An Unconventional Duenna. Paula Marshall
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who has achieved something important: it was the smile of a man who was winning a game of tennis, or that of an angler who was about to land a large fish.
Oh, she was a dangerous creature, was she not? A true beauty with her dark hair, her grey eyes and her glorious figure…And what the devil was he doing, standing there, drooling over such a fair deceiver, even if she were named after the goddess of wisdom herself?
He shook himself to restore his usual cold self-possession and began to pay attention to Mr Tenison, who was asking him to sit by him for a while since both of them were now abandoned while Adrian cavorted with Pallas Athene on the dance floor. Nick was only too ready to oblige him. He wanted to know more about this unlikely beauty. At first he and Mr Tenison spoke of general matters: the Season, the news from Spain, the wretched business of Luddism in the Midland counties.
It seemed that his family, and their companion, lived not far from Steepwood Abbey, where, if Nick were not mistaken, there had recently been yet another major scandal concerning its owner, the debauched Marquis of Sywell. He had taken some nobody for a wife—presumably no one else would have him—and the nobody had suddenly, and mysteriously, disappeared. It had even been suggested that Sywell had done away with her, which, considering his reputation, was a not unreasonable assumption.
Since nothing further had occurred, either in the lady’s reappearing, or Sywell or someone else being accused of disposing of her, the scandal had finally died down, and would only be revived if there were any further, exciting revelations.
“Are you acquainted with Sywell, sir?” Nick asked. “Is he such a monster as rumour says he is?”
“Worse,” said Mr Tenison briefly. “No, I am not acquainted with him—who is? I am at present, however, disputing some boundary lines with him. He has seen fit to enclose a large portion of my lands, not that he intends to do anything useful with it, of course, just to be a thorough nuisance to yet another of his neighbours.”
Nick nodded; so Sywell was the miserable scoundrel which the on dit said he was, and a bad neighbour into the bargain. He thought that now was the time for him to find out a little about Pallas Athene. So, while he was apparently idly watching her busily charming his cousin whenever they were joined in the dance, he said, “Your daughter’s companion seems strangely young for her post. They are usually middle-aged, or elderly, dragons. This one seems scarcely older than her charge.”
“Oh, yes,” said Mr Tenison, responding to this apparently reasonable statement. “As you have seen, my dear little Emma is of a nervous disposition. My wife thought that the usual stern creature we might hire would overwhelm her. Fortunately she was able to find someone sensible who would guard her and whom Emma would not be afraid of but would obey. Miss Filmer was a few years ahead of Emma at her school and protected her from those who sought to bully her because of her timidity. It also meant that she was doing Miss Filmer a kindness by giving her the opportunity to come to London for the Season, something her widowed mother could not otherwise afford.”
If Mr Tenison was crediting his wife with a benevolence which she did not possess, Nick was not to know that. He had, however, learned something useful. The poor girl from the provinces had been handed an unlooked-for opportunity to make the acquaintance of one of the United Kingdom’s richest young men. Hence, of course, the smile.
He might be doing her a wrong but he thought not. His instincts, finely honed over the years, told him that he was correct, particularly when Mr Tenison added innocently, “Miss Filmer is a most unusual girl, since she is not only beautiful, but remarkably clever, something which my dear Emma is not. We have had some interesting conversations in which she has shown an intellectual maturity far beyond her years. I consider that we are fortunate to have her as Emma’s companion—something of that must surely rub off on her.”
Nick, from the little he had seen of Miss Emma Tenison, sincerely doubted that! Mr Tenison’s revelations told him that Athene was well-named, but only time would reveal whether or not he was judging her too harshly in believing her to be husband-hunting for herself.
On the dance floor Athene was busy doing exactly what he thought that she was about.
At first she was pleasantly demure, but when Adrian said in his cheerful way, “I do hope that you are allowed to enjoy yourself a little, Miss Filmer. Standing around keeping an eye on that timid little thing must be dull work.”
“Oh, Mr Tenison has been extremely kind to me,” she ventured prettily. “Did he not ensure that I have not lacked for a partner tonight by recommending me to you? I trust that by doing so when Emma had her crise de nerfs just now he has not discommoded you.”
Adrian, who was not at all sure that he knew what a crise de nerfs was, and hoped that it was not catching, said artlessly, “Dear Miss Filmer, I was absolutely charmed by my first sight of you when you lost your ugly cap, and was delighted to have you for a partner instead of the mouse.”
Suddenly aware that in being so gallant to Athene he had impolitely slighted her charge, he added hastily, “Not that I meant anything wrong about Miss Emma, not at all…” He rapidly ran down, aware that anything he said might make matters worse.
“Oh, quite,” said Athene. “Poor little thing, it is quite an affliction with her. Crowds always seem to depress her.”
“But not you, I’ll be bound,” offered Adrian. The dance temporarily parting them, he spent the next few moments thinking up compliments which would not offend and congratulating himself on having found a real beauty. No chance of not being able to provide Clan Drummond with the wanted heir if he married, and bedded, her!
By the time the dance ended Athene had managed to convey that if Lord Kinloch was charmed by her, she was charmed by him. She had given him the address of the Tenisons’ town house after he had informed her that he wished to further their acquaintance. He was not so stupid as to be unaware that the only way in which he could see more of Athene was by showing an interest in the mouse.
Or perhaps he could persuade Nick to appear to pursue the mouse whilst he cultivated Athene. On second thoughts that was not a good idea. Nick would never agree to deceive a woman by pretending to admire her. He was too stupidly honest for that.
Nick, meanwhile, was further cultivating Mr Tenison by discussing with him Plato and his notions about morality, until Mrs Tenison returned, a somewhat recovered Emma in tow.
“A drink of water with a little brandy in it has restored the dear child,” she announced, before looking around her to discover that Athene and Lord Kinloch were both missing.
“Where in the world has Filmer disappeared to, Mr Tenison? I trust that she is not ailing, too. That would be the outside of enough. Emma needs her protection.”
Mr Tenison allowed apologetically that he had suggested that Lord Kinloch having lost his partner, he might still enjoy his dance if Miss Filmer acted as a substitute for Emma.
“Indeed,” said Mrs Tenison frostily. She looked at Nick and decided that he would not do as a partner for Emma. He was not a lord, and she had never heard of him. He was not on the list of eligible young men which she and her sponsor, Lady Dunlop, had drawn up between them.
Nick was saved by the return of Adrian and Pallas Athene from asking Emma, to whom he had offered his chair, to be his partner in the next dance. Athene, delighted that Lord Kinloch was so obviously taken by her, adopted a suitably demure manner when he gallantly insisted on handing her to a chair instead of restoring her to her usual humble station behind the Tenisons. She had no wish to offend Mrs Tenison more than was necessary. If she were to do so she might find herself sent back to Northampton.
That lady took one look at her radiant face—so different from Emma’s pale one—and barked at her, “Where is your cap, Filmer? What have you done with it?”
To Athene’s amusement, Adrian, wounded a little on his beauty’s behalf, said tactlessly, “It fell off, madam, because it did not fit Miss Filmer properly, and she is not a dull old thing who needs to wear something to hide her lack of looks!”
If this reproach both