Free Second Season by Elsie Lee Page B

by her calm dismissal, and wildly cudgelling his memory about Almack’s. Yes, there had been talk of it when he’d met them walking, when he’d first been struck by Emily’s inanities and still thought her in the schoolroom. He was further struck that Charlotte made no mention of his engagement to herself.
    “Until tomorrow, Miss Stanwood,” he murmured, “and mind you save the waltzes.”
    She drew her hand away with a faint blush. “Oh, pray, we were only funning, milord. I do not expect...”
    “Do you not?” he raised his heavy black eyebrows in astonishment, “But I expect, Miss Stanwood, and will not surrender to any Johnny-come-lately.”
    She smiled with a sudden sidewise glance. “No, but I fancy you may wish for a release. Emily is certain to be approved for the waltz, you know.”
    “She will certainly have a hundred claimants,” he retorted, “and you recall she assured me you were the better dancer?” Julian had no notion what prompted him to say, “ Guten abend, Fraulein, als morgender nacht .”
    Miss Stanwood’s reaction was—odd. She murmured automatically, “ Danke schoen, mein herzog ,”—and once again blenched, wide-eyed and stricken. “Good evening, I must go, you will excuse me ...” and hastened away toward her sister.
    “I say, Julian, let’s be off,” Arthur said plaintively, “or are you fixing an interest with the pretty widgeon?”
    “Lord, no!” Julian returned with suppressed violence—but as he retrieved, coat, hat and walking stick, he wondered: why should Miss Stanwood be so reluctant to admit knowledge of German?

CHAPTER IV
    The great day of Almack’s dawned fair and full of promise, commencing with the announcement shortly after breakfast of Mrs. Ixton and her nephew. Lady Stanwood was at first inclined to a snub, “for it is presumptuous of her to visit when I have not expressed a wish for it.” However, she was easily persuaded it was her duty to thank Sir Eustace for rescuing Emily, and on their departure, she conceded it was pleasant. “Mrs. Ixton was not at all as I recalled. I believe I must have confused her with someone else.”
    “Then you do not object that I ride with Sir Eustace, ma’am?”
    “No, but you will take a groom,” Lady Stanwood decreed repressively, noting Sharlie’s sparkling eyes. By a lucky chance, she found her lord in his study. “I wish you will see what may be discovered about this young man, Robert. He is altogether too pretty, AND Irish! One has not great hopes of them aside from horse-breeding, which is exactly what may catch Sharlie.”
    “You have other plans, milady?”
    “Indeed,” she agreed impressively. “Lord Wrentham, Sir Malcolm Ogilvie, and Mr. Beauchamp—and the season has not fairly begun. Who knows what may develop?”
    Neither did anyone else, and the suspense in the servants’ hall was nearly unendurable, what with the knocker sounding every other minute for deliveries of notes, packages, and trifles from the finest shops in town. By dressing time, the still room was overflowing with floral tributes. “It’s good as Christmas,” Maria said to herself, trotting proudly upstairs with Miss Stanwood’s share. The bulk might go to Miss Emily, but Miss Charlotte was not forgotten, and quite half of her beaux had not honored the younger sister. Maria tucked that up her sleeve for later use in the private skirmishing with Miss Tinsdale.
    That Sharlie carried the flowers accompanied by the Duke of Imbrie’s card, and Emily chose Sir Eustace’s, was purely dictated by their gowns. Julian had sent yellow roses mixed with bronze pansies, which were the perfect complement for Miss Stanwood’s gown of figured jonquil brocade. His gift of deep red roses could not be said to agree with Miss Emily’s sapphire blue crepe over palest pink. “The effect is garish!” The modest nosegay of camellias tied with long pink ribbons was exactly right, “for I cannot give Sir Eustace a dance, you know—nor