The Merry Marquis Read online

“Indeed,” said Miss Peyton, leaning her body forward a little. Clearly, she was feeling better about herself since Teresa had mentioned her dance with Lord Rockford. “Did you happen to see Lord Byron? I saw him when he first came in. Is he not the most handsome gentleman?” she gushed.

  The Diamond was on home territory here. She smoothed some nonexistent wrinkles from her dress. “Lord Byron is a personal acquaintance of mine.”

  “Is he?“ Miss Peyton said, awe writ on her face.

  Teresa released her tongue from between her teeth. Making herself smile as sweetly as she could, she said, “One cannot deny that he is a handsome gentlemen, but I believe him to be quite ridiculous with his romantic airs and his sloe eyes. Why, it quite makes me laugh every time I see him. And the way the young ladies of the ton throw themselves at him is appalling!”

  Encouraged by Miss Peyton’s open expression, Teresa leaned forward conspiratorially. “I do believe that he encourages the advances of these silly females, just to puff up his own self-worth. Why, I even heard that some brazen-faced girl actually swooned in his arms last night!”

  The face of the Diamond blanched and then turned a deep red. In a constricted tone of voice she said, “I was … I was overcome by the heat in the room.”

  She immediately got up and moved away as quickly as was possible in the crowded drawing room.

  Miss Peyton watched the Diamond’s retreating back. Then, giving Teresa a rather apologetic look, she too got up and hurried after her companion, who was already conversing with a newcomer. Teresa watched Miss Peyton nodding in agreement as the Diamond, with a sneer on her face, whispered confidences to her friend. The way Miss Peyton kept looking back at her clearly told Teresa that she was the subject of the Diamond’s gossip.

  Teresa realized, with chagrin, that she had just made an enemy of someone who had the power to make her entrance into society much more difficult. Why had she not listened to her own good counsel and kept her mouth shut? Yet, surely she could not have sat by idly while Miss Peyton was being so thoroughly browbeaten by the Diamond! She shook her head, smiling a little to herself--it had felt good to discomfit that supercilious nonpareil, if only for a moment.

  She did, however, want to go home before she committed any more faux pas. Where was Aunt Catherine? She spied her deep in conversation with Lady Jersey. There was no way Teresa was going to get her attention, let alone convince her to leave.

  Teresa slumped down in her chair, but then immediately heard her mother’s voice in her head reprimanding her to sit up straight. She sighed, straightened up, and then let her mind wander to someplace she would rather be.

  Lord Merrick’s house. The familiar feel of the ivory keys under her fingers the day before had made her feel at home for the first time since she had come to this utterly foreign place. She knew in her heart that Lord Merrick’s music room would become her haven amidst the many trials she would face in London.

  A picture of Richard intruded abruptly. That was surprising. Since she had left Lord Merrick’s house the previous day, she had not thought of the gentleman she had met there, but now that she had a moment for quiet reflection, she wondered who he was.

  Remembering the way he carried himself and the way he spoke, she decided that he must be a gentleman. Perhaps he was some poor relation of Lord Merrick’s, hired by the marquis to look after his home while he was gone. That was the only plausible explanation of why he had, at first, been so angry at finding her there. And he could read music. Clearly, he had to have been well-born to learn such a thing. Perhaps his family had lost its money through some improvident investments, or, as was more likely, through gambling.

  Teresa shook her head. It was quite sad how people could ruin the lives of their children through the turn of a card. She hoped she would see the gentleman again. He had been kind to her and his presence had been very comforting somehow.

  She felt herself warm as she remembered her accidental brush with his leg and how her heart had hammered after that. She had been so embarrassed that only instinct had let her carry on playing her music. He too had seemed discomforted by it. She had been grateful when he had stepped away from her.

