Anne Barbour (12 page)

David eyed his former batman balefully in the large mirror before which he was seated. At the insistence of Collier, Westerly’s steward, he had moved his things into his father’s chambers, and he felt rather like a turtle who has suddenly been transferred into a shell several sizes too big.

“Curle, just what is this—this edifice you’re constructing? Are you trying to strangle me?”

“Nossir, that is, yer lordship, I’m tryin’ t’make ye look like a swell.”

David grasped one end of the voluminous neck cloth and wrenched it from around his neck.

“You may as well give it up, Curle. I don’t know what your idea of a swell is, but I fear I am doomed to failure in trying to measure up to it. I’m still plain David Merritt, and I have no intention of trying to look like anything—or anyone—else! Now, if you please, I’ve been tying my own neckwear for some years, and I plan to continue doing so.”

He had been wrapping the cloth in neat layers about his neck as he spoke, and tied the bow with a flourish as he finished his sentence. He quirked an eyebrow at Curle.

“What was all this in aid of, anyway?”

“As it happens, me lord, I’ve been talking to Smirke, Lord Lawrence’s man. The feller’s a reg’lar gilliflower, prancin’ about like a circus pony, but he does know ever’thin’ there is t’know about how a swell should dress. Y’know ...” He perched on the edge of David’s dressing table, his reverence for his master’s newly acquired status forgotten. “... I’d no idear this lordship business was so complicated. Ye’ll have to watch whatcher wear from now on, Major, and how ye wear it—and where ye wear it to.”

“Ah,” said David, a glint in his eye, “you wish to see me togged out like Lawrence, do you?”

Curle, recognizing that devil’s light, rose hastily from the edge of the dressing table.

“No, o’course not.” The revulsion in his voice was marked. He paused a moment, then shot a sidelong glance at his master. “Not that ye hadn’t ought to be careful of his precious lordship. He’ll do ye a mischief if he gets a chance. And his mama, too. There’s a pair that ye don’t want to turn yer back on. Anyway,” he continued in a rush, as David raised a protesting hand, “all I’m say in’ is that ye need some new duds. It won’t do anymore fer ye to be walkin’ around like a—a ...”

“Scarecrow?” finished David. He stood and eyed himself in the mirror, an expression of deep gloom creeping over his face. “But, you’re right. I’ll drive into Bath soon and order a few things.”

“Ye’ll take the captain with you?”

“Lucius? You don’t trust me to buy my own clothes?” responded David stiffly.

“Ye bought them that yer wearin’, dincher?”

Silenced, David accepted the handkerchief proffered by his valet, and strode from the room with as much dignity as his limp would permit.

He paused at the head of the stairs. He did not look forward to this evening’s meal, with all of the family gathered in the mahogany-paneled dining room. This would be the first time they had all been together since the reading of Father’s will, and, he thought, the atmosphere would be tense at best. The last time he had seen Regina, she had been pale and fairly screaming with shock and rage. Would her anger have subsided in the eight or nine days of seclusion she had imposed on herself?

Lawrence should not present an overwhelming problem. His long nose had most definitely been put out of joint, and there was no doubt plenty of threat and bluster left in him, but David was experienced in handling difficult young men. Crawford, too, should be easy to deal with. Regina had not put forth the effort to foster a hostility toward him in her second son. And he would have little to do with Cilia beyond providing a suitable roster of eligible young men for her.

Having run through the family role, David’s thoughts settled on Kate. Thank God for Kate, he breathed. She was the one bright spot on his horizon. A smile began to curve his lips, but it was immediately curtailed. Good God, what was he thinking? The scene in the Roman villa rose up before him, and he again experienced the warmth of Kate’s hand. No, he could not allow himself the solace of her company. The less he saw of her, the better. Not that he had much to worry about there. As soon as he told her of his role in Philip’s death, her anger and contempt would provide its own barrier. As always, when he thought of the events of that night in Badajoz, a cold knot bunched in his stomach and a wave of such overpowering shame and humiliation swept through him that he thought he would vomit.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, forcing his attention to the problems at hand. As he began his descent of the great staircase, Lady Falworth materialized at his elbow. Right on cue, thought David, bestowing a sardonic glance on her. In her weeds, Regina was a figure of almost fairylike fragility. The heavy black fabric of her gown accentuated her pallor, and her widow’s cap framed her face appealingly.

