Gayle Buck (23 page)

Evelyn looked harassed. Restlessly he shifted in the saddle, hardly acknowledging the two riders’ return. A nagging unease had settled on him some minutes past and he had the increasing conviction that something was wrong with Dorothea.

Margaret was swift to notice Victoria’s downcast eyes and subdued air. She glanced sharply at Lord Damion to discover that he was thoughtfully observing Victoria’s profile. Margaret was no fool. She knew that something of moment had passed between the two. Furious, she yanked on her mount’s reins and the placid mare tossed her head in surprise. “I should like to return to the Crossing, if you please, my lord! I have been bored to tears and Evelyn has given me the headache,” she said.

Evelyn jerked upright, his temper flaring “I have been at great pains to open each gate and show you goodwill, Margaret. But I’ll be damned if I’ll sit here and listen to your abuse!” He slapped spurs to his mount and raced off toward the Crossing.

“I shall go after him,” said Victoria, seizing on Evelyn’s upset to escape Lord Damion’s eyes. She put the mare into swift motion. Her thoughts whirled. Their passionate interlude in the copse had shocked her to the depth of her being. She had been willing to surrender herself to him without thought for the consequences. Victoria believed that she could be but a passing fancy to him, but she had hoped that she was mistress enough of her own feelings to protect herself. Instead she had allowed him to glimpse the passionate fire in her heart, and in such a manner that stripped her of all pride.

“Well!” Margaret was astounded to find herself so suddenly alone with Lord Damion. She turned to him with an arch look. “It appears that we have been abandoned, my lord.”

“I will be most happy to escort you back to the manor, ma’am,” said Lord Damion formally.

It was not the reaction that Margaret had wished for, but she thought, given a little time, she would see an improvement and deliberately held her mount to a slow pace. Glancing toward Lord Damion, she smiled brightly. “It is a gorgeous day, is it not, my lord? I had thought it quite chilly before, but it has warmed most gratifyingly.”

“Indeed, madame,” Lord Damion said with distant courtesy. His thoughts were far away. He could not forget the feel of Victoria in his arms or how she had responded to him. Nor could he ignore the echo in his thoughts of Evelyn’s accusation that he was using Victoria for his own ends. For the first time Lord Damion questioned his own motives.

Lord Damion and Margaret traveled a good distance toward the Crossing and his unfailing yet impersonal urbanity discouraged even her determined vivacity. Margaret was silent for the remainder of the ride and her headache had become very real.

When Victoria returned to the manor and entered the hall, she found the household in an uproar. Servants stood idle in the entryway, wearing anxious expressions. Upon her inquiry, a footman quickly informed her that Mrs. St. Claire was having her baby.

Victoria stripped off her riding gloves, asking swiftly, “Has
Dr. Chatworth been sent for?”

“Aye, m’lady, an hour ago,” said the footman.

A furious voice came clearly down the stairs. “Damn you, she is my wife!”

Victoria looked at the footman, raising her brows. The man shook his head. “Master Evelyn is that wild,” he said simply.

“I see.” Victoria thought quickly. “Where is Sir Aubrey?”

“I believe he went to his rooms, m’lady,” said the footman.

“Send for him immediately. Inform him that I need him in Mrs. St. Claire’s chambers,” Victoria said, starting swiftly up the stairs. She reached Dorothea’s room and paused in the door, glancing around the scene.

At the head of the four-poster bed Mrs. Lummington stoically sponged Dorothea’s brow as the girl lay on her pillow. Evelyn and Lady Hortense stood beside the bed. Lady Hortense had a hand on her nephew’s forearm. “Evelyn, you cannot stay. Surely you must see that.”

“I have told you, Aunt, I’m staying,” Evelyn said with stubborn insistence.

“Then you are a selfish fool,” Victoria said coolly. They turned as she advanced. In pithy terms she made Evelyn understand that his presence was harmful for Doro’s peace of mind.

“Very well, if it is better for Doro,” he said, subdued. He accepted his banishment and accompanied Victoria to the door, where he paused. His expression was fierce. “But if anything should—”

“I shall send for you immediately,” said Victoria. “But the baby will take its own time, Evelyn, remember.”

Sir Aubrey appeared outside the door. Evelyn threw a challenging look at Victoria, who said promptly, “Yes, I was going to ask Sir Aubrey to throw you out if you refused to leave peacefully.”

Evelyn grinned reluctantly. “I go peacefully, cousin.” As he turned away with the older man, Sir Aubrey glanced sardonically at Victoria. With relief Victoria closed the door.

