Read An Imperfect Proposal Online
Authors: Hayley Ann Solomon
An Imperfect Proposal (2 page)
“Yes, we thought we might be able to dart in, undetected, and seize a plateful of macaroons, or even some of the game pie though I daresay there is none of that left . . .”
“No, for I saw a footman remove the salver.”
Amaryllis was too polite to say that the chances of two small children, tousled and in their nightgowns, remaining undetected, was zero. Instead, she hesitantly suggested an alternative.
“What you need, my dears, is an accomplice.”
“Yes, but who? We asked Darcy the second footman but he says the butler has his eye on him and Matilda is so useless we haven't even bothered asking . . .”
“What about me? May I procure you some refreshments? I doubt my reticule will stand anything like jelly or pigeon pie, but if I am careful I should be able to fit some slices of that strawberry frosted cake you mentioned. I saw it in the supper room and it looks delightful.”
The children stared at her in blank amazement. “But you are one of the guests!”
“Indeed.”
“But you are a grown-up!”
“Only just!”
The girls chuckled.
“You really are the nicest person we have met. I'm Vicky,” said the eldest of the two sisters.
“I'm Clementine but my friends call me Clem.”
“Good to meet you,” Amaryllis replied gravely. “I am Amaryllis Hastings.”
The girls exchanged glances. There was something about her name that seemed to intrigue them, but when Miss Hastings asked, they only grinned cheekily, so she thought she must have imagined this. They muttered something about a list, but the matter made no sense at all.
“Well, then, I shall go . . . gracious, is that the second set already? I am engaged for the next dance but after that I should be able to amble over to the refreshment table and purloin a morsel or two!”
“Look for us above the balcony. If we crouch down low we shan't be seen and it is less risky than here, where everyone comes to snatch a kiss . . .”
Amaryllis was shocked, “Gracious! You were not hiding when . . .”
“Yes! Mortifying, too, and I nearly sneezed which would have been perfectly frightful!” Vicky giggled.
“Please, please, please don't tell Uncle! We should very likely starve for a week.”
This was one promise Amaryllis made easily. The thought of telling the Earl of Devonport that his nieces had been very improperly witnessing some equally improper behavior . . . it did not bear thinking upon.
“Off you go quickly, then. I trust there is a suitable escape route?”
“Yes, out that door which leads to the gallery and the private suites. It is usually locked but Molly is growing so careless . . .” The girls giggled and produced a huge key. Amaryllis tried to frown, but the attempt made her chortle instead, a fact that endeared her still further to her new acquaintances.
“Go then! I shall not, I trust, fail you!”
With that, she swept up her skirts and returned to the crush of the ballroom.
Chapter Two
It was not one dance but two dances later that she was able to keep her promise. Her cousin, Mr. Stanley Bandox-Brow, had just remembered that he'd promised to do his duty by Amaryllis and this he gallantly did.
As a matter of fact, he would not take no for an answer, for he told Amaryllis flatly that her mama would harangue him to death if he did not take a turn with her across the floor.
This unflattering invitation was, not surprisingly, ill-received, but Amaryllis did her best to swallow her annoyance. She could not, however, feel gratefulâas Mr. Bandox-Brow clearly expected her to beâespecially as he did not seem to have mastered the finer steps of the dance.
The consequence was that her pretty slippers were sadly crushed and her feet positively ached. Be that as it may, she curtsied gracefully and thanked him politely before setting about her more interesting pilfering spree.
She would have been shocked to realize that for all her precautions she had not escaped unseen. The Earl of Devonport, happening to glance her way, found his eyes arrested at the sight of two slices of strawberry frosted gateau andâyes, he could swear itâa pair of sugar plumsâdisappearing into a certain beaded reticule. He had not, up to now, thought much about the shy little mouse who had been invited on the strength of her antecedents alone, but now he felt a tug of curiosity he had not previously foreseen.
As Amaryllis swept up the banisters, my lord's eyes followed the shimmer of her gown, though he made no movement to catch up with her. His puzzlement changed to laughter as he saw the recipients of her bountyâhidden behind a china silk screen, but not well enough for his curious glance. He turned his back on the proceedings. If he knew nothing of them he could hardly be forced to objectâand invited a particularly dazzling beautyâa Miss Paterson-Vermontâto partake of the supper dance.
