A Regency Match (10 page)

“My voice is quite unexceptional, I'm afraid,” Sophy responded pleasantly, “but I'd be happy to play something on the piano, if you wish.”

This suggestion was happily approved by the obsequious Dennis and seconded by the others, and Iris surrendered her seat at the instrument to Sophy. While Marcus escorted his lady to the sofa and took a place beside her, Sophy sat down at the keyboard, adjusted her skirts gracefully about her and flexed her fingers. Bertie, suddenly noticing a slight smile which seemed to play dangerously at the corners of Sophy's mouth, tensed himself for the crisis to come. He
knew
that smile—he had seen it on her face often in their childhood, when she was plotting some mischief.

But Sophy played a little rondo with quite commendable skill and charm. Perhaps his cousin had had second thoughts and had given up her foolish scheme, he thought in relief, when she'd finished her selection without incident. Then Sophy rose to bow in acknowledgement of the appreciative applause. A slight movement of her hand caught Bertie's eye, and his blood froze.
Oh, my God
, he thought in horror,
what is the little idiot doing
?

The piano was covered with an embroidered, fringed scarf. As she rose from the bench and grasped her skirt to make her bow, Sophy had also grasped a bit of the fringe which hung from a corner of the scarf. As she stepped forward, smiling complacently and taking her bow, she pulled the scarf along with her, causing the candelbrum to topple over. “Look out!” Mr. Carrington shouted.

But it was too late. Sophy, ostensibly unaware that the fringe was still clutched in her hand, continued to pull the scarf with her as she jumped, startled, out of the way of the falling candles. The ladies screamed as the candelabrum fell to the floor, the flames igniting the scarf which flared up at once.

Marcus snatched a cushion from the sofa behind him, jumped up and beat out the flames without much difficulty. Within a moment, the candelabrum was restored to its place, the candles re-lit, and the ruined scarf dispatched to the rubbish heap. But Sophy was inconsolable. “Oh, Lady Wynwood, I'm so
sorry
!” she cried to her hostess.

“But my dear, it was nothing,” Lady Wynwood assured her placidly. “Please don't trouble yourself about it for a single moment.”

“Never liked that thing very much, myself,” Uncle Julian said with a hearty laugh. “Just forget it.”

“Quite right,” Lady Wynwood agreed. “I didn't like it either. Come, let's have some more music. Would you care to play again, my dear?”

“Play?” Sophy asked tremulously. “
Play
?” I shall never touch the piano again as long as I live!” With that impassioned pronouncement, the girl fled from the room.

Bertie, who recognized the histrionics in her voice, winced. Sir Walter and Isabel, who did not, exchanged puzzled glances. Lady Alicia, in complete amazement, stared at the door her granddaughter had slammed behind her. “I don't know what has afflicted that child!” she muttered.

“It's nothing but nerves,” Lady Wynwood said calmly. “She has sensitive nerves, like a true artist. Go after her, Marcus, and assure her that we want her back. She'd done nothing wrong, the poor dear, nothing at all. Meanwhile, Miss Bethany, will you play for us again?”

“Bethune, Mama, Beth
une
,” Marcus corrected, giving Iris's hand a squeeze and obediently heading for the door.

Before he could leave, he found Dennis blocking his way, an amused grin lighting his eyes. “Let
me
go to console Miss Edgerton,” he whispered slyly. “I'd be happy to relieve you of that chore.”

“Step aside, you skirter,” Marcus whispered back, “and control your libertine propensities. Why you want to pursue that skittish little zany is a mystery to me.”

“If your eyes won't tell you, then I can't. But come, let me take your place.”

“Not a chance. A man must do his duty. So step aside, old fellow, and let me do mine. Just be thankful that I'm saving you from the snare of that disastrous female.”

By taking the stairs two at a time, Marcus was able to catch up with Sophy on the second-floor landing. “Wait, Miss Edgerton, please. There's not the least need for you to be so upset. Mama wants you to come back.”

Sophy kept her face turned away from him and shook her head. “Thank your mother for me, my lord, b-but I cannot show my face again this evening. I'm too ashamed.”

