Madeline turned her head to stare at her, her eyes hostile. “Indeed?” was all she said.
“You do not know the story?” Maisie asked. “I did not know myself until Lady Lawrence told me.”
“No,” Madeline said, “and I am not excessively interested in gossip, Maisie.”
“Oh, this is not gossip,” the other said, two spots of color appearing high on her cheekbones. “I would not indulge in gossip. You should know me better than that, Madeline dear. This is quite true, and such an old story that everyone knows it anyway. So one cannot be accused of being malicious. But I thought you would want to be warned, my dear. In a place like this, one does not always know quite with whom one is cultivating an acquaintance, does one? It is an act of simple friendship to warn someone when one is privy to some unsavory story.”
Madeline looked at her coldly. “I see Lieutenant Penworth approaching,” she said. “I have promised him the next set. I thought the music would never resume, didn’t you?”
“How inopportune!” Maisie said. “I will call one afternoon if I may, my dear, and give you the full details. Lady Amberley would doubtless be grateful to know too.”
“We both plan to be out that afternoon,” Madeline said with a smile before turning with a far more sparkling one for the lieutenant.
That dazzled officer would not have known from her manner during the following twenty minutes that she was seething with indignation. Maisie had always specialized in character assassination, and yet no amount of pointed insult seemed to penetrate her armor of self-righteousness. One could probably tell Maisie with one’s mouth six inches from her ear that she was an ass and she would still simper and call one her “dear.”
LORD EDEN DANCED the opening set with Jennifer. She was looking extremely lovely, he thought, and sparkled with an excitement that many very young ladies tried to hide behind a pretense of sophisticated boredom. Although she still blushed every time she looked into his eyes, she seemed to have recovered the use of her tongue in his presence.
When the pattern of the dance allowed conversation, he questioned her about her years at school, and delighted in the humor with which she recalled several incidents there. She had spent her holidays in London with Charlie’s sister, Lady Habersham, the only member of his family, it seemed, from whom he was not estranged. But of course she had always been too young to participate in any adult entertainments.
The world was new to her, Lord Eden realized, and thought how long ago it seemed since he had looked on life with such fresh eyes. And yet he was only five-and-twenty even now. He had done a lot of growing up during the past several years, especially during the three since he had bought his commission.
He felt a tenderness for the girl. It would feel good to be in love with her. To be in love again with youth and innocence. It would be good to marry such a girl, and to spend his life protecting her from the rougher side of life. It would be good to marry Charlie’s daughter.
Charlie would be his father-in-law. Now, there was a thought!
He smiled in some amusement at Jennifer as the pattern of the dance brought them together again, and drew another blush from her.
Perhaps he would let himself fall in love with her. After this battle. Not before. He did not want any emotional entanglements before the battle. He might not survive it.
He returned Jennifer to Ellen’s side at the end of the set and went in search of Susan Jennings, who had stopped to talk with him earlier, and whose card he had signed for the next set. Susan. The same Susan he had loved and almost married three years before. She had married Lieutenant Jennings soon after and had been with him and the army ever since. But three years of rough living had done nothing to destroy her look of fragile innocence and youth. He had seen her occasionally during those years.
“It is exceeding kind of you to dance with me, my lord,” she said as he led her onto the floor for the beginning of the set. She looked up at him with large hazel eyes. “I did not think you would sign my card when there are so many grand ladies present.”
“Ah, but how could I resist dancing a set with you, Susan?” he said. “You are easily as lovely as the grandest lady here.”
“Oh,” she said, blushing and lowering her eyelashes, “you are just saying that to tease me, my lord.”
“Not at all,” he said. “And how is life treating you, Susan? I have not talked with you in an age.”
“We spent the winter with Lord Renfrew,” she said. “My husband’s brother, you know. He is still unmarried. And Dennis-he was the middle brother-died two summers ago of the typhoid. He was in Italy. My husband is now Lord Renfrew’s heir.”
“Is he indeed?” Lord Eden said with a smile. “So one of these days I may be able to address you as ‘my lady,’ Susan.”
“Oh,” she said, looking up at him with wide and stricken eyes, “you must not think such a thing, my lord. I do not let it enter my mind, I am sure. I am excessively fond of his lordship.”
“Quite so,” he said. “It was a bad joke, Susan. Forgive me?”
“There is nothing to forgive,” she said.
He might have married her, Lord Eden thought. He had almost done so, except that he had finally made the choice between her and buying his commission. And the very evening on which he had renounced her and watched her run away in tears after declaring her love for him, she had announced her betrothal to Lieutenant Jennings. And had entered the very life into which he had thought it impossible to bring her. She seemed not to have suffered.
“Have you heard from your family recently?” he asked.
“Colin has married Hetty Morton,” she said. “Did you know that? Howard is still unmarried. Mama and Papa are well.”
The Courtneys were prosperous tenants of Amberley. Lord Eden had known Susan all her life, from the time when she was a tiny, worshipful little girl who seemed always to be crying over a kitten in trouble.
“I am glad to hear it,” he said.
“We were at home last summer for a while,” she said, “for Colin’s wedding. The rector’s wife had another daughter, you know. And did you know that Lady Grace Lampman has a son? I was never more surprised in my life. She is so very old. Mama said she almost died three years ago when their daughter was born. And Mama said that Sir Perry was almost beside himself when he knew she was in a delicate way again.”
Lord Eden listened in some amusement as she prattled on. Obviously as a married lady she felt it quite unexceptionable to assail his ears with such talk. The Susan he had known would have swooned quite away if someone had so much as whispered the word “pregnancy” a hundred yards from her.
“Yes, I did know about that,” he said. “Edmund told me. Perry is a particular friend of his, you know. And he declares that Lady Lampman is so very proud and happy that she looks a full ten years younger.”
“She should be happy,” Susan said. “Sir Perry is a handsome and amiable gentleman.”
Would he have continued to love her if he had married her? Lord Eden wondered. She was a quite delightful mixture of artifice and innocence, of girlish timidity and matronly assurance. He had a sudden image of being alone with her in her boudoir undressing her while she regaled him with all the latest
But had he married her, their love would have had a chance to grow and develop. She might have adjusted to him and he to her. They might have been happy. Might have been! And might not have been. But he did not want his nostalgic dream of the past to die entirely. If his love for Susan could die a natural death, then perhaps there was no such thing as love. Or not for him, anyway. Alexandra and Edmund had it, of course. Sometimes it was painful to live in the same house as those two. Not that they ever embarrassed him and Madeline by so much as touching in public, of course. But they did not need to touch. Their every glance was a caress and a communication.
Well, he thought, glancing across the room to where Miss Jennifer Simpson was dancing with some fresh- faced youth, her face aglow, perhaps he would be able to love again. With a love that would last for a lifetime.
ELLEN WAS TALKING with Lady Amberley when Lord Eden came to claim his waltz with her after supper. She was looking forward to it immensely. She had waltzed once before that evening, with Lieutenant Byng, the flame-haired husband of her particular friend, but he did not dance the steps with anything more than competence. Lord Eden waltzed well. Ellen had seen him perform the dance before. And of all other dances, she loved the waltz.
