The Merry Marquis

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

JUST AS ON the day before, he was dressed in rather well-worn clothing. His broad shoulders were encased in a coat so tight fitting that Teresa wondered if it wasn’t a hand-me-down from the marquis. His breeches too, seemed almost too tight for his strong, athletic legs, and his boots were the same scuffed old boots he had been wearing the day before. Instead of a proper neckcloth, he had a belcher tie knotted carelessly around his neck. His long dark blond hair was caught back with a black riband, despite the current fashion that dictated short hair for gentlemen.

But it was his deep green eyes that really caught Teresa’s attention. They looked somehow as if they had seen too much sadness. She wondered if he had ever been a soldier, for he had precisely the same eyes as the weary soldiers who had come to forget their woes in her mother’s drawing rooms.

“I do not believe I have ever seen anyone’s fingers move so fast,” Richard said, coming farther into the room.

Teresa found herself smiling easily at him. “I believe I play the piece much too fast, but sometimes I need such an outlet.”

“An outlet for what?“ Richard sat down in the chair he had occupied the day before when he had been turning pages for her.

Teresa wondered why she was still out of breath. Was it from the last piece she played? Or was it something else? With her newfound awareness of Richard, Teresa felt him to be a little too close for comfort, but saw no polite way of saying so. Anyway, perhaps he would need to be close to turn the pages for her again.

Teresa drew a deep breath to calm herself, but just succeeded in inhaling the very male smell of him. He smelled clean, yet slightly of soot, as if he had been standing too close to a smoking fire.

“An outlet for emotions, tensions, stress,” Teresa said seriously, but then laughed. “You must think me silly, but I am afraid I find being social quite stressful. I have just returned from paying morning calls with my aunt.”

Richard regarded her rather gravely for a moment. “I had never thought that morning calls could be stressful, but I suppose that they could be if one is unaccustomed to them. You are not used to paying morning calls.“ It was said more as a statement than a question.

“No. Where I am from, we did not do such things very often.”

“Where you are from? You are not English, are you?“ Richard looked at her with a rather piercing stare, as if he were trying to figure out just where she was from before she even said it. Yet Teresa was not made uncomfortable by it—rather, it amused her. So far, no one in London had asked her where she was from. She supposed they all knew, or else were too polite to ask.

She smiled at him, happy with his directness. “I am half English. That is, my father is English, but my mother is Spanish and I was raised in Spain.”

“Ah, that explains the accent. I knew it did not sound French, but I could not place my finger on what it was.”

Teresa looked at him, startled for a moment. “I did not realize I had an accent.”

Richard smiled. “Yes, you do. A very slight one though, I assure you. Just enough to be intriguing.”

When he smiled at her, sitting as close as he was, Teresa felt a warmth rush over her. He had a beautiful smile, showing off his straight white teeth. And, Teresa noted, the smile created a little dimple on his left cheek.

“No one has ever called me intriguing before,” Teresa said, laughing. “Probably many other things, but never intriguing.”

“No? Oh, well, I suppose not. It would be too much for gentlemen of fashion to find anything or anyone intriguing, would it not? Else someone might accuse them of being actually interested in something.”

Teresa giggled. “Indeed, sir. They must find everything insipid so as to appear more romantic, I suppose. It is so tempting to laugh at them and the silly girls who fawn over them at society parties.”

Richard’s lips twitched with a smile he was clearly trying to hold back. “You have a sharp eye, Miss Seton. However, I believe it is a wise person who has a sharp eye, but keeps her equally sharp tongue in its sheath.”

“Unfortunately, I have not learned that trick, and it is indeed my sharp tongue that gets me into so much trouble,” she said, basking in the unexpected knowledge that he understood her as no one ever had before.

Richard’s smile had faded quickly, and he once again his face took on its usual serious mien. “It is your quick wit and intelligence, perhaps, that is lost on the idiots of the ton. They see only what they want to see, and disparage anyone who behaves any differently than they.”

Teresa wished he would smile again, but did not quite know how or if she should even try to bring it out again. Confused by the strange feelings that were running through her, Teresa busied herself with the music in front of her.

She picked the Sonata in C by Haydn from the pile of music she had brought with her and began to play.

Richard turned the pages for her. Although his mouth was not smiling, his brow was clear as he obviously enjoyed the quick tempo.

She continued playing until the clock once again struck five. This time she did not run for the door, but instead got up slowly, rather reluctant to end their time together.

As she reached the door she turned around. “Will you be here tomorrow, at this same time?”

Richard was standing next to the pianoforte. “Yes. I will make sure that I am,” he nodded.

And so he was.

A FEW DAYS later when Miss Seton rushed into the music room, she didn't pause. She didn't look for him. She went straight to the piano and began pounding out a march by Mozart. It was not until she was finished that Richard gently put a soothing hand on her shoulder.