  She took a deep breath to compose herself, looking up from her woolgathering just in time to see her aunt and Lady Jersey bearing down on her. Lady Swinborne’s normally stern face was flushed with pleasure. Although time had not been so kind to the lady’s figure, her face was still remarkably young with few wrinkles, and her brown hair was only lightly salted with gray. Her choice of deep, sober colors did a good job of hiding her increasing bulk, but it was her height that allowed her to maintain an almost regal air.

  “Teresa, Lady Jersey has come up with the most wonderful idea!”

  Teresa’s heart sank. This could be nothing that she would enjoy. She curved her lips upward into a smile which, she hoped, would come across as joyful expectation. “Yes, Aunt Catherine?”

  “You are in for a rare treat. Lady Jersey is going to take you to her own modiste!”

  Teresa’s breath caught in her throat. She was to go shopping with Lady Jersey? Having such an esteemed member of society take a personal interest in her was a huge stroke of good fortune. And yet a voice inside of her head screamed in horror. She was going to be alone with Lady Jersey for an afternoon. An entire afternoon where any misspoken word could lead to a major faux pas and ruin any future she might have among the ton. The thought terrified her.

  Teresa struggled to control her panic. She owed it to herself to make the most of this opportunity. In the steadiest voice she could muster, she said, “I can barely believe the great honor that you are bestowing upon me, Lady Jersey. It is too good of you.”

  Lady Jersey patted her shoulder. “Not at all, my dear girl. Your aunt and I have been friends since our own come-out. It is the least I could do for a true friend like Catherine. I had always hoped to be able to do such a service for a child of Catherine’s. Alas, it was not to be. But now you have come and I can tell that you are like a daughter to her.”

  She patted Teresa’s cheek before turning back to Lady Swinborne. “Shall we say Tuesday next?”

  “You are such a good friend, Sally. Tuesday will be quite convenient.”

  “I am entirely at your disposal, Lady Jersey. And I must thank you most sincerely for your kind offer. I am greatly looking forward to it,” Teresa put in. There, she had said everything right. Now, if there were only some way of making sure she said everything absolutely right next Tuesday, she would be a lot happier.

  Lady Swinborne insisted on paying two more calls that morning just so she could boast to all she knew of Lady Jersey’s personal attention to her niece. Teresa contrived to keep all her comments to platitudes thereby managed to not offend anyone.

  After returning home, her aunt announced that she was going to lie down for a little nap before the pleasures of the evening.

  “I suggest you do the same, Teresa,” she said as she mounted the stairs.

  “If you do not mind, Aunt Catherine, I would find it much more relaxing if I could go to Lord Merrick’s to practice on his pianoforte.” Teresa hoped that her aunt would allow this since she was feeling restless from sitting so long. She also was curious as to whether Richard would be there again.

  “Oh. Very well. I can see no reason why you should not. Just be sure to return in time to dress for the evening.”

  “I will. Thank you,” Teresa called on her way out the door.

  When Teresa entered the music room, she smiled as she noticed the fire in the grate, ready and waiting for her. The room had also been aired, dusted and swept, losing the musty unused feel it had had the previous day. It was still just as sparsely furnished, there being only the pianoforte and the two dozen or so gilt chairs arranged in front of it, but as the room was not very large, there was not really a need for much more. A carpet on the hardwood floor might have been nice to mute the slightly hollow sound of the music, but it was not absolutely necessary.

  In an e
ffort to forget the tensions of the previous two hours, Teresa played a vigorous piece by her favorite Spanish composer, Antonio Soler. As it required her fingers to fly up and down the keyboard very quickly, Teresa was flushed and out of breath when she finished, but it felt good to release all of her pent-up emotions on the instrument. The applause that followed, however, quite startled her. Her eyes flew to the door, where Richard stood with a half-smile of awe on his handsome face.

  Chapter Three

  Just as on the day before, he was dressed in rather well-worn clothing. His broad shoulders were encased in a coat so tight fitting that Teresa wondered if it wasn’t a hand-me-down from the marquis. His breeches too, seemed almost too tight for his strong, athletic legs, and his boots were the same scuffed old boots he had been wearing the day before. Instead of a proper neckcloth, he had a belcher tie knotted carelessly around his neck. His long dark blond hair was caught back with a black riband, despite the current fashion that dictated short hair for gentlemen.

