In the Brief Eternal Silence (16 page)

Miss Murdock, who had been somewhat taken
aback by the little scene being played out in front of her,
realized now that Lord Tempton seemed to have his lordship well in
hand, so she turned to gather her cloak, tie on her bonnet and
again pick up her reticule. Her valise had remained with the
curricle, so she did not have to concern herself with it.

They left the salon, waited as St. James
settled his account, asked that his bag be brought down, and called
for his curricle to be brought around. Then they left the inn and
went out into the welcoming sunshine, although there was still a
good deal of chill in the air, to await St. James' conveyance.
Bertie had evidently already spoken with his groom, who had
remained at the inn while he and Ryan had gone on their hunt, for a
barouche with the Edison crest was already drawn up and
waiting.

“Are you well enough to drive, St. James?”
Ryan asked, being of good nature and more inclined to let the small
unpleasantness of before die in peace. “For as I was telling Miss
Murdock, I would as lief not try to drive your bays.”

“I will manage, young Ryan, do not fear. But
I have been thinking that it may be rather better for Miss Murdock
to travel with you and Bertie in your barouche rather than have her
arrive in London in my company. It will be after dark when we
arrive as it is, and even with a chaperone, I fear it will draw
attention to her before I really wish it.”

“That makes good sense,” Bertie agreed. “And
I needn't fear for Miss Murdock's safety if you drive yourself into
the ditch in your condition, either.”

“I've never driven into a ditch yet, Bertie,
as you very well know it. But all the same, I am sure Miss Murdock
will be more comfortable with you. I shall ride ahead and attempt
to intercept my groom, who I will in all probability meet somewhere
upon the road. You may deposit Miss Murdock at my grandmother's
home, as I have already written her a letter telling her of a
coming visitor. I shall be there before you to let her know that
she will be arriving a little sooner than I had anticipated, and
will see you there.”

Miss Murdock, feeling like a package being
passed from one hand to another to be finally deposited at her
designated destination only bowed her head as these instructions
were being made known and had the vague thought that she would miss
riding with his lordship, for surely the trip would have gone much
faster if she only had someone to argue with.

To her surprise, St. James stepped forward,
lifted her down turned chin with one slender finger and told her in
a teasing voice, “Goodbye, Miss Murdock. I shall see you in London.
And as we have thoroughly exhausted each other, I am sure you shall
welcome the opportunity to recover without my presence.”

Bertie gave a little harrumph and Ryan gagged
a cough, and Miss Murdock came to realize that quite a bit could be
read into his lordship's statement. She colored up furiously and it
did not help when milord added before releasing his finger from her
chin, “You have very fine eyes, Miss Murdock, especially when you
are blushing.”

Then he turned and sauntered away, unsteadily
mounted his curricle which had made its appearance in the interim,
and took the reins from the groom who had been leading his
team.

Chapter Eight

Lady Lenora Larrimer, Dowager Duchess of St.
James, unsealed the letter that her aging butler, Ashton, had
brought in to her. She had just finished her evening meal, eating
at the hour of eight o'clock, and had settled herself in her most
favored chair in the drawing room. Her daughter-in-law, Lydia,
joined her, doing petit point, her blonde head with the few strands
of white through it bent over her work and reflecting the light of
the fire from the fireplace.

“Thank you, Ashton,” Lady Lenora said, and
then, as she scanned the signature at the bottom of the short
missive, added, “It is from Dante.”

“Yes, milady. His groom, Tyler, delivered it
just a few moments ago.”

Lady Lenora read the short missive, one of
her silver brows raising higher as she read each succinct sentence.
She reached the end, turned the letter over in her fragile,
arthritic hands in futile attempt to find further information.
“What is this, Ashton?” she asked her butler, who, of course having
no knowledge of the contents of the letter, was unable to answer.
“Is Tyler still here?”

“Yes, milady. The cook was giving him a plate
in the kitchen. He looked rather done in as well as hungry.”

“Well, you had better show him in, Ashton,
for this letter is only mystifying me rather than enlightening me.
Hardly unusual for my grandson,” she added on a dry note.