She jumped under his touch. “I did not see you come in, Richard,” she said, slightly out of breath.

“Actually, I have been here the whole time. You just did not see me when you ran in,” he said, trying unsuccessfully not to smile.

“Oh. I am sorry. How very rude of me,” Miss Seton kept her eyes on the piano keys in front of her. “I seem to be doing quite a few rude things today,” she said with a little hitch in her voice.

Richard noticed that she seemed be blinking a little too often as well. Oddly, his heart clenched at the idea that she would be so upset.

“Would you like to tell me about it?” he asked gently. Julia had always felt better for pouring out her woes to him. He well knew how cruel society could be.

“It was entirely my fault, I am afraid. I let loose my tongue before thinking through what I was saying. I would not wonder if I am uninvited to a number of parties after this.”

“Now, now, I am sure that it cannot have been that bad.”

“Oh, but it was!“ Miss Seton stood up, brushing past him. She began to pace the room with as much energy as she had put into her music. “We paid a morning call today at Lady Arundell’s and some gentleman was there I did not know. He was complaining about all the soldiers who have returned from the war, saying that they simply expect to be given jobs when they have no training in doing anything but killing and waging war. He made me so very angry, I simply could not contain myself.“

Miss Seton’s hands had formed into fists as she spoke. Her beautiful expressive eyes flashed with anger and something else as well. Richard could not decide if it was sadness over the mistreatment of the soldiers or embarrassment over her own reaction.

He stood, stepped into her path and took her fists into his own hands, gently prying them open. “So you told him he was wrong?”

She looked up at him, turning slightly pink at their intimate contact, before pulling away and resuming her pacing. “Oh no, it might have been excusable had I done only that. I am afraid I called him a … an unfeeling popinjay who knew nothing about which he spoke. I said that perhaps he should find out for himself just what these soldiers had gone through for him while he stayed here in the safety of London engaging in frivolous pursuits.”

She turned her worried eyes on him, clearly terribly upset. His laughter died in his throat as a jolt of protectiveness surged through him. He knew this was ridiculous. He shouldn’t not be feeling anything of the sort toward this girl, but… there was something that made him want to take her into his arms and soothe away all of her hurt—and then go out and beat into a b****y pulp that i***t who had been so insensitive.

“Oh, Richard,” she said pathetically, “I said so many rude and terrible things to this gentleman. The entire room hushed at my words.”

A giggle escaped from her, catching him off guard, as she remembered something else. “You should have seen the man’s face. It would have been quite amusing had it not been so awful. First he turned white as a ghost and then beet red, and his mouth kept opening and closing like a fish. He had no idea how to respond to me.”

Richard shared her amusement, but knowing that he couldn’t defend her himself, he tried to think of some way she could extricate herself from her social solecism. “I am afraid the only way out of this would be to apologize to the fellow,” he said finally, after thinking about it for a minute.

“Oh no, I could not! Why, then he and everybody else would think that I agreed with him, which I most definitely do not,” Miss Seton said with certainty.

“Well, then, the only other alternative, is to seek support for your views from like-minded ladies of the ton.”

This made Miss Seton stop and think. “Yes? But who?”

Who? That was a good question. Richard scoured his memory to find someone who was not only politically active, but socially accepted. He’d never been particularly active himself, so it took him a minute to come up with the most perfect solution.

“Have you ever spoken with Lady Cowper?” he asked, thrilled that he’d remembered the political soirees the lady was so well known for hosting.

“No. Does she believe the same as I do concerning the plight of these soldiers?” she asked wide-eyed.

“Yes, I believe that she does. I am not certain, of course,” he added hastily remembering his supposed position, “but it would seem to be a cause that she and her set of politically-minded ladies would be interested in.” Richard paused wondering why Teresa had to deal with this on her own. Why didn’t her aunt help her out? Say something? Even take her to one of Lady Cowper’s soirees herself if she knew that her niece was politically minded.

Just the thought that this poor girl was left out to dry, so to speak, made him furious. He took a moment to calm himself down. This wasn’t his problem. “What did your aunt do while you were shooting this fellow down?”

But then he thought of the lady in question. Yes, she should have either stopped her niece or supported her, unfortunately, he wasn't sure Lady Swinborne had a strong enough character to do either one.

“Nothing, I am afraid, but I could tell that she was extremely embarrassed. In fact, she has not said a word to me at all other than what was strictly necessary since then.”

Just as he feared. “That is not encouraging, is it?”

“No. I am afraid it is not.” Miss Seton seated herself, once again, at the pianoforte and seemed determined to put the whole episode from her mind.

Richard silently applauded her as he sat back down.

As he listened to her music, he could not help but admire Miss Seton for her bravery in speaking up in support of the soldiers. He briefly wondered how she knew so much about this issue and why she felt as strongly as she did. Perhaps she had had a brother killed in the war, as he had?