Almost Sherry believed that Micah
had
traveled abroad, so sincere was his voice. She reminded herself that it was folly to trust the rogue.
Trust him or no, Sherry wanted very much for him to kiss her again. There was at least that much adventure in her soul. She pushed back her chair, stood up, and touched her fingers to his swarthy face, his dark curls. He pressed his lips to the back of her hand. Prinny, who had been watching this exchange with a somewhat jaded eye—the hound had no great appreciation of affection lavished on any other than himself—sighed and resumed his nap upon the settee in anticipation of more of the same.
Nor was Prinny mistaken. For a time, the book room knew no other sound than the lovers’ breaths and sighs. Then a tap came at the door, and Daffodil entered the room without waiting for a response. “Coo!” she said, upon witnessing her mistress caught up in a highwayman’s embrace.
No wonder Lady Sherry had called the rogue a flirt. However, what was well and good for the maid was not equally so for the mistress, and Daffodil didn’t think she approved. “Begging your pardon, milady, I’m sure! And yours, my fine gentleman. Milord Captain Toby, is that what we’re to call you now? If I may suggest as shouldn’t, you might be wishful of leaving before Her Snootiness returns to the house!”
Micah nodded, finding this an excellent suggestion. He had already been informed of Lady Childe’s absence before he mounted the stairs. “We’ll meet again soon,” he said as he clasped Sherry’s hands.
She shook her head. Oh, why in this of all moments did she have to remember that Micah had been so discerning as to call Lavinia a prune? How she would miss him. But honor decreed that she must either break off her betrothal or banish Micah from her life. And common sense informed her that there was no future for her with a highwayman. Sherry did not wish to cause damage to Andrew’s heart such as that which had already been done to hers. “We must not meet again,” she said. “Must I remind you that I am to be married soon?”
“Married?” Micah arched his brows. “What has passed between us does not signify, then? I had not thought you such a coward, my love. Or such a pea-goose! I’ll find my own way out. But be warned: We’ll talk of this again!” Before she could speak, he strode from the room.
Sherry stared woefully after him. “Perdition!” she sighed, then repaired to the settee and gathered up a startled Prinny in her arms.
Daffodil surveyed her mistress’s stricken posture and the tears that streamed down her face and dripped onto the dog’s startled head. “Here’s a pretty kettle of fish! I don’t blame you, milady, for being moped. And I don’t like to tell you that things have gone from bad to worse. But they have, milady, so buck up, do! Neddy’s been kidnapped! Three men bundled him into a carriage and drove off with him!”
Chapter Twenty-two
Lady Childe was in fine fettle, having felt in sufficient trim to sally forth and enjoy a comfortable and catty coze with her two bosom bows. Neither Lady Throckmorton nor the Countess Dunsany had thus far produced offspring of her own, and so Lavinia was privileged to receive their envious congratulations with good grace. To receive also their congratulations on the fast-approaching nuptials that would remove the disruptive Sherris from Lavinia’s house. To that house Lavinia returned, in anticipation of sharing a cold collation with her spouse. Sir Christopher had recently fallen into the habit of returning to Longacre House at midday to ensure that all was well with his adorable little wife.
They met in the dining room. No sooner did Lavinia realize that Sherris and Aunt Tulliver were not putting in an appearance than she dismissed the servants, saying that she and Sir Christopher would wait on themselves. And so they did. Lavinia sliced her husband’s roast beef for him, and he popped hothouse grapes one by one into her pretty mouth.
During these proceedings, a great deal of nonsense was uttered, as can be imagined. Lavinia flirted outrageously with her spouse, who in turn loaded her with caresses and declared himself the most fortunate fellow in all of London—nay, in all England, if not the world! And now she was to provide him with an heir, who would, of course, have her good looks and personality, who would be a pattern card of perfection, no doubt.
Lavinia thought these sentiments very pretty in her husband. She agreed that she had done the thing most handsomely. Some time then passed in a discussion of the setting-up of the nursery. “Sherris’s book-room would be perfect!” Lavinia said slyly. “Not that I should wish to evict your sister from her sanctum, but since she is going to marry Viccars, she will hardly continue to need space in our house. Oh, Christopher! Soon it will be just the two of us again. Plus the servants, of course. And then we will be three! Not that I dislike Sherris, you must not think that. But fond as I may be of her, I cannot help but feel that she is a somewhat
disruptive
influence.”
