Lord Darlington's Darling (2 page)

“You are leading up to the problem in fine style,
Mama,” murmured Lord Darlington.

“Oh, dear! I am going on, am I not? But I only
wished you to understand the whole,” said Lady Dar
lington. She drew a breath. “In a nutshell, Sylvan, quite by chance,
Mrs. Montague discovered Bethany and Mr. Farnham together
in what was obviously a clandestine meeting. This was
just before Bethany returned home.”

“Bethany has been home for several weeks now.
Why has Mrs. Montague taken so long to write you?”
Lord Darlington asked quietly.

“Clara has never been a talebearer. She wrestled with the decision whether to write me or not. Here,
you may read her letter for yourself.”

Lord Darlington took the much-crossed sheet and
read it. At the end he looked up. There was a flinty
expression in his eyes. “Indeed, Mrs. Montague’s distaste for her role is all too plain. She communicates the sordid
details in so bald a manner that it is brusque.”

“Yes, it is quite unlike Clara’s usual friendly style,”
said Lady Darlington on a sigh.

Lord Darlington folded the letter and returned it to
his mother. “What is it you wish me to do, Mama?”

Lady Darlington frowned. “I have given the matter considerable thought, Sylvan. As you saw, it is Mrs. Montague’s
opinion that Mr. Farnham was attempting to persuade
Bethany to fly away with him, which means the affair
has progressed to the point that the man believes
Bethany to be besotted enough to do as he wishes. If
that is the case, I do not believe simply talking to
Bethany will bring her to a realization of her folly.”

“Yes, I know all too well Lady Bethany’s streak of obsti
nacy,” said Lord Darlington, smiling a little. “She is
remarkably single-minded when it suits her.”

“Then, you will understand why I fear sending her
back to Bath when the holiday is over. And that is
precisely why I have come up with another solution
.”

“Medieval as it is, perhaps being locked up and kept
on bread and water until she submits is the answer,”
remarked Lord Darlington.

“What?” Lady Darlington looked over at him. “Oh,
I see! You are funning in that odd way of yours. Now,
do be serious, dearest. I have something quite else in
mind, and I need your considered opinion.”

“I wasn’t jesting in the least,” said Lord Darlington
with a twist of his lips. “But what is your solution,
Mama?”

“You must tell me if it is even possible, Sylvan, for
I don’t know how things stand,” said Lady Darlington,
throwing a second glance toward the burdened desk.

“Pray do not concern yourself, ma’am. I have mat
ters well in hand,” said Lord Darlington, correctly in
terpreting the anxiety in his mother’s glance. His poor mother had not borne the responsibility of wresting the estate from ruin but she had nevertheless felt the weight of the burden.

Lady Darlington nodded, reassured. “Well, then, this is what I have been thinking. I
should like to give Bethany’s thoughts a different direction, so that she will stop thinking about this despi
cable man,” she said. “I know Bethany is only
just seventeen and younger than either of her sisters when it was their turn, but I wish to take her
up to London for the Season.”

“London? For the Season?” repeated Lord Dar
lington.

He appeared stunned and Lady Darlington rushed
into anxious speech. “Oh, I do know how expensive
it would be, Sylvan. And truly, if you don’t wish it,
then nothing more needs to be said. I would never
have considered such a thing, except for Mrs. Montague’s dire
communication. If you do not think it possible,
why, we shall simply have to deal with Bethany in
some other fashion. Perhaps we could remove her
from the seminary and hire a governess, for example.”

“She would run off,” interposed Lord Darlington,
rising from his chair and taking a quick turn about
the room, his hands clasped behind his back. A frown pulled at his brows.

“Yes, I suppose she would,” agreed Lady Darlington unhappily. “I am sorry, dearest. It is really my
problem, I can see that. I shouldn’t have bothered you
with it. After all, I
am
Bethany’s mother. She must
listen to me!”

Lord Darlington turned. There was a glint in his
eyes. “She won’t, any more than she has ever listened
to anyone.”

Lady Darlington gently pointed out the obvious. “Lady Bethany listens to you, just as all of the other
children do.”

Lord Darlington gave a short laugh. “Yes, in the
end I have always had my way, haven’t I?”

Lady Darlington was quick to sense a faint note of
bitterness in his voice. “My dear! I am positive none
of them sees you as an ogre or—or anything equally
unpleasant,” she said quickly.

