Julia Justiss - Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman

She chuckled. ‘That was certainly Mama and Grandmama’s plan. I was raised on tales about the dazzling Duchess of Devonshire, the premier light of society during Grandmama’s years in London. Both she and Mama set their hearts on my making a brilliant match to a gentleman of high rank and political influence.’

With a smile, she continued, ‘They made life in London sound so exciting! By the time I was sixteen, I was convinced I wanted to be just like Lady Georgiana—though not, of course, quite as much of a gamester. Or at least, not a losing one,’ she amended with a laugh.

That small joyous sound dispelled the lingering sadness on her face and left him wondering whether her smile or her vulnerability was more appealing.

‘You mustn’t think I value myself too highly!’ she added, her levity vanishing beneath a sudden seriousness. ‘I realise I’m not a duke’s daughter, nor one raised in political circles. I am, however, endowed with a very handsome dowry, which Grandmama said, for a gentleman with political or diplomatic ambitions, might well compensate for my lack of title and political connections. And the Bronning barony is a very old one. Both believed that, with my birth and dowry, achieving a grand match was quite possible. I hope you don’t think me vain to express such aims,’ she concluded, turning to him with an expression of concern.

‘Not at all. From my experience in society, your family’s expectations are quite reasonable.’

And they were. A young lady of Miss Neville’s remarkable beauty, who also possessed birth and fortune, might look as high as she liked for a husband. That fact alone ought to extinguish his smouldering desire for her company.

Though he conceded that the political set to which she aspired performed important work, the London society of which she spoke so glowingly was a world he now considered shallow and barren of purpose. While it might be harmless enough to establish a teasing friendship with her, he’d best keep uppermost in his randy mind a clear understanding of just how divergent her future and his would be.

He wondered if she truly was prepared for the London she was so eager to reach. Despite her beauty and wealth—indeed, because of it—she was unlikely to find it the vibrant milieu teeming with charming, intelligent and superior individuals she seemed to expect. Instead, she was about to plunge into an often shallow, vicious world of exacting standards meant to trip up the unwary, peopled by idle, self-important social arbiters ready to seize upon any mistake to criticise and disparage a newcomer.

Heavens, he thought in some surprise, when had his view of society become so negative? Perhaps it was a distillation of his previous resentment over his lack of status, combined with the clarity of vision brought about by his life among those at the bottom of the social scale, who, despite their lowly status, spent their lives performing a mission of much greater urgency than the endless rounds of parties, gaming, and self-indulgence that made up the world of society. And used to make up his own.

He hoped whichever Grand Dame had agreed to act as Miss Neville’s sponsor would be equal to the task of shielding her from the attacks of those who were jealous of her superior beauty, charm and fortune.

Deflecting the animosity she was likely to excite in London was not his problem, he reminded himself. Even if this curious protective instinct towards her persisted, unless cousin Nicky performed his magic quickly indeed, he would still be in Devon, serving at the pleasure of the Coastal Brigade, while she went to London for her Season.

He was smiling at the image of Greville Anders, younger son with no prospects, protecting one as perfectly poised as Miss Neville for rising to the highest ranks of society when she asked, ‘Are you familiar with London, Mr Anders?’

‘Yes. I often visited the city while at Cambridge, and spent several Seasons there after leaving university.’

‘Can you tell me about it, please? I’ve heard all of Grandmama’s stories, of course, but she hadn’t resided in the city for a decade. What is it like now? What sites and entertainments would you recommend I visit?’

When she looked at him like that, all innocence and persuasive appeal, he’d tell her whatever she wanted, Greville thought. Although, with her insidious presence beside him, it was very difficult to concentrate on any amusements other than the ones her potent physical appeal brought most strongly to mind.

Like kissing. With her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining with enthusiasm, her lips slightly parted and the hint of a pink tongue tempting him, all he wanted to do was bend his head down and sample her. Taste those plump lips and chase her tongue back into the sweet warm cave of her mouth, tangle his with hers and lave and mingle and caress …

London, he told himself, jerking that delectable line of imagining to a halt. The only delights she wanted to sample at the moment were the city’s attractions.

Though he certainly did not mean to confess it, his sojourns in the city had usually been spent in diversions not normally mentioned in the company of ladies. Rapidly he scanned his memory for a list of activities suitable for a gently born female.

‘There’s the theatre—Covent Garden, which features the fabulous Mr Kean in Shakespearean roles, and the Theatre Royal at Haymarket, where the social activity in the boxes and among the crowds on the floor is often as entertaining as the action upon the stage.’

‘Yes, Grandmama particularly enjoyed the theatre! My sponsor keeps a box at Covent Garden, and I am most anxious to visit. What else?’

‘There’s Astley’s Amphitheatre for equestrian displays. The Tower, where for a small tip the Guard will give you a tour and show you the places where the ghosts of Henry VIII’s poor headless Queens, Catherine and Anne, are said to roam. Hatchard’s bookstore, if you are of a literary mind. Gunter’s for ices, and, of course, shops selling everything you could imagine.’

‘Yes, Mama intended that we go to town early to begin acquiring a wardrobe, as she insisted nothing country-made would do. Oh, the evenings we spent, poring over fashion plates while Mama and Grandmama described the wonders of Bond Street and Piccadilly! Modistes, cloth-drapers, bonnet-makers, cobblers offering slippers soft as a glove, gloves in every colour of the rainbow.’ Shaking her head, she said, ‘Now you will be thinking me the most frivolous individual!’

‘Fashion, frivolous?’ he replied with a grin. ‘Indeed not, Miss Neville. ‘Tis practically the stuff of life in London. There’s great artistry in the making of apparel that shows both the beauty of the material and the wearer to best advantage. It’s said Beau Brummell went through an entire stack of neckcloths before getting his cravat tied to perfection and had a standing order for champagne, just to add to his valet’s secret formula for blacking his boots.’

‘I am so looking forward to it all. And to renewing my relationship with Lady Parnell, Mama’s best friend, with whom we were to stay that first year and who will be my sponsor now.’

Surprise tinged with dismay banished Greville’s amusement. Lady Parnell, one of the doyennes of society, was said to have more influence than all the patronesses of Almack’s combined.

No need to fear that Miss Neville would fall victim to the petty cruelty of jealous schemers. No one who had any aspirations to society would be foolish enough to openly criticise the ward of so socially powerful a personage.

‘If Lady Parnell is to introduce you, your success is assured.’

‘Are you acquainted with her? She’s my godmother, as well as Mama’s best friend.’

‘I’ve not had that honour.’ Greville did not feel it necessary to add that this was hardly surprising, since the females whose company he’d normally sought while in the metropolis had been about as opposite as one could get from the virginal blossoms of society and the Grand Dames who sheltered them. ‘I did know her nephew at Cambridge.’