  But it was his deep green eyes that really caught Teresa’s attention. They looked somehow as if they had seen too much sadness. She wondered if he had ever been a soldier, for he had precisely the same eyes as the weary soldiers who had come to forget their woes in her mother’s drawing rooms.

  “I do not believe I have ever seen anyone’s fingers move so fast,” Richard said, coming farther into the room.

  Teresa found herself smiling easily at him. “I believe I play the piece much too fast, but sometimes I need such an outlet.”

  “An outlet for what?“ Richard sat down in the chair he had occupied the day before when he had been turning pages for her.

  Teresa wondered why she was still out of breath. Was it from the last piece she played? Or was it something else? With her newfound awareness of Richard, Teresa felt him to be a little too close for comfort, but saw no polite way of saying so. Anyway, perhaps he would need to be close to turn the pages for her again.

  Teresa drew a deep breath to calm herself, but just succeeded in inhaling the very male smell of him. He smelled clean, yet slightly of soot, as if he had been standing too close to a smoking fire.

  “An outlet for emotions, tensions, stress,” Teresa said seriously, but then laughed. “You must think me silly, but I am afraid I find being social quite stressful. I have just returned from paying morning calls with my aunt.”

  Richard regarded her rather gravely for a moment. “I had never thought that morning calls could be stressful, but I suppose that they could be if one is unaccustomed to them. You are not used to paying morning calls.“ It was said more as a statement than a question.

  “No. Where I am from, we did not do such things very often.”

  “Where you are from? You are not English, are you?“ Richard looked at her with a rather piercing stare, as if he were trying to figure out just where she was from before she even said it. Yet Teresa was not made uncomfortable by it—rather, it amused her. So far, no one in London had asked her where she was from. She supposed they all knew, or else were too polite to ask.

  She smiled at him, happy with his directness. “I am half English. That is, my father is English, but my mother is Spanish and I was raised in Spain.”

  “Ah, that explains the accent. I knew it did not sound French, but I could not place my finger on what it was.”

  Teresa looked at him, startled for a moment. “I did not realize I had an accent.”

  Richard smiled. “Yes, you do. A very slight one though, I assure you. Just enough to be intriguing.”

  When he smiled at her, sitting as close as he was, Teresa felt a warmth rush over her. He had a beautiful smile, showing off his straight white teeth. And, Teresa noted, the smile created a little dimple on his left cheek.

  “No one has ever called me intriguing before,” Teresa said, laughing. “Probably many other things, but never intriguing.”

  “No? Oh, well, I suppose not. It would be too much for gentlemen of fashion to find anything or anyone intriguing, would it not? Else someone might accuse them of being actually interested in something.”

  Teresa giggled. “Indeed, sir. They must find everything insipid so as to appear more romantic, I suppose. It is so tempting to laugh at them and the silly girls who fawn over them at society parties.”

  Richard’s lips twitched with a smile he was clearly trying to hold back. “You have a sharp eye, Miss Seton. However, I believe it is a wise person who has a sharp eye, but keeps her equally sharp tongue in its sheath.”

  “Unfortunately, I have not learned that trick, and it is indeed my sharp tongue that gets me into so much trouble,” she said, basking in the unexpected knowledge that he understood her as no one ever had before.

  Richard’s smile had faded quickly, and he once again his face took on its usual serious mien. “It is your quick wit and intelligence, perhaps, that is lost on the idiots of the ton. They see only what they want to see, and disparage anyone who behaves any differently than they.”

  Teresa wished he would smile again, but did not quite know how or if she should even try to bring it out again. Confused by the strange feelings that were running through her, Teresa busied herself with the music in front of her.

  She picked the Sonata in C by Haydn from the pile of music she had brought with her and began to play.

  Richard turned the pages for her. Although his mouth was not smiling, his brow was clear as he obviously enjoyed the quick tempo.

