A Prior Attachment (Dorothy Mack Regency Romances) Read online

  He returned her smile but replied with theatrical intonation, “Though it distresses me to contradict a lady, you must allow me to tell you that you do not have a ‘worst.’ You are unfailingly appealing, though often damp.”

  Lady Gemma dropped him a mock curtsy. “Thank you, kind sir, and now I must dash before those voices I hear approaching discover me in this state.”

  She headed for the back stairway at a near run and had just reached it when her father’s hearty tones halted her in her tracks.

  “Ah, there you are, my dear. I thought I heard your voice. Here is an old friend who is desirous of seeing you again.”

  Lady Gemma’s back was to Mr. Delevan, but he knew the struggle it cost her to obey her parent’s summons when her instincts prompted a quick escape. Reluctantly, her hand left the newel post and she turned to face the two men who had entered the hall. She made no motion toward eliminating the distance between them, but sudden happiness wiped out embarrassment and irradiated her face as she breathed, “George!”

  The younger man must have possessed splendid eyesight, for the smile on his lips faded as he took a few precipitate steps forward. “For heaven’s sake, Gemma, what have you been doing to yourself? You’re all wet!”

  “If you’ve forgotten my daughter’s propensity for falling into awkward situations, then you don’t know her as well as you think you do, my boy,” said the duke indulgently.

  Mr. Delevan, standing unobserved a few feet away, reminded himself once more that this was his host, and remained silent with an effort.

  The remark elicited a responsive chuckle from Captain Godwin. “I confess I had forgotten, sir. Whatever mischief you’ve been up to, Gemma, I am delighted to see you again, and I’ll be even more delighted when you’ve repaired the damage. How did this come about, if one may ask?”

  Colour had flooded Lady Gemma’s cheeks at her father’s words, but now it receded as she slowly withdrew the hand Captain Godwin had briefly squeezed. Her dark eyes searched his, and the soft mouth trembled into a smile. “Welcome home, George. Mr. Delevan will tell you how I came to be in such a state. If you will excuse me for a bit, I shall retire to repair the damage before rejoining you.”

  Mr. Delevan watched as his hostess ascended the stairs with commendable poise before he turned to acknowledge the introduction being made by the duke.

  He saw a man of four- or five-and-twenty, a bit younger than himself, and as much the personification of the ideal of masculine beauty as Miss Fairmont was its feminine counterpart. Captain Godwin topped John’s own moderate stature by two or three inches, and his erect military bearing accentuated the athletic proportions of his physique. His colouring was not dissimilar to that of Lady Gemma, his hair being as dark and wavy as hers and his brown eyes a few shades lighter. Add to these qualities handsomely chiselled features, a gleaming white-toothed smile, and an air of easy assurance, and it would be perfectly comprehensible if Mr. Delevan felt himself reduced to an insignificant figure by comparison. He did indeed study the captain thoroughly with his mild blue gaze, but if he nurtured any uncharitable emotions such as jealousy or dislike, nothing of this was discernible in the pleasant manner in which he responded to Captain Godwin’s friendly greeting.

  In fact, despite one instinctive spurt of chagrin at his first glimpse of the splendid soldier, Mr. Delevan had made a discovery that allowed him to remain in perfect charity with Captain Godwin. Put into its simplest terms, it was this: Captain Godwin did not love Lady Gemma as she deserved to be loved; he was therefore unworthy of her, and he wasn’t going to get her!

  In the grip of the euphoria immediately resulting from such a momentous decision, Mr. Delevan was easily able to look upon his rival with goodwill not unmixed with the contempt a man feels for the stupidity of another when he proposes to gain by it.

  He was not allowed any time to reflect on the significance of the moment, however, for the duke, unaware that his candidate for son-in-law had ever considered turning down the honour, was sweeping both young men ahead of him, figuratively speaking.

  “Shall we adjourn to the blue saloon, where we can raise a glass to your safe return in comfort, George? Your friend will be thinking himself abandoned indefinitely by a lot of inhospitable savages.”

