Cupid's Choice: She's a shy beauty in distress. He's a chivalric gentleman. by Gayle Buck Page B

with emeralds and diamonds.
    Lady Smythe complacently twitched her fine Norwich silk shawl so that it draped more fluidly over her elbows. “Fine feathers for an old woman, you mean!”
    “I would never say anything so deplorably gauche,” said Sir Frederick promptly.
    Lady Smythe chuckled, her shrewd blue eyes twinkling. “Never mind! We’ll not split hairs! Have you come to tell me that you have another engagement to make an appearance at?”
    “Alas, it is true. Otherwise I would not be able to tear myself away,” said Sir Frederick in a mournful voice, taking the hand which she had again held out to him and raising it to his lips.
    “Ah, if I were but twenty years younger! I’d snatch you up, dear boy,” said Lady Smythe, totally disregarding that her arithmetic was off by at least two decades. She gave him a curious look, then dug the folded point of her fan into his chest. “Stay a moment, Sir Frederick. I saw that Caroline Richardson had you in tow earlier. Has she made you her latest project?”
    “Indeed, I hope not, ma’am,” said Sir Frederick fervently. His hostess chuckled wickedly. He responded with a smile. “Actually, I do not believe so, though she did introduce me to a young lady that has not come in my way before.”
    Lady Smythe nodded, causing her plumes to wave majestically to and fro. “The Holland chit. The only reason I invited them was because the boy has gotten the earldom. Lord Holybrooke is well enough. His sister is a nonentity, of course, but what can one expect with such a one for a mother?”
    “Tell me about the Hollands,” said Sir Frederick. He felt a mild curiosity to establish what lay behind Miss Holland’s extraordinary turnabout in manner. It had been like night and day. He had been trained to seek out the cause of mystery, and his interest was borne purely of habit.
    Lady Smythe glanced at him rather sharply. “What maygame are you getting up to, Sir Frederick?”
    “Why, none at all,” said Sir Frederick, shaking his head and smiling. “I just wondered about the family. I had heard, of course, of the scandal attached to the ascension.”
    “Scandal seems to follow the Hollands,” said Lady Smythe, amused, before shrugging her indifference regarding his query. “Very well! It is quickly told, after all. Mrs. Holland was a Caldar, one of our families of the minor nobility. There is a brother who went into the army. From all accounts he was content with his lot and has done very well. He did not come tonight. I have heard that Colonel Caldar is the bear leader of his nephew until the boy gets his feet under him. He sounds to be a sensible gentleman.”
    “What about Mrs. Holland and her daughter?” asked Sir Frederick casually, twirling his quizzing glass between his fingers.
    Lady Smythe shrugged again. “Oh, as for Aurelia Caldar, the present Mrs. Holland, I recall when she had her come-out. She was a diamond of the first water. She had no portion to speak of, of course, but it was nonetheless expected that she would make quite a respectable match simply because she was so very beautiful.”
    “Mrs. Holland is still a beautiful woman,” remarked Sir Frederick, as an unbidden image came into his mind of the lady’s ample charms.
    Lady Smythe snorted derisively. “No doubt, as much good as it ever did her! Aurelia Caldar had high aspirations and made it pretty well-known that she looked for a brilliant marriage. She was a vain, beautiful, spoiled girl and, as I have observed this evening, the years have not improved her.”
    “So I infer that she held out for a title. It seems odd that she did not receive at least one acceptable offer,” said Sir Frederick idly.
    “Oh, there were offers! But none of them came up to Aurelia Caldar’s expectations, and she refused them all, and in such a public fashion that everyone felt quite sorry for her suitors. She became something of a byword as a result,” said Lady Smythe. “At the end of the Season, the