A Season for the Heart (13 page)

“In what way may I serve you, child?” he asked gently.

With a stern admonition to herself not to be missish, Pommy began her story. By the time she had related Mr. Boggs’s scheme to levy blackmail upon the Earl, he was grinning.

“So that was the reason for your frantic little note! I was about to wait upon you to discover the whole.”

“You were taking your time,” retorted Pommy, not at all relishing his amusement. “I had feared my missive had not been delivered, since I heard nothing from you.”

The Earl’s eyes were still warm with laughter. “You must forgive me, dear Pommy, but you will recollect that I am to be your host at the Musical Soirée this evening, and I am most anxious to spare no effort to make the event a pleasant one for you and Lady Masterson.”

Pommy was not placated by this flummery. “You are also to be host, however inadvertently, to Mr. Boggs. It is his plan to challenge you over his daughter’s excursion with you while you are surrounded by your friends—and thus may be reckoned to be particularly vulnerable to his wretched scheme!”

“An enterprising fellow!” said the Earl. “I wonder how he plans to get past Tupper and eight stout footmen?”

“Eight?” gasped Pommy. “You maintain your state, Milord!”

“Oh, it is all put on to impress you, Pommy,” teased the Earl. “As a usual thing, I have only four.”

“You are laughing at me again,” said Pommy. “I do not know why I do not abandon you to your doom without qualms!”

“Could you, Pommy? Leave me to my doom? I had thought you had some little kindness for me,” and his smiling gaze probed her flushed countenance. “Do you, dear Pommy? Have even the least affection for me?”

Pommy’s honest eyes met his. A rich blush flowed up into her face. “You must know, Milord, that I—that I—”

The Earl had stopped smiling and was regarding her intently. “It is not fair of me to challenge you thus, is it, my Pommy?” he said, in quite a different tone from the teasing one he had been using. “So. Forget all this and let us discuss our plans for my salvation—for I would wager a great deal upon the fact that you have some.”

Not entirely relieved by the Earl’s abrupt dismissal of their relationship, Pommy was still grateful for the removal of pressure. Gathering her powers of invention, she suggested the several plans she had already considered. She found His Lordship full of quibbles and quite unreasonable objections.

“As you say, catching a foreign princeling for Miss Boggs might require more time than we have in hand. Also there would be the language barrier—still, that might be an advantage in the case of Miss Boggs. I am sure if the foreign princeling had only to look at her, he would never become bored.”

“The plan to waylay Boggs himself,” continued the Earl judicially, “and incarcerate him in some out-of-way spot, would have serious repercussions, I fear. We could not keep him
incommunicado
forever, could we? When he was finally restored to freedom, he would be sure to take umbrage at our attentions. On the other hand, the scheme for me to absent myself from London for six months on a Grand Tour has much to recommend it. Boggs could hardly blackmail me if I played least-in-sight. Still, I might get lonely. Had you envisioned a companion for me during my six months exile, Pommy?”

Pommy set her teeth. “Are you teasing me again?”

The Earl laughed. “The
simplest
way out of the difficulty—though I know that
that
would never appeal to you, child—is for Miss Isabelle to become engaged to someone else. Did you not say she is, in fact, already publicly plighted to Alan Corcran?”

“It would humiliate her to wed him after the cruel thing he said,” protested Pommy. “Besides, I have the impression Mr. Boggs would not allow a little thing like an engagement to stand in the way of making his daughter your Countess!”

“And you believe I will have nothing to say about that?” asked the Earl. “You do not know me well enough.”

“Of course you could
stop
it,” said Pommy. “Could you also stop the gossip he is determined to raise? And do not tell me, in that odious, toplofty manner, that you would simply ignore it, because I do know you well enough to understand how much you would hate it!”

“
Touché,
” admitted the Earl. “Then, if we cannot get the Fair Isabelle married off in time to save me, what do you say to getting
me
leg shackled?”

