A Regency Match (8 page)

Chapter Six

T
HE DAY THE
guests were to arrive at Wynwood dawned fine. The end-of-May sunshine was gently warm, the sky a clear amethyst blue, the air crisp and the breeze playful. It seemed a ploy of nature to lure Marcus into a false sense of optimism and security concerning the success of the festivities. But it was not long before he reverted to his customary pessimism, for as the day wore on he was beset with several surprises, all of them bad.

The first arrivals were Iris and her mother. Iris looked as lovely as a spring lily and greeted Lady Wynwood with just the right combination of warmth and diffidence. But Lady Lorna Bethune was overly effusive, rhapsodizing over every shrub and stone with such ardent indiscriminacy that she quite set his teeth on edge. To make matters worse, she was accompanied by her sister, a Mrs. Maynard, and her sister's three muffin-faced progeny, none of whom had been expected. And since Mrs. Maynard did nothing but echo her sister's sentiments, Marcus could not convince himself that her presence would be an asset.

Sir Walter Edgerton and his wife Isabel were the next arrivals. For some reason which Marcus couldn't explain (except that the fuss over this event had thickened his brain) it had not occurred to him before that the Edgerton's son would turn out to be the notorious
Bertie
. He managed to conceal his surprise and to greet the fellow with proper warmth, but he was quite disconcerted nevertheless.

Then his uncle Julian arrived, jovial and boisterous as usual. He brought with him two cases of what he described as the most magnificent French brandy ever to be smuggled into the country. He found an eager audience in Sir Walter, and the two gentlemen disappeared into the library, not to be heard from again all afternoon except for occasional outbursts of raucous laughter.

Dennis Stanford's arrival gave Marcus a momentary lift, for his friend had come alone (as he'd promised) and promptly offered to help in any way that he could. Marcus took him at his word and immediately sent him to squire a group of the ladies on a tour of the gardens and greenhouses.

But before he had a chance to breathe a sigh of relief, another carriage arrived at the door, bearing, of all people, the Carringtons! All
six
of them!
And
their Blenheim spaniel! Marcus noted that his mother looked not the least discomposed as she floated out to greet them on her son's arm, trailing clouds of the finest silk tulle from the billowing sleeves and the enormous flounce of her graceful gown. While the two youngest Carrington offspring, both boys, tumbled from the carriage with noisy hilarity, Lady Wynwood greeted their mother. “Cora, dearest, how lovely to see you. And Horace! Such a pleasant surprise!”

Horace Carrington squinted at her fuzzily. His eyesight was weak, but his vanity kept him from wearing his spectacles on social occasions. “Surprise?” he murmured in some confusion. “Were we not expected?”

But Lady Wynwood had turned to greet his eldest daughter. Fanny Carrington, just turned seventeen, stepped from the carriage with the excitement and eagerness natural to a young lady arriving at her very first houseparty. Her large gray eyes shone as she paused on the bottom step of the coach and surveyed her surroundings. “Lady Wynwood, how beautiful everything is!” she breathed.

Cicely Carrington, her sixteen-year-old sister, whom everyone called Cissy, followed her out of the coach. “Look, Mama,” she said cattishly, “the boys are teasing Shooshi!”

While Mrs. Carrington turned to reprimand her sons and rescue the plump, white-haired spaniel from their hands, Mr. Carrington fumbled for the pince-nez which hung on a cord around his neck. “We
were
expected, were we not?” he repeated worriedly.

Marcus, his mood hovering somewhere between dismay and amusement, waited for his mother's response with wicked pleasure. But there was no trace of embarrassment in Lady Wynwood's innocent smile. “Of course you're most welcome,” she assured Mr. Carrington blithely. “I'm completely delighted that you've returned from the continent in time to join us.”

Mr. Carrington affixed his pince-nez to his nose, as if by clearing his eyesight he would also clear the fog from the bewildering situation. “Returned from the
continent
?” he asked, looking from Lady Wynwood to Marcus in confusion. “Whatever gave her that idea?”

“Mama had the impression you were fixed abroad until summer,” Marcus explained.

“Fixed abroad? We haven't
gone
! Never intended to, while Nappy's still at large.”

