Part 33 (1/2)

And so he was here-and feeling more than a little nervous, though he would have admitted it to no one this side of the afterlife. His unease aside, however, Nash had given quite a lot of thought to what he was about to do. If only he could find Xanthia, perhaps the nervousness would pa.s.s, and his visceral certainty would return.

Suddenly, he noticed an elderly woman leaning on a gold-k.n.o.bbed walking stick near the windows. His heart sank. It was Lady Bledsoe, he was unutterably certain, though he had met her but two or three times in his youth. And if she was here, it probably meant Xanthia was not...

No. Xanthia was here. His every nerve was vibrating with the certainty of it. On impulse, he set a determined course for Lady Bledsoe. The old battle-ax caught sight of him and lifted a bejeweled lorgnette to her eyes.

”Lord Nash is it?” she said, peering haughtily at him. ”Or do my eyes deceive?”

”How do you do, ma'am?” Nash bowed stiffly. ”I trust I find you well?”

The old lady sniffed, and lowered the gla.s.s. ”Well enough, I daresay,” she replied. ”You know Lady Cartselle, do you not?”

He leaned forward to see her ladys.h.i.+p standing on Lady Bledsoe's opposite side. ”Indeed, I attended her delightful masque a few weeks past.”

”Did you?” said Lady Bledsoe archly.

”How do you do, Lord Nash?” twittered Lady Cartselle.

”What a shock to see you here,” said Lady Bledsoe, when her companion had turned away again. ”Tell me, how is that silly mother of yours, my boy?”

”I believe you mean my stepmother, ma'am?”

”Yes, whatever,” said Lady Bledsoe. ”Still as scatty as ever, is she?”

”Edwina does have her own sort of charm,” said Nash. ”But I am excessively fond of her.”

Lady Bledsoe harrumphed. ”I daresay,” she answered.

Nash was saved from a further reply by Sharpe's chit, who returned to her aunt's side on the arm of her red-haired partner, breathless.

”Ah, there you are, my pet!” said Lady Bledsoe a little loudly. ”Make your curtsy, Louisa, to Lady Cartselle and Lord Nash.”

Lady Louisa did so. The red-haired lad accepted his dismissal with grace.

”Now who is your next partner, my pet?” asked Lady Bledsoe, s.n.a.t.c.hing her granddaughter's card. ”Oh, excellent! The Marquess of Langtrell! What a lovely man!” Then, aside to Lady Cartselle, she said, ”Lady Louisa has been engaged for every dance this season, you know. She has taken very well indeed. One can hardly walk through Sharpe's drawing room without tripping over another vase of flowers, or some puppy awaiting an audience.”

”Indeed?” said Lady Cartselle. ”What an inconvenience that must be.”

Lady Bledsoe smiled. ”So I should think, but her papa is thrilled.”

Lady Cartselle turned a vague smile upon the chit. ”How lovely you look tonight, my dear,” she said. ”I do hope you saved a dance for Peter?”

The girl's eyes widened. ”Oh, I fear I did not,” she said almost rotely. ”Ought I have done?”

Her grandmother patted her hand. ”There, there, dear child,” she said. ”The early bird gets the worm, does he not?”

The chit wrinkled her nose. ”Eww, Grandmamma!”

Lady Cartselle opened her mouth as if to protest the oversight; but just then, true to her grandmother's prediction, the girl's next partner swooped in to claim her.

With a fleeting but satisfied smile, Lady Bledsoe returned her narrow gaze to Nash. ”And what of you, my boy?” she murmured. ”The rumor mill has it that you have been petticoat-chasing in earnest-and a lady of quality this time. I should have a care, if I were you.”

”How kind of you to give advice,” said Nash dryly. ”I have so little experience with petticoats.”

The old woman cackled. ”I said in earnest,” she reminded. ”And yes, you have too much experience to suit me. Tread cautiously, Nash. Sometimes the only thing which truly tempts us is the thing which we cannot have.”

”My, you are practically oozing sage advice, ma'am,” he murmured, his eyes running over the crowd. ”But I think you need not worry yourself on my behalf.”

”Oh, I shan't,” she rea.s.sured him. ”But poor Edwina-now, there's the rub! Lady Henslow has frequently mentioned how often her sister frets herself into a state over you-not to mention that glad-handing stepbrother of yours.”

Nash breathed a small sigh of relief. It seemed Lady Bledsoe had caught wind of a rumor but no name to go with it. Thank G.o.d Edwina's relatives had kept their mouths shut about the debacle at Brierwood. No one but immediate family knew Xanthia had been there-he hoped.

Nash plucked a gla.s.s of something dubious from the tray of a pa.s.sing footman and carefully considered his next words. ”I think Edwina may soon cease her fretting, ma'am,” he murmured over the rim of the gla.s.s. ”Indeed, I shall do my best to ensure it.”

”Shall you?” The old lady looked at him suspiciously. ”I rather doubt that, my boy. And now that I think on it, what is a man of your ilk doing in Almack's anyway?”

Nash hesitated but an instant. ”I have decided to look about for a wife, Lady Bledsoe,” he coolly answered. ”Is this not the proper venue for such an endeavor?”

”Do not be ridiculous.” She rapped his knuckles with her lorgnette, almost causing him to drop his gla.s.s. ”You are not the marrying type.”

Nash turned to look at her pointedly. ”A man can reform, can he not?” he murmured. ”Tell me, Lady Bledsoe-who amongst this fair gathering would you recommend?”

”None of them!” she responded. ”If you must marry, Nash, for G.o.d's sake, chose someone of experience if you can find her. A widow. Or a woman of common sense. I vow, you would scare a debutante to death.”

”Then introduce me to your niece, Miss Neville,” Nash suggested. ”Is she here?”

Lady Bledsoe's visage stiffened. ”Xanthia?” she answered. ”Surely you jest?”

Nash shrugged. ”Is she not an uncommonly sensible woman?”

Lady Bledsoe looked at him askance. ”Well, yes, but...”

Nash smiled. ”Surely, ma'am, you worry unnecessarily,” he said. ”A sensible woman could hardly be lured in by a man of my reputation.”

The old woman laughed. ”No, not that one, I'll vow,” she said. ”You are quite right. She won't give you the time of day-though perhaps she ought, given how long she's been on the shelf.”

”A small wager on it, then, ma'am?” Nash suggested. ”Twenty pounds, perhaps? Just to make your victory ever more sweet?”

Lady Bledsoe considered it. ”Very well, you upstart,” she said. ”Twenty pounds says the girl won't so much as dance with you.”

Lord Nash extended his hand. ”You are on, ma'am.”

Lady Bledsoe put her nose in the air, lifted her lorgnette, and went clomping across the ballroom at a healthy clip despite her stick. In a distant corner, tucked behind some withering palms, Xanthia was parting company with a smiling, middle-aged couple. Upon seeing her aunt's approach with Nash in tow, she stiffened, color flooding her face.

Swiftly, Lady Bledsoe made the introductions.

”I-yes, thank you, Aunt,” Xanthia stammered. ”But I already have the pleasure of Lord Nash's acquaintance.”

”Have you indeed?” said her aunt, looking back and forth between them. ”So you already know he is thought a scoundrel, eh?”

”No.” Xanthia's head jerked up. ”I mean-well, I did not say that. Not precisely.”