would be so discomfited in a home she’d been welcome in all of her life.
Anger simmered along with her compassion. Mrs. Birtwistle may not be her social equal, but how dare Lady Darley express disdain for any guest Lord and Lady Buckleigh chose to invite to their home.
Lifting her chin, Marina turned back to Lady Darley and spoke as gently as she could. “Mrs. Birtwistle was Miss Fielding before her marriage. The Fieldings are a very old family here and much respected and admired. Mr. Alistair Fielding, Mrs. Birtwistle and Major Fielding’s father, was our vicar for more than thirty years. He died shortly after Mrs. Birtwistle’s husband, Captain Crispin Birtwistle, died with honor at Salamanca.”
Lady Darley exchanged a look with Mrs. Langford that showed, for an instant, surprise. “Indeed? I am sure I do not know how I came to be so grossly misinformed, I—”
“And yes,” Marina interrupted someone other than Deirdre for the first time in her life, “she is the artist who designed and created this gown. Most of my wardrobe, in fact.”
The look of surprise that crossed their faces might have amused Marina, if she hadn’t been so upset.
Sweeping a curtsy, not too deeply, she excused herself and moved through the crowd to Mrs. Birtwistle. She drew near and smiled brightly. “Doesn’t the orchestra sound in fine form this evening, Mrs. Birtwistle?” She didn’t intend to embarrass the good woman by acknowledging that she’d been the discussion of gossip.
“Oh, Miss Buckleigh, I should not have come. I know I shouldn’t have,” she whispered with a pained smile and the suspicion of tears.
So much for brazening through. “Of course you should have! I don’t care if Lady Darley was the wife of a viscount. Mrs. Birtwistle, they are the newcomers, not you! We have known you all our lives and understand your circumstances. Why, this evening would not have been the same without you.”
Mrs. Birtwistle bit her lip, and she looked even more distressed. “No. You are very kind, Miss Buckleigh, but things are no longer as they were before. I don’t really belong anymore, and should not have presumed upon my old acquaintance with Lord and Lady Buckleigh.”
“Oh, Mrs. Birtwistle, please do not say such a thing. We are all your friends here.” Marina cast about for something to say that would ease the lady’s distress. Still grasping for words, she saw from the corner of her eye Lord Cortland approaching.
The man had the most uncannily poor timing. He took his time crossing the room, and although she didn’t look his way, she was keenly aware of him. What had Deirdre said about him? He looked like a leopard. That was it. He did look like a leopard amongst all the tame birds in the room.
Well, she most certainly was not a tame bird for him to play with.
She gazed at the ceiling for a moment in sheer frustration. If she declined to dance with him without the excuse of already having a partner, then it would be unspeakably rude to dance with anyone else the rest of the evening.
She had made it perfectly clear that she did not care for him, the vexing man!
He was upon them, and she smiled as brightly as she could. “Lord Cortland! May I introduce Mrs. Birtwistle—”
“I have already had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Birtwistle, thank you, Miss Buckleigh,” he cut in with a lazy smile. “We arrived at the same time this evening.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Birtwistle rallied with a good imitation of a smile.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Lord Cortland?” Marina asked when Mrs. Birtwistle couldn’t manage more.
“Very much. I believe they will be playing a quadrille next and, as you see, the lines are already forming.”
Marina checked her posture. So be it. She smiled a bit grimly as she prepared to decline him as politely as she could. It would be preferable to sit out the dancing for the rest of the evening than leave Mrs. Birtwistle while she was so discomposed.
“Mrs. Birtwistle, would you
Anger simmered along with her compassion. Mrs. Birtwistle may not be her social equal, but how dare Lady Darley express disdain for any guest Lord and Lady Buckleigh chose to invite to their home.
Lifting her chin, Marina turned back to Lady Darley and spoke as gently as she could. “Mrs. Birtwistle was Miss Fielding before her marriage. The Fieldings are a very old family here and much respected and admired. Mr. Alistair Fielding, Mrs. Birtwistle and Major Fielding’s father, was our vicar for more than thirty years. He died shortly after Mrs. Birtwistle’s husband, Captain Crispin Birtwistle, died with honor at Salamanca.”
Lady Darley exchanged a look with Mrs. Langford that showed, for an instant, surprise. “Indeed? I am sure I do not know how I came to be so grossly misinformed, I—”
“And yes,” Marina interrupted someone other than Deirdre for the first time in her life, “she is the artist who designed and created this gown. Most of my wardrobe, in fact.”
The look of surprise that crossed their faces might have amused Marina, if she hadn’t been so upset.
Sweeping a curtsy, not too deeply, she excused herself and moved through the crowd to Mrs. Birtwistle. She drew near and smiled brightly. “Doesn’t the orchestra sound in fine form this evening, Mrs. Birtwistle?” She didn’t intend to embarrass the good woman by acknowledging that she’d been the discussion of gossip.
“Oh, Miss Buckleigh, I should not have come. I know I shouldn’t have,” she whispered with a pained smile and the suspicion of tears.
So much for brazening through. “Of course you should have! I don’t care if Lady Darley was the wife of a viscount. Mrs. Birtwistle, they are the newcomers, not you! We have known you all our lives and understand your circumstances. Why, this evening would not have been the same without you.”
Mrs. Birtwistle bit her lip, and she looked even more distressed. “No. You are very kind, Miss Buckleigh, but things are no longer as they were before. I don’t really belong anymore, and should not have presumed upon my old acquaintance with Lord and Lady Buckleigh.”
“Oh, Mrs. Birtwistle, please do not say such a thing. We are all your friends here.” Marina cast about for something to say that would ease the lady’s distress. Still grasping for words, she saw from the corner of her eye Lord Cortland approaching.
The man had the most uncannily poor timing. He took his time crossing the room, and although she didn’t look his way, she was keenly aware of him. What had Deirdre said about him? He looked like a leopard. That was it. He did look like a leopard amongst all the tame birds in the room.
Well, she most certainly was not a tame bird for him to play with.
She gazed at the ceiling for a moment in sheer frustration. If she declined to dance with him without the excuse of already having a partner, then it would be unspeakably rude to dance with anyone else the rest of the evening.
She had made it perfectly clear that she did not care for him, the vexing man!
He was upon them, and she smiled as brightly as she could. “Lord Cortland! May I introduce Mrs. Birtwistle—”
“I have already had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Birtwistle, thank you, Miss Buckleigh,” he cut in with a lazy smile. “We arrived at the same time this evening.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Birtwistle rallied with a good imitation of a smile.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Lord Cortland?” Marina asked when Mrs. Birtwistle couldn’t manage more.
“Very much. I believe they will be playing a quadrille next and, as you see, the lines are already forming.”
Marina checked her posture. So be it. She smiled a bit grimly as she prepared to decline him as politely as she could. It would be preferable to sit out the dancing for the rest of the evening than leave Mrs. Birtwistle while she was so discomposed.
“Mrs. Birtwistle, would you
Similar Books