The evening was well advanced when the earl next caught sight of Miss Hastings. Her reticule sat innocently upon her lap as she tapped out the rhythms of Mr. Handel's water music. She was alone, for her mama was once more busy with cards, and her circle of friends all seemed to be engaged with partners. Of an instance, he felt sorry for her. She was too innocent for flirtation, and too insipid for his tastes, which ran to more buxom beauties, especially of the Spanish kind.
Still, she made a pretty picture in her shimmering gown, and her slippers were beguiling as they tapped away in tuneful harmony with the orchestra. They were a delicate pink and ribboned to her ankles, which he noted with satisfaction were more than satisfactory. (Amaryllis would have been mortified to realize she was revealing her ankles beneath the long, flowing fabric of her gown, but fortunately no one was at hand to tell her so.) As she looked up, she caught the eyes of the earl and could not help blushing, though why she had to behave like such a silly ninnyhammer she could not imagine.
The earl smiled. She half thought there must be some more eligible young lady behind her, but she realized her mistake at once, for his eyes held her own and there could be no mistaking their interest.
Of a sudden, Amaryllis felt shaky and tongue-tied. She hardly knew what to say, for he was advancing toward her . . . gracious! Had he seen her pilfering the sugar plums? But he did not look angry, he looked . . . he looked serene and amused.
“Miss Hastings?”
He was a hairbreadth away from her now, and looking down upon her with a gentle smile upon that handsome countenance.
Amaryllis nodded, hardly daring to breathe, for Stephen, Lord Redding, was beyond her touch and she hardly knew what to say. Fortunately, she remembered her curtsy and my lord's brows lifted infinitesimally at this unnecessary formality.
“Would you care to dance? I know it has been very remiss of me not to fill out your card and if you are engaged . . .”
“No, yes! I mean, no I am not engaged . . .”
“And yes you would like to dance?” The smile was more pronounced, now, but still gentle.
“Yes, please, your lordship.”
Stephen nodded and took her arm. “We shall wait until the end of this set and then take up our places. Your gown is very fetching.”
“Thank you!”
Amaryllis thought she must be dreaming. The ballroom suddenly seemed brighter, as though a thousand tapers had been lit. Jewels and rhinestones sparkled liked a million shimmering raindrops, my lord's gloved hand upon her arm was so warm it seemed to burn into her skin . . . but oh, that was just the start of these lively sensations. The next dance was the very waltz she had so yearned to put into practice.
Her nerves beat so wildly she was convinced she would miss the steps, forget the beat, or miss a count. She moistened her lips nervously and counted softly under her breath until my lord laughed down at her and whispered that she must relax and allow him to lead her. His hand tightened about her waist, which was hardly conducive to any kind of relaxing. What is more, Amaryllis could not rid herself of the notion that he found her gauche, having to count her steps.
She tensed, then relaxed as if to appear nonchalant, then finally, because she felt so unutterably exhilarated and perhaps a little because Miss Martha Caddington was watching them with a disagreeable pout of envy on her lips, she began to forget her worries and give herself up to the excitement of the dance.
Her partner, sensing this sudden change, felt an unexpected wave of tenderness sweep through him. He wanted this little chit of a thing to have a splendid time, to have one memory at least that was not bittersweet.
Lord Redding was more observant than society gave him credit for. He was accustomed to seeing Miss Hastings obligingly take the baggage carriage so her friends could ride unfettered outside. He was used to her making up a fourth at piquet when there was no one more interesting to take up the challenge.
She always smiled sweetly and seemed grateful for any small attention, no matter how negligent or carelessly bestowed. He realized with a qualm that he himself was guilty of taking her for granted as her acquaintances seemed to do.
Why, he wondered, had he not immediately inscribed his name on her dance card as he had with most of the other ladies invited as his guests? It would have been the most common of civilities, yet he had been discourteous, or negligent. He wondered why, and realized with a qualm that there was not a whisper of reproach in her bright eyes as they met his, for the veriest fraction of an instant.
