A Season to Be Sinful (42 page)

Yes, Sherry said dryly, that would sting him.

Lady Rivendale harrumphed lightly, but she conceded that keeping Lily company while Woodridge was at the hall put her to a good purpose. You will report every detail, Sherry. I will not be satisfied until I know every particular.

Yes, Aunt. He kissed her on the cheek and had something more substantial for Lily. Do not worry, he whispered in her ear. It will be done.

The Right Honorable Lord Woodridge arrived at Granville shortly before the four oclock hour and was announced to Sherry as tea was being served to him in the library.

Sherry rose at his mentors entrance and motioned him into the room. Woodridge. What a surprise this is. Come. Come. If you are not the last person I might expect to see today, then you figure very close to it.

Oh? And who would be less likely to arrive at your doorstep?

My sister Cybelline. She is expecting a child and does not travel now.

Woodridge nodded, smiling. She fares well?

Yes. Yes, she does. I had a letter from her only yesterday and am assured she is in the best of health. Please, will you join me for tea? Or mayhap you wish something stronger to remove the dust of travel from your mouth?

Tea. Woodridge began a walk along the perimeter of Sherrys study while his host rang for more refreshment and cakes. I have always admired this room, Sherry. Most impressive. Your collection of books must be among the finest anywhere. I am giving you a great compliment when I say it rivals my own.

Indeed. Thank you. Sherry turned away from the door. I admit I am more than moderately curious as to the purpose of your visit. It was not much above a fortnight ago that Gibb and Conway paid their addresses. Is it to be a parade from London or do you represent the last best hope to turn me around?

He stroked his narrow chin, thoughtful, but made no attempt to answer Sherrys question. His slight smile was rue-ful. Gibb and Con. I hadnt realized. There is much that I no longer know.

A precaution, I suspect. Sherrys brief study of Wood-ridge noted the fact that he was thinner than the last time hed seen him in London. Not only was his face drawn, but his eyes appeared to be more deeply set, the cheekbones a fraction more prominent. For the first time, he looked considerably older than his forty-two years. Sherry recalled that Gibb had said that it was likely a poisoning that sent Woodridge to his bed for a week. Was that what had ravaged the man, or was it something else? It hardly seems prudent for them to discuss matters freely when everyone is at risk.

Woodridge speared Sherry with his incisive glance. Yet they were not hesitant to discuss matters with you. Why is that? Have you decided to come back to the fold, Sherry?

The extra service arrived, diverting Sherrys attention. He took the tray from Wolfe and instructed him that they should not be disturbed. The butler backed out of the room. Sherry carried the tray to the table where his own cup rested. He was on the point of lowering the tray when the pot of tea slid toward him. He bobbled the tray, overcompensating for the shift in weight and tipped it back. The china pot crashed to the floor, and tea poured onto the rug and spattered the ball-and-claw feet of the table and nearby chair. The pyramid of iced cakes toppled into the drink, the teacup took a wobbly turn on the floor then stopped, and the plate rolled like a childs hoop toward the fireplace where it crashed against the marble apron and shattered. The tray turned over twice in the air, then clattered to the floor, smashing the soggy cakes and the teacup.

Sherry regarded the mess hed made of things. He glanced over his shoulder at Woodridge and offered an apologetic, ironic smile. I have always counted it as a good thing that I was to the manor born. I would not acquit myself well in service. Come. We will repair to the gallery. Wolfe will make it all right in a very short time. He opened the door and ushered Woodridge into the hall.

Wolfe had not strayed far and had already summoned a maid to clean the mess. The butler opened the pocket doors to the gallery and stepped aside, then followed to light the candelabras. Will you want a fire, mlord?

I think it is pleasant enough, Wolfe. You, Woodridge?

Its fine. He spoke curtly, walking toward the portraits at the far end of the gallery.

Sherry requested another tray then dismissed the butler. He closed the doors himself. Are you certain you do not find it drafty? I hope you will forgive the observation, but I noticed earlier that you are perhaps not recovered yet from your illness.

So they shared that with you as well. I believe, Sherry, that you are better informed now than before you left us. He gazed up at the portrait from a century ago of a woman dressed in emerald satin and holding a long-haired snow white cat in her lap. The cats eyes perfectly matched the womans gown, but even more startling, they were the same color as the womans eyes. Your grandmother?

Great-grandmother. My fathers grandmother.

A handsome woman. She has called to me before when Ive been in this room. I dont know why Ive never inquired as to her identity.

Perhaps because so much in the way of business has always occupied us. Is it business this time, Woodridge, or something of a personal nature that brings you all the way here from London? I confess, neither sets well with me, but business would be more palatable, I think. I am not at all in favor of you pressing your suit with my godmother under my very nose.

Woodridges eyebrows lifted. I think you forget yourself, Sherry.

Do I? Sherry did not miss the shift in the barons light blue eyes that made his glance glacial. Woodridges drawn features were even more suited to his obdurate countenance. He held himself aloof and still, the lines of his face already sharply cut as though by a sculptors chisel. A granite bust would have imbued him with more animation than Sherry could see now. I am no longer part of what connected us these nearly nine years past. I dont have any particular allegiance to you, and you are pressing my hospitality by arriving here uninvited. It seems to me that you are the one forgetting much.

So that is the way the wind blows these days. Woodridge considered this for a long moment before offering a carefully measured gesture of acquiescence in the single nod of his head. How much did my interest in Lady Rivendale influence you to leave us, Sherry? It grieves me to think my actions swayed your thinking. Frankly, I had not realized that such might be the case.

