Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

L ady Tipton’s dinner party had continued on into the wee hours. Scarlett was mightily thankful that the day following was Sunday, a day of rest even in London. The Leightons attended St George’s, which was but half a mile off, and they assured Scarlett it would be as much a spectacle as any trip to Almack’s.

In this they did not disappoint her. The ton attended church services to see and be seen. Scarlett did her best to diligently apply her attention to the words of the rector, but in truth, even he seemed rather distracted. Certainly he had none of the terrifying zeal of Reverend Margrave, and not once did he suggest that they were all bound for Hell. It was, Scarlett decided, something of a relief to actually enjoy the service rather than feel frightened by it.

Sir Humphrey Leighton was due to arrive in town the next day, and when morning came, the house was alight with the preparations for his arrival as well as the family dinner party that Lady Leighton was hosting that evening. Stratton Street, though luxurious, was nowhere near the size of the Tipton residence and thus would necessitate a more intimate gathering.

“You would think,” Bess observed over her breakfast, “that it was ten men arriving, not only Papa.”

“Oh, hush,” Lady Leighton told her with a smile. “Gentlemen like to be fussed over! You must not forget that when you are married.”

“Well, my days of fussing over Beamish are through,” Bess announced. “You were right, Mama, and I am only sorry to have wasted so much time on him.”

“He is decidedly unworthy of it,” Scarlett opined firmly. As Bess had predicted, as the hours wore on at Tipton House the night before last, the rugs had been eventually rolled up and the furniture pushed to the side so that the young people might dance. Beamish had danced once with a lady that was skinny and had eyes the colour of a slush puddle—or so Bess told her—and then had claimed the need to be home.

“But then he had the nerve to come to me with puppy dog eyes and pretend he was sorry about it,” Bess fumed. “Can you even imagine!”

In fact, Scarlett could imagine, as she had already heard this at least five times, but nevertheless she clucked and shook her head and said that Beamish was a cad. For herself, she had danced plenty, always tugged breathlessly towards this partner or that, but as none of them were the person she really wished to dance with, it did not signify. She would have just as soon been left in a chair at the side of the dance floor. At least if she had been left to be a wallflower, the hem of Adelaide’s new gown would not have been torn and Scarlett’s feet would not hurt.

The housekeeper entered with news of callers. “Miss Richmond and Lord Oakley are here.”

“At this hour?” Bess exclaimed.

“We can hardly fault them for coming at such an early hour,” said her mother, “when some in the house have lolled about in bed half the day.”

“I shall go and receive them,” Scarlett said rising. “Finish your breakfast, Bess.”

Adelaide’s violet eyes—so like Scarlett’s own, but at present positively magnified by rage—were nearly shooting sparks when Scarlett entered the drawing room. Oakley was standing by the mantel and offered a hang-dog smile to her, which she returned before turning her attention to Adelaide.

“Adelaide? What is it?” she asked. “Forgive me for saying so, but you look quite distressed.”

“You can be sure I am distressed!” Adelaide declared. “Quite out of my skull with fury if you must know.”

“Oh?” Scarlett went to the sofa and seated herself, smoothing her skirts around her. “Pray tell me what is it?”

“Tell her, Oakley,” Adelaide commanded, thrusting one pointed finger towards him .

Oakley sighed and hung his head for a moment. “You ladies both must comprehend that being an elder brother is new to me.”

“Much as having an elder brother is new to me,” Scarlett replied with a smile. “To both Adelaide and I, although she has had longer to accustom herself to it. You have taken to it admirably, I must say.”

“Thank you, Scarlett,” Oakley said in exaggerated accents. “And I do hope you and Adelaide both know that I shall always and forever have only your best interests at heart.”

“It is not your heart but your mind that I fear for,” Adelaide said. “For no matter what your heart intended, your brain being absent meant it was pursued in the most ham-handed manner possible.”

“I do not understand,” Scarlett said. “What is all this?”

Oakley paced the length of the mantel before coming to stand in front of her. “You see…I had your best interests at heart?—”

“So you said,” Scarlett replied gently. “But…?”

“You have only just got to town.” Oakley flung his arms akimbo. “Most ladies anticipate their first Season for years! Since their childhood! They plan gowns and debut balls, and hope for twenty fellows to call at a time.”

“Yes-s-s…and?”

“Customarily,” Oakley said, shooting a glance at Adelaide, “a lady will encourage the attentions of several suitors. Have them all calling on her, dancing with her, promenading in the park…this goes on for weeks! And then, at the end of the Season, once the lady has truly had ample time to really consider this man or that…well, then she might receive an offer from that man and then they are engaged.”

“Something you forgot entirely when I first came to town,” Adelaide said, releasing her scowl just long enough to speak.

“Yes, see, and I learnt my lesson!” Oakley replied almost desperately. “A lady ought not to be rushed.”

