Courtship Wars: To Pleasure A Lady Part 13

"I don't doubt you are up to the challenge."

"And you will have protection in numbers," Marcus observed shrewdly.

Arabella smiled. She had indeed counted on that advantage. With two dozen schoolgirls to divert Marcus from his wooing of her, he would have little chance for intimacy, and she would use up much of her obligatory four hours in his company. "There is that benefit, too," she agreed.

"Very well, I will concede to tea if I must. Are you free for a ride this morning?"

She shook her head. "I am afraid I won't have time. I am meeting with the merchants again, and then I am expected at the academy at one. But I'm certain you can enjoy a ride without me. If you will arrive at the academy at half past three, you may inspect the premises before tea."

"I will be counting the minutes," Marcus replied in pained resignation.

Having postponed Marcus's courtship for the time being, Arabella spent a busy morning choosing furnishings for the remainder of the main floor. Later, when she went out to the stableyard, intending to drive herself in the gig to the academy, she found the earl's carriage waiting to take her there.

The afternoon crept by with surprising slowness. Absurdly, Arabella caught herself glancing frequently out the windows in antic.i.p.ation of Marcus's visit. When his carriage arrived promptly and halted on the gravel drive before the entrance hall, she accompanied the school's headmistress outside to greet him.

"Gentleman caller reporting for duty," he said as he stepped down from his barouche.

Arabella introduced him to Miss Jane Caruthers, the elegant spinster who ran the day-to-day operations of the academy. Allowing Miss Caruthers to lead the tour of the grounds, Arabella remained a few steps behind, yet she found herself watching Marcus intently, surprised to realize how eager she was to have his approval.

Of course, if he saw the good she and her sisters were doing here, he would be more likely to sanction their continued employment. Yet her desire for his approbation was more personal than acquiring his legal consent, she knew. The academy was mainly her creation, her pride and joy, and she wanted Marcus to understand how much it meant to her.

The school was actually comprised of several buildings so as to prepare pupils for the varied experiences they would encounter in high society. Cla.s.ses were usually held in a large manor house such as one might find on a n.o.bleman's country estate, and a second, more formal mansion that was representative of where the London Quality dwelled. The academy also boasted a large stable and park to practice outdoor skills, and a large dormitory to lodge the young ladies who boarded full-time. The vast majority of the pupils lived in the dormitory, except during summer term when only a handful remained on the premises.

Arabella couldn't hide the little glow of warmth she felt at the tour's conclusion when Marcus praised the facilities.

"Impressive," he said sincerely. "I can see why merchants would want to send their daughters here."

She smiled with pleasure. "The accommodations are excellent thanks to Lady Freemantle's generosity, but our parents appreciate even more the quality of the instruction their daughters receive. Come, let me show you."

When they returned to the "London" mansion, Arabella led Marcus upstairs to a large drawing room, where he instantly became the target of attention of two dozen bright-eyed young females dressed in afternoon finery.

Miss Tess Blanchard rose to welcome him with a polite smile. When Marcus had bowed over her hand, Arabella stepped forward to address her pupils. "Ladies, I am pleased to offer you a treat today. Lord Danvers has generously agreed to join us so that we might practice the art of properly receiving a gentleman when he calls. We will concentrate particularly on graciously pouring tea and making witty conversation. Miss Blanchard has already arranged the seating, so if you will please take your places, we may begin."

The girls were to take tea with the earl in groups of six while the rest observed. There were servants standing by with tea services and trays filled with scones and crumpets and tiny sandwiches. When Arabella and Tess were seated with the first group, Marcus was announced by a "butler" and shown into the room.

Watching him over the course of the next hour, Arabella couldn't help but admire his fort.i.tude. Some of the girls were painfully shy, and some were cra.s.sly bold, but Marcus suffered them all with good grace. It was clear he fascinated them. He held their rapt attention throughout four practice sessions, charming the shy ones and deftly parrying the fawning banter of the flirtatious ones.

And in the third group, when one of the girls sloshed tea all over the lace tablecloth, he calmly withdrew a handkerchief from his jacket and mopped up the spill. Then when Sybil Newstead, a raven-haired beauty who had flirted brazenly with him for the past ten minutes in a transparent attempt to monopolize the conversation, scolded her cla.s.smate's clumsiness, Marcus offered the mortified girl an irresistible smile.

"Don't pay Miss Newstead any mind, Miss Fletcher. You have made me feel quite at home. My younger sister Eleanor doused me quite regularly when she was learning to pour. I don't envy you ladies, having to negotiate so many delicate operations. I would be all thumbs."

The scarlet-faced Miss Fletcher flashed him a worshipful look of grat.i.tude, while Sybil Newstead shot him a sullen look of vexation.

Arabella, too, was supremely grateful to Marcus for his kindness, but she waited to tell him so until after the cla.s.s had ended and Tess had shepherded all the girls from the drawing room.