  “Oh, Ollie won’t mind, sir. He likes his own company; in fact, I had the deuce of a time persuading him to come along today. He’s turned into a regular hermit since he caught it at Toulouse.” The captain moved forward at the duke’s bidding but slowly, in order to enlighten their ignorance about his friend.

  “Ollie and I served together in Spain for three years under the duke. We came through Salamanca and Vitoria without a scratch, and then in April, when we chased old Soult out of Toulouse, Ollie caught one ball in the left arm and another grazed his cheek. Made rather a mess of it, actually, though it doesn’t look so bad now the redness is fading somewhat. The doctors say he should have regained the full use of his arm by now, but he can’t move it at all. I finally talked him into coming home with me to try what the waters of Bath could do for the arm, but he’s not in a humour for society at present. Never was much for the ladies anyway — too abrupt for their liking, I collect — but since his betrothed threw him over after the injury, though he was determined to break it off himself, he’s been like a bear with a sore head. He’s the best of good fellows ordinarily,” he added hastily, as if fearing his bald recital might have prejudiced his listeners against his comrade-in-arms.

  They had reached the door to the blue saloon by now and stepped in to find a stern-featured man idly glancing through an issue of the Gentleman’s Magazine. While the duke summoned the butler and gave him an order, Captain Godwin made Mr. Delevan and Major Barton known to each other.

  When he stood up, Major Lord Oliver Barton was even taller than Captain Godwin and, despite the stiffly held left arm, gave an immediate impression of latent strength. His shoulders, under a well-cut blue coat, were massive, and though there wasn’t an ounce of superfluous flesh on the bulky frame, he had heavily muscled thighs and large hands and feet. His face was lean with prominent cheekbones and a square jaw that did nothing to alleviate his distinctly forbidding aspect. A jagged scar running diagonally from the corner of his eye to his earlobe aggravated the effect. The men bowed with perfect civility, but Mr. Delevan’s friendly manner met with no appreciable thawing on the part of Major Barton.

  Nonetheless, by the time Lady Gemma returned, the gentlemen were embroiled in a serious discussion of the probable course of political events in Europe now that the allied sovereigns had departed after their ceremonial visit celebrating the end of the war. Mr. Delevan had levelled a look at Captain Godwin to see how his last point had been received when he saw something that caused him to swivel his head ninety degrees to the right.

  The captain’s air of polite attention had given way to a rapt stare directed over Mr. Delevan’s right shoulder. He straightened as though jerked by a string, and the fingers of one hand made a minute adjustment to his cravat. It did not require an extraordinary intellect to guess that the opening of the door behind Mr. Delevan had signalled the arrival of a member of the fair sex, but while getting to his feet a second later, he re-inspected the captain’s face seeking a more precise explanation. Three extremely attractive young ladies had entered the room together, yet Mr. Delevan received the impression that it was the sight of Miss Fairmont that had been responsible for Captain Godwin’s reaction. A veiled glance at Lady Gemma told him nothing; she was making her smiling way across the room to take the captain’s extended hands.

  “Much better,” he approved, casting a knowledgeable eye over the frothy confection of green and white ruffles she had donned. “Now you look as I often pictured you, the perfect remedy to the barren Spanish plains.” He dropped her hands to smile at the girl who had glided silently to his side during this exchange. “And this, of course, is young Coralee. If I may be permitted the licence of an old family friend, you are not at all as I remember y
ou. How dared you grow up the minute my back was turned!”

  Miss Fairmont’s big blue eyes warmed with laughter, and her pretty teeth gleamed through parted lips as she expanded under his playfulness and the obvious admiration in his gaze.

  “May I assume, then, that you no longer consider me a ‘scrubby brat’?” she inquired demurely.

  The captain looked taken aback for a second but rallied quickly. “If ever I said anything so ungallant, which I take leave to doubt, the provocation must have been extreme,” he declared forthrightly.

  Miss Fairmont flirted her eyelashes at him. “You did indeed say it, and the provocation was extreme. I wouldn’t allow you and Gemma to shake me off so you might disappear into the rose garden together.”

