No, it was not a good marriage. It was bringing neither of them joy. Or contentment. Or even indifference. They were aware of each other and uncomfortable with each other. Unhappy with each other.
He would spend the evening with Ginny, he decided. He would tell himself quite firmly that Arabella was enjoying the soiree with one or more of her female friends and male companions, and he would soak up the sensual gratification that Ginny was so skilled at giving him.
Arabella was busily admiring the orange trees and other exotic plants with Frances and Perrot, he realized suddenly. He smiled down at his wife as she turned back to him and took his arm again.
“Shall I bring you back here one day when the weather is kinder, Arabella?” he asked.
“That would be very nice, my lord,” she said politely. “Though it has been very pleasant even today. It was kind of you to bring us. Thank you.”
Chapter 10
FRANCES prepared for the Pottier soiree with particular care. She wore a deep midnight-blue gown that she had been saving for the next ball. She wished to appear at her best for Sir John Charlton and the group of somewhat lesser admirers who showed interest in her wherever she went. More important, she wished to show Sir Theodore Perrot that she was indeed enjoying her stay in London and felt no homesickness whatsoever.
She was somewhat chagrined to find that Theodore was already there before them and in conversation with the Marquess and Marchioness of Ravenscourt and Lady Harriet Meeker. He looked quite as if he belonged in the drawing room. He did not look at all rustic, as she had rather expected him to look.
Frances smiled at Mr. Browning, who had approached them in order to talk with Arabella. She flirted her fan at him, and the young man looked somewhat taken aback, and blushed.
“Oh, la,” Frances said, “what a splendid drawing room. What story from mythology is depicted in the painting on the ceiling, do you suppose?” She smiled dazzlingly.
“The b-birth of Venus, I believe, ma’am,” Mr. Browning said.
“Did you succeed in buying the pair of matched grays that you were going to bid on at Tattersall’s this morning?” Arabella asked him. “You must tell me all about the auction, sir. I think it very provoking that ladies may not attend.”
Frances felt Theodore looking their way. She smiled even more brightly at a clearly uncomfortable Mr. Browning, and fanned herself vigorously.
Theodore, viewing her from across the room, smiled and turned his attention back to what the marchioness was saying.
Frances was rescued at that moment by Sir John Charlton, who made his bows to both ladies and began to engage her in conversation.
“It was a great pity you were not able to drive with me in the park this afternoon, Miss Wilson,” he said. “The company there was quite distinguished. Lady Morton was kind enough to remark that my new high-perch phaeton is quite the most fashionable conveyance in town.”
“I really hated to miss the chance to drive with you, sir,” Frances said. “I am longing to see your new phaeton.”
“You would grace it with your beauty,” Sir John said, removing a pearl-encrusted snuffbox from his waistcoat pocket and flicking the lid open with one elegant thumb. “You were at Kew this afternoon?”
“Yes,” she said. “The gardens are quite splendid. Have you seen the pagoda, sir?”
“Once, as a boy,” he said with a sigh. “A strange affectation of our royal family, is it not? But not in quite such bad taste as those other unspeakable edifices in the gardens. I suppose Sir Theodore Perrot was awed by their splendor? Visitors from the country generally are.”
“Oh,” Frances said. “Yes, Theodore liked the pagoda. Of course, it is somewhat out of place in an English setting. But an amusing curiosity, would you not say?”
He bowed and proceeded to inhale a pinch of snuff from the back of his hand. He withdrew a lace-edged handkerchief from his pocket.
“It is always amusing,” he said, his task completed, “to pick out those people who are freshly arrived from the country each Season. They do tend to be rather noticeable. Of course, in some cases”—he bowed in Frances’ direction—“one would assume a person had spent all her life in town under the influence of the most impeccable of fashion makers. You, for example, ma’am, must have a natural sense of style and elegance.”
“I have always hated an unfashionable gown,” Frances said with a blush.
“I am sure you have the very best of modistes,” Sir John said. “I, of course, will patronize no other tailor than Weston. I would wager I could look around this room and point out to you all the gentlemen who do not.”
“Oh, could you really?” Frances gazed in some admiration at the young man beside her.
A little later in the evening, Arabella was gratified to see that Frances was at the center of a group of young people. Guests at the soiree had tended to divide themselves into young and more mature. The young people were content to converse in the drawing room; the older people drifted toward the music room, where several talented performers were entertaining them. Frances was with some of her lady friends, though her group also included Sir John Charlton and two others of her regular admirers.
Frances had told Arabella when they had returned from Kew that she was not going to have Theodore hanging around her skirts all evening, even though Lady Berry had secured an invitation for him. And she seemed to have succeeded. Theodore was not part of the group. In fact, Arabella noted, looking around the room until she saw him, he was seated in one corner of the drawing room with Lady Harriet Meeker. They were talking to each other and smiling as if there were no one else in the room.
She did not know why she was surprised. Theodore was a good-looking and personable young man, after all. She had somehow expected to see him alone in a corner, brooding and dejected.
Really she had not been paying much attention to what went on around her. Since Mr. Browning had been borne off by a loud aunt, she had been deep in conversation with Mr. Lincoln and assuring him yet again that his limp alone was not likely to make Miss Pope completely scorn his suit. Of course, she had been careful to explain, perhaps Miss Pope would not encourage him either, but that would have nothing to do with his leg. It was foolish to be so conscious of a small handicap that one would not even try to become acquainted with someone one admired.
