Page 9 of Papa's Desires
Chapter 5
Grayson, is that you again?” A jovial voice interrupted Lord Grayson’s solitude on the veranda of Burberry Park, the home of the Duke of Wellington, in the Mayfair district ofLondon.
Lord Grayson turned and greeted his old friend, Lord Caldwell. “Yes, I am afraid it is.” Grayson pulled a flask from his pocket, unscrewed the cap and took a heartyswig.
His companion did the same and the two men stood in the darkness collecting their thoughts and getting some fresh air, as they buoyed their spirits with the contents of theirflasks.
“You seem to be taking this marriage thing quite seriously now that you have inherited your father's title, Grayson,” Lord Caldwell observed with a hint of asmirk.
“I am not opposed to having a wife. I have no particular need of a dowry or female companionship, but an heir, as you well know, is of utmostimportance.”
“And a willing partner who does not object to the activities necessary to produce an heir would make things all that much better, would it not, my friend?” Lord Caldwell said with a chuckle. Grayson studied Caldwell. They had been companions at school and even in those often dour circumstances, Caldwell had always kept a cheerful countenance. Grayson may not have understood the jocularity then or now, and he had often wondered at what he considered an unrealistic point of view, but this evening Lord Grayson set all of that aside and was simply grateful for a bit of conversation with a man who was not intent on marrying him off to his sister ordaughter.
“It is true,” Lord Grayson said. “And what of you, Caldwell? Have you had any luck here in the marriagemarket?”
“I find,” Lord Caldwell said, “that though all of the young ladies are accomplished and attractive and would be most suitable wives, there is something missing in each of them that does not quite suit me. I am not sure precisely what it is I am looking for, but it seems that each of these ladies is just a tad bit too independent for my liking. I suppose it is the modern way of things, but I cannot help but wish for a time when young ladies were a bit more shall we say…pliable andsubmissive?”
Lord Grayson had been ruminating upon the same question for several days now, though at this juncture his thoughts also included fond, and sometimes disturbing, memories of his brief conversation with Miss Heathrow at Talcott House. Though he had been charmed by the sweet young lady, he was not convinced, though his father had been, that a young lady could be made into a proper wife for an earl simply by means of education and training. There still remained in his mind the belief that certain characteristics were inborn and could not, regardless of good intentions and hard work, be imbued upon a person who was born to a lowerrank.
Yet one question still troubled him. Why had he told Miss Heathrow his bride awaited him in London? In theory, the statement was truthful if he believed he would marry an as yet unknown young lady whom he expected to meet during his time in London. But, Grayson knew himself well enough to admit he was not a man who spoke in hyperbole. Had he lied to Miss Heathrow in order to protect his pride once he learned she was betrothed to another? If he believed she was inferior due to her lack of family or connections, why would he lower himself to deceit in order to save face in front of someone he was unlikely to ever encounteragain?
Well, he told himself,since I have stated my bride awaits me in London, I ought to find her and thus eliminate my lie. And hopefully eradicate all thoughts of Miss Heathrow from hisbrain.
With renewed determination, he capped his flask and returned it to a pocket on the inside of his waistcoat. Out of habit, he reached for his watch, and again, cursed the fact that the watch had come up missing. It was his prized possession and he found it difficult to believe he had misplaced it. But he found it equally implausible that he had allowed someone to get close enough to lift it from his pocket, particularly since it was kept so close upon his person. Regardless, it was gone and there was no point in allowing himself too much pique over it at this time. As he had signed his name to the dance cards of a number of eligible young ladies, no doubt they, or their mothers, would make sure he kept apace of the evening’sactivities.
“Shall we return to the festivities?” he said to his companion and the two men left the fresh air and clear evening sky to resume their socialobligations.
Lord Grayson quickly found his next partner, an attractive young woman by the name of Lady Cordelia Granville. They were to dance a quadrille together and Grayson forced himself to believe he would enjoyit.
“It is a lovely evening for a dance, is it not, Lady Granville?” heasked.
“Oh, I suppose so,” she replied. “I do wish they would close the windows as there is a draft in here and I find all of that night airdisturbing.”
“You don’t say?” Lord Grayson remarked, taking her gloved hand in his as they performed the steps of the dance. “You are not fond of eveningair?”
“No, I admit I am not,” was all she said on the topic, though Grayson found it an odd sentiment. How could someone object to a cool, fresh breeze on a stuffy evening? Apparently Lady Granvillecould.
“Then you are a fan of getting air in themorning?”
“No, not particularly. A young woman ought not to spend too much time in the out of doors. The sun plays havoc with youthful skin, you know. I take great pride in the care of my complexion.” She thereupon described to him in minute detail the creams, lotions and ointments which were involved in herregimen.
Lord Grayson attempted to focus on his dance partner but his mind wandered to a vision of himself, a few years hence, seated across from Lady Cordelia at the breakfast table where nothing but silence—and stale air—filled the room. A brief shudder ran through him at the thought. Just as quickly, the image of the dour breakfast scene was replaced by one of Miss Heathrow laughing and playing with her friends in the warm afternoon, carefree andjoyful.
“When was the last time you ran?” The question escaped his lips before he even knew he had formed it and based on the shocked expression on Lady Cordelia’s face, it would have been preferred if he had kept it tohimself.
“I beg your pardon,” she said. “Are you asking me when I lastran?” She paused and shook her head as if in disbelief at the question. “I have not done such an unladylike activity since I stopped wearing my hair in ribbons. At least eight years, if not longer. Why would you ask such athing?”
“I am simply curious,” he replied. “I recently observed a group of young ladies playing together, running and laughing, and it appeared to be great fun. I wondered if you had indulged in such an activity oflate.”
Lady Cordelia sniffed. “I am sure the people you observed might have been young and female, but what you describe is not the behavior of a lady. A lady is always composed and would never show such a lack ofrestraint.”
Mercifully, the dance came to an end and Grayson returned Lady Cordelia to her mother, who proceeded to fawn over him in a most intrusive and unappealing manner. “Lord Grayson, you do our family great honor to show such favor for mydaughter.”
Lord Grayson found himself staring into the expectant gaze of Lady Granville, the mother of Lady Cordelia. He had shown her daughter no more favor than he had any of the other young ladies with whom he had danced this evening, or any of the preceding seven, for that matter. He had no desire to give the impression of favoritism to any young lady, and most particularly not the stale air loving, Lady Cordelia. Not wishing to be overtly rude to Lady Granville, though he believed her presumptuousness warranted it, he simply bowed to the two ladies, bid them good evening and went in search of his next dancepartner.
The participants in the next dance were taking their places as Lord Grayson made his way across the ballroom to his next partner, Miss Adaline Venture. In truth, he had been looking forward to partnering with her all night. Though not the daughter of a lord, Miss Venture still came from a family of distinction and had the added benefit of uncommon beauty. Golden curls surrounded her face, having escaped from the elaborate style into which her tresses had been forced. Her eyes, a lovely shade of blue, met his as he approached and a shy smile touched her lips. Whatever lingering thoughts of Lady Cordelia, if indeed there were any at all, disappeared as he took the hand of MissAdaline.
Several people turned to gaze upon them as they moved together and Grayson overheard a whispered, “What a handsome couple theymake.”