The dance was over sooner than Lord Redding expected, and he realized with annoyance that he could not linger, he had bespoken himself to Miss Ingles, and that lady was already regarding him anxiously from the sidelines. It would be ill-bred to leave her disappointed, so he made his bow to Amaryllis, hovered with her hand for a fraction of an instant upon his lips, then strode off in the direction of Miss Camilla Ingles.
Camilla was entirely different from Amaryllis. As my lord approached, she feigned surprise that it was his dance already, and made a great show of consulting her card as if she had forgotten that the earl had inscribed his name there. Normally his lordship was amused by such wiles, but this evening he found the behavior slightly distasteful. Fortunately for Miss Ingles, his good manners showed none of his sudden annoyance.
Indeed, when she flirted with himâCamilla was determined to fix the earl's interest this Seasonâhe responded agreeably, so Camilla was able to catch the eye of her good friend Martha Caddington in a rather “I told you so” sort of fashion.
Martha, however, was not so elated as she might have been. The earl was definitely the pick of this Season's crop, and it was naturally
she
who would have been desirous of my lord's attentions. Still, she had had one waltz with him, so she supposed Camilla could enjoy her little quadrille. After all, a quadrille was not nearly so distinguishing as a waltz, not to mention exhilarating, for she had made certain that her glittering bodice pressed accidentally against my lord's own expansive chest, and that she edged a trifle closer to him than the requisite three inches.
she
who would have been desirous of my lord's attentions. Still, she had had one waltz with him, so she supposed Camilla could enjoy her little quadrille. After all, a quadrille was not nearly so distinguishing as a waltz, not to mention exhilarating, for she had made certain that her glittering bodice pressed accidentally against my lord's own expansive chest, and that she edged a trifle closer to him than the requisite three inches.
She was just feeling pleased with herself when her eyes alighted on Amaryllis, engaged in animated conversation with Lila Trewellyn. Her face darkened, for she could not think how insipid little Amaryllis could have stolen her limelight. She moved closer to the pair and waited until their own delicate steps brought them into speaking distance.
“Oh,
dear
Amaryllis!” she trilled. “How . . . how perfectly provincial is your dress! Do you hope to start a trend?”
dear
Amaryllis!” she trilled. “How . . . how perfectly provincial is your dress! Do you hope to start a trend?”
Amaryllis made the fatal mistake of looking flustered, but Lila Trewellyn was more up to snuff. She smiled sweetly. “It is a trend the Earl of Devonport obviously likes, Miss Caddington. Did you not notice how he asked Miss Hastings for the last waltz? Miss Caddington smiled, but the blaze in her eyes was spiteful rather than merry.
“But naturally I did! How fortunate you are, Miss Hastings, to have been chosen as his token wallflower this evening. His lordship is so punctilious about such things, you know. He always makes a point of distinguishing one partnerless lady at every function. So
civil
, I always say.”
civil
, I always say.”
“You are a cat, Martha Caddington!” Lila's eyes flashed, but the damage was done. Amaryllis looked unsteady on her feet and so pale her friend thought she might faint. But she was more spirited than that, and a lady if nothing else. She smiled at Martha and murmured that yes, indeed, she had been fortunate.
Martha nodded spitefully and moved on to fresh targets.
“Pay her no heed, Amaryllis! She is just jealous and spiteful.”
“I know that. She is, nevertheless, quite correct. His lordship was just being kind.”
“Nonsense! When you forget your nerves, Amaryllis, you are positively beautiful!”
“You are a dear for saying so, Lila, and I love you for it, but I cannot think of myself in such terms! But come, let us not spoil the evening in this fashion. I daresay if we are quick enough we can coax a sherbet out of that footman. I am positively parched.”
So, head held up high, Miss Amaryllis Hastings concluded her evening with both poise and dignity. She had never, however, felt so low, especially as Mr. Ratchins required her for a second dance and indicated, in that circuitous and pompous manner of his, that he would be calling on her the following day.
Amaryllis's heart sank. The thought of an offer from Mr. Ratchins was very lowering, for though she had been despairing of ever receiving a formal proposal of marriage, the thought that one might now be imminent was depressing to the spirits. She scolded herself for being such a flighty flibberty-gibbet. But no matter how many times her dresser told her, as she set aside her baubles and brushed through her hair, that she looked passing pretty, she could not overcome her feeling of gloom.
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