"That was very well done of you, my lord," she said after the footmen had withdrawn.

"I am glad you appreciate my sacrifice," Marcus replied lightly. "You can't imagine how painful it was, having to fend off a bevy of giggling schoolgirls. I was squirming the entire time."

That brought Arabella's laugh bubbling up. "No one could tell you were the least discomfited."

Marcus eyed her narrowly. "You enjoyed seeing me at such a disadvantage, didn't you, vixen?"

"Only a little." She had indeed expected him to be disadvantaged by the circ.u.mstances she had purposely thrown at him, but he had won her admiration instead. "I do appreciate your sacrifice, truly.

Our parents will be highly impressed that their daughters took tea with a genuine earl."

His mocking smile was enticing. "Anything for you, my charmer."

Arabella's expression sobered. "Seriously, Marcus, I must thank you for today. You handled our pupils with admirable tact and grace, especially Miss Fletcher."

"I'm pleased to have won your approbation, but you can thank my sister for educating me on how to deal with young ladies." He rose from the settee and offered his hand to Arabella, who also stood.

"Allow me to escort you home in my carriage."

For once she was sorry to have to refuse his company. "Forgive me, but I cannot leave just yet. I need to speak privately with Gladys Fletcher to make certain she hasn't suffered any lasting trauma from the spilled tea incident. And I want to have a word with Sybil Newstead as well."

"She is a little witch, isn't she?"

"Indeed. Girls that age can be savage, and Sybil is the worst. She is our wealthiest heiress and our most troublesome, even though this is only her first year. Keeping control of her has been difficult."

"What did she do that was so egregious?"

"What hasn't she done? She smuggled three bottles of brandy into the dormitory and made half her schoolmates drunk. She tried to seduce a footman and had him so fl.u.s.tered that he begged to be sent to another place of employment. She ran up enormous bills at her dressmakers, so that her father threatened to withdraw her from school if we couldn't keep a tighter rein on her. Since then we've had to employ a full-time maid to keep a careful watch on her."

Marcus chuckled. "Your other pupils are clearly fond of you. You have an impressive way with them."

"Thank you," Arabella replied earnestly as she accompanied him to the drawing room door. "I try to mold their characters as well as polish their manners, but mainly I strive to give them the confidence to overcome their lack of genteel birth. I don't believe anyone should be condemned simply because her blood is not blue."

"Your radical notions would not sit well with our peers," Marcus said humorously. When they reached the corridor, he paused. "You will have dinner with me this evening?"

Arabella hesitated. "Yes, but I forgot to mention, I have invited our patroness, Lady Freemantle, to dine with us."

Marcus sent her a knowing look. "So you can avoid being alone with me."

She dimpled. "In large part. But also because Winifred is eager to make your acquaintance. She has met you on several occasions, although she doubts that you remember her."

"Oh, I remember her. She is very hard to forget."

"That she is," Arabella agreed. Winifred Freemantle was a large, ruddy-faced woman with a booming voice and an accent that betrayed her lower cla.s.s origins. "But she is a dear friend."

"And obviously one of your staunchest allies. In that case, it will behoove me to try to impress her. I will have my carriage return here shortly to bring you home."

Arabella nodded before summoning a footman with instructions to escort Lord Danvers to his carriage.

When Marcus had taken his leave of her, she turned the opposite way in order to seek out her pupils, but she still felt that little glow of warmth that had lingered throughout his entire visit.

Her benevolent feelings did not last through dinner.

That evening when Lady Freemantle arrived, Marcus was all attentive charm, and Winifred succ.u.mbed to his blandishments like b.u.t.ter melting under a hot sun. By their first gla.s.s of wine, he was well on the way to winning her over as an ally.

In his defense, Arabella admitted with grudging admiration, he truly seemed to enjoy her ladyship's company.

Nearly a decade older than Marcus, Winifred treated him with matronly affection, although there was nothing matronly about her heavy-boned, mannish features and coa.r.s.e manners that were more at home in the stables than an elegant drawing room. But her jovial nature was so warm and infectious that the two of them were soon laughing and sharing tales of their London acquaintances. Much worse, Winifred began confiding in Marcus as if they were old cronies.

Arabella's heart sank as she watched. She had counted on her friend to champion her cause against Marcus, but it was clear before they even went in to dinner that he had made another conquest.

Once again the meal was delicious-sole in cream sauce, frica.s.see of rabbit, pigeon pie, and Winifred's favorite, a roast of beef, with tarts and syllabub for the sweets. Yet Arabella didn't find the dishes quite as delectable when the subject somehow turned to matrimony.

"My beauty isn't what appealed to Sir Rupert, as you can tell," her ladyship said with frank good humor.

" 'Twas the size of my dowry, no mistake. A large dowry can cover up any number of faults in a female, even homely looks."

