. You were not earlier, but I will acknowledge you are most certainly now. However, I have no idea where to go from here.”

  “Do you think she returns your affections?”

  “No. Not in the least. Not yet.”

  Hamson took a deep breath and then stepped away from the wall, waiting for Compton to follow him. “Then you wait and see what becomes of this all. I believe that within a week, you will know everything you seek.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY:

  Much later that night as Lacey was retiring, Chull came in for a coze and sat upon the chaise lounge in her dressing gown, night cap, and knitted slippers. “You have not said one word about the ball,” the old nurse chasti
sed. “If you describe any more expressions Mrs. Crabtree and the others ladies have used about this or that, I will throw my slippers at you. I do not give a fig of what they have had to speak of tonight, only what your thoughts are.”

  Lacey laughed. “Good heavens. I have not seen you this out of sorts since I was a little girl.” She sat down at her dressing table and allowed her abigail to start pulling out her hairpins. “Thank you, Annie. You made me look like a princess tonight. Many people commented on my hair.”

  The girl of sixteen blushed. “Thank you, my lady. I am happy to see you were so well received. And I, too, am anxious to hear of all that happened with Lord Compton.”

  “You as well?” Lacey shook her head. “Between the two of you, I will get no rest until I reveal all.”

  “Serves you right,” Chull said. “You are merely giving us the fluff and fat and nothing of the good meat.”

  “Good meat? What cant!” Lacey began to brush at the long locks that were coming undone as the abigail removed each pin. “Very well, I shall tell you that I only danced once all night. Is that what you wish to hear? Who my dancing partners were?”

  Chull folded her arms. “You know very well that is precisely what I wish to know. I have no doubt, then, that it was Lord Compton. And what happened? Why did you only dance once? And do not attempt to say no one else would have you, because I shall not believe it.”

  “Nay, plenty of gentlemen attempted to ask after we were through, but as it was clear I had no notion of what I was doing, I remained frank and honest in my responses to them.”