Sir Christopher returned a noncommittal answer. He did not wish to speak of his sister just then. His Livvy had recovered her spirits, and consequently he wished more than anything to withdraw with her abovestairs for a resumption of those most pleasurable activities that had already led to the getting of an heir.
He cleared his throat, then broached the suggestion. “Would you care to retire to our room, my dear? For a spot of— you know!”
Lavinia stared. “Really, Christopher!” she said in shocked tones. “How can you mention such a thing to me! God bless my soul, it’s the middle of the day! What would the servants think?”
Sir Christopher didn’t give a damn for his servants just then. His ardor had been sparked by Lavinia’s sighs and smiles, his passions enflamed by the uninhibited manner in which she had allowed him to feed her grapes. “I don’t give a button about the servants! They ain’t paid to think!’’ he announced, and took his wife roughly into his arms.
Some women might have thrilled to such treatment and to the knowledge of their power to excite. Lavinia thought only that Christopher was messing up her pretty gown. “Oh, do be careful!” she said crossly. “You’ll have the cloth off the table and the dishes in our lap. For heaven’s sake, Christopher, do stop
pawing
at me! I have no intention of allowing you to ravish me in my own dining room, and this wretched chair is hurting my back!”
Not astonishingly, these harsh words had a dampening effect. Sir Christopher released his wife and sat back in his chair. “I beg pardon if I have offended you,” he said stiffly.
“ ‘Twas not my intent.”
Of course it had not been. Despite her instinctive dismayed reaction to the notion of pursuing such activities in broad daylight, Lavinia knew her spouse had not intended to offend. As for what he had intended— Lavinia had no objection to such activities when set about in the proper manner, undertaken in the privacy of the marital bed under cover of night. Not that she had the words, or boldness, to express these feelings. “There’s a time and a place for everything,” she said.
So there was, and this obviously wasn’t it. Intending to return to his magisterial duties, Sir Christopher pushed back his chair. Before he could rise from the table, the door was flung open and Sherry stepped across the threshold. “Christopher,” she said. “I must speak with you!”
There was in Lady Sherry’s appearance much upon which to speculate. Her face was ashen save for the splotch of hectic color that burned in each cheek; her red-gold curls were disheveled, as if she’d run her fingers carelessly through them not once but many times; there was a manic glitter in her eye. At another time, Lavinia might have remarked these details well, might have speculated on them with relish across the teacups with the ladies Throckmorton and Dunsany. Today Lavinia did not accord her sister-in-law a great deal of attention, because Prinny accompanied Lady Sherry into the dining room.
Lavinia’s emotions at this first sight of her pet were complex. “Oh, my God!” she cried. “When did
he
come back?”
Any further questions Lavinia might have had were forestalled by Prinny himself. The hound was no sooner made aware of his mama’s presence in the dining room than nothing would do for him but to lick her face.
Lavinia wanted her face licked no more now than she ever had and sought discreetly to push the dog away. Since she had kicked up such a dust about the beast’s disappearance, she could hardly reveal her disgust of him now. A reprieve presented itself to her. “The baby!” she gasped as the dog tried to crawl into her lap.
“Prinny! Get down from there at once!” snapped Lady Sherry, who had not only been aware of her sister-in-law’s dilemma but had observed the reunion with a certain perverse delight. The dog huffed out an exasperated sigh and flopped down on the floor at her Lavinia’s feet. “He appeared in the garden this morning. Apparently he thought better of having run away and decided to return home. We must all keep a closer watch on him to make sure the wanderlust does not come upon him again. In your condition, Lavinia, it is not good for you to be upset.”
In Lavinia’s condition, it was not good for her to be baited in this manner. Impotently, she glared.
Feeling as if she had somewhat evened the score between them, Sherry turned to her brother, and hoped she was doing the right thing. There seemed no other course of action open to her. If Ned had been kidnapped, it was for a reason, and Sherry couldn’t doubt what that reason was. Had Ned not claimed that others would buy his information if Sherry did not? Sherry had thought he referred to Lavinia, but apparently the groom had strewn his lures further afield. Nor could Sherry delude herself concerning Ned’s loyalty. He would not only let the cat out of the bag; he would shout the news from the rooftops if by so doing he could prevent damage to his own precious skin.
