Read Online Maggie MacKeever by Lord Fairchild's Daughter - Free Book Online Page B

She did experience a pang of regret, for Tibby couldn’t doubt that Averil, too, would be appreciative of Miss Fairchild. But Tibby had long since accepted that the object of her amorous longings would never be inclined to sweep her off her feet amid passionate protestations of eternal devotion, just as she accepted that her marriage would be one of convenience, inspired on her prospective husband’s part by a sizable dowry and on her own by a fervent wish to be wed, even to so dull and unprepossessing a man as was the only aspirant to her hand.
    “There!” hissed Dorcas, as Isolda made the introductions. “I told you she’s an insignificant dab.”
    Tibby, meeting Loveday’s shining eyes, was moved to disagree with her friend, an unusual occurrence. “Oh, n-no, Dorcas!” she protested. “She’s q-quite lovely.” Upset by her unpredictable stammer, Tibby blushed.
    “Pfft! Everyone knows you’re wretchedly shortsighted.”
    Tibby sighed, afraid that Dorcas was suffering another of her uncomfortable headaches. She glanced at Hilary and, when he smiled, looked away in blushing confusion. Whatever Loveday’s opinion of that young gentleman, Tibby thought him an inspiring example of manhood, patient and cheerful in the face of such adversities as Isolda and his wife. She could quite understand why Hilary preferred to make the castle his home, whereas Dorcas could not. For Tibby, Ballerfast offered more diversions and pleasures than she could imagine existed even in fabled London.
    “Hilary seems to like her,” Tibby ventured, as that gentleman exchanged pleasantries with Loveday.
    “Hilary likes anything in skirts,” Dorcas snapped.
    Tibby reflected that Hilary had never spoken to her in so intimate a manner. It was no wonder; what gentleman would start up a flirtation with a plump mouse who stammered, blushed unbecomingly all too often, and had an unfortunate predilection toward spots? She glanced toward her affianced cousin, George. He was staring at Loveday with frank admiration.  Tibby felt a definite pang of what would have been, in a less good-natured person, chagrin.
    Tibby had reason for envy; her partner-to-be in matrimony had at last discovered a lady worthy of his attentions. Characterized succinctly by Isolda as a mooncalf, George was possessed of a comfortable fortune, a large estate, a nice awareness of the proprieties, an incurious intellect, and no sense of humor whatsoever. In appearance he was round, and had lately come to consider the merits of girdling himself about with whalebone.
    Loveday was unaware of the soulful glances that George cast at her. She anxiously awaited Dillian’s appearance, for Loveday had decided to take Dillian’s neglected social graces in hand. Isolda would be little pleased, but Loveday gambled that Isolda would not reveal petulance before so many people.
    She was not disappointed: upon Dillian’s arrival, Isolda was stricken momentarily dumb. Dillian was clad in an exquisite gown of clear lawn trimmed with embroidered frills and blue ribbon headings. Her fair hair was cropped and clustered in ringlets around her face. Loveday noticed with amusement that Dillian’s pale, fragile beauty cast Dorcas’s more robust looks quite into the shade.
    Isolda regained her wits and introduced Jem, who hovered protectively near Dillian’s left elbow, to the assorted company. “And, of course,” she added, “I have no need to make Dillian known to you.”
    Dillian smiled sweetly and paused to exchange a few words with Hilary and George before moving to Loveday’s side. “How am I doing?” she whispered.
    “Wonderfully! You’ve taken them quite by surprise.” Before Loveday could say more, the doors were thrust open. In quavering tones, Tarbath announced yet another visitor, Lady Charmain Laurent. Loveday’s dismayed exclamation was lost in Isolda’s warm greeting.
    “That’s torn it!” Jem muttered. “What’s to do?”
    “Do you know her?” Dillian