Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 03] (7 page)

Gideon stiffened but said with forced calm, “I believe I must make that decision, sir. It would be the height of bad manners to leave before I am expected to do so, but the Court is less than an hour’s ride from here, so I daresay you will see more than enough of me in days to come. I have every wish to know Lady Daintry well before we set a date for our wedding.”

“Damme, man, but Ollie was right. You’re a damned procrastinator!”

For the second time that day, Gideon blessed his friend’s well-known dilatory nature. “Be that as it may, sir,” he said, “I can see nothing to be lost and a great deal to be gained by going gently to work here.” He glanced pointedly at Lady Daintry, who had chosen that moment to look out the window again as though she took no interest whatsoever in the conversation.

Following his glance, St. Merryn grimaced and said, “Oh, very well, but you disappoint me, lad. I had not thought you would so easily discount my excellent advice on that head.”

The drawing-room doors banged back on their hinges, and Gideon turned to stare in astonishment at the small whirlwind that blew into the room. “Aunt Daintry, the rain has stopped, and we’ve got our habits on and everything! Oh, please, may we go at once?” The child was almost an exact miniature of her aunt, and faced with such exuberance, Gideon nearly didn’t notice the slender blond wraith who slipped in behind her.

“Upon my soul, Charley!” St. Merryn snarled in outrage.

Lady Ophelia said calmly, “Go out and come in again, Charlotte, this time like a lady of quality, if you please.”

Without missing a beat, the child turned on her heel and ran past her silent shadow, out of the room, pulling the doors shut behind her. There was a lengthy pause before they opened again, revealing the stately Medrose with tray, decanter, and glasses. Stepping into the room, he paused for effect before announcing majestically, “The Honorable Miss Charlotte Tarrant, madam.”

Gideon ruthlessly stifled laughter at the vision next revealed upon the threshold. Carrying herself with the dignity of a queen, and a far more dignified queen than the present one, Miss Charlotte swept into the room and made a profound, even a graceful, curtsy. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and he saw that they were not the same color as Daintry’s but were so dark as to appear black; however, the roses in her cheeks were the same, and it was as clear as could be that in a few years she would be every bit as beautiful as her aunt.

The second child had not moved from the spot she had taken after their first entrance. She stood so still that it seemed almost as if she were not breathing, and she, too, reminded him of someone. For a moment he could not think who it was. Then, with a start, he realized that Lady Susan must be the child’s mother. The fact that Susan had been present in the room the entire time he had been there and had scarcely uttered a word was reason enough to have missed the resemblance. He glanced at her now, seated quietly near the window, and saw that she was watching, warily, not her irrepressible niece but St. Merryn.

Daintry, too, shot a look at her father before stepping forward with a laugh to hug Charlotte. “Charley, you dreadful girl, will you never learn to behave?”

“But I did do it properly the second time, Aunt Daintry, so do say you will take us. Who is that gentleman?” she demanded abruptly when her gaze came to rest at last upon Gideon.

St. Merryn snapped, “Children should be seen and not heard.”

“Nonsense,” Lady Ophelia retorted. “How is the child to learn anything if she does not ask questions? Introduce him.”

When the earl’s face darkened in anger, Daintry said quickly, “He is Viscount Penthorpe, darling.”

“The man you are going to marry?”

Daintry paused, but Gideon, surprising himself, said firmly, “The very man.”

The child looked him over from head to toe, then smiled happily at her aunt. “He is much better looking than you thought he would be, isn’t he?”

Gasping, Daintry shot him a look of laughing embarrassment before she said, “If I am to take you riding, girls, I must change out of this gown, so now if everyone will excuse me—”

Seeing that St. Merryn was about to object again, Gideon quickly interrupted, saying, “An excellent idea. I will be very happy to accompany you.”

But if she was grateful for his intervention, she did not show it, replying curtly, “We ride toward the shore, sir, not toward Bodmin Moor.”

Still determined to frustrate St. Merryn’s opposition, Gideon said evenly, “Then we can ride together as long as our routes coincide, my lady. Surely you do not wish to stand here debating the point when you could more efficiently employ the time in changing to your riding dress.”

For a moment she looked as if she would stand her ground, but then, with a swift look at the two girls, she nodded, said abruptly, “Wait for me in the hall, Charley,” and swept from the room with the same air of dignity that the child had assumed to enter it. Only, in Daintry’s case, the attitude was clearly a natural one and inspired not the least urge in Gideon to laugh.

