Before the Season Ends Page 12

  While the others digested this startling conclusion, Mr. Mornay, contemplating the matter added, “They must be convinced that I am, shall we say, smitten?”

  Fourteen

  To the astonished faces around him, Mr. Mornay smiled neatly and then crossed his legs comfortably.

  “Bravo, Mornay! That will turn the tables on Lady Covington, I daresay! She will be happy to forget Miss Forsythe’s existence—if she can!” His lordship looked around for agreement. Mrs. Bentley dabbed at one eye, which did not seem to be wet after all.

  “Ingenious, Mr. Mornay!” She waved her little white handkerchief in the air. “Ingenious! And so generous and good of you. I am quite overcome with gratitude.”

  “And you, Miss Forsythe?” Ariana had been quiet since his announcement, and Mr. Mornay looked at her now. “My intention is to outmanoeuvre the countess, which will serve to rescue your reputation. I cannot abide to see her succeed in her vicious scheme. But I care very little about what is said regarding me; you must be eager to do this, or I am content to let the matter lie where it will.”

  Ariana looked across the little circle of furniture at him.

  “It appears I am at your mercy, Mr. Mornay. I should be greatly obliged to you for your invaluable help in the matter. Instruct me on what I must do, and I will, I promise you, do whatever you say.”

  “Very good, my gel!” Mrs. Bentley was relieved that her niece had spoken with meekness and humility, as befitted her station.

  In her heart, Ariana almost wished to be ousted from the exacting but hypocritical society she found herself in. But not due to shame; not to lies. No, she would have to stay and fight. She thanked God that the volatile Mr. Mornay had come to her aid—again. There was an awkward silence in the room for a few moments while the two beheld each other, and then the men rose to their feet. Ariana and her aunt rose also, but the chaperon had an alarming thought.

  “Mr. Mornay!” Her hand was over her heart. “What will we say when there is no event?” This was a circumstance that no one had thought of. His eyebrow rose in the way it tended to, and a faint smile appeared on the handsome face.

  “I suppose we will have to account for that,” the Paragon conceded.

  “That should pose no dilemma, ma’am,” piped in his lordship. “When Miss Forsythe accepts another proposal, it will simply be given out that she and Mornay decided they did not suit.”

  He smiled, looking around for approbation, but Mrs. Bentley asked, dryly, “Another proposal? Whom do you suppose will dare to approach her if Mr. Mornay is believed to have taken a serious interest in her?”

  Lord Horatio said, “I could, I suppose, myself…that is…”

  Ariana’s cheeks grew instantly warm. Mr. Mornay was not similarly affected and stated in a firm tone, “When the scandal has been sufficiently quenched, Miss Forsythe will be free to take a disgust of me.” The others smiled, and he turned to Ariana. “Which should present little difficulty for one who is already fully convinced of my overwhelming depravity.”

  Ariana looked away hurriedly. Although she had thought him terrible, he was fast acting in a fashion to change that impression.

  “Ariana! I should hope Mr. Mornay is mistaken,” Aunt Bentley scolded. “Certainly you cannot hold him in such a thought as that.”

  “No, ma’am, I am sure I do not.” She answered quietly, forcing herself to meet his eyes. His expression was faintly bemused, but not injured. He offered a short bow. He often had that near-smile on his face, she was beginning to realize. Perhaps he was not as irascible as he pretended. Perhaps most people were too frightened of him to notice that he barked, but did not bite.

  “When may we begin?” Mrs. Bentley was eager to see the tide of societal approval turn in their favour.

  “The sooner the better.” Lord Horatio was ever helpful.

  “Perhaps Miss Forsythe and I could take a drive right now,” Mornay offered. “ ’Tis past five-thirty and the park will be teeming. Our triumph over the evil countess,” he grinned, “can begin.”

  “Yes, of course!” Ariana felt suddenly breathless. It had not dawned upon her until that moment that she would of necessity be spending time with Mr. Mornay. Perhaps alone. The fluttering in her stomach had subsided, but now returned in full force.

  “I’ll take you home, Horatio,” Mornay said, “and then take a leisurely pass through Hyde Park with Miss Forsythe.”