“Well done, Victoria. I was never so glad of anything in my life. I thought we should never pry him loose,” said Lady Hortense.

“Neither did I,” said Victoria. She sat down on the side of the bed and took up Dorothea’s fragile hand.

Dorothea smiled at her gratefully. “Thank you for sending Eve away. He is so easily upset, you know.”

“So I have learned,” Victoria said dryly.

“Victoria, had Damion or Margaret returned when you came up?” asked Lady Hortense.

Victoria felt a pain in her heart. She shook her head. “I left them behind when I followed Evelyn in.”

“How odd. Damion is not usually a laggard. Perhaps I should go down and be available when Margaret returns. She will naturally be concerned for Doro. I shall be back, never fear.” Lady Hortense left the bedroom.

There was a short silence. “Dear Mrs. Lummington, could you leave Lady Victoria and me alone for a few moments?” asked Dorothea.

“Of course, ma’am. I shall just go and see about the doctor,” said Mrs. Lummington.

When they were alone, Dorothea turned to Victoria with a somber expression on her flushed face. “You have become a good friend to me, Victoria. I hope I may confide in you now.”

“Certainly you may, Doro.” She gave the girl’s slim fingers a reassuring squeeze.

“Victoria, I fear—I am afraid I may lose the child,” said Dorothea quietly.

“And I think not.” Victoria gently brushed the soft hair back from Doro’s brow. “Dear Doro. You have as much heart as Starfire and she brought two babes into the world.”

Dorothea laughed, the shadows in her eyes receding. “You say the oddest things!” Her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh! It is beginning again. And I feel most vilely ill!”

Downstairs in the drawing room Sir Aubrey had managed to bully Evelyn into a hand of whist. His waspish insults stirred Evelyn’s pride and forced him to focus on the cards.

Sir Aubrey noted how often his son’s eyes strayed to the door. “Never mind about that girl, Evelyn. She will come through her confinement with flying colors,” he said gently.

Evelyn quickly turned his head to stare at him, struck by the moderate tone of his voice. “Sir?”

“ ‘Pon my word, boy! Have you never looked at your young wife? She is pluck to the backbone for all her docile ways. In the past two months I have been pleasantly surprised by her,” said Sir Aubrey gruffly. He fell silent, and his eyes took on a faraway expression. Almost under his breath he said, “At times she reminds me most strongly of my dear Amanda.” There was a wealth of regret and sorrow in his voice.

Evelyn looked at his father and perhaps for the first time in his life he understood him a little. He said diffidently, “If it is a girl, we wished to christen her Amanda after my mother.”

Sir Aubrey looked at his son. His heavy-lidded eyes lit with a true smile. “She would have liked that very much. Thank you, Evelyn.”

Chapter Twenty-two

When Lord Damion and Margaret entered the hall, they met Lady Hortense who quickly informed them of the situation. She turned to Margaret, who stood snapping her crop between her gloved fingers. “I know that you shall wish to see her, Margaret. But truly, it would be best if you waited,” she said.

Margaret stared at her in amazement for a bare second, then said hastily, “To be sure, Lady Hortense.” She was appalled by the very idea of entering Dorothea’s room at such a time. It would never have occurred to her to express her sisterly concern in such a fashion. “I shall go up to change, however. I do not care to be sitting about in my habit all the afternoon.” She turned her glance to Lord Damion. “I know that you will excuse me, my lord.”

Lord Damion bowed but it was Lady Hortense who replied. “Of course, my dear. And I shall go up with you to fetch the christening robe which Doro and I have been embroidering. You may help me to finish the sewing, for it will be needed in a very few days now,” she said, linking her arm with the younger woman’s. Margaret accepted her suggestion with good grace. She was mindful that Lady Hortense was beloved by her son and must be accorded every courtesy. Lord Damion appeared entirely self-contained, but Margaret had long since come to the conclusion that his mother’s opinion mattered greatly to him. Margaret therefore intended that nothing should give that lady a prejudice against her.

Lord Damion went into the drawing room and settled down to observe the cardplayers. He was not long in concluding that Evelyn’s concentration had gone begging.

Lady Hortense and Margaret returned within minutes. Lady Hortense carried her sewing basket and was remarking, “Is it not odd that the dear creatures always know when something is afoot?”