Pommy heard this astounding question with shocked surprise. He wasn’t smiling. Instead he was watching her closely. After a moment she said in a small voice she hardly recognized as her own, “To—to Lady Masterson?”

“Of course not, widgeon! She was my brother’s wife. I like her, but her endless indulgence in Moods would drive me to Bedlam! By the way, I have you to thank for rousing her out of a melancholy so prolonged I feared she had sunk in it forever!”

Pommy would not be diverted from the question. “Then to whom?”

The Earl regarded her with an odd little smile. “To you?”

Pommy opened her mouth to utter a withering diatribe against persons who treated serious matters with flippancy—and then paused. She must not take for granted that he was serious, since it had already occurred to her that, for a man who was forever teasing her about being a Romantic, the Earl had a frivolous streak—what Uncle Charles would undoubtedly have called an odd kick in his gallop. It was likely he was funning her again. She scrutinized his expression carefully. There was no trace of mockery in it. Then why this incredible suggestion? She tried to marshal her thoughts. After a moment she decided she had the answer.

“I see! That way you’d be safe. I would never hold you to it, of course, and when Isabelle was safely wedded to someone else, you could announce a change of—” she faltered— “a change of heart.” She managed to get the final phrase out bravely enough.

“Would not that be a perfect chance for you to be the Blighted Heroine?” the man asked, and there was a queer twist of mockery in his face. “When we break it off, I mean. You would immediately become the most interesting young female in London, the one who had actually dismissed an Earl! I could promise to go about looking heartbroken, and having a glass too much wine upon occasion, and ruining pompous dinner parties with my sighs and gloomy looks!” He laughed harshly.

“In that case,” snapped Pommy, feeling both cross and wretched at once, “it would not be myself but you—you would be Blighted, I mean. No, Milord, I find your plan unacceptable. Even in jest.” (
Especially when it is in jest, dear Milord
, cried her treacherous heart.)

The Earl stood up. “On the contrary, my dear child, I think I may have hit upon the very answer to my problem. You must wear your prettiest new dress to my musical evening tonight. I shall be obviously
épris
, quite bowled over by you. That will pave the way for the announcement of our engagement—next week, shall we say?” He smiled encouragingly.

“And what about Mr. Boggs?” queried Pommy, who was not amused. Of course the Earl was joking, but his suggestion was doing uncomfortable things to her emotions.

“I shall give particular instructions to all eight of the footmen to deny Boggs
pére
entrance.” He took her hand in one of his big warm ones and held it for a moment. “Now, home with you, child, before Aurora rises from her couch and begins to wonder what has become of you. I shall see you tonight.”

He ushered her to the door, insisted upon sending her home in his own carriage when he found she had come in a hired vehicle, and waited most courteously with her in the portico until his carriage could be brought around. During the wait he chatted pleasantly of many things, none of them subjects in which Miss Rand had the slightest interest. Just as he was handing her into his luxurious coach, she turned for a final objection.

“My Lord! This is insanity! Lady Masterson—your friends!”

“Hush, child,” he said maddeningly. “Trust me. You shall be Heroine yet!” And then, shocking her out of further speech, he bent and placed a firm, very sweet kiss upon her mutinous lips. Then he stepped back and bowed gallantly as the carriage drew away.

Pommy was crying by this time, and thus did not see her Aunt Henga, Cousin Ceci, and Cousin Lydia staring at her from across the road. They had been driving down the fashionable street in an unfashionable hired landaulet with the top down, ostensibly to get the air, but actually because they wanted to get a look at the Town house of the Earl of Austell. Ceci’s sharp eyes were the first to spot her cousin talking to the same modishly dressed gentleman with whom she had fled from Highcliff. Ceci at once called her mother’s attention to the sight. Mrs. Rand ordered their driver to halt. The three women watched the long and amicable discussion between the man and Pommy. Just as he was handing her into the elegant carriage which had pulled up beside them, the man bent and kissed Pommy. On the
lips!
In broad daylight! In the open street!