“No, I stand in the unenviable position of being a
surrogate father,” said Lord Darlington harshly.

“And you have done very well by them all,” said
Lady Darlington stoutly.

“Thank you, Mama.” He appreciated his mother’s
support, but it was not easily borne that his siblings stood in such awe of him. The gulf had widened over the years until it seemed unbridgeable. He was aware that none of his brothers or sisters regarded him with the same simple affection with which they regarded each other.

The faintest of
smiles touched his face as he thought about his youn
gest sister. Lady Bethany was stubborn to a fault. Perhaps in this one instance that awe
would work to advantage.

Lord Darlington made a swift decision. T
he mere suggestion of leaving for London caused in him a spurt of exhilaration, even if
the object behind the removal to town was bound up in duty and his sister’s best interests
.
“Very well,
Mama. London it is.”

“Sylvan! Can you not be serious for one moment?”
exclaimed Lady Darlington.

“I am utterly serious, Mama.”
There was a light in Lord Darlington’s eyes which hadn’t been there before.
He gestured at his face. “Perceive that I
have put on my gravest expression. The estate can
stand the nonsense, if that is what concerns you. If you truly believe this is the best course to put an end to Bethany’s fascination with this fortune
hunter, then by all means let us go to London!”

“Dearest! I’m so grateful to you, Sylvan. You have
never disappointed me, ever!”

Lady Darlington stood up and kissed her son’s cheek. “I shall leave you now,
for I know there is much for you to do if we are to
go up to London. And I have a great deal to do, too. Sybil must go stay with your aunt, which she shan’t
mind in the least, considering she will then be only
ten miles from her ‘dear Charles,’ as she calls her
betrothed.” The dowager paused and looked anxious again.
“Do you think I might have a seamstress in, Sylvan? A new gown or two would help ease our ward
robes a bit.”

“Of course you may, Mama. I have never yet stinted
in clothing for you or my siblings, have I?” asked
Lord Darlington with a hint of impatience.

“Of course you haven’t! It is just that I know how
expensive a Season shall be, and I don’t wish to—”

Lord Darlington gently took his mother’s hand and es
corted her to the door, repeating his reassurances. “I have matters well in
hand, Mama. You may rest easy. I shall not
allow us to run the bustle too hard.”

“You are such a comfort, Sylvan,” said Lady Dar
lington as she parted from him.

Lord Darlington waited, his hand resting on the doorknob, and watched until his mother was well on her way upstairs. Then he signaled
a footman who was on duty in the hall. When the
servant came over to him, he said quietly, “Pray convey my compliments to Lady Bethany and request her
to join me here in my study. And bring in the tea.”

“Yes, my lord.” The footman hurried away to carry out his orders
.

Lord Darlington stepped back into his study, a
frown creasing his dark gold brows.

A few minutes later there was a knock on the panels
of the study door. When Lord Darlington called
permission, the door opened and a young damsel en
tered. She paused in the doorway, one slender hand
still on the brass knob, while her intelligent hazel eyes
met her brother’s in a direct gaze. “You wished to see
me, Sylvan?”

“Yes, pray come in.” Lord Darlington
watched as his sister closed the door and walked
across the study toward him, observing with fresh eyes
what a lovely girl she was. Lady Bethany Hart was nearly as tall
as he was himself, which by no means made a bean
pole of her, since his own inches were scarcely above
average, and she moved with an innate grace that was
as apparent on the dance floor as it was in the way
she gestured with her hands when she was most ani
mated. She had the same dark gold hair that he did,
but while Lord Darlington ruthlessly suppressed the natural curl in his hair, hers was allowed to spring into
a most becoming halo of curls. Her skin was translu
cent with a touch of rose in her cheeks and lips. Lady Bethany
was a beauty, there was no doubt, he thought.

“Why do you stare at me so, Sylvan?” asked Lady Bethany
as she came to stand in front of the desk. She
clasped her slender hands in front of her in a relaxed
fashion. If she was ill at ease, there was no sign of it.

“I was just thinking what a beauty you are, Bethany
.”

A blush rose in her flawless, pale complexion and
she regarded him with surprise. “What a very nice
thing to say!” Her expression gathered a hint of suspi
cion. “I am not used to such compliments.”