“What is there to be ashamed of? It was nothing but an accident.”

“Yes, but … it quite ruined the evening! Everything was going along so … so pleasantly … and I … I spoiled
everything
!”

“Nonsense. You must learn not to overdramatize, my dear.”

There was a quick turn of her head toward him and as quick a turn away again. But the motion was not swift enough to keep him from catching a glimpse of an odd look in her eyes. Those eyes were neither tearful nor remorseful (as one had a right to expect them to be) but seemed instead to cast a challenging look at him. “
Do
I overdramatize?” the girl asked. “You'll have to admit that I almost set the house afire.”

“I doubt that a few candles could have accomplished
that
,” he assured her with a laugh.

But she did not respond to his levity. If he could have made any sense of it, Marcus would have described her expression as somewhat disappointed. Good heavens, did the girl
want
to burn the house down?

She was adamantly tugging at the restraining hold he'd kept on her arm. “Please permit me to retire, my lord.”

“Won't you take my word that the incident was too slight to deserve this self-punishment?” There was no answer. “Look here, my girl,” he ordered, reaching out and taking her chin in his hand, “I promise you that …” But the reassurances he was about to phrase faded from his mind. Her face, tilted up at him, had an arresting poignancy. Her curly hair was tousled, her cheeks flushed, her lips trembling. And her eyes, dark and misty, gleamed with that unfathomable, unexpected expression. The look held his attention—it was a puzzle that he felt compelled to solve. It was a look of distress, yes, but behind it there lurked a glimmer of amusement. Was this irritating creature
laughing
at him?

There was something decidedly feline in those dark eyes. He wanted to look away from them, but something held him. He became aware of a completely unfamiliar feeling of constriction—a fear that this girl would leave some sort of mark on him … that he might never be the same.

He had no idea how long he'd remained staring at her when she spoke. “I
have
ruined your evening, haven't I?” she asked softly. There was no apology at all in her tone; in fact, it seemed to have in it a tinge of triumph.

Before he could answer, she wrenched herself free of his grasp and ran up the stairs. He was left with a quite-unexpected feeling of disappointment. He didn't want her to go! The sense of emptiness which seemed to flow in her wake was a sensation utterly new to him. The little wretch! Had she cast some sort of spell on him? He shook his head, as if to ward off these disturbing emotions, and walked slowly down the stairs. The girl was certainly in the right about one thing at least—she
had
ruined his evening!

Chapter Eight

T
HE MORNINGS AT
Wynwood Hall were relaxed and completely free of regimentation. A guest was at liberty to rise at whatever hour best suited him. Breakfast would be waiting in the sunny breakfast room overlooking the rose garden, or (as many of the ladies preferred) the morning meal could be brought to one's bedroom and consumed while one lolled against the bed-pillows in luxurious comfort. Several of the gentlemen, however, preferred to rise early and take advantage of the opportunity to ride one of the Earl's famous horses across the Sussex downs.

By mid-morning, on the day after the music-room fire, Marcus found himself suddenly relieved of his duties as a host. The ladies all seemed to be still abed, and he had already taken most of the gentlemen (his uncle Julian, Mr. Carrington, Sir Walter and Bertie) to the stables and seen them suitably horsed and on their way. Dennis was still in bed; he would probably sleep til noon. So it now seemed that Marcus would have a couple of hours of peace before the guests gathered for luncheon. Taking advantage of the respite, he repaired to his study to apply himself to some matters of business which required his attention.

He had no sooner spread out his papers and prepared himself to attack them when he was distracted by the sounds of a skirmish on the lawn outside his window. In some annoyance, he went to see what the trouble was. There in the spring sunshine, Lady Bethune's three nephews were noisily and determinedly pummelling the two youngest Carrington children who, outnumbered and outweighed, were shrieking loudly for help. The inexperienced maid who had been assigned to supervise them did not even try to separate them—the five wriggling bodies seeming to her to be too hopelessly entwined. She did nothing but scream and wring her hands.

Marcus, about to step over his window-sill to intervene, noticed Miss Edgerton come into the scene. She had evidently been visiting the greenhouses and been distracted, as he had been, by their noise. “I say,” she called pleasantly to the children, “is there anyone who would care to play Prisoner's Base with me?”