“That’s the dandy,” St. Merryn said, his humor rapidly improving. “A firm hand, that’s what you’ll need with the chit. You just show her who’s master, lad, and you’ll have no regrets.”

Lady Ophelia, chuckling, said, “All things are possible, I suppose.”

D
AINTRY’S AIR OF DIGNITY
deserted her the moment the drawing-room doors closed behind her, and she hurried upstairs to her bedchamber, where walls papered above white linen-fold wainscoting in a mock-India pattern of colorful flowers and birds on a sky blue background provided an elegant background for dark wood furniture. The hangings at bed and window were of matching blue silk, and a cheerful fire crackled on the white marble hearth.

Ringing for her maid, she crossed the pastel-colored floral carpet and flung open the doors of her wardrobe. Then, kicking off the pink satin slippers she had worn with her morning dress, she untied her sash with one hand while with the other she riffled through the clothes hanging in the wardrobe.

“Merciful heavens, Daintry, whatever are you doing?” Susan demanded from the doorway. There was amusement in her voice, and when Daintry, startled, whirled to face her, she said, “Wait for Nance to help you, for goodness’ sake. You know how much it annoys her when you disarrange the things in your wardrobe.”

“Good gracious, Susan, do you try to please even your maid? Nance is very good in her way, and I prefer her services to those of that awful dresser Aunt Ophelia insisted I hire my first Season in London, but I do not exert myself to please her. Where the devil is she, anyway? And what are you doing here?”

“I came to help you choose what to wear, of course, and to discover what you think of your betrothed.”

“He is a typical man, overbearing and arrogant,” Daintry said, laughing at her, “but you can’t fool me, my dear. You just wanted to escape from the drawing room. Not that I blame you in the least, but won’t Papa be displeased by such base desertion?”

“I daresay he did not even notice that I followed you,” Susan said evenly. “Nobody ever pays heed to me.”

Daintry arched one eyebrow and said mockingly, “No one? Not even Sir Geoffrey? Come now, that is carrying things too far, I think. Or have you changed your mind about that handsome husband of yours? Why, I can recall when you thought him the most magnificent, the most charming, the most perfect of men.”

“Well, Aunt Ophelia never thought him so,” Susan said, moving across the room toward the tall, blue-silk-draped window.

“Aunt Ophelia does not appreciate masculine charm,” Daintry said, abandoning her search and drifting restlessly toward her dressing table. “Nor am I generally drawn to aesthetic-looking blond gentlemen, myself, but you did not answer my question. Have you altered your opinion of him?”

“Do not be nonsensical,” Susan retorted without turning. She added in a worried tone, “Do you think it is safe to take the girls out so soon after that rain? The cobbles in the courtyard are still wet.”

“We won’t be riding on cobblestones, silly,” Daintry said, watching her and wishing the light had not been behind her when she had asked about Sir Geoffrey. Susan never seemed to want to talk about her husband, and Daintry had little wish to press her now. “We mean to ride toward the sea,” she said, “but you need not fret, you know, for I will take excellent care of them both just as I always do. Come unfasten my buttons, will you? There must be fifty of them down the back of this frock, and I cannot reach most of them. Where the devil is Nance? I rang ages ago.”

“You are so impatient,” Susan said with a look of fond exasperation. She dealt swiftly with the buttons, however, and by the time she had finished, Nance had arrived.

“About time,” Daintry said, glaring at her. “I want my red habit, black boots, and black gloves. And please don’t be all day about it, Nance. My nieces are waiting.”

“Oh, aye, and so they are,” Nance said, grinning at Susan. A plump Cornishwoman with warm brown eyes and a rosy complexion, she had served at St. Merryn nearly all her life—as had her sister, mother, and grandmother before her—and if she had ever possessed a formal attitude, she had long since abandoned it. Laughing, she said, “As if I and everyone else in the house did not know who’s come to call. And as if it were your custom to wear your best habit on a drearsome day like this one. The old blue one were good enough for Miss Charley and Miss Melissa afore today.” Abandoning her teasing attitude the moment Daintry’s expression hardened, she said, “What’s he like, Miss Daintry? I asked Medrose if he were a handsome lad, ’n all, but you know what a stick
he
is. Mr. Stiffrump, that’s him to the life, and not one word would he say to me about my Lord Penthorpe.”