“At least from me?” asked Lord Darlington dryly,
his smile a little twisted. He rose from his chair and
walked around the side of the desk, sliding onto the
corner of it so that he sat facing her with one booted
toe swinging.

“I—I don’t know what you mean,” said Lady Bethany
with an air of bewilderment.

Lord Darlington laughed. “I’m a poor brother, indeed, when a simple compliment from me throws you
into confusion.”

“Oh, no, no! You are the best of brothers. You
have always been such a support to Mama and have
taken the greatest care of all of us,” said Lady Bethany hurriedly.

“I’m glad to hear you say so, for I intend to con
tinue doing it,” said Lord Darlington. He saw the
question in his sister’s eyes, but turned away from her
when he heard the door open. “Here is tea. Will you
pour for us, Lady Bethany?”

“Of course,” said Lady Bethany, a puzzled frown creasing
her delicate brows.

The footman set the tea tray on the table between
the wing chairs and quietly left the room. Lord Dar
lington led his sister in formal style, placing her hand on his elbow and walking with her over to the wing chairs, where he seated her
before taking the chair opposite.

Lady Bethany stared across at him. “Now I know some
thing is untoward, Sylvan. You have never treated me
like a real lady before.”

“Perhaps I haven’t seen you as being grown-up before,”
said Lord Darlington deliberately.

Lady Bethany blushed again. She served the tea and offered some of the biscuits to her brother. When he
refused them, she made her choice and took a nibble
of the sweet. She looked thoughtfully at her brother,
and then set down her cup and the biscuit. “I can’t
bear the suspense, Sylvan. Pray, pray tell me why you
have invited me to share tea and have been so kind
and—and—“

“Generally behaved more civilly than I usually do?”
suggested Lord Darlington.

“I wasn’t going to say that,” said Lady Bethany with dig
nity. A mischievous gleam shot into her eyes. “Though
I must admit, the thought did cross my mind.”

“You are a baggage, Bethany,” said Lord Darling
ton without heat.
His sister took the less than complimentary descrip
tion in stride, giving a gurgling laugh. Lord Darlington
sighed. Pleasantries now aside, it was time to revert
to his ogre persona.

“I had a visit from Mama ear
lier,” he said casually, setting aside his cup and dab
bing at his mouth with a linen napkin.

Lady Bethany nodded, sipping at her tea again. It was well-known that the dowager often looked in on
her eldest son. “Mama has seemed rather pensive today. I hope you were able to raise her spirits.”

“I think it fair to say that when she left me, she was feeling significantly better,” said Lord Darlington.
“And it is due to our discussion that you have discov
ered yourself to be my guest at tea.”

Lady Bethany’s eyes rounded, then narrowed. “Oh, dear!
You are toying with me, Sylvan. I do detest it when
you do that! What did Mama say?”

“I’m certain she would have conveyed the happy
news herself at once, except that she was too caught
up at the thought of hiring a seamstress,” said Lord
Darlington, inspecting his perfectly manicured nails.

“I shall scream with vexation if you do not stop!
What are you and Mama up to?” demanded Lady Bethany,
completely forgetting her biscuit and tea.

“Mama has decided it’s time for you to be
brought out,” said Lord Darlington. He waited for
his sister’s reaction and he was not disappointed.

Lady Bethany shrieked. She sprang up, her eyes alight
with delight. “Oh, Sylvan! Is it really true? Am I really
to be brought out?”

At her brother’s nod, she danced a little around her chair. “I am so glad! You cannot imagine! The other girls at the seminary shall be green with envy when I
tell them! I shall go to the Pump Room and the sub
scription balls, and be invited to all manner of picnics
and—“

“Do not forget the court of admirers who will be
dangling after you,” said Lord Darlington, watching her with the faintest of smiles.

Lady Bethany laughed, blushed, and agreed to it. “Oh,
Sylvan! You cannot imagine how much this means to
me!” She blew a lighthearted kiss at him. “I must go at once and talk to Mama! She will know precisely
what gowns I shall need and everything!” She flitted
toward the door.

Before she reached it, Lord Darlington said, “I
imagine you will cut quite a dash in London
this Season.”

His sister spun about, all of her former exuberance
suspended as she stared across the room at him. “Lon
don? Why—why, I quite thought you meant Bath.”

