Tallie's Knight. Anne Gracie

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СКАЧАТЬ the guests departed. Still, she flattered herself that everything was going off quite smoothly.

      This was, however, one order she felt unable to carry out. ’I have nothing to wear to dinner, Cousin.’

      ‘Lord, girl, as if anyone will care what you wear. No one will take any notice of you—you are just there to make up the numbers. Any old thing will do.’

      ‘I have only one evening dress, Cousin, the one you gave me several years ago, and as you must know it does not fit me.’

      ‘Then alter it, for heaven’s sake! Or wear a shawl or something over it. I cannot be expected to think of everything! Now leave me at once, for if I do not get some peace and quiet I fear I will have the headache by dinnertime.’

      ‘Yes, Cousin,’ Tallie murmured between her teeth. It went very much against the grain to submit so tamely to her cousin’s rudeness, but poverty had taught her to take a more pragmatic view. In the short term, it was unbearable to be treated in this fashion. On the other hand, Laetitia was rarely here, and for most of the year at Manningham there were just Tallie and the children and servants. In truth, she told herself severely, she had a delightful life. An orphan with not a penny to her name ought to be grateful to have a roof over her head. That she didn’t feel grateful was, no doubt, a deficiency of character.

      Tallie hurried downstairs. She consulted with Cook about the menu, Mrs Wilmot about the arrangements for the unexpected guests and Brooks about the wines for dinner, then hurried back upstairs to see to her dress.

      Ten minutes later she was in despair. Laetitia was a smaller woman than she, with a dainty, sylphlike figure. The pale green muslin gown was designed to sweep low across the bosom and shoulders and fall loosely from a high waistline. On Tallie the deeply scooped neckline clung, causing her bosom to bulge embarrassingly. The waist was too tight and her ankles were scandalously revealed. Tallie went to her wardrobe and glanced through it again, desperately hoping that by some magical process an alternative would present itself. Two winter day dresses, two summer day dresses, all rather worn and out of date. She sighed and returned gloomily to the green muslin.

      She was no needlewoman, and even if she were she could not make larger that which was too small in the first place. After some experimentation she managed to fill in the neckline with a piece of old lace, so that it covered her decently at least, even if it was still too tight. She tacked a frill along the hem. It looked quite ridiculous, she knew, but at least it covered her ankles.

      Finally she draped herself in a large paisley shawl to disguise the tightness of the dress. It would surely suffice to get her through dinner. She glanced at herself in the glass and closed her eyes in momentary mortification. The green colour did bring interesting highlights to her brown hair and eyes, and her curly hair was neat for once, but—she looked a perfect quiz! Still, she told herself bracingly, Laetitia was right. No one would take any notice of her. She was just an extra female—the poor relation—and she would slip away the moment dinner was over. In any case, she didn’t like her cousin’s guests, so what did it matter what they thought of her? Taking a deep breath, she headed downstairs to check on the arrangements for dinner.

      Magnus took another sip of armagnac and wondered how much longer he could endure the girlish flutterings going on around him. His temper was on a knife-edge and he had no one to blame but himself. The house party had been a disaster.

      Ten days of the unalleviated company of high-bred young women would have been bad enough—he’d nerved himself for that ordeal. But he should have realised that Laetitia would select a gaggle of young ladies most like herself—spoiled, vain, vapid and silly. Magnus was almost rigid with boredom.

      And exasperation—for he’d hoped to observe the young ladies unobtrusively, make a discreet selection and quietly arrange a marriage. Ha! What a joke! His wretched cousin had about as much discretion as a parrot! That had been made plain to Magnus within days, when he’d realised he was being hunted—with all the subtlety of a pack of hounds in full pursuit.

      Creamy bosoms were made to heave and quiver under his nose at every opportunity. Well-turned ankles flashed from modest concealment. And every time he entered a room eyelashes batted so feverishly there was almost a draught. He’d been treated to displays of virtuosity on harp, pianoforte and flute, had folios of watercolours thrust under his nose, his expert inspection bashfully solicited. His superior masculine opinion had been sought and deferred to on every topic under the sun and his every reluctant pronouncement greeted with sighs, sycophantic titters and syrupy admiration.

      They accosted him morning, noon and night—in the garden, in the drawing room, in the breakfast parlour—even, once, behind the stables, where a man had a right to expect some peace and quiet. But it was no use—eligible misses lurked, apparently, in every corner of the estate.

      Yet, despite his overwhelming aversion to the task in hand, Magnus was still determined to select a wife. The house party had convinced him it was best to get the deed over with as soon as possible. Any courtship was bound to be appalling to a man of his solitary tastes, he reasoned, and if he did not choose now, he would only prolong the process. And this collection of girls seemed no different from any others currently on the marriage mart.

      The trouble was, Magnus could not imagine any of them as mother to his children. Not one had two thoughts to rub together; each seemed completely devoted to fashion, gossip and male flattery—not necessarily in that order. And, like Laetitia, they despised rural life.

      That was a problem. He had somehow assumed his wife would live at d’Arenville with the children. Though why he should expect his wife to live in the country when few women of his acquaintance did so, Magnus could not imagine. His own mother certainly had not. She hadn’t been able to bear the country. But then he didn’t want a wife like his mother.

      Freddie’s wife lived, seemingly content, all year round in the wilds of Yorkshire with her husband and children. The children’s obvious happiness had made a profound impression on Magnus—his own parents had been virtual strangers who had descended on his home at infrequent intervals, their visits the bane of his youthful existence.

      But Freddie’s wife truly seemed to love her children. Magnus’s own mother had appeared to love Magnus—in company. So Freddie’s wife could have been fudging it, but Magnus didn’t think so. Freddie’s wife also seemed to love Freddie. But Freddie was, Magnus knew, a lovable person.

      It was not the same for Magnus. He had clearly been an unlovable child. And was therefore not a lovable man. But he would do everything in his power to ensure his children had the chance to be lovable. And therefore to be loved.

      Magnus glanced around the room again. He supposed it was possible that some of these frivolous girls would settle into motherhood, but it was difficult to believe, especially with the example of his cousin before him.

      ‘Oh, it is such a delightfully mild evening,’ cried Laetitia. ‘Let us stroll on the terrace before dinner. Come Magnus, as my guest of honour, you shall escort the lady of your choice.’

      A dozen feminine gazes turned his way. There was an expectant hush. Magnus silently cursed his cousin for trying to force his hand. Clearly she wished the house party concluded so that she could return to Town and the myriad entertainments there. Magnus smiled. He danced to no female’s tune.

      ‘Then, as a good guest, I must look to the care of my charming hostess,’ he responded lightly. ‘Cousin, shall we?’ He took her arm, allowing her no choice, and they stepped through the French doors onto the terrace. The other guests followed.

      Tallie trailed awkwardly in their wake. She felt most uncomfortable. Several of СКАЧАТЬ