The Lieutenant and the Lady

Chapter Four

No Fit Connection

Evie made her way back to her accustomed spot against the wall, utterly oblivious to the stares and whispers that followed her there. She was far too overwhelmed with the glory and joy of her first public waltz. Mentally she was still reliving it, still remembering the expert way Mr. Pullings had guided her across the floor, his gentle yet firm grip as he'd held her, the feel of his warm hand clasping hers while his other rested carefully on her waist. There had been nothing improper in their closeness, nothing at all; in fact he hadn't held her nearly as close as she would have liked. But it was still the most exciting, romantic thing she'd ever experienced.

"My goodness, Evie!" Beth exclaimed, jolting her out of her reverie. "Who on earth was that?!"

"Lieutenant Pullings," Evie responded, voice soft and dreamy. "One of the guests of honor this evening… He was the one who fought the French captain of the Acheron right up against the rails of the ship."

"My goodness," Beth repeated. "He certainly is handsome, isn't he?"

Assuming this question was purely rhetorical, Evie ignored it.

"How did you two come to dance?" Beth continued, looking at her friend with curiosity.

Evie smiled radiantly. "He asked me," she confided. "Well first he offended me grievously, then he asked me."

"Offended you?" Beth asked.

Nodding, Evie chuckled slightly. "Oh, yes. He practically began our conversation by telling me he was surprised I wasn't dancing. It seemed a very cruel observation to me."

"As well it might!" Beth was shocked by this admission. "I own I am surprised you did not give him the cut direct after that."

"Well," Evie shrugged, "he apologized immediately, and most prettily too. He told me he felt at sea on dry land; he's very clever. But then I didn't believe him when he asked me to dance, I thought he was being cruel again."

Beth gave Evie an exasperated look. "Surely you didn't say anything to that effect?"

"I'm afraid I did," Evie replied, laughing at the memory. "I told him there was no need to be gallant, very shortly. But he merely assured me that he was quite serious in his request, and of course I finally agreed."

Shaking her head, Beth scolded her friend. "In the future it might be best to simply accept any invitations to dance that come your way, especially ones that come from handsome, heroic young men, rather than questioning their sanity for wanting to dance with you. But enough about that! How was the dance? What manner of man is this lieutenant?"

Again, Evie's smile lit up her entire face. "The dance was incredible," she began. "He's quite a skilled, graceful dancer, as I'm sure you noticed. And very charming, very modest… I confess, Beth, he's exactly the manner of man I've always wished to meet."

"Evie…" Beth hesitated before continuing. "I am quite pleased for you, of course, but it is only a single dance you know. You must not expect anything of it. You would only open yourself up to acute disappointment."

Evie shook her head, smiling softly. "Come, Beth, I am not a fool. Surely he must only have danced with me to gain my father's favor." Speaking these words aloud was surprisingly painful, but Evie was not the type to run away from the truth. "I expect absolutely nothing from him. But I admit I am glad, quite glad, to have had this dance, this experience. It is quite dull, you know, always leaving a ball feeling deflated. At least tonight I'll have something to dream about."

"And he may very well ask you for another dance," Beth hastened to point out. "No matter his motivations for asking you the first time, he cannot have failed to realize what a lovely and charming young woman you are."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Evie responded dryly. "Many men seem to have avoided this same realization. But I should like it of all things, were he to ask me again." Lowering her voice, she added "Will you be shocked if I say that I quite enjoyed being held by him?" She blushed at the admission.

Beth smiled at her friend's embarrassment. "I certainly shall not be shocked," she denied.

"Good," Evie stated, returning the smile. "But Lord, how I wish I could have worn the peach gown tonight. I felt so distressingly ugly in his arms. Surely everyone in the ballroom was watching, wondering why he danced with me. Or understanding his motivations all too well."

"Oh, do be quiet, Evie," Beth urged. "I watched you two waltzing, and he clearly enjoyed your company. You talked and laughed the entire dance, which is far more than I can say for most of the other couples. Men are simple creatures, and blind to fashion; I doubt he noticed your truly horrid cap and gown at all."

"I find that impossible to believe," Evie denied, "but I appreciate your attempt to comfort me."