“A lady ought not to have her decisions made for her!” Adelaide retorted. “For the information of us all , Uncle Charles was the first man whom Aunt Louisa ever danced with, and he proposed later that night.”

“It was an arranged match!” Oakley protested. “And I am quite certain she had danced with someone before him, somewhere.”

“It was her first house party!” Adelaide continued. “Engaged on first sight. And I daresay things have worked out, have they not? Just so we are all clear on those points.”

Scarlett was beginning to get the niggling feeling that something in all of this pertained to her and Worthe, and clasped her hands tightly on her lap. “Oakley, did you…say something to Worthe? Did you tell him I have been upset about his…defection?”

“Not about that, no,” Adelaide supplied. “But about his adoration? Yes, our dear Oakley did have something to say there.”

“The night of the ball at his aunt’s home,” Oakley began, “he asked me who I thought might have the authority to grant your hand in marriage.”

Scarlett gasped and Adelaide rushed to her side. She nearly fell onto the sofa beside her and wrapped her arm around Scarlett’s shoulder. Scarlett looked at Oakley. “And you then said…?”

Oakley finally took a seat himself, hanging his head and releasing several gusty sighs of despair before continuing to speak. “I told him I thought you needed time and…and perhaps some distance?—”

“Distance!” Scarlett exclaimed.

“—to allow the vast changes in your life to be resolved. You have gone from being a vicar’s daughter of no particular consequence to now, niece of a very notable and wealthy family! You ought to have time to enjoy that before?—”

“No!” Scarlett more howled it than said it. “Did you tell him to stop paying attention to me?”

“No! Not that…not at all.”

“Then what did you tell him?”

Oakley pressed one hand into his head. “I may have told him he needed to…um…”

He mumbled something that Scarlett could not understand. “What? I cannot hear you.”

“He told Worthe—” Adelaide began .

“No, I shall tell it,” Oakley said. “I told him he needed to step aside for a time.”

Now it was Scarlett’s turn to sigh. She dropped her face into her hands, considering it for a moment. In truth, she was mostly relieved to hear that Worthe still cared about her but had only done what her brother bade him do.

“Oakley.” Scarlett raised her head. “I do comprehend your earnest desire to be a good brother, and I am grateful to you. I suppose…I suppose you have a valid concern.”

“Valid concern!” Adelaide exclaimed. “Scarlett, you do not mean that you wish for this?”

“No, no. Not for me,” she hastened to explain. “Just that, yes, I can see that in many cases, for many ladies that would be how it was. Our brother has moved in society, has been raised in all of this, Adelaide, and we have not. But Oakley, pray do remember—I am no society lady, nor will I ever be. No, I did not spend my girlhood planning my coming out. In truth, I had recently begun to realise that the reverend would never allow me to marry. I was utterly shocked the night he permitted me to go to the ball in Luton. I suspect that Lady Leighton must have insisted upon it.”

“Exactly,” Oakley said. “Your first ball followed by the shock of your life and now, merely your first week in London.”

“Yes, and all of that is quite true,” Scarlett agreed. “But Oakley, you cannot know how I feel about Worthe— how I have felt from the first moment I ever spoke to him. Have you ever seen a map dissection?”

Oakley appeared bemused for a moment until his brow cleared. “Ah yes, the puzzles that are in pieces and must be put back together to form the correct picture.”

“Just so,” Scarlett agreed. “Bess and Leighton had one with which to learn their geography. Forgive me if I boast, but I felt I had a particular talent for fitting the pieces together. I enjoyed very much the feeling of two pieces falling right into place beside one another, right where they were meant to be.”

Wistfully, she added, “It was like that, only better, when I met Worthe.”

“As if you fitted together perfectly?” he said dejectedly.

Scarlett nodded. “Like we were the two pieces of a puzzle, always meant to be together. So perfectly, in fact, that to pull those pieces apart and try to stick them together with other pieces was unnecessary, if not foolhardy. We just fit, from the very moment I met him and everything made sense. Everything, that is, except these past days when he has appeared to ignore me,” Scarlett concluded with an unhappy sigh. “I was sure he had decided that I was not worth his attention.”

“Not in the least. I have made my friend and my sister both exceedingly unhappy.” Oakley rubbed one hand into his hair vigorously. “I daresay there is no more to do but go to Worthe I have made him miserable for no just cause. ”

“I should like that,” Scarlett said with a relieved smile.

“Will you forgive me once I do?”

“I surely shall not,” Adelaide announced grumpily, but anyone could see she was not as angry as she had been.

Scarlett rose from the sofa and went and leant over him, kissing his cheek. “I already have.”

Her gesture delighted Oakley, who returned to his usual ebullient state. “Tell Lady Leighton,” he proclaimed as he stood up, “that I believe we shall be one more for dinner.”