  She continued playing until the clock once again struck five. This time she did not run for the door, but instead got up slowly, rather reluctant to end their time together.

  As she reached the door she turned around. “Will you be here tomorrow, at this same time?”

  Richard was standing next to the pianoforte. “Yes. I will make sure that I am,” he nodded.

  And so he was.

  A few days later when Miss Seton rushed into the music room, she didn't pause. She didn't look for him. She went straight to the piano and began pounding out a march by Mozart. It was not until she was finished that Richard gently put a soothing hand on her shoulder.

  She jumped under his touch. “I did not see you come in, Richard,” she said, slightly out of breath.

  “Actually, I have been here the whole time. You just did not see me when you ran in,” he said, trying unsuccessfully not to smile.

  “Oh. I am sorry. How very rude of me,” Miss Seton kept her eyes on the piano keys in front of her. “I seem to be doing quite a few rude things today,” she said with a little hitch in her voice.

  Richard noticed that she seemed be blinking a little too often as well. Oddly, his heart clenched at the idea that she would be so upset.

  “Would you like to tell me about it?” he asked gently. Julia had always felt better for pouring out her woes to him. He well knew how cruel society could be.

  “It was entirely my fault, I am afraid. I let loose my tongue before thinking through what I was saying. I would not wonder if I am uninvited to a number of parties after this.”

  “Now, now, I am sure that it cannot have been that bad.”

  “Oh, but it was!“ Miss Seton stood up, brushing past him. She began to pace the room with as much energy as she had put into her music. “We paid a morning call today at Lady Arundell’s and some gentleman was there I did not know. He was complaining about all the soldiers who have returned from the war, saying that they simply expect to be given jobs when they have no training in doing anything but killing and waging war. He made me so very angry, I simply could not contain myself.“

  Miss Seton’s hands had formed into fists as she spoke. Her beautiful expressive eyes flashed with anger and something else as well. Richard could not decide if it was sadness over the mistreatment of the soldiers or embarrassment over her own reaction.

  He stood, stepped into her path and took her fists into his own hands, gently prying them open. “So you told him he was wrong?”

  She looked up at him, turning slightly pink at their
intimate contact, before pulling away and resuming her pacing. “Oh no, it might have been excusable had I done only that. I am afraid I called him a … an unfeeling popinjay who knew nothing about which he spoke. I said that perhaps he should find out for himself just what these soldiers had gone through for him while he stayed here in the safety of London engaging in frivolous pursuits.”

  She turned her worried eyes on him, clearly terribly upset. His laughter died in his throat as a jolt of protectiveness surged through him. He knew this was ridiculous. He shouldn’t not be feeling anything of the sort toward this girl, but… there was something that made him want to take her into his arms and soothe away all of her hurt—and then go out and beat into a bloody pulp that idiot who had been so insensitive.

  “Oh, Richard,” she said pathetically, “I said so many rude and terrible things to this gentleman. The entire room hushed at my words.”

  A giggle escaped from her, catching him off guard, as she remembered something else. “You should have seen the man’s face. It would have been quite amusing had it not been so awful. First he turned white as a ghost and then beet red, and his mouth kept opening and closing like a fish. He had no idea how to respond to me.”

  Richard shared her amusement, but knowing that he couldn’t defend her himself, he tried to think of some way she could extricate herself from her social solecism. “I am afraid the only way out of this would be to apologize to the fellow,” he said finally, after thinking about it for a minute.

  “Oh no, I could not! Why, then he and everybody else would think that I agreed with him, which I most definitely do not,” Miss Seton said with certainty.

  “Well, then, the only other alternative, is to seek support for your views from like-minded ladies of the ton.”

  This made Miss Seton stop and think. “Yes? But who?”

  Who? That was a good question. Richard scoured his memory to find someone who was not only politically active, but socially accepted. He’d never been particularly active himself, so it took him a minute to come up with the most perfect solution.