Margaret agreed, glancing down with mixed feelings at the two small dogs gamboling about her feet. When she had paused briefly at Dorothea’s room to inquire about her, the spaniels had attached themselves to her in joyful recognition. Margaret seated herself beside Lady Hortense on the sofa and threaded a needle. She actually did not mind embroidery, but she did not often ply a needle because such activity did not fit her image of the idle society beauty.

Lord Damion gestured at the spaniels. “I did not know you were such a favorite,” he said humorously.

Margaret threw him a laughing glance. “And neither did I, my lord. They are silly creatures. I had thought them entirely loyal to Doro.” She sternly admonished the spaniels to behave. They obediently sat down, panting happily, and looked up at her with expectant eyes. “Oh very well,” said Margaret, unable to withstand their eager gaze. She found a scrap of fabric in Lady Hortense’s basket and tossed it to the spaniels. The small dogs attacked it in a mock-ferocious tug-of-war. Margaret laughed and Lord Damion joined in her amusement. Lady Hortense regarded the two with a benevolent smile.

It was upon this scene that the butler announced visitors. Sir Harry and Miss Erica Belingham entered the drawing room.

“Oh, what precious spaniels!” exclaimed Erica, bending to stroke one as it dashed into range. “Do they belong to you, Mrs. Giddings?”

Margaret shook her head, affecting unawareness of Sir Harry’s glance as he bowed civilly over Lady Hortense’s hand. “Lucinda and Smudge are my sister’s charges, thank goodness. They have simply attached themselves to me this afternoon since they have not been allowed into her room.” She patted one of the affectionate spaniels when it placed a feathery paw on her knee, then she brushed its paw gently down.

Quick concern crossed Sir Harry’s face. “Dr. Chatworth came in with us and I wondered—I hope that Mrs. St. Claire is not ill?”

“I think you have only to observe Evelyn’s agitation to guess the cause of dear Doro’s affliction,” Lady Hortense said humorously.

Comprehension came swift to the Belinghams. Sir Harry and Erica exchanged a glance and Erica said, “Then you must certainly wish us gone, ma’am. We shall pay our social call at a later time when Mrs. St. Claire is out of her confinement.”

“Oh, do not go!” exclaimed Margaret, dismayed. She had been thinking that the Belinghams’ arrival was the most pleasant interlude of the afternoon. Sir Harry glanced her way and Margaret summoned up her most winning smile. “Pray do not allow them to leave, Lady Hortense. Fresh company is just what we all need to occupy us.”

“Of course Sir Harry and Miss Belingham shall not leave. I will not hear of it. It is too long a drive to return immediately to Belingham in this cold,” Lady Hortense said firmly. She tugged on the bell rope hanging beside the sofa. “I shall order tea immediately. Sir Harry and Miss Belingham, I urge you to make yourselves comfortable.”

The Belinghams gave in to Lady Hortense’s overtures and soon settled themselves near the fire. Lord Damion and Sir Harry exchanged pleasantries, each taking the other’s measure and liking what they saw. Erica leaned close to see the christening dress that Lady Hortense and Margaret were sewing, commenting that it was a very pretty gown.

Sir Aubrey and Evelyn gave scant attention to the newcomers. Sir Aubrey was using all his wiles to keep his son attentive to the card game and he spared them only a bare nod.

The butler and a footman brought in the tea board, and the urn and cakes were soon brought. Lady Hortense, concerned about Evelyn’s paleness, pressed him to take some refreshment. Evelyn refused vehemently.

Sir Aubrey threw a comprehensive glance at his son’s greenish gills. “Leave the boy alone, Hortense. I wish him to concentrate on the card play and he cannot be swilling tea, too!” he said testily.

“Very well, Aubrey,” said Lady Hortense, affronted. She returned to her place on the sofa and began to exert herself in amusing her guests. She was ably assisted by Margaret, who liked nothing better than to have more than one handsome gentleman in her vicinity. To her credit, Margaret made a point of including Erica. The ladies gradually drifted into a discussion of laces and velvets and the gentlemen were left to fend for themselves.

Lord Damion turned to Sir Harry. “We seem to be forgotten, Sir Harry. Allow me to propose a game of billiards.” He lowered his voice, not wanting Lady Hortense to hear. “I should like to hear privately anything you may tell me about the war. We hear so damnably little these days.”

“Of course, my lord,” said Sir Harry, bowing. He had been awaiting just such an opportunity to converse privately with Lord Damion so that he could get a better understanding of the man. Victoria had said very little about the earl, but Sir Harry was sensitive enough to the nuances of her voice to know that she had fairly strong feelings toward Lord Damion. The gentlemen rose from their chairs and went to the billiards table.