Ashton left to procure Tyler and Lady Lenora
once again skipped from sentence to sentence in the letter, her
faded eyes bright with interest. A charming young lady from
Chestershire. . . daughter of a Squire. A Squire. Lord help her,
Lady Lenora thought. Still, for Dante to show an interest in any
young lady, in a respectable way at least, was quite remarkable.
Quite remarkable.

As she is already in her twentieth year and
has never had her coming out, and knowing, dear grandmother, how
you are always looking for some activity to lighten your boredom, I
shall be sending her to you in a few days. I trust that between you
and Aunt Lydia, you will make her welcome to stay for the season
and help her with any little adjustments that may need made in her
wardrobe.

I shall finance her, of course.

Until I see you again

Your loving grandson

Always

St. J.

It was the last sentence that seemed to be
the crowning touch on the whole disturbing letter. Finance her? St.
James could not be so blind as to think that if this were made
known, there could be any chance of the girl making a proper
alliance with anyone else. Not that the Dowager would not enjoy
spending his money, but it would have to be kept carefully under
wraps. Which meant that the Dowager would have to find some reason
for this—this Miss Murdock having been invited to her home for the
season that had nothing to do with her grandson.

Surely he must know this. Knowing her
grandson, he knew it very well, and had been laughing to himself as
he penned that line, already foreseeing the ancient wheels of his
grandmother's mind starting to spin. He knew her too well, that one
did, and he knew very well she would enjoy the touch of intrigue
that wafted from the letter like a faint perfume.

And whatever was possessing her grandson to
take an interest in this young lady? Quite, quite unlike St. James
to expend any time or energy in trying to assist some one else. Not
unless he were after something himself.

Ashton tapped on the door, causing Lady
Lenora to fold up the letter even as she bade him to again come in.
Her daughter-in-law, Lydia, was still sewing, but she saw her blue
eyes glance up, curious of whatever was progressing without her
knowledge, but reluctant to show it. Oh, she was a dull one was
Lydia. Lady Lenora would never fathom what her younger son had seen
in her, other than that she had been extremely beautiful those
twenty-three years ago when they had first married. Twenty-four,
actually, as it was November.

God help her, although she would love to see
St. James married, she hoped he had not fallen for an empty, pretty
face. Like Lydia.

“Milady?” Tyler asked, coming awkwardly
within a few feet of her chair. He could not be anything but
confident and in-control when outside or in the stables, but bring
the man into the house and he was all thumbs and elbows. He shifted
some object in his mouth from one guilty cheek to the other and
Lady Lenora, not knowing whether to be amused or exasperated, told
him, “You may spit your tobacco into the fire, Tyler, and try to
remember not to chew again when you are in my house.”

He did as she asked, wiped an indelicate arm
across his mouth. “Sorry, milady.”

“That's quite all right, Tyler. Though why
you insist on that filthy habit, I do not know. Probably from
dealing every day with my grandson, I suppose, for one must surely
have some vice to keep themselves sane when being constantly in his
presence.”

“Aye, milady. You've hit the nail on the head
there, milady,” he told her with certainty, which made the many
papery lines about her mouth crease into a smile.

“Now, Tyler, you will tell me what it is my
grandson is up to. Who is this Miss Murdock? When did he meet her
and why is he sending her to my home for her coming out?”

Tyler rubbed one hand along his grizzled jaw.
“Well, milady, she is the daughter of a Squire in Chestershire. He
met her yesterday afternoon when he went to look at a horse of the
Squire's. I gather she has no relatives or acquaintances in town
for her to stay with for her coming out, and St. James, seeing her
plight, was moved to help her.”

“Humph!” Lady Lenora said. “St. James has
never been moved to help any one in any plight.” She paused a
moment, her fingers tapping a delicate tattoo on the gold head of
her cane that rested by her side. “Is she enough to turn his head,
Tyler? For I have seen St. James pass by some uncommonly beautiful
women, or if he became involved with them, drop them without a
qualm when whatever business he had with them was at an end. She
must be very beautiful indeed, if he has been moved to this.”

“Beautiful?” Tyler asked with an unreadable
expression on his face. “No, milady, t'is not the tag I, for one,
would put upon her.”

