Joan Smith - The Barefoot Baroness

She shook her head. "Are you always so foolish?"

"No, only when I am with beautiful ladies. Among gentlemen, I am taken for a sensible fellow. I have even been known to discuss politics."

"It is news to me if a leopard can change its spots."

"Do you think we put me in the wrong species? Perhaps I should be classified as a chameleon."

After exchanging thrusts and parries with Hyatt for a whole set, there was no doubt in Laura's mind what category he belonged to: gazetted flirt. She wanted only to retire to some quiet corner and sip a glass of wine to restore her equanimity, for she was not accustomed to such excitement.

She soon realized that her wallflower days were over. The evening was a steady round of dancing. In some magical manner, she had become one of the chosen ones. The most dashing, most eligible gentlemen stood in line to partner her. How had it happened? Five years ago, when she was younger and prettier, they had not even glanced at her. Suddenly they were falling over themselves to know her. And it was not only the gentlemen either.

Three of Almack's hostesses had offered her vouchers. "For you and your charming cousin, the baroness."

That, of course, was the answer. All the world wanted to know Olivia. No doubt the tin mine and the dot had something to do with it, but the spread of Olivia's fame would not have been so rapid and rampant without Hyatt's attentions. He was the catalyst that had set off this explosion of popularity. She must take care that Olivia did not get burned.

Who was that awkward concern she was standing up with now? He looked a rakish sort-one of the younger set, a handsome enough fellow, but not out of the very top drawer. The shoulders of his jacket were wadded, and the waist pinched too tightly. His cravat was too complicated, and his laugh just a little overdone.

She asked her partner, a dasher called Sir Hugh Standish, who the man was.

"That is young Yarrow," he replied. "He'll come into his uncle's baronetcy one day, and an abbey in Devon, but he won't hold on to it long, the way he is going. He is a gambler. He has no bad reputation with the ladies, however."

"You are mistaken, Sir Hugh. A gambler always has a bad reputation with any lady of common sense." Especially when he is dangling after an heiress.

Laura paid no special heed to Lord Hyatt during the rest of the evening. She had had her dance with him and did not plan to have another. She saw him from time to time, standing up with all the prettiest debs. Their smiles told her they were being flirted with and complimented as she had been. She was enjoying her own success so much that she scarcely noticed. When dinner was announced, Hyatt suddenly appeared at her side.

"We gudgeons are not only used for bait," he said, with an exquisite bow. "We eat, as well as being eaten."

"Oh, are you eating with us?" she asked, surprised.

"I arranged it with Meadows and the baroness. If you have made other arrangements, I shall call Meadows out. He was to tell you."

"He did say he had made arrangements, but he did not say with whom."

"Ah, well, he did not want you to set up a rebellion against the scheme," he said, placing her hand on his arm and strolling toward the dining room.

“Why would I do that? I am honored that you are joining us."

Hyatt had expected some persiflage and was momentarily reduced to silence by her polite reply. How did she manage to say all the right things, yet give the impression that she was far from honored? One could not fault her for a lack of politeness. She smiled and conversed intelligently, but when the dinner was over, Hyatt was left with the unusual sensation of having been tolerated, rather than welcomed. He had not made a conscious decision, but somewhere at the bottom of his mind the idea was floating about that he would squire the baroness about for a week or so to get to know her. He always painted the face last, after he knew his model fairly well. These outings would be more enjoyable with a conversable lady along for diversion.

Intrigued, he forged on. "Shall we have our second dance now?" he asked, as they returned to the ballroom.

"You have forgotten the baroness is to go home early, as she has an early rising."

"I have not forgotten. Her aunt or Mr. Meadows can take her home."

"And how am I to get home?" she asked.

"In my carriage, ma'am. We also have an early rising, but as we are not to be captured on canvas, a soupcon of dissipation will not matter."

"It will be better if I accompany Olivia and Mr. Meadows," she said with another polite smile to conceal her mood. She was greatly excited, yet more than a little terrified at Hyatt's persistence. She would no more have gone alone with him in a carriage than she would have gone with a tiger.

He tilted his head to one side and studied her. "Which of us is it you distrust?" he asked bluntly.

She returned his look, then said, with just a touch of asperity, "I have never found Mr. Meadows anything but completely trustworthy, Lord Hyatt."