One had nothing to do with the other. Certainly my godmother is able to make her own decisions, and I would not think of advising her regarding you. She informed me only very recently that you had offered marriage. Twice. That did astonish. I have always thought you would not take another wife. I knew when you began making noises about a connection to my godmother that your finances could not be in order, but I had not realized they were in a state of such disrepair that you would find marriage agreeable.

If I were contemplating it in regard to any woman other than Lady Rivendale, marriage would be merely a solution to a thorny problem. It is the lady herself that makes the idea of marriage agreeable. Do you regret the introduction, then? You gave no sign of it at the time, you know. But keeping your own counsel has always been one of your most admirable traits. It made you particularly well suited to our peculiar institution.

The pocket doors parted, and Wolfe entered carrying the tray of tea and cakes. He took it to the table closest to the fireplace and set it down. Shall I pour? he asked.

Sherry nodded. Perhaps you better, Wolfe. He waited until the butler finished pouring and exited the gallery before he addressed Woodridge again. Will you have tea? he asked, holding up a cup and saucer. Gants biscuits are very good also.

Woodridge approached and took the refreshment he was offered and chose one shortbread biscuit for himself. He held up the biscuit, contemplating it a moment, then did the same to his teacup. I am all for the rituals of civility.

It is the same for me. Will you not sit, or has your long journey merely made you want to stretch your legs?

In answer, the baron chose a nearby wing chair and eased himself into it. When Sherry was also sitting, he said, You have not answered my question. Do you regret introducing me to Lady Rivendale?

Yes. I did not want to make the introduction, but she insisted. Further proof, if any is needed, that she will have her own way in all things. It has always been my practice to keep the affairs of my family separate and private from what it is that you and others would have me do. You taught me that, you know, through your own example. You rarely spoke of your family.

You rarely inquired.

Again, by your example, I believed it was discouraged.

Woodridges slight smile was cool. I already knew the most important details of your background. There was no reason for me to refine upon them with you. I always learned what I needed to know before I approached anyone, and I kept my hand in with my special young men as they progressed in their apprenticeships. You never brought anyone into the fold, did you?

Sherry recognized this last for the rhetorical question that it was. Woodridge knew the answer to it well enough.

I have had cause recently to wonder why that was. He sipped his tea, regarding Sherry over the rim of his cup. You might have mentored a student yourself before you left us. It would have been your legacy as you were supposed to have been mine.

Ahh. Your legacy. But surely you cannot mean your hopes rested squarely on my shoulders. I am not the only one you mentored. There was Gibb before me and Barnett after me.

The baron set his cup aside. Crossing his legs, he brushed the knee of his breeches, removing a thin layer of dust that clung there. You are better than they are. Do not shy away from it. Its not flattery. I am merely speaking the truth.

You will understand if I do not thank you for it. If I shy away from the notion, it is not because I am flattered by it. Quite the opposite.

So you no longer believe in our mission.

Sherry shrugged. I no longer can justify it. Whether or not I ever believed in it is a question Im still asking myself.

You believed, Woodridge said. If you arrive at any other conclusion, then you are a coward, and what you fear is the prospect of a lifetime of guilt and regret. Did I say you are better than Gibb and Barnett? You are. But you are also weaker. Introspection such as you are practicing does not serve anyone, Sherry, least of all yourself. I left you too long on your own, I think. I did not suspect your convictions were so ephemeral. He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and folded his hands in his lap. His eyes did not waver from Sherrys, and his study was frank. It was the Crick affair, was it not? That is when you began to make this reassessment of your purpose. I should have reali

He was startled into silence as the wall at the far end of the gallery seemed to shift suddenly. It required a moment for him to understand what he was seeing, then a moment longer to truly believe it. I say, Sherry, three children just walked through the wall.

Sherry turned in his chair and saw the scoundrels scrambling to get back inside the entrance to the hidden stairwell. Hold! That single word, delivered in stentorian tones, was enough to halt them in their tracks. They froze in rather comical contortions and awaited the next directive. Come here.

Pinch, Dash, and Midge obliged, though their feet dragged so much they turned over the carpet when they passed by the edge of it. They lined up in front of Sherry with all the enthusiasm of soldiers caught in the act of desertion.

Sherry was on his feet, giving them a proper inspection. Woodridge stood also, coming closer when Sherry invited him to do so.

I hope there is an explanation, said Sherry. You will notice that I did not qualify it in any way. It is perhaps too much to expect that it will be either reasonable or good. The boys merely blinked at him. Sherrys eyes narrowed on the faint purple stain around Midges mouth. He bent his head closer to the trio and sniffed. Straightening, he regarded them each in turn, shaking his head as he did so. It is to be hoped that you enjoyed the bottle you took from the cellar. It is a wonder you are not foxed, or perhaps you are.

We only ad a taste, my lord, Dash said. Then we put it back so you wouldnt notice.

I see. Well, I have noticed, and so has our guest. He is certain to arrive at the opinion that you are the least grateful of all young ruffians, and I can think of nothing to say in your defense. He turned to Woodridge and witnessed the barons severe disapproval. Pointing to the boys one at a time, Sherry introduced them. Well? he demanded as they bent their heads and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Did you leave your manners in the cellar with the wine?

Like bees to a flower, they swarmed the baron to make his acquaintance in the most familiar of terms. They buzzed around him, jostling one another to be the first in line to make a bow. They never fully realized any order to their introduction as one bumped the other out of the way. No one could put a word in, including Woodridge who found himself moved off his feet by their fierce enthusiasm and competition for his attention.

Sherry reached into the huddle around the baron and plucked Dash from it. He set the boy down a few feet away, then pulled Pinch back. Midge had a firm grip on the barons hand, so Sherry left it to Woodridge to extricate himself from it.

My apologies, he said. They obviously drank more than they would have me believe.