  Captain Godwin laughed good-humouredly, but Mr. Delevan thought he detected the faintest flicker of embarrassment on his handsome face. Certainly he avoided looking at Lady Gemma, whose cheeks had reddened at her cousin’s words.

  Recalling her role as hostess, she hastily addressed herself to the present situation, beckoning Lucy forward to be made known to Captain Godwin.

  John watched with approval as his sister responded to the captain’s practiced gallantry in a cool pleasant manner. Major Barton was then summoned to his friend’s side to be presented to the ladies.

  There could scarcely have been a greater contrast between any two men in similar circumstances. Captain Godwin exerted himself to charm each young lady in succession, his interest apparently captured by their attractiveness and individuality. Major Barton acknowledged each introduction with a stiff civility belied by the cold indifference of his expression. As far as John could tell, this repelling lack of interest applied equally and impartially to all three ladies.

  With respect to the girls themselves, he saw that Lady Gemma’s natural warmth was checked and altered into slight hesitancy as she met his arctic look bravely but briefly, turning aside with relief when he removed his attention from her to bow to Lucy in turn. Lucy remained unmoved alike by his scarred visage and unencouraging manner, greeting him with calm good manners that concealed her thoughts. Her neutrality was overset a moment later, however, when Coralee, who had remained on the far side of Captain Godwin, turned to accept the major’s bow and caught her first glimpse of the scarred left side of his face. Her audible intake of breath and instinctive recoil, though quickly controlled, could not have escaped Major Barton’s notice, but not by so much as the quiver of a muscle did he betray any reaction. Mr. Delevan was persuaded he must have intercepted the fulminating look Lucy sent in Coralee’s direction, but his only response was a slight deepening of the sardonic curl to his lips.

  “Shall we all make ourselves comfortable?” As daughter of the house, Lady Gemma ushered the guests to seats. “My mother and aunt will be down directly,” she assured her father.

  Lord Gresham arrived before she finished speaking, followed within a minute or two by the senior ladies, each of whom greeted the newcomers in the style dictated by her personality. Lady Sophronia was all regal condescension, while the duchess welcomed her guests with gentle warmth.

  The expanded party was very merry, if the noise level was a fair measuring stick. Captain Godwin, as the returning hero, was very much the centre of attention, good-naturedly attempting to answer a veritable barrage of questions from Gresham, Lady Gemma, and Coralee, all talking at once. Lucy was drawn into his orbit also, and to a lesser degree and for a shorter time, her brother. Even Lady Sophronia interrupted occasionally with a demand for information of various relatives or acquaintances who had served in the Peninsula and might therefore be thought to have come into contact with Captain Godwin. The duchess alone made no effort to engage his attention.

  During the next half-hour, Mr. Delevan noted that, whenever she thought herself unobserved, her gaze would revert to Captain Godwin with an air of speculation that he had not discerned in her manner until now. He would have given a lot to be privy to her conclusions, but he had already begun to suspect that the quiet duchess was long practiced in keeping her thoughts and feelings to herself. That her husband did not as a rule invite her opinion and participation in matters under discussion had also become apparent early in the acquaintance, though he could not have said with any confidence which was cause and which result.

  He and the duke remained slightly apart from the main focus of conversation — John because he did not like to see Major Barton slighted, however unintentionally, and the duke in order to satisfy his curiosity about the last weeks of the campaign from the lips of someone who had been on the scene. In the beginning, Captain Godwin had called on his friend for corroboration of several points in his tales of army life in Spain, but Major Barton’s monosyllabic responses were not conducive to requests for further elaboration, and he was gradually abandoned by the young people. Mr. Delevan found him quite conversable when pressed, and though he did not volunteer his opinion on the political queries raised by the duke, his observations on the conduct of the war were rational and thought-provoking.