  Mrs. Bentley’s face lit up. “I have it! Let my carriage convey his lordship so that the two of you may be seen together at once.”

  And so it happened.

  Since Mr. Mornay had not brought a servant, one of Mrs. Bentley’s footmen jumped on the back of his open curricle, to act as chaperon. Despite it being an open equipage, a chaperon was deemed necessary in light of the rumour regarding the pair.

  Wishing to avoid the traffic on Oxford Street, Mr. Mornay took the carriage west, passing Hanover Square and Brook Street, part way around Grosvenor Square (the other side of which housed his own residence) and onto upper Brook Street, and then a turn onto Park Lane. They followed the lane for a few impressive streets, while Ariana enjoyed viewing the succession of mansions. She glanced at her companion who was intent on manoeuvring the curricle, and thought what a shame that Phillip Mornay could be so good-looking and intelligent and gentlemanly—at times—and yet averse to marriage. (Not that she wanted to marry him! No, indeed!)

  After all, was he not nearing thirty, and yet had never been associated with a single engagement? As she watched the way he smoothly handled the team, a pair of elegant matched chestnuts, she mused that someone so nice in appearance ought to possess less aloofness of character.

  They made a sharp left turn onto Tyburn Turnpike and then a right, passing easily through the wide Cumberland Gate entrance to Hyde Park, Ariana rippling with excitement at her first visit to the famous spot.

  “Here we are,” Mornay said. “Just in time to find the place teeming.”

  Teeming, indeed. The number of equipages on the open lanes of the park surprised her. Here was a popular pastime the likes of which she’d had no idea of. People were literally everywhere. On horse, on foot, and in carriages, of all styles and sizes. Mr. Mornay stopped their vehicle by Hyde Park Lodge, from where he made innumerable careful introductions, always allowing that Miss Forsythe was honouring him with her company. Ariana met many a peer and like luminaries, most of whom shortly halted upon spying the pair, to come and give their greetings. To those too afraid to approach the Paragon, he occasionally nodded or motioned them forward, and they came, like subjects to a king. Ariana felt she could imagine being a queen.

  Raised brows and astonished faces were swiftly followed by impressed looks—and invitations. Ariana could not help but to enjoy the bewildered respect she received. Without exception, she was treated like royalty.

  “Why, Mr. Mornay! Miss Forsythe! What a pleasure! And such a surprise!” Mamas with their daughters did not know if they were more surprised to see Mr. Mornay accost them in a friendly manner, or that Mr. Mornay with Miss Forsythe had done so. Was this not the outcast Miss Forsythe? The same Miss Forsythe Lady Covington severely disapproved of? What was a mother to think?

  All the women promised sincerely to call at Hanover Square at the soonest convenience. Ariana was much heartened to see relief on many faces; a fact that meant she was genuinely liked. People had been frightened away by Lady Covington’s lies, but they were happy to find her in society with the Paragon; this meant they could safely enjoy her company again. In addition, instead of appearing as a grasping female hoping to win a prize, she was now seen as the object of affection by the singular renowned bachelor.

  He seemed well satisfied when they exited the park a good hour later. He drove Ariana back to her aunt’s home. As he pulled to a stop, he turned his dark eyes thoughtfully upon her. He paused, thinking before saying, “I shall call for you on Saturday evening, say, at half-past nine?”

  “Tomorrow evening? Yes, if—if you wish.”


  He gave her a bemused look. He had expected a warmer reception to his invitation.

  “I do wish.” He wore that half-smile; was he poking fun at her? Since she wasn’t sure whether he was, or whether she ought to laugh or not, she decided to just smile demurely and then turned to leave.

  “Wait,” he ordered, jumping down on his side and going around to help her down. With his hands about her waist he set her lightly upon her feet. They surveyed one another. Mr. Mornay still wore that bemused expression, as if he found her amusing. Rather like an appealing little puppy, she thought, later. Appealing, but infinitely inferior…. But she smiled politely.

  “I am much obliged for the drive and… for all of your help.”

  He nodded. “Until tomorrow evening, then. And wear one of your finer evening dresses.”

  “One of my finer?”