When the carriage had drawn away, and the Earl had gone back into his house, the three women drew a long breath.

“
Well!
” said Mrs. Rand. “I think I know what to make of
that!
”

“What, Mama?” asked Lydia.

Ceci, who prided herself on having already acquired some town bronze, said pertly, “Mama is distressed to think we have caught our cousin leaving a gentleman’s home where she had been—ah—visiting without a chaperone.”

“If
that
were all!” intoned Mrs. Rand in lugubrious tones.

“Did you see the dress he has bought her? It is smarter far than anything you have, Ceci,” taunted Lydia, who had had to watch her older sister being decked out in all the prettier of the new gowns their papa had reluctantly put up for.

“I have no doubt he has bought her a number of outfits which I should be sorry to see either of my daughters decked out in,” said Mama, primly. The girls were not impressed, for both of them had recognized the style and suitability of the garment Pommy was sporting.

“What are we to do about it?” prodded Ceci, jealously.

“I shall tell your father,” announced Mrs. Rand, very much on her high ropes. “Perhaps your uncle George and he will handle the matter. It is something which should not come in the way of gently bred females.”

With this Olympian pronouncement they had to be content.

Ten

By the time Pommy reached Portman Square, she had managed to control her emotions and dry her tears. She went at once to seek out Lady Masterson, and found her just rising from her
chaise longue
to dress for dinner, attended by the faithful Gordon. Pommy had not meant to burden her kind employer with the problem, but upon sober reflection she saw that the Lady Masterson would have to know of the threat which hung over the Musical Soirée and Her Ladyship’s brother-in-law. Knocking softly, then, she entered the bedroom, and after returning Milady’s pleasant greeting, said soberly, “I have something to tell Your Ladyship which I fear will not be comfortable hearing. Perhaps Gordon might bring you a glass of sherry?”

With a quick glance at her mistress, the dresser disappeared quietly upon her errand. Lady Masterson, her eyes bright with concern, said, “Do take off your bonnet and gloves, child, and sit down here near me! Is it something to do with your family?”

“No, ma’am. It has to do with Lord Austell and the father of that beautiful girl who was here yesterday. You remember I told you of our helping her when her servants abandoned her on the road, and how courteously Lord Austell behaved to her, as though she were a member of his own family?” Pommy’s eyes were bright with indignation. “It now appears that Mr. Boggs has planned something so wicked you will not credit it!”

Being a great deal wiser in the ways of the world than her companion, Lady Masterson had already conceived a very good idea of what Mr. Boggs was threatening. She sighed with pleasure. Pure burlesque, and happening within her own house! Derek was right—the child was a catalyst. Her Ladyship had not had so much excitement in years. As for the child’s fears for Derek, Lady Masterson had no doubt he would be quite capable of handling a dozen vintners. Nevertheless she listened carefully as the girl poured out her story, noting the flush of partisan anger on the piquant little face, and the sparkle of wrath in the green eyes. When Pommy had finished, Lady Masterson pursed her lips.

“You say you have just informed Derek of this wretched creature’s intentions? That was wise of you, my dear. ‘Forewarned is forearmed,’ as I am sure one of your ancient Greeks or Romans must have said!”

Pommy decided she would never understand the Quality however long she mingled with them. Could they not see the nasty gossip which would ensue from such charges as Mr. Boggs was threatening? Did they not care? Lady Masterson took pity on her obvious distress.

“My dear child, I am confident that Derek offered you some sort of reassurance. What did he say?”

“He asked me to marry him,” reported Pommy gloomily.

This was indeed a facer, even for Her Ladyship. That committed melancholic uttered a sharp and rather unladylike bark of laughter, which made Pommy wonder if all the members of Austell’s family were incurably given to Levity.

Her Ladyship got her risibilities under control and said, with a convincing show of concern, “That is indeed one way of dealing with Mr. Boggs’s encroaching behavior.”