Christopher was frowning, and Lavinia looked as though her curiosity had been aroused. It would accomplish nothing to delay the moment further now. Sherry took in a deep breath. “Chris, I must talk to you. Alone, if you don’t mind.”
Sir Christopher didn’t mind. He was concerned about his sister’s distraught appearance and out of charity with his wife. “Livvy will excuse us,” he murmured with a pointed glance at the door. Lavinia flushed, but she voiced no protest, merely pushed back her chair from the table and exited the room with great dignity. Lavinia’s lack of comment did not deceive Sir Christopher; he knew she was in a snit. He also thought that it served her right. This intrusion would not have occurred had Livvy acceded to his request and accompanied him upstairs.
Too, he was genuinely concerned about his sister. “You look like the devil, Sis! What’s to do?”
Sherry walked to the door and closed it firmly after nudging Prinny out into the hall. She turned back to her brother. “I’m afraid I’m in the devil of a fix!”
How serious she made it sound. Sir Christopher could not help but be amused. He knew how females took these little crises to heart. “It cannot be so very bad as that! Come, sit here beside me and tell me all about it, and we’ll decide how best to fix it up all right and tight!”
Sherry sat down on Lavinia’s abandoned chair and plucked a grape off the plate. “I don’t think it
can
be fixed up all right and tight. It’s much more likely that you’ll be visiting me in Newgate.”
Sir Christopher still failed to grasp the seriousness of the situation. “You and Viccars had a lovers’ quarrel, is that it? You’ll patch it up, I promise. Why, Livvy and I quarreled any number of times, and look at us now!” It occurred to Sir Christopher that he and his Livvy were currently not on the very best of terms, and he continued hastily. “And if you don’t patch it up, crying off ain’t a hanging offense yet!”
Sherry did not immediately respond. Or if she did, it was in too low a tone to be audible to Lavinia’s keen ear, which was currently applied to the dining-room door. For the record, Lavinia was not half so misled as her spouse. She knew perfectly well that Sherry’s trouble was serious. What she did not know was which of a number of grievous sins Sherry had committed. Lavinia thought it behooved her to find out.
In this undertaking, Lavinia was not assisted by Prinny, who took advantage of her stooped posture to try to lavish further caresses on her face. Lavinia’s attempts to prevent him doing so further interfered with her attention to the confidences underway in the dining room. “Oh, get away from me, you wretched beast!” she hissed, and swatted at the hound—ineffectively, as it turned out, because hers was not the tone of voice in which Prinny understood commands.
Lady Sherry, meanwhile, was having an equally unpleasant encounter. Though Lavinia was experiencing difficulties in hearing Sherry’s confidences, Sir Christopher had not, a circumstance that caused him to don a dreadful scowl. Amiable creature that he was, Christopher took very seriously his responsibilities. He respected the law immensely, be it in need of reform or not. And now to discover that his own sister had committed an appalling number of criminal acts— He looked at her with severe approbation and expressed a conviction that she had windmills in her head.
“I think I must have,” Sherry sighed. “But I meant it for the best. And now, with Ned’s disappearance, and Viccars, and Grenville— I have come to my wit’s end. I am sorry to involve you in all this, Chris. I am sorry to have involved myself! But I didn’t know what else to do.”
“There, there, don’t cry!” Sir Christopher wished fretfully that he’d taken his luncheon elsewhere today. “You did right to come to me. Indeed, you should have done so sooner, after that fellow first accosted you. Devil take it, how could you ask Viccars for a loan of money? What must he have thought?”
How could Sherry have
what?
Lavinia by this time was seated plump on the floor with her ear as close to the door as permitted by the eye she had affixed to the keyhole. She had given up attempting to fend off Prinny’s demonstrations of affection for the moment, deeming it better to endure his wet tongue than to miss what was going on between her husband and his sister.
“Viccars?” That word, at least, was clear and spoken by Sir Christopher. “This is a bad business, Sis. Viccars had a bit of information about the highwayman’s doxy, which he passed along to me. Seemed to have a notion you’d be pleased if the rascal was brought to justice. Seemed to think you might wish a word with him.”