“Very proper of him,” Daintry said. “I hope you do not gossip with the other servants about my affairs, Nance.”

“As if I would,” Nance said, whisking the red habit out of the wardrobe and laying it upon the high bed, where with its black cord trim, black-fringed epaulets, and jet buttons, it stood out splendidly against the sky blue silk spread. Returning to the wardrobe, she stretched to reach a box on the shelf above the rack, saying as she did so, “But I still want to hear about that young man, Miss Daintry. I’ll not breathe a word—”

“I will not wear a hat today,” Daintry said.

“Nonsense,” Nance said. “You’ll never wear that lovely habit without the hat what goes with it.”

“You must not go bareheaded, my dear,” Susan said quietly. “’Twould be a most unworthy example to set for the girls.”

Daintry ground her teeth but said no more about the hat. Susan was right. It would not do to teach the little girls to scorn the dictates of fashion. Not yet, at all events.

She was out of her frock and into the habit in a trice, and Nance stood back to look her over. “Does your complexion proud, that red does. Suits you to a treat. I’m right glad you and my Lady Ophelia was able to talk your mama out of having it done up in the light blue muslin she fancied so strong for you.”

“Susan is to have that,” Daintry said, smiling at her sister. “It will be most becoming to her, and will make up into just what she will want for riding in Hyde Park when we go to London in February. Moreover, muslin, fashionable though it may be, is not my notion of suitable material for a riding dress.”

“His lordship will like that red sarcenet better on you,” Nance said. “Sit down and let me tidy your hair before we put on your hat. Is he handsome, then? Tell me all about him.”

“He is well enough, I suppose,” Daintry said repressively. In the mirror she saw Nance glance at Susan again and was not surprised to hear her sister chuckle. Shifting her gaze to Susan’s reflection, she said, “I suppose you think he is a marvel of masculine pulchritude.” Privately she thought Penthorpe a good deal better looking than Sir Geoffrey Seacourt, but she doubted that her sister would agree.

Susan laughed. “Lord Penthorpe is very large and handsome in a rugged sort of way, Nance, and I think Daintry likes him more than she would have us believe. I cannot think why I never noticed him in London, you know, for although Lord Tattersal’s son was still alive at the time of my come-out, and Penthorpe was thus quite ineligible, one would think we’d have noted him before he joined Wellington’s army, for he has a vast air of command. He even stood up to Papa when Papa wanted him to stay here.”

“Don’t he mean to stay? Why not?”

While Nance tidied Daintry’s unruly curls into a semblance of order, Susan explained. “He is staying with friends in the neighborhood, and I can tell you, Papa is none too happy about that, for his friends are at Deverill Court, of all places.”

“Susan.” Daintry said no more than her name, but Susan flushed to the roots of her hair and looked down at her hands.

Nance said, “Now don’t be scolding her, Miss Daintry. I’d have learned it all soon enough, if not from one of the maids, then from Annie, since our cousin Sarah works days at the Court.” Setting the hairbrush on the dressing table, she picked up the hat, a confection of scarlet silk fashionably decked with an assortment of plumes, ribbons, and black Naples lace, and set it carefully atop her mistress’s dusky curls, anchoring it with a jeweled brass hatpin. Surveying the result, she said, “Best you tell me the facts yourself, so as when some fool begins telling fairy tales in the servants’ hall, I can set him straight.”

“You will do no such thing, Nance,” Daintry said, meeting her gaze in the mirror and holding it.

Flushing even more brightly than Susan had, Nance muttered, “No, o’ course I won’t. I know better than to discuss my betters, and so you should know, miss.”

“I do hope so, Nance, and that you will refrain from discussing them even with Annie, since she no longer works here herself. You may go now. I will ring for you when I return.”

Without another word, pausing only long enough to collect the clothes Daintry had discarded, Nance left the room.

Susan said, “You’ve upset her.”

“Nonsense,” Daintry said, peering into the mirror and trying to decide if the tilt of her hat was as becoming as it might be. Then, realizing that she could not possibly be doing such a thing on Charley’s or Melissa’s account, she turned to face her sister. “I cannot imagine why you would think I had upset Nance. She is not so easily daunted. When next I see her, she will be scolding me for something or other. You know she will.”