  “Yes.” He paused, studying her. “Do you have a satin and gauze?” He was referring to a sophisticated style in which the underdress of satin was worn beneath a coverlet or overdress of net or gauze. The satin underneath showed through and, depending on how the bodice was cut, the gown could either be a sweet or tempting confection.

  “I believe I do.”

  “Let us hope so.”

  Her large eyes sparkled with curiosity regarding what he had in mind for the evening, but she felt suddenly too timid to ask.

  “Anything more?” She gave him a smile, and was pleased when he surprised her with one of his own, making her acutely aware that she had never seen him smile fully before.

  “That should do it. I have seen enough of you to know that you either have a knack for fashion or your mama does.”

  “It is my aunt who has the knack.”

  “Of course.” He nodded, knowingly. With that, Ariana curtseyed and then walked self-consciously toward the steps of the house. She felt the strange, beautiful eyes of Mr. Mornay on her and did not take a good, deep breath until Haines had closed the front door and was helping her off with her spencer.

  Mrs. Bentley shook her head in amazement. “Mr. Mornay has rescued you! Mornay himself! He has gone against the countess on your behalf! I promise you, there shall be one unhappy lady the night you walk into Almack’s.”

  Ariana sat in a comfortable wing chair across from the older woman and poured herself a cup of tea from the service that Haines had put out while they were speaking.

  “Why do you suppose he has helped me?” She settled herself more comfortably in her chair.

  “I must think ’tis for his lordship’s sake. Certainly you are not the first female said to have tipped her cap at him, nor would you have been the first to suffer a ruined season on his account, although you may well be the youngest. Generally, it is the more experienced femme fatales of society—like Lady Covington herself—who attempt to win over the Paragon. Of course many others swoon for him but they have the sense not to display it.” She picked up her delicate china cup and took a sip. “That is the only explanation I can think of. He has indeed performed a service for us, no matter what moved him to it, and we are obliged to him.”

  “He told me to expect him on Saturday evening.” Ariana knew this would be received rapturously and was not surprised when Mrs. Bentley’s mouth dropped and her hand went to her heart.

  “He means to do more for you, then! Where is he taking you?”

  “He didn’t say. But he told me to be sure and wear one of my finer evening gowns. He asked if I had one of satin and gauze. I do, don’t I?”

  “Yes, of course.” She sat back on the sofa, stunned. “A finer gown! Satin and gauze. We have no invitations for tomorrow evening, and I have not heard of any entertainments. What could he be thinking?”

  “Could it be he intends to take me to Almack’s?”

  Her aunt looked at her silently for a moment, preoccupied with her own ideas. “No. ’Tisn’t open. Only on Wednesday nights, my gel. And, at any rate, I cannot believe he would be caught alive at Almack’s! The men of his set find it a dead bore. They only go on occasion to show they can.”

  A minute passed. “It must be something popular on account of her ladyship.” Her aunt laughed. “To think that of all the men in society, she chose to involve you with Mr. Mornay! It is a great stroke of luck for you, my gel.”

  Ariana did not wish to point out that it could not be called “luck” to be embroiled in a scandal; or that she did not credit “luck” with the events of her life. Despite the humiliation of the situation, she accepted that somehow it was part of God’s plan for her.

  “When this is over,” continued the older lady, “you will be the toast of the town, for even without an event you are the first lady in London who can claim to have had Mornay’s affections! Lucky for us he wishes to punish the countess.”

  Ariana’s heart sank at these words. “But I do not wish to be in the middle of their quarrel. I think I must refuse to go any further with this.”

  Mrs. Bentley’s response was immediate and grave. “ ’Tis your quarrel, also, Ariana. Lady Covington has sunk her claws into you, for no good reason. Happy or not, you must help the matter. In the end, every single family in the Society Book will want to know you!” Ariana’s face was downcast, but she nodded. Mrs. Bentley laughed, saying, “This entire outcome must be the veriest thing sent from heaven!”

  Ariana looked up at that, struck by the thought. She excused herself and went directly to her chamber eager to read the afternoon’s collect, and especially, to pray. Sent from heaven? Indeed it had to be, all of her circumstances, though she did not see how any of it could work in her favour in a spiritual sense. In a worldly sense, yes, she was gaining social favour and success by her relationship with Mr. Mornay. But she knew that true success would be finding others of her faith, or helping in some small way to further God’s kingdom.