Five smudged faces immediately turned in her direction. The Carrington children eagerly agreed to the change in activity, the others joining in shortly afterwards. In a twinkling, the rules were reviewed and the game begun, with Miss Edgerton and the maid both taking an active part. Marcus watched the proceedings with an appreciative smile. The sight of Sophia lifting her skirts and running across the lawn with surprising agility and grace was a delight to the eye. It was not her dexterity alone that caught his attention—it was the attraction of a very pretty pair of ankles glimpsed below the raised skirts that could not be ignored. So engrossed was he in admiration of the wantonly-displayed limbs that he didn't hear the knock at his door. It was not until Miss Bethune entered and came up behind him that he became aware of her presence. He started almost guiltily. “Oh, Iris! I didn't hear—”

She smiled at him archly. “Good morning, Marcus. I was afraid I'd be interrupting you at your work, but I see you are already distracted.”

“Yes, I am. The children were so noisy that I got up to see what they were about. But as for you, you may interrupt me at any time you wish, my dear.”

She gave his arm an affectionate squeeze and looked at the children. “They seem to be having a very merry time. Good heavens, is that Miss Edgerton playing with them?”

“Yes, indeed. It was she who started the game.”

“How astonishing. She seems quite adept at it, too.”

“So I notice. It
is
astonishing—she hasn't tripped or fallen once. I thought she'd have broken an ankle by this time.”

Iris laughed. “Perhaps she's more suited to the outdoors than to dining halls and drawing rooms and bookshops.”

“Perhaps she is,” Marcus agreed with a wide grin. “Then, if we could only find a way to
keep
her outside …!”

Iris giggled, and the two smiled at each other with comfortable understanding. But a shout from outside (one of the boys had been tagged) turned their eyes back to the game. “I used to love to play Prisoner's Base when I was a child,” Iris remarked wistfully.

“
Did
you? So did I. I don't suppose …?” Marcus looked at her, a small, hesitant smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

“Are you suggesting that we
join
them?” Iris asked, shocked. Then she smiled back at him. “Oh, Marcus,
let's
! It would be such fun.”

Marcus leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Iris, you're a great gun!” he said appreciatively and took her hand. He helped her over the sill, and they ran out across the lawn.

Sophy was quite startled at their arrival, but she readily agreed to permit them to join the game. “The more the merrier in Prisoner's Base,” she said gaily.

“Then may I be permitted to play also?” called a voice from above them. They looked up to see Dennis Stanford leaning out of his bedroom window.

“Come down,” Marcus answered jovially, “and join the rest of the infantry.”

They had not quite finished choosing up new teams when Fanny and Cissy, the Carringtons' elder daughters, came round the shrubbery and begged to be allowed to participate. With the game thus expanded, it was not many minutes before the air rang with the laughter, shouts and cries of the players as they chased wildly across the lawn, taking prisoners or fleeing from pursuers. When Fanny, after an energetic chase punctuated with much giggling and heavy breathing, managed to capture the elusive Dennis and lead him to the prisoner's base, Dennis was glad of a moment's respite. He dropped down on the grass, breathless. Standing above him, Marcus, the only other prisoner at the moment, chortled vindictively. “Caught,” he teased, “and by a mere child—and a girl at that!”

“Yes, but a most determined one,” Dennis said defensively, looking after the retreating figure of the seventeen-year-old girl in some consternation. “If that child were a year or two older, I'd swear she had designs on me. But, to change the subject, Marcus, I must compliment you. This game was an inspiration. I haven't been so well entertained since you dragged me here from town.”

“I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, old fellow. I might have known this sort of juvenile activity would suit you. But the game wasn't my idea. Miss Edgerton initiated it.”

“
Did
she, by Jove! Good for her. Makes up for upsetting everyone in the music room last night, I'd say.”

“Yes, I quite agree,” said Marcus, just as a little nine-year-old urchin who was his teammate came up and tagged him free. With a farewell wave to his still-imprisoned friend, he started off the base.