Never Kiss a Toad

Chapter Fifteen

Denied that outlet, and needing to pick topics suitable for a lady, most of them ran out of conversation or competed to tell stories designed to show them to advantage.

Elf was an exception. He talked with Sally, not at her. He had been to Paris and could tell her about the art galleries and the famous opera house and Saint-Germain-des-Prés, where Toad was living amongst the Bohemians. Elf had even been to the Wellbridge's pied-a-terre, but he had been nearly as young as she was, last time she had visited. She could imagine Toad in the box at the Opera he had hired for the season, carefully measuring the assets of the dancers. Sally very much doubted he bothered to notice their personalities or interests.

Elf was nice. So very kind and solicitous. Why did she not thrill to his dark, brigand looks, rather than the fair hair and blue eyes of the infuriating rakehell who disturbed her dreams?

I must admit, titles are not the only criteria for the Beauties Club. Another of the ladies is Henrietta St. James, my cousin Antonia's daughter, and she is not titled (though anyone might guess she will have a respectable portion). I do not think you have met Henry, who has lived quietly in the country until this year. She was presented to the Queen by Grandmama, and we have become fast friends.

Last year's gossip sheets had been full of the rivalries between the Season's reigning beauties, and Sally was determined not to repeat that example. So, she had sought out each of the ladies featured in the card set and proposed they should, in public, at any rate, appear the dearest of friends.

And two of them, at least—Henry and Lady Emma Fenchurch—would be true friends in time. Both had brains and imagination, as well as beauty. Henry matched Sally in her trenchant complaints about the mob of suitors, and Emma's soft heart tempered their sarcasm and reminded them of their manners.

"Sally?" Her brother Jonny, the Marquis of Aldridge, put his head around the door as if unsure of his welcome, but followed it with the rest of his body when she smiled. She felt a pang of conscience. He had left for his first year at Rugby School in January; she had been so sunk in misery, and then so busy, she had barely noticed. He was home this weekend by special leave, to attend the duke's birthday celebrations.

"Come in, Jonny. What do you need?" He was six years her junior, too much a child to be a companion, when she had Toad closer to her in age and always ready for any adventure she proposed.

"What would Papa like for his birthday? I need something by tomorrow."

Sally's present was already wrapped; a miniature of herself, painted by the same artist as the debutante portrait Papa had commissioned. "Perhaps a fob for his watch?"

Jonny screwed up his nose, his level brows creasing together over the hazel eyes he'd inherited from their father. "He has lots of those. I went shopping in Rugby on my half day, and I saw nothing. Will you take me shopping, Sally? This afternoon?"

"Oh, Jonny, Mama expects me to be home to callers, and then I have agreed to go driving with Cousin Elf."

Jonny's face showed his disappointment, but he made no protest. "He just drove up in a phaeton with the most beautiful matched pair. The Winderfields have the loveliest horses, Sally. Are you going to marry Cousin Elf?"

"No, I am not. Whatever gave you that idea?"

They were interrupted by a maid, sent to let Sally know she had callers: "Miss St James, my lady, and Lady Emma, and also my lords Elfingham, Longford, and Dain, and Mr Westbrooke."

"I will be down in just a moment, Willard. I need to finish my letter. Jonny, I will ask Elf if you can come with us on our drive, and if we can go shopping. I daresay he will have some excellent ideas for Papa's gift."

And her brother would be a useful foil to Elf's growing interest in a marriage she wanted no part of. Actually, now that she thought of it, Elf might do for Henry. Yes. That was an excellent idea. Elf would make a very nice husband. Just not for Sally.

Jonny and Willard left, and Sally turned back to her letter.

Only one man would do for Sally, and he was off enjoying himself with every tart in Paris.

But he had signed himself 'David.' Surely, he intended to remind her of their lovemaking. The swine! As if she could forget it. As if she could ever let another man touch her the way he was undoubtedly touching his opera dancers and whores. 'My dearest Monkey,' indeed. Did he think she was still a child?

Some of my suitors are pleasing enough, but I will follow your advice about taking my time to choose a husband, Toad. I shall want to know them better before I make such a momentous decision. Will we rub along well together? Can we grow to love one another? Will he be faithful only to me? For I mean to have a marriage like my parents, and like Grandmama and Grandpapa Winshire. I mean for us to be friends, partners, and lovers, as well as husband and wife.

But I am only seventeen and intend to have some fun before I settle for a single lord and master.

Was that what Toad was doing? Having fun before settling down? What if some other respectable female sought his 'help,' as she had done? It would not do to assume he had learned his lesson that night in the heir's wing, especially not after all the tales winging the way across the Channel. It would break her heart all over again if her sacrifice to save him from a forced marriage only led him to another.

Be careful yourself, my dear friend. Do not allow your enthusiasm for your pursuits to lead you into a situation where marriage is your only honourable course.

When you do come to choose a bride, as heirs of dukes eventually must, I counsel you to find out more about them than their looks and their dowries. You would not want a wife you found boring, Toad. Look for someone who reads the books you love, laughs at the things you find funny, and enjoys the same kinds of activities that give you pleasure.

Would he not be happiest with Sally, the girl he grew up with, who knew him better than anyone in the world, who had loved him her whole life? Sally sighed, and turned her head aside in time to stop a tear from staining the page.

On that note, I must end this missive. My fondest regards to you always, David. Always.

Sally

There. He need not think she was pining away in England waiting for him to claim her. If he could enjoy himself, so could she. And downstairs, she was keeping a room full of friends and suitors waiting.

But when she entered the drawing room, only the ladies were there, clustered around the window looking out over the courtyard. Henry made room for her, so she could see all the gentlemen below, admiring Elf's horses, her excited brother in the midst of them.

Elf saw her at the window, and led the others inside. "Jonny tells me my services are required for shopping, Sally," he said, once they'd settled around the tea trolley.

"Lady Sarah, I would be happy to take you driving while Lord Elfingham helps Lord Aldridge," Mr Westbrooke offered, and the others talked over one another to make the same offer.

But Sally silenced them by thanking Elfingham for forgoing his drive to escort her and Jonny shopping, and then turned the conversation.

Thankfully, none of them outstayed their half hour, and soon, Sally, Jonny and Elf were crowded together in Elf's phaeton, with Jonny in the middle, begging to be allowed to hold the ribbons.

Elf ruffled the boy's hair, watching Sally over the top, as if for her approval. "Not in London's streets, Jonny, but perhaps you can stay at the farm on your next holiday, and I'll teach you to drive."

If she could care for anyone but Toad, it would be a man who was kind to her brother, in preference to one who flattered and flirted.

"Behind your pair?" Jonny begged, and Elf laughed and said that might be a prize, if he did well behind calmer beasts.

Sally listened to the two of them chattering, and tried not to drift away in a daydream where she ran off to Paris and took a job dancing at the Opera, just to catch the eye of a certain handsome rogue.