  Ariana fell to her knees, resolved to be thankful for every good thing in her life—including even worldly social success. Only God knew how He might use this for good.

  She prayed over the matter, asking for blessings on what was to come, and for Mr. Mornay for his goodness in helping her. She prayed for strength to forgive the countess, and for that lady to come to repentance and salvation. She asked, if possible, to be used by God to help others seek His face. When she prayed for her family, she remembered that it was time to write again, even though she had still not had a reply. After committing that puzzling matter to the Lord as well, she spent an hour writing a long missive detailing the startling turn of events the day had brought. She began by describing her new impressions of Mr. Mornay, who was, she wrote, “not nearly as mean-hearted as I earlier took him for.”

  Fifteen

  Ariana was considering doing without breakfast except for a cup of strong tea. She’d been aware from the moment she arose that she would be seeing Mr. Mornay later, for the familiar knot in her stomach was present. She no longer felt frightened of him, but it was useless to pretend she was wholly indifferent.

  Mrs. Bentley, who always took toast with butter and drank her only cup of chocolate for the day in the morning, was chipper and talkative about the coming night.

  “ ’Tis no doubt a private dinner party at an exclusive address.”

  “Oh, dear; I fear the amount of conversation necessary in such a situation.”

  Her aunt waved her hand. “Never mind that; they shall be concerned with pleasing you! A lady friend of Mr. Mornay’s.” She tittered gleefully. “And to think—it is all a hoax! I could give Lady Covington a kiss of gratitude! If she only knew the good she has done us, I warrant she would turn green.”

  A hoax? Ariana put down her teacup. She had not thought of it as such, and now took a fresh dislike of the situation. But what else could be done? Certainly she had the right to prove the countess’s accusations false, since they were false.

  “Well, we shall see later what is up. Be assured I will not allow you to leave this house with a gentleman, even Mornay, without knowing precisely what his plans are. I will ask him whe
n he arrives.” She studied Ariana as if for the first time, her mind obviously working at some idea, and Ariana waited to hear it. She was coming to recognize this look on her aunt’s face. It meant there was something significant on her mind, and it was only a matter of minutes or seconds before she would voice the thought.

  “Could it be he truly has a tendre for you, my gel?”

  “Dear me, no!” Ariana said vehemently. “I am astounded he is helping me, for he has given me numerous set-downs, I assure you! Nothing could be clearer, Aunt, but that he is not overly fond of me.”

  Mrs. Bentley was not really surprised at this response, for after all, who could win Mornay?

  “Well, it is certain he does not overly dislike you, either. If he had a disgust of you I am prodigiously sure it would have prevented him from coming to your aid. Mornay is not the man to hide his dislikes, and when it comes to young females I avow he has had more than his share. Now I think on it, when you are with him tonight, be careful not to do anything to make him feel you are developing an attraction. Nothing is more certain to bring about his disapproval!”

  Ariana stared at her relation, trying to digest the strange advice. She was not artful enough to hide her true feelings, even when she tried, but fortunately there was nothing to hide in this case. Mr. Mornay was handsome, but not at all the type of man she could ever consider as a marriage prospect. He was, in fact, the furthest thing from her idea of a future mate.

  Mrs. Bentley took a sip of her chocolate and let it linger on her tongue before swallowing with a satisfactory little gulp.

  “Look, my gel, the newest issue of La Belle Assemblee! It arrived just today.”

  Ariana could not share her aunt’s pleasure, as she was fretting. “What if I do something foolish before his friends? I am much younger than he… He’ll despise me!”

  Her aunt raised calm eyes to Ariana’s troubled ones. “I have seen you interacting with enough people to know you are no fool, Ariana; you are more sensible than I could have hoped. I daresay you will know how to behave.” She took a bite of her toast. “He despises most people, in any case, so it will be no great thing if you are added to the number, though I do not think it likely. He behaved gallantly to you, yesterday. But do not set your heart on pleasing him, for such is not possible. And he is, after all, far out of your league…though I hate to admit it. Enjoy his attentions while they last, and the social success they will bring. That is my advice to you, my dear.”