Just as Beth was opening her mouth to respond, Lord Casewell approached and bowed. "Lady Bethany, Lady Evelyn," he acknowledged. "Pray forgive the interruption." He dismissed Evie, turning his full attention to Beth. "I hope you have not forgotten that you have promised this next set to me," he reminded, smiling in a way Evie found extraordinarily distasteful.

The barely concealed dislike on Beth's face clearly stated that she felt the same. Still, she took Casewell's proffered hand. "Excuse me, Lady Evelyn," she murmured formally. "His Lordship and I must take our places for the set."

Evie curtseyed, dipping just shallow enough to make her disdain for Casewell apparent. "Of course, Lady Bethany. Lord Casewell. I am sure you will find the set of all things pleasant."

"Undoubtedly," Casewell responded shortly, bowing in a perfunctory manner before leading Beth onto the dance floor.

Sighing, Evie reflected that she really ought not to have curtseyed so rudely, but it was difficult to show even the forms of respect to a man one could hardly stand. It was quite strange that she should feel that way; he was handsome in an austere kind of way, with pale gold hair and pale blue eyes, and a face like a marble statue, beautiful and cold. He also came from quite a good family, and of course had a noble title. And yet Evie hated him, always had done, perhaps because of the disconcerting way he had of looking through everyone to see nothing of the person and only what use they might be to him. She hated that he looked at Beth that way, and hated that he was doing his utmost to force Beth into an engagement with him. Her parents looked upon the match with a friendly eye, but were not quite to the point of delivering an ultimatum to her. Beth wanted to marry for love, of course, but it was beginning to look as though she'd have to accept the next eligible offer purely to avoid the match with Casewell. The machinations were all so very vexing and left her feeling quite uneasy for her friend.

"I hope you were polite to Lord Casewell, Evelyn," Lady Fanshaw's voice startled her daughter.

"Of course I was, mother," she lied smoothly.

"I saw you dancing with that Lieutenant Pullings," her mother began, frowning slightly. "You were smiling far too much. Furthermore, you are not to encourage him in any way, Evelyn. He is no fit connection for you."

Evie looked at her mother in surprise. She'd assumed her mother would be simply overjoyed at her dancing with anyone, let alone the hero of the evening. "No fit connection?"

Lady Fanshaw compressed her mouth into a line taut with disapproval. "Certainly not," she confirmed. "I was speaking with Captain Aubrey during your dance. Most officers are gentlemen, as you know. Naturally they make no substantial living, but many of them have family fortunes or at least a good family name. But the captain told me that Mr. Pullings first went to sea as a common ship's boy, and was only rated midshipman thanks to a fortunate recommendation from himself. His father was nothing more than a tenant farmer, can you imagine?"

In fact, Evie could; throughout their dance, she had had the sneaking suspicion he'd been slightly uncomfortable. This she had chalked up to his being unused to society on land, but now she realized it was because he was unused to society at all. "Is that so?" she asked noncommittally when she realized her mother was waiting for an answer.

"It is!" she stated emphatically. "Lieutenant Mowett, on the other hand, is quite the eligible match. His father is Admiral Mowett, of course, and his mother is one of the Suffolk Graces. He stands to inherit a viscountcy from his mother's uncle. Shouldn't you like to be a viscountess?"

"Perhaps I'd prefer to be a duchess," she murmured sarcastically.

"This is no time for your levity, child," her mother reprimanded her. "Pray go to your father; he is currently conversing with Captain Aubrey and Mr. Mowett. Perhaps Mr. Mowett will ask you to dance in hopes of pleasing the admiral."

Ignoring her mother's insinuation that Mr. Mowett would have no other reason to ask her to stand up with him (mostly because she knew it was true), Evie glanced to where her father stood with the two other men. Mr. Pullings was not part of the group, she noted with disappointment. Lieutenant Mowett was handsome enough, she supposed, and it would be nice to dance again of course. She could hardly remember the last time she'd stood up twice in one ball. But instinctively she knew that dancing with Mr. Mowett would pale in comparison to dancing with Mr. Pullings. It was likely dancing with anyone else would pale in comparison, which was a depressing thought.

"Yes mother," Evie curtseyed to Lady Fanshaw and made her way across the ballroom, secretly hoping that Mr. Mowett would not succumb to the desire to impress her father by asking her for a dance. Foolish though it may be, she wanted her last dance of the evening to be the waltz she had shared with Mr. Pullings.