His smile stretched to a grin, and he said recklessly, "He sounds a dull dog. No wonder you refuse to be his hare. Whenever you feel a need of some… danger in your life, my carriage is at your disposal. A demain." He bowed and left.

Laura escaped, uncertain whether she had just received a setdown or a compliment. The baroness was voluble on the way home, chattering about the wonder of her first 'real' ball, for the do's at home hardly merited the name ball after the present evening's wonders.

"Who was the Guards captain you were standing up with, Livvie?" Mrs. Traemore asked. She had dragged herself out for the ball and spent most of the evening in the card parlor, along with Mrs. Harwood.

"That was Captain Milton. He got a bullet in his shoulder in the Peninsula. The man who moved like a wooden soldier was Sir Edward somebody or other-only he was very old. Thirty or more. Lord Peter Croft told me I had lovely hair, and Mr. Yarrow said-oh, by the by, Laura, he is coming to watch Lord Hyatt do my picture tomorrow. You don't think Lord Hyatt will mind?"

"We were not to tell anyone! Lord Hyatt does not want a crowd!" Laura exclaimed in vexation.

"I only told Mr. Yarrow."

"He is the very one you should not have told. He is a gambler."

"I'll hint him away," Meadows said. He was sunk to riding bobbin in the crowded carriage. "Your cousin is right, Baroness. You don't want Yarrow's rackety set traipsing at your heels. Not the thing. Isn't that right, Mrs. Traemore?"

"Indeed, yes!”

"What is the matter with him? He seemed very nice," Olivia persisted.

"He goes through money like water," Meadows said.

"He would not go through my money. How he spends his own is of no interest to me. I do not plan to marry him after all."

"That is true," Mrs. Traemore said, for she never liked to deny Olivia anything.

"You'll marry from among the set you associate with," Meadows explained, "so it is best to associate with gentlemen who are fit to marry. Only common sense."

"That is true, Livvie," her aunt agreed.

"Mr. Yarrow was the most amusing gentleman I met all evening," Olivia pouted.

"He did seem a lively, good-natured fellow," Mrs. Traemore said at once. "Livvie brought him to the card room. He got me a glass of ratafia. Very gentlemanly of him, was it not?"

Mr. Meadows accompanied the ladies to the door but did not go in. He found a moment to speak to Laura after the others had gone inside.

"I am a little surprised that Mrs. Traemore was not more helpful about young Yarrow," he said, frowning.

"She never denies Olivia anything. We must keep an eye on him, Mr. Meadows. And on Lord Hyatt as well. His conversation is not… is a little… I mean for a young girl," she ended in confusion.

"Perhaps I did the wrong thing to arrange this sitting with Hyatt. I had no idea how it would turn the baroness into an object of curiosity."

"What of Lord Hyatt himself? Can we completely trust him?" she said, and listened closely for Meadows's verdict.

"He would never throw himself at a young deb unless he meant to marry her. For amusement, he prefers more mature ladies." He gave her a knowing look and said, "It is you who must be wary of him, Miss Harwood." Then he laughed, but it was not an easy laugh. He had seen how Hyatt dangled after Miss Harwood and was concerned on her account. She was a regular greenhead. "You must not take his attentions seriously."

"I did not come down in the last rain, Mr. Meadows. I recognize a flirt when I see one. It is Livvie I am concerned about. I would appreciate your help in watching Yarrow."

"Between the two of us, he won't get a sniff of her."

He left, satisfied that his quest of the baroness was proceeding satisfactorily.

The baroness had no trouble arising at six o'clock the next morning for her sitting. Laura was fatigued, and she looked it. They had not got to bed till one o'clock. She was a little annoyed to see that Lord Hyatt showed no sign of dissipation. He had his easel set up when they arrived and had been working on the background since daybreak. Some of the trees and sky were filled in already.

"You must have been here for hours!" she exclaimed when she saw the canvas.

"You weren't supposed to peek once I began applying paint," he scolded.

"At this rate, you will be finished in no time."

"I am a fast worker," he replied, pinning her with a mischievous eye.

She refused to recognize any ambiguity in the speech. "Good! Truth to tell, I find these early mornings a trial after a late night."

"Aha! So you went on to another party last night. I thought as much."