“Well, of course, we
did
speak of taking a trip
next
year, if Wellington's successful,” Mrs. Carrington said to Marcus with a bland smile that revealed her complete lack of awareness that a problem existed.

But her husband was not so simple-minded. “Good heavens, Charlotte, my dear … does this mean we really are
not
expected?” he asked, aghast.

Marcus wanted to laugh out loud. It was just like his mother to muddle the details. It took all his tact and his mother's charm to convince Mr. Carrington that the misunderstanding did not matter a whit. “You shall have the green bedroom, just as you always do when you stay here,” Lady Wynwood assured them airily. “We can put the boys in the west wing in the old nursery. And Fanny and Cissy can have the room right next to yours. That will serve perfectly well, won't it, Marcus?”

Marcus mentally tore to shreds the elaborate plans he had drawn up for the assigning of bedrooms. “That will be fine, Mama,” he assured her recklessly. “Just fine.”

Everyone would now have to be given rooms in the completely haphazard way his mother would have done if he hadn't been there at all. And probably everything would turn out well enough. Mrs. Cresley would undoubtedly manage to arrange for enough food to feed ten extra mouths. He'd been a fool for wasting his time trying to organize things.

The Carringtons, their hosts, their children, their boxes and their dog had moved into the entrance hall when Lady Alicia's coach drew up to the door. “Sophy,” the old lady hissed before allowing herself to be assisted down from the equipage, “take off that hideous hat before Charlotte sees us. I can't think why you wore such an abomination.”

“I
like
it,” Sophy said stubbornly.

“Nonsense. I've never seen you wear such a thing before. It makes you like like … like a damned
actress
!”

“Yes, doesn't it?” Sophy agreed with a wicked gleam. “That's just the effect I intend.”

Lady Alicia's eyebrows drew together suspiciously, and she opened her mouth to pursue the matter when she saw her friend Charlotte approaching. Instantly, the matter of Sophy's hat flew from her mind. “Charlotte!” she chortled, hopping down from the carriage with the agility of a youngster, “you are a
witch
! I don't believe, in the years since I last laid eyes on you, that you've aged a
day
!”

As the two friends embraced and laughed and admired each other, Lord Wynwood offered his hand to assist Sophy to alight. “Welcome to Wynwood, Miss Edgerton,” he said with a cautious smile.

“Thank you, my lord,” Sophy answered grandly, offering her hand to be kissed. “The edifice of your house is every bit as impressive as I had heard.”

Marcus couldn't help smiling at her imperious manner. “But not as impressive, I'm sure, as your bonnet, ma'am,” he said smoothly.

“Do you really think so?” Sophy responded indifferently. “Grandmama thinks it would be more suitable on Mrs. Siddons.”

“It could be no more suitable on anyone than it is on you,” Marcus said reassuringly. But his compliment fell on deaf ears, for Sophy had turned to greet his mother.

The party moved into the entrance hall, where the Carringtons still lingered. The group from the garden also came indoors at this moment. The hall was as crowded as an inn courtyard, with children darting about, footmen carrying baggage, friends greeting each other, and the Carringtons' spaniel waddling about and barking hysterically. Sophy paused in the doorway and took in all the details. Then her eyes narrowed, she took a deep breath, stepped over the threshold and gave a piercing scream.

“Good Lord, Sophy, what's wrong?” the startled Lady Alicia cried. Everyone in the room stood stock still and stared.

“The
dog
!” Sophy gasped, one hand clenched to her bosom, the other dramatically pressed against her forehead. “That dreadful
beast
! Take it away!”

“Dog? What's wrong with the dog?” her grandmother asked bewilderedly.

“
Please
! Someone take it away!” Sophy shrieked.

“But my dear, it's only Shooshi,” Mrs. Carrington said deprecatingly, approaching the quivering girl. “She's perfectly harmless, I assure you. Really, she's the most dear little darling. Here, you may pet her if you wish. She won't bite.”

“No,
no
! Take her away this
instant
!” Sophy insisted hysterically.

Marcus stepped forward to take matters in hand. “May I have your permission, Mrs. Carrington,” he asked gently, “to have … er … Shooshi … taken for a stroll? Then, when we have everyone settled in, you and I can confer about suitable quarters for her.”

