Four In Hand (Regencies 2)

“Do you know, I very much doubt that I’ll be bored at all?” her guardian murmured wickedly.

Caroline blushed vividly. Luckily, this was missed by all but Max in the relatively poor light of the hall and the bustle as they donned their cloaks. Both Lady Benborough and Miriam Alford were to go, cutting the odds between chaperons and charges. Before Max’s intervention, the coach would have had to do two trips to King Street. Now, Caroline found that Augusta and Mrs. Alford, together with Sarah and Arabella, were to go in the Twyford coach while she and Lizzie were to travel with Max. Suddenly suspicious of her guardian’s intentions, she was forced to accept the arrangement with suitable grace. As Max handed her into the carriage and saw her settled comfortably, she told herself she was a fool to read into his behaviour anything other than an attempt to trip her up. He was only amusing himself.

As if to confirm her supposition, the journey was unremarkable and soon they were entering the hallowed precincts of the Assembly Rooms. The sparsely furnished halls were already well filled with the usual mix of debutantes and unmarried young ladies, carefully chaperoned by their mamas in the hope of finding a suitable connection among the unattached gentlemen strolling through the throng. It was a social club to which it was necessary to belong. And it was clear from their reception that, at least as far as the gentlemen were concerned, the Twinning sisters definitely belonged. To Max’s horror, they were almost mobbed.

He stood back and watched the sisters artfully manage their admirers. Arabella had the largest court with all the most rackety and dangerous blades. A more discerning crowd of eminently eligible gentlemen had formed around Sarah while the youthful Lizzie had gathered all the more earnest of the younger men to her. But the group around Caroline drew his deepest consideration. There were more than a few highly dangerous roués in the throng gathered about her but all were experienced and none was likely to attempt anything scandalous without encouragement As he watched, it became clear that all four girls had an innate ability to choose the more acceptable among their potential partners. They also had the happy knack of dismissing the less favoured with real charm, a not inconsiderable feat. The more he watched, the more intrigued Max became. He was about to seek clarification from his aunt, standing beside him, when that lady very kindly answered his unspoken query.

“You needn’t worry, y’know. Those girls have got heads firmly on their shoulders. Ever since they started going about, I’ve been bombarded with questions on who’s eligible and who’s not. Even Arabella, minx that she is, takes good care to know who she’s flirting with.”

Max looked his puzzlement.

“Well,” explained her ladyship, surprised by his obtuseness, “they’re all set on finding husbands, of course!” She glanced up at him, eyes suddenly sharp, and added, “I should think you’d be thrilled—it means they’ll be off your hands all the sooner.”

“Yes. Of course,” Max answered absently.

He stayed by his wards until they were claimed for the first dance. His sharp eyes had seen a number of less than desirable gentlemen approach the sisters, only to veer away as they saw him. If nothing else, his presence had achieved that much.

Searching through the crowd, he finally spotted Darcy Hamilton disappearing into one of the salons where refreshments were laid out.

“Going to give them the go-by for at least a week, huh?” he growled as he came up behind Lord Darcy.

Darcy choked on the lemonade he had just drunk.

Max gazed in horror at the glass in his Mend’s hand. “No! Bless me, Darcy! You turned temperate?”

Darcy grimaced. “Have to drink something and seemed like the best of a bad lot.” His wave indicated the unexciting range of beverages available. “Thirsty work, getting a dance with one of your wards.”

“Incidentally—” intoned Max in the manner of one about to pass judgement.

But Darcy held up his hand. “No. Don’t start. I don’t need any lectures from you on the subject. And you don’t need to bother, anyway. Sarah Twinning has her mind firmly set on marriage and there’s not a damned thing I can do about it.”

Despite himself, Max could not resist a grin. “No luck?”

“None!” replied Darcy, goaded. “I’m almost at the stage of considering offering for her but I can’t be sure she wouldn’t reject me, and that I couldn’t take.”

Max, picking up a glass of lemonade himself, became thoughtful.

Suddenly, Darcy roused himself. “Do you know what she told me yesterday? Said I spent too much time on horses and not enough on matters of importance. Can you believe it?”

He gestured wildly and Max nearly hooted with laughter. Lord Darcy’s stables were known the length and breadth of England as among the biggest and best producers of quality horseflesh.

“I very much doubt that she appreciates your interest in the field,” Max said placatingly.

“Humph,” was all his friend vouchsafed.

After a pause, Darcy laid aside his glass. “Going to find Maria Sefton and talk her into giving Sarah permission to waltz with me. One thing she won’t be able to refuse.” With a nod to Max, he returned to the main hall.

For some minutes, Max remained as he was, his abstracted gaze fixed on the far wall. Then, abruptly, he replaced his glass and followed his friend.

———

“You want me to give your ward permission to waltz with you?” Lady Jersey repeated Max’s request, clearly unable to decide whether it was as innocuous as he represented or whether it had an ulterior motive concealed within and if so, what.

“It’s really not such an odd request,” returned Max, unperturbed. “She’s somewhat older than the rest and, as I’m here, it seems appropriate.”

“Hmm.” Sally Jersey simply did not believe there was not more to it. She had been hard-pressed to swallow her astonishment when she had seen His Grace of Twyford enter the room. And she was even more amazed that he had not left as soon as he had seen his wards settled. But he was, after all, Twyford. And Delmere and Rotherbridge, what was more. So, if he wanted to dance with his ward… She shrugged. “Very well. Bring her to me. If you can separate her from her court, that is.”

Max smiled in a way that reminded Lady Jersey of the causes of his reputation. “I think I’ll manage,” he drawled, bowing over her hand.