Marcus sent Arabella an innocent glance. "I had planned to settle a large sum on my wards."

Beaming at him, Winifred bobbed her head in approval. "I knew you were a right 'un, Lord Danvers.

I've worried prodigiously about Arabella and her sisters these past few years. But a dowry will make it much easier for them to find husbands."

"Winifred," Arabella protested. "I thought you supported our intentions to remain single."

"No, dear. I want you to have a choice about who... whom you wed, but you need to marry eventually.

That's the only future for a lady of quality."

"I have been trying to tell her so," Marcus said, his eyes laughing.

"You should listen to your guardian, Arabella," Winifred said quite seriously. "Lord Danvers might even be willing to drum up some good candidates for you. Suitable husbands don't grow on trees, you know.

With his connections, you might be able to make a good match after all."

"Well, actually..." Marcus remarked, "I already have found the ideal candidate for her."

Winifred turned to him with keen curiosity. "Who?"

"Myself. I have proposed to Miss Loring, but she has refused."

Her ladyship looked startled, while Arabella shot him a reproachful glance. She hadn't yet told her friend about Marcus's proposal or their wager, and she regretted that he had brought it up now when she would rather have explained the situation to Winifred in private.

Winifred was still eyeing him in disbelief. "Is that the truth? You proposed, my lord? I wouldn't have taken you for the marrying kind."

"I wasn't until last week. I took one look at Miss Loring and was smitten."

Her ladyship's chuckle resembled something of a horse's whinny, while her brown eyes started dancing.

"I always heard you were a wicked charmer. I can see why you have a bevy of lovestruck mistresses and admirers all trying to set traps for you."

"Winifred!" Arabella exclaimed again. "It is hardly proper to speak of a gentleman's mistresses at the dining table."

"Now, don't be so missish, dear. You know I believe in plain speaking. And if you want my advice, you could do much worse than to wed his lordship."

"See," Marcus interjected with a provocative glance at Arabella, "even your patroness thinks you should accept me."

Winifred continued as if Arabella wasn't there. "You won't find it easy to win her over, my lord, but don't be discouraged just because she doesn't want you right this minute. Persistence, that's the key.

You should take a page from my late husband's book. He practically had to fight off my other suitors, which is why my papa chose him for me-because he admired Rupert's persistence. And even though Rupert only wanted me for my fortune, it turned out to be a good enough marriage. We became right fond of each other." Her eyes suddenly shimmered with tears. "I miss him with a powerful ache sometimes."

She sniffed loudly, then turned her attention to Arabella again. "Which is why, my girl, you don't want to remain an old maid all your life. I know you have your reasons for not wanting to wed, but loneliness is a bleak bedfellow."

With effort, Arabella managed a smile. "I will keep that in mind, Winifred. Now, may we please change the subject? All this pointless talk about marrying Lord Danvers has diminished my appet.i.te."

Arabella was glad when they obliged, but to her chagrin, Winifred was not willing to give up the subject entirely. She brought it up again an hour later when she took her departure. While Marcus waited politely on the front landing, Arabella accompanied her ladyship down the steps to her carriage.

"I think you should seriously consider wedding Lord Danvers," Winifred whispered in a voice loud enough to carry back to the house. "That magnificent specimen of manhood would make you a fine bedfellow, I'll wager."

Arabella felt her cheeks flame, knowing that Marcus had overheard. "That is not a wager I intend to take, Winifred."

She was determined to pretend indifference, but when she returned to the house, Marcus stood blocking her way to the entrance hall, his blue eyes alive with humor.

"Don't say it," Arabella warned as she brushed past him.

"Say what, love?" he asked innocently as he followed her inside and shut the door.

"Whatever you intended to say. No doubt you meant to remind me of your superior qualities as a bedfellow."

He chuckled but shook his head. "You malign me unjustly. I merely wanted to invite you to accompany me on a picnic tomorrow."

She gave him a curious glance. "A picnic? I would not have expected you to be fond of picnics."

"I am in this instance, since it's how I wish to spend some of my allotted time with you tomorrow. I'll order a lunch packed, and we'll drive my curricle instead of riding. That way you won't be able to gallop off and leave me to eat your dust."

Arabella hesitated. The prospect of a picnic with Marcus was indeed appealing, even if it afforded him another opportunity to seduce her into accepting his proposal. Yet she had agreed to his terms, promising him a sporting chance to woo her. Moreover, she owed him for his kindness to her pupils this afternoon.

"Very well," Arabella replied evenly. "I would be pleased to accompany you on a picnic tomorrow, my lord. For now...good night."

When she mounted the sweeping staircase, however, Marcus remained only a few steps behind. And at the head of the stairs, when she turned left toward her bedchamber, he continued to accompany her.

When she was halfway down the corridor, Arabella came up short and gave him a look of exasperation.