Lady Lenora eyed him with some annoyance,
feeling she was getting no where quickly, and getting the suspicion
that Tyler had distinct orders to make sure that she did not.
“Well, what 'tag' would you put upon her?” she asked the groom.

Tyler considered a moment standing
stocky-legged, his shoulders still broad despite being now some
fifty years of age. His hand went to his pocket for his pouch of
tobacco before he remembered himself and let it be. “Brown,” he
answered, causing the Duchess to leave off fingering her cane and
to instead grasp it and bang it on the floor.

“Brown?” she demanded. “That is all you can
say about the girl is

that she is brown?”

“Very much so, milady. Very brown.”

And Lady Lenora responded by saying tetchily,
“Be away with you, Tyler, you cheeky bugger, for I can see my
grandson holds all of your loyalties, as usual.”

“Yes, milady,” he said, hiding a smile.

“Well, you heard me, be off, before I take
this cane to your

back.”

“Yes, milady,” he said again, not in the
least intimidated, which caused her to give a reluctant smile. “I
will add, milady, that I think you shall like her.”

“Indeed?” the duchess grinned, finding some
satisfaction, at last, in this assessment. “Well, I shall look
forward to seeing what St. James has selected to keep me
entertained for the coming months.

For I can see no reason for this behavior
other than his ill-conceived notion that I have nothing better to
do with my time but follow his vagaries.”

And Tyler could not resist saying before he
turned to leave, “I think you will find the coming months very
entertaining, milady, and a good deal at St. James' expense.”

This caused the Duchess to laugh, and she
muttered to herself as she watched the groom move to the door that
Ashton held open for him. “Cheeky as always. Cheeky as always.
Well, Ashton,” she continued when her butler returned to her side,
his back rather bowed and what was left of the hair on his balding
dome very white. “What do you make of this?”

“I learned many years ago, Lady Lenora, that
where your grandson is concerned, one should always hesitate in
making any deductions, for he is certain to confound whatever
conclusions one makes.”

“You are so right, Ashton,” she returned. “As
always.”

“Well,” Lydia spoke up from where she had sat
in silence through all, “I think he is up to his usual disgraceful
conduct. Expecting you to take on this girl without ever having
made her acquaintance.”

And Lady Lenora banged her cane once for
effect. “If she is good enough for St. James to take even the
slightest interest in, she shall be good enough for me, Lydia. And
for you, also.”

Lydia pulled her thread through her cloth
with more than her usual force. “Of course, Lady Lenora.”

The door opened then, and a young man with
dark hair and blue eyes strode into the room. His face was rather
petulant, although uncommonly handsome, and Lydia dropped her
sewing, saying, “There you are, Andrew. If you insist on missing
your evening meal, you should send word around, as I have told you
many times.”

“Yes, mother,” he said with impatience. “Was
that St. James' man I saw leaving?”

“Yes. It was,” Lydia returned. “But you
needn't get excited, for St. James has not, to my knowledge,
returned to town. His groom was merely delivering a missive to your
grandmother.”

“Oh,” the young man said, seeming quite a bit
deflated. “That is all very well, then, it is just that I thought
he may have returned early. Frightfully boring in this town without
him around.”

“Pleasantly peaceful, I should say,” his
mother returned. “I have told you before that although he is your
cousin, I would not wish for you to put too fine a point upon his
behavior, as more times than not it is disgraceful.”

At which point, Lady Lenora interrupted. “And
I have told you before, Lydia, please do not run St. James down in
my hearing. Your opinion of him is your own and I can not change
it, neither, I admit, has St. James ever done anything to ease your
mind in regards to his character, but I will not tolerate hearing
his own family speak ill of him.”

Lady Lydia gave a tight smile. “I apologize,
Lady Lenora. It is, of course, inexcusable of me. I only wish that
when Andrew is around that St. James would be a little more
considerate of the fact that he is still quite impressionable and
is wont to romanticize his lordship's behavior rather than see it
as the handicap it actually is. I have often thought that he has
not married because his reputation is nearly impossible for those
worthy families among our peerage to ignore, rather than that he
were merely so choosy. If he has taken an interest in a Squire's
daughter, I daresay it is from necessity rather then any thing
else.”