Page 7 of Managing the Major

“You need the support of the ton for your plan,” she continued. “High-ranking officers may back your idea, but it will take someone who has a seat in the House of Lords to present it. A peer like the Earl of Seldon, Miss Merrick’s brother.”

Nerissa was right; he needed a patron in Parliament to champion his cause. He had supporters in the House of Commons, but it would take a member of the peerage behind the hospital for it to become a reality. But he had few dealings with the ton. Until now.

His pulse quickened at the thought of meeting the annoying Miss Merrick again. Once, he had very much enjoyed the company of women, but that was before the explosion of cannon shot that had changed his life. Even after having his heart broken as a youth, Alastair found it difficult to rein in his insistent sexual drive. There were many opportunities to find pleasure in his travels, and whenever home, he enjoyed a very satisfactory relationship with a lady of independent means near his Lewisham residence. But that had ended after Burma.

“Alastair, are you listening? You look very distracted. As I was saying, when you attend these events as our escort, it’s the perfect time to further your charitable concerns. Just extending courtesies and establishing friendships can lead to many opportunities. You have good standing, Alastair, and a reason to move about the ton—use it to your advantage.”

Could he possibly convince the Earl of Seldon to present his hospital bill? He could also use the premise to spend more time with Miss Merrick, satisfying his curiosity while furthering his charitable mission.

“We are fortunate that Abigail attracts much attention; she’s a lovely girl, well-mannered and engaging. Hopefully, she will marry well; in fact, I am set on it. That would certainly further your cause.”

“You are very convincing, Nerissa.”

She picked up her needlework again with a sigh. “I wish we had a more impressive lineage, but our family has produced officers since the reign of the Tudors, and my late husband’s family is quite generous. Abigail may not be rich, but she has a modest income, and you have done very well for yourself in managing Fairfax Manor.”

Alastair looked up as his niece wandered into the drawing room. Abigail wore a dreamy, far-away expression, and he guessed she had been curled up somewhere reading, which was her favorite way to spend time. Her face lit up at the sight of him.

“Uncle Alastair, I didn’t hear you arrive. Have you brought my dress? Yes, you have; I see the package. How very good you are to me.” She tore away the paper and unwrapped a delicate rose-colored gown.

“Oh, Mama, look how stunning!” Clasping the article to her chest, she ran over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for such a wonderful gift.”

The Bond Street seamstress took longer than expected to finish the garment, but Abigail would arrive at Almack’s tomorrow in the latest fashion. She and Alastair had birthdays close together, and they had both recently celebrated with Nerissa at a fine dinner in Mivart’s Hotel. The gown was her birthday gift.

She reverently folded the dress, placing it back inside the paper.

“Have I missed tea, Mama? I meant to be here, but the fire was so lovely in your morning room that I must have fallen asleep while reading.”

“No matter, dear. I shall ask Peg to warm it up.”

“I dislike bothering her; she must be close to starting dinner. Will you stay and eat with us, Uncle Alastair?”

Nerissa reached over to smooth back a vagrant curl that had fallen from Abigail’s dark blonde chignon. “We have time for more tea first. You are kind to think of our housekeeper, but she dotes on you.”

There certainly wasn’t a more beautiful girl in London, Alastair thought, watching them. His niece had inherited her father’s expressive fawn-colored eyes and copper curls, as well as her mother’s flawless complexion. Nerissa was a handsome woman, but Abigail was beyond the pale.

Colonel Croyden had been a boyhood friend of Alastair’s, and he was very pleased when Nathan married into the family. It was a great shame when he died much too soon at one of the last battles defeating Napoleon. Nerissa had been inconsolable. He only hoped they could find a man as fine as Nathan to marry Abigail.

After the housekeeper brought fresh tea, Abigail settled on the sofa next to him. She refilled his cup before pouring one for herself, adding the extra sugar he preferred. He was proud of his part in her upbringing, which had been substantial despite the constraints of his own military career. Nerissa had never remarried, devoting herself entirely to caring for her daughter.

“I’m reading a wonderful book, Uncle Alastair. It’s an adventure set in America called The Last of the Mohicans. I think you’d enjoy it.” They were avid readers. He preferred history and philosophy, but occasionally he shared Abigail’s taste for colorful dramas.

Nerissa’s words made sense; he must court the ton. His social skills were rusty after years in the military and needed polishing, but it was a small price to pay if his efforts secured a good match for Abigail and built his hospital. After all, he was a strategist—surely decoding the elaborate facades of London society was possible. And it would allow him the opportunity to discover more about Miss Octavia Merrick.

“Perhaps I’ll pick up one of James Fenimore Cooper’s novels, Abigail. You’re not the first to say he’s a fine writer. By the way, should we attend the party at Lady Jersey’s Saturday night? I understand you’ve received an invitation.”

She shone with excitement. “Really, Uncle Alastair? My friends say the Countess of Seldon is performing on the piano. It will be her first recital this year, and I would so love to hear her play.”

Nerissa gave him an approving glance, and Alastair sighed mightily. Yet another Merrick of importance he needed to engage? Was it a conspiracy to confound him? He was far more confident facing Turks than the ton.

Yet as he took his tea, he was looking forward instead of dwelling on the past for the first time in many months.

Chapter Four

An Evening at Almack’s Assembly

As soon as Octavia walked into the crowded ballroom, she had a sense that Major Fairfax was there. It was a prickle at the back of her neck that she couldn’t explain. She had arrived late after stepping on her skirt while descending the stairs at home. The diaphanous netting covering the pale-blue satin skirt had ripped substantially.

Changing her entire ensemble would have cost more time than repairing the dress, so she went back to her room and summoned Marie to bring a needle and thread. It took the better part of an hour to sew the delicate fabric, and Octavia had begged her mother to proceed to Almack’s without her.