“Well, of course.” Mrs. Carrington, with a pitying glance at the still-trembling Sophy, obligingly handed the dog to her host. “But there's really no need to be afraid of Shooshi. No need at all.”

While Marcus arranged for the removal of the offending animal, Bertie, who had come in to greet his cousin, crossed the hall to her side. “I say, Sophy, has the ride addled your wits? What's wrong with you?”

“Ssssh!” Sophy hissed from the corner of her mouth.

“But you ain't the least afraid of dogs,” Bertie persisted.

Sophy covered her face with trembling hands. “Mind your own business!” she whispered from behind her fingers. “Just come here close to me and pretend you're comforting me.” She clutched at his coat, drew him close beside her and buried her face in his shoulder.

The dog having been removed from the premises, Marcus came up to her. “There, Miss Edgerton, you can look up now. The monster has been removed.”

Sophy turned her face timidly from its hiding place in Bertie's coat. “Is … Is she truly gone?” she asked fearfully.

“Yes, my dear. You may feel quite secure again. If you are up to it, I should like you and all the others to come out on the terrace for a light refreshment.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Sophy said weakly, “but I'm afraid the incident has quite overset my nerves. I'm terrified of dogs, you know. Terrified.”

“I
say
, Sophy—!” Bertie began, but a fist pressed cruelly into his stomach stilled his tongue.

“If you don't mind, sir,” Sophy continued in a shaking little voice, “I should like to be excused. Will you ask one of the servants to show me to my room?”

Marcus made an acquiescent bow and turned to make arrangements with one of the footmen. Lady Alicia, meanwhile, glared at her granddaughter suspiciously. “What mischief are you up to, my girl?” she whispered. “Overset your nerves, indeed. You
haven't
any nerves.”

Sophy, about to answer, saw that Lord Wynwood was approaching again. “Don't worry about me, Grandmama,” she said in the affectedly-weak little voice she'd used a moment ago. “I shall recover soon. I need only to lie down for a bit.” And while everyone's eyes followed her, she made a bow and followed the footman up the stairs.

Once she was out of sight, Marcus was able to encourage his other guests to move through the hallway to the terrace. As the assemblage drifted out, Marcus breathed a sigh of relief. His friend Dennis came up behind him and clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder. “That was quite an opening scene,” he teased.

Marcus nodded ruefully. “I dread to imagine what the
rest
of this fortnight's performance will be like. What do you think of your Miss Edgerton now?” he asked with a sudden grin. “It seems that my assessment of her character was right on the mark.”

“She's the melodramatic sort, all right,” Dennis agreed, “but I shan't let that deter me.”

“Deter you from what!”

“From attempting to arouse her interest. The girl's enchanting, whatever you may feel. Despite her tantrums, she's a regular out-and-outer. As far as I'm concerned, the prospect of this fortnight's rustication (which you and your betrothed have wished upon me) has been considerably brightened by her presence.”

Marcus shook his head in mock dismay. “My grandfather used to say, ‘Every man hath a fool in his sleeve,' but
you
seem determined to show your foolishness quite openly. Well, if you're determined to play the fool by pursuing the girl, I'll not attempt to deter you.”

“You couldn't deter me if you tried, old fellow,” Dennis grinned, “so save your breath and lead me to the refreshments. I sincerely hope, after my exertions in your gardens—playing the gallant to half the ladies in this assemblage—that you intend to reward me with some liquid libation more potent than lemonade.”

At the same moment, Lady Alicia had detained her hostess at the door which opened out to the large stone terrace where a table had been laid with tea sandwiches, fruits, champagne and other delectables the housekeeper considered suitable for an alfresco luncheon. “Don't go out just yet, Charlotte,” Alicia said in a low voice. “First let me apologize to you.”

“Apologize? Whatever for?” Charlotte asked in surprise.

“For my granddaughter. That she should have seen fit to create such an upset fills me with dismay.”

“Nonsense, my dear. What upset?”

“Come, Charlotte, you know quite well. The upset over the dog! I cannot imagine what maggot has got into the girl's head. She's not in the
least
afraid of dogs.”