  When the callers at last rose to take their leave, they were strongly pressed to remain for dinner. The majority of those present later held to it that Captain Godwin would have allowed himself to be persuaded had not the major made it so plain that he considered the visit had lasted long enough. However, when the invitation was repeated for the next day, the latter said all that was polite in accepting, as did the captain with rather more enthusiasm, and the men were permitted to depart with suitable expressions of goodwill.

  At dinner that evening and later in the saloon, the returned soldiers furnished the main topic of conversation, at least among the females of the family. Captain Godwin was pronounced to be all that was amiable, his manners examined and approved for their unselfconscious ease, his address admired, his loyalty and concern for his unfortunate comrade praised, his character extolled. The unfortunate comrade himself came in for a minimal share of the conversational airing, it perhaps being deemed better to remain silent where one could not wholeheartedly approve. In any event, it was unanimously agreed that the return of the soldiers would lend a much-appreciated zest to the social affairs of the neighbourhood in the weeks to come.

  CHAPTER 7

  The young ladies of Monteith Hall were correct in their assumption that the social life of the locale would increase with the addition of two returned soldiers in their midst. The war that had cost individuals and the nation so much was over at long last, and celebrations were the order of the day. The city of London had barely recovered from the recent round of festivities during the visit of the allied sovereigns, which had included, in addition to parades and official presentations, a masquerade ball given by the members of White’s in honour of the conquering hero, the Duke of Wellington, to which four thousand people had been invited. There was even a plan afoot to clean up the London parks in preparation for a great celebration to be held in August commemorating one hundred years of Hanoverian rule.

  Though nothing on this scale was to be contemplated in the country, the general air of thankfulness and triumph gave expression to a rash of informal balls, picnics, and private festivities among local hostesses who vied with one another in providing the most talked-of entertainments to welcome the returned heroes.

  Although Lady Gemma had invited Lucy for a visit with the primary intention of providing a healthful summer environment to complete her recovery from influenza, the advantages accruing to the addition of two eligible males to the neighbourhood were not to be ignored. Captain Godwin’s father, Sir Humphrey, was renowned for his gregarious nature, and he and Lady Godwin could be expected to celebrate their son’s safe return and welcome his friend with bountiful hospitality at the manor, Lady Gemma predicted on the morning following the formal call of the captain and Major Barton. The unsettled weather continuing another day, the three girls were cosily ensconced in the music room. Lucy was helping Gemma trim a hat, and Coralee was practicing scales at the pianoforte.

  “Mama has sent
a note to the squire bidding him and Lady Godwin to dinner tonight. She felt they would not wish to part with George so soon after his arrival.”

  “Is there not a brother also?” Lucy asked idly, revolving the straw bonnet on her hand in order to gauge the effect of the spray of artificial flowers she had just finished sewing onto its curving brim.

  “Yes, Malcolm. Naturally he will be invited too.”

  “What is he like, the older brother? Is he as handsome as the captain?”

  “There is a strong family resemblance, but Malcolm is not so big as George. He’s of a quieter nature too, less outgoing. He is eight-and-twenty, I believe, enough older that he was never a part of our games and activities when we were growing up.”

  “Is he married?”

  “Not yet, but if rumour is correct, he is on the brink of contracting an engagement to one of the Biddlesford girls from Little Menda. I do not know what is holding him back. Letitia Biddlesford has been making cow’s eyes at him for almost a year.”

  “Perhaps he cannot bring himself to engage to live with that cackling laugh of hers for the rest of his life,” suggested Miss Fairmont with cheerful brutality as she played a dashing arpeggio.

  Lady Gemma chuckled but offered a mild protest. “Letty Biddlesford may not possess any extraordinary degree of beauty, and she does have a rather irritating laugh, especially when she is a trifle nervous, but you must admit that she is an amiable girl, Coralee, and will make Malcolm a fine wife.”

  “Why must I admit any such thing?” inquired Coralee equably, halting her finger exercises for a moment to stare at her cousin. “You may call it amiability, but I call it rather a simple want of wit or decision masquerading as amiability. She has no thoughts or opinions of her own, so finds it prudent to agree with anything proposed by someone else. In short, she has more hair than wit.”