Jane Feather - Valentine

He followed her downstairs, his step measured, consciously banishing all signs of his white-hot fury from his expression. Theo's voice came from the drawing room, shaking with emotion as she demanded to know why her mother had consented to such a hideous proposal.

Sylvester paused outside the open door, waiting for Lady Belmont's response.

When it came, it was calm and equable. "Theo, dear, no one is forcing you into anything. I consider Lord Stoneridge's suggestion to be both generous and perfectly reasonable. But if you dislike it, then there's nothing more to be said."

"My sentiments exactly, Lady Belmont." Sylvester stepped into the drawing room. "I'm desolated to have caused my cousin such distress… I was perhaps somewhat premature in making my declaration."

"Perhaps you were, Lord Stoneridge." Elinor's look and tone were disapproving. "However, let's agree to bury the issue. I trust you'll join us for dinner, sir."

Ah… so he hadn't lost the mother's support. She considered him inept, no doubt, but she didn't know that her daughter was a castle to be taken by storm or not at all. However, the door remained open.

Taking his cue, Sylvester bowed and accepted with appropriate thanks before saying, "I was hoping my cousin would ride around the estate with me, but I daresay I'm too much in her bad graces to ask for such a favor." He smiled at Theo.

The ground had been neatly cut from beneath her feet with that swift and delicate apology. She had no choice but to accede if she were not to appear childishly churlish. The trouble was, her mother didn't know what a shark lay behind that engaging smile.

"If you wish it, cousin," she said stiffly. "But we can't go far this afternoon, it's nearly four and we keep country hours. Unfashionable, I know, but we dine at six." She managed to convey both her contempt for anyone who would find the hour outmoded and her belief that Sylvester Gilbraith was such a fribble.

Sylvester had his temper on a tight rein. "Then perhaps we should postpone it until the morning," he said easily. "If I'm to join you for dinner, ma'am, I should return to the inn and change my dress."

"By all means. Until later, Lord Stoneridge." Elinor held out her hand in farewell.

Sylvester smiled, bowed to the room in general, offering no special attention to his hotheaded soon-to-be betrothed, and left, not completely displeased with the afternoon's events. At least he knew the price of his birthright now. It was certainly high, but he had a feeling it might have its compensations… once he'd established supremacy.

"Why must we make a friend of him!" Theo exploded. "Isn't it bad enough that we have to be neighbors without inviting him for dinner?"

"I will not be deficient in courtesy," Elinor said icily. "And neither will you. I suggest you mend your manners, Theo." She swept from the room, leaving her daughters in uncomfortable silence.

"You really have vexed her," Clarissa said after a minute. "I haven't heard her use that tone in ages."

Theo pressed her palms to her flushed cheeks. She was in a turmoil, her chaotic thoughts chasing each other in her head. "I don't understand how she could have considered his proposal, Clarry. It… it's… oh, I don't know what it is."

"You're not being practical," Emily said. "Such arrangements are made all the time. It's the solution to so much -"

"But he's detestable!" Theo broke in. "And he's a Gilbraith."

"Ancient history," Emily said calmly. "It's time to forget that."

"Emily, I'm getting the impression you want me to marry him!" Theo stared incredulously at her eldest sister.

"Not if you don't want to, love," Emily said. "And if you find him detestable, then there's nothing more to be said. But you're not a romantic goose, like Clarry, who's looking for a parfit gentil knight on a white charger -"

"Oh, that's so unfair, Emily," Clarissa declared. "I've no intention of marrying, ever."

"Wait till your knight rides up," Theo teased, forgetting her own troubles for a minute in this familiar discussion.

But Clarissa was frowning. "I wonder why the earl chose you, Theo. Surely it should have been me, as the elder."

"I expect Mama steered him away," Emily said. "She'd know he wouldn't suit you."

Emily was more in her mother's confidence than the others and knew how Elinor regarded Clarissa's romantic leanings and how she worried over her sometimes fragile health. The Earl of Stoneridge didn't strike Emily as the embodiment of a romantic hero, or particularly gentle either.

"Well, I can't imagine why she thought he might suit me ," Theo said, helping herself from the sherry decanter on the sideboard. "Ratafia, Emily… Clarry?" Her sisters found sherry too powerful a brew, but, then, their tastes hadn't been formed by the old earl, who'd educated his favorite granddaughter in all such matters with meticulous care.

She poured the sticky almond cordial for them and sipped her own sherry, frowning. "I suppose, since she knew he wouldn't suit Clarry, and for some reason she thought the idea in general to be worth pursuing, I was the only option. Unless he'd be prepared to wait for Rosie."

The thought of their grubby baby sister peering myopically at the immaculate earl as she instructed him in the anatomy of her dissected worms sent the three sisters into peals of laughter.

"Heavens!" Emily gasped, choking over her ratafia. "Look at the time. We have to change for dinner."

"We aren't supposed to dress formally, are we?" Clarissa went to the door. "Mama didn't say anything."

"No, and I for one shall wear the simplest gown I possess," Theo declared. "And I hope his lordship turns up in satin knee britches and looks like the overweening coxcomb that he is."

"I don't think he's a coxcomb," Emily said seriously, as they went up the stairs.

Theo said nothing. She wasn't yet ready to confide in her sisters what had happened in her bedroom. If that kiss hadn't been the act of a coxcomb, she couldn't imagine what would qualify. The fact that she'd enjoyed it was something she preferred to forget.

Sylvester, even if he'd been inclined to appear at the manor in full evening regalia, couldn't have done so, since he'd left all such clothes with Henry, his servant and former batman, in his lodgings on Jermyn Street.

He rode up to the manor at five-thirty, immaculately but unassumingly dressed in a morning coat of olive superfine and beige pantaloons. And he had his plan of campaign neatly mapped out. Lady Theo would discover that cold incivility had its consequences. He would concentrate his attentions on Lady Belmont and the two elder daughters. If they could be charmed into favoring his suit, it would be more difficult for Theo to defend her position.

Thus it was that Theo, bristling to do battle despite her mother's warning, was not given an opportunity.

The earl was a perfect guest, well informed, an amusing conversationalist, exerting a powerful charm. He was attentive and deferential to Lady Belmont, on whose right he sat, discussed music knowledgeably with Clarissa, and to Emily's shyly hesitant inquiry about London fashions offered an enlightening description of the new gypsy bonnet that was all the rage.

Theo sat neglected. Her hand froze on her fork when he mentioned the word "gypsy," but he cast not so much as a glance in her direction. For once in her life she could think of nothing to contribute to the conversation and felt herself to be a dull clod, toying with her green goose and peas like a child in the nursery while the adults amused themselves.

"We'll leave you to your port, Lord Stoneridge," Lady Belmont said as the covers were removed. She rose from the table, nodding toward her daughters.

"That seems unnecessary, ma'am. It's dull work sitting alone and communing with oneself." Sylvester rose with a small bow. "Perhaps I may join you in the drawing room."