Lord Darlington rose from the wing chair and saun
tered back toward his desk. “Why would you think
that? Mama has suggested a London Season and I
have agreed to it.” He cynically regarded his sister, who ap
peared stunned and as though she was trying to think
of what to say. “Oh, are you thinking of the cost?”

“Yes! Yes, that is it precisely,” said Lady Bethany, grasp
ing quickly at his suggestion. She came back toward
him. “Cleo and Sybil had only the short season and—
and winter house parties. I—I don’t want or need a
London Season, Sylvan. I can come out in Bath and do very well, I assure you.”

Lord Darlington sat back down on the edge of his
desk. He thoughtfully regarded the toe of his well-polished boot for a moment before he spoke. “Much as I appreciate your
sacrifice, Bethany, it is quite unnecessary. I have al
ready assured our mother that you, at least, shall be
able to have a full London Season.”

“But I would much rather come out in Bath!”

His sister’s voice held a note of desperation that
made his lips tighten. Lord Darlington looked up, and
his eyes were hard. Coldly, he asked, “No doubt it
would be more convenient for Mr. Farnham if you
did so?”

Lady Bethany gasped and paled. She stared at her brother
for several seconds, before swift color flew into her
face. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” She
clasped her hands together tightly, defying him with
her gaze.

“Don’t you? Then shall I tell you?”

“No! I won’t listen! You—you think you know, but
you don’t!” exclaimed Lady Bethany.

“I know you fancy yourself in love with this fellow
.”

“I am in love! I am!” Lady Bethany realized instantly that
she had given herself completely away. Furious tears
started to her eyes. “I don’t care what you say, Sylvan!
I won’t go to London! I won’t! I am going back to Bath.”

“So that you can throw yourself into the arms of a
gazetted fortune hunter,” said Lord Darlington
contemptuously.

“Richard isn’t a fortune hunter. If anyone has said
so, they are mistaken!” said Lady Bethany hotly.

Lord Darlington pounced. “Richard? Since when
does a young girl address a man who is not her relative with such intimacy?”

“We’re in love! Nothing you do or say can
change that!” declared Lady Bethany. She took an involun
tary step backward as her brother leaped away
from the desk and strode up to her. But she was
steady enough when he grasped her chin and forced
her to look him squarely in the eyes.

“Bethany, have you allowed this man to seduce
you?” demanded Lord Darlington.

She recoiled as though bitten. “Of course not! How can you suspect me of that? Or him, either! I tell you,
we are in love. We intend to be wed!”

“Thank God for that much,” said Lord Darlington,
releasing her. “I should have to take a horsewhip to
him otherwise.” He started to turn away, but she
grasped at his arm.

“Sylvan! You don’t mean that? You can’t mean
it!” Her eyes were dark pools of alarm in a whit
ened face.

For a long moment, Lord Darlington regarded her, expressionless
, before he said deliberately, “I meant every word I have said
.”

Lady Bethany dropped her hands from his arm as though
she was burnt. “You are a brute!” she gasped.

“You’ll go to London for the Season,” said Lord Darlington with finality. He met her defiant gaze, and his twisted smile played about his mouth. His sister’s
eyes wavered briefly, then steadied again as she lifted
her head.

“I shall run away.”

“Then, I will have no alternative,” said Lord Dar
lington with a negligent shrug.

“What do you mean?” asked Lady Bethany, eyeing him
with considerable trepidation.

Lord Darlington took not a step toward her. Nor
did he move in any other way. Yet there was suddenly
a shimmer of danger in the room that Lady Bethany was
quite positive she saw.

“I shall thrash Mr. Richard Farnham to within an
inch of his life.” His voice was implacable, and
there was such coldness in his eyes that it made his sis
ter shiver.
For several heartbeats, brother and sister faced one another.

At last, Lady Bethany made a small helpless ges
ture. “Very well. I shall go to London for the Sea
son.”

“Thank you, Bethany,” said Lord Darlington
quietly.

“But I hope you rot in hell!” she flashed before she
spun about. Wrenching open the door, Lady Bethany fled
in floods of tears.

Lord Darlington wearily sighed. He felt old. Glanc
ing about the study, he suddenly felt hatred, too. The
day his father had died, the dignified room had become his
cage.

With a long, lithe stride, he crossed to the
door left standing open by his sister and exited the study. He slammed the door shut behind
him.