“My lord?” The words were spoken in tones of abject submission, and David nearly smiled despite himself. Now what was she up to? He crooked his arm and placed her slender hand on his sleeve.

“My lady,” he replied with what he hoped was an earl-like nod. “But, please—not ‘my lord.’ I have been David to you all my life, I hope you will continue to call me that.”

Regina’s returning nod was definitely countess-like, but her smile was unsure.

“I’m so pleased,” continued David in patriarchal tones, “that you have returned to us. Too much solitude, even in the throes of a grief such as yours, cannot be good for one.”

Regina shot him a surprised glance from under her brows, and the corners of her mouth folded into deep lines.

“Grief is a luxury I cannot permit myself,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “I must attend to my duties, burdensome as they are.”

Her gaze swept up to his again, speculative and measuring.

“To be sure,” David responded smoothly. “Your touch has been missed in the house. We have all awaited your direction to set things to rights.”

She expelled a breath of what might have been relief. They had by now reached the gold saloon and entered to find the rest of the family assembled. David’s gaze went directly to Kate, and as her own glance flicked from his face to Lady Falworth’s gloved hand on his arm, her amused grin warmed him.

Kate, too, had found herself looking forward to the evening with considerable dismay. What if Aunt Regina snubbed David? Would Lawrence behave himself, or would he take further opportunity to belittle his half brother? She could not say why she felt so protective of her old friend. Certainly, he was old enough to fight his own battles. Yet, she knew that beneath David’s harsh facade, some of the old vulnerability remained, and she could feel the pain of his rejection as if it were her own. She took her chair with some misgiving, wishing Aunt Fred were not absent, dining with friends at a nearby estate. She comforted herself with Lucius’s presence. If anyone could be counted on to spring to David’s defense, it was this staunch comrade.

As it turned out, dinner was not quite the debacle that it might have been. Regina swept to her usual place at the foot of the table, gesturing graciously to indicate that David might take his place at the head. David admitted to himself a certain satisfaction as he gazed around the room. For how many years had he sat at the long, stately table, bowed under the imagined disapprobation of the painted ancestors who looked down at the cuckoo in their midst? He could not help a feeling of pleasure at the knowledge that he was, after all, truly one of them.

Startled, he observed that the chef had apparently outdone himself in this first meal attended by the new lord of Westerly. David accepted with a dignified nod portions of larded fillets with truffles, buttered lobster, and raised giblet pie, accompanied by prawns in a wax basket, a dish of asparagus with sauce, and an assortment of creams and jellies. When a second course was laid, even more lavish than the first, he found himself itemizing each dish in pence and shillings. He caught Kate’s glance on him, and when she threw him a rueful smile, he was certain she must be reading his mind.

Conversation was muted, but reasonably cordial, with only Lawrence glaring sulkily from time to time at the figure seated at the head of the table.

This state of affairs lasted until just before the last covers had been removed. Lawrence, who had scarcely touched his portion of Gateau Mellifleur, tossed back the remainder of his wine and gestured to a waiting footman for a refill. He sipped noisily from his brimming glass, the latest in a long procession of refills, and turned a flushed face to David.

“I say, Davey,” he drawled, placing an insulting emphasis on the last word, “I ran into Shelford the other day. He agreed to let me buy that gray I’ve been after for months. Told him I’d ride over this week to pick it up.”

David, who had been conversing with Lucius on his right, nodded abstractedly.

“I’m a little short of the ready this month,” continued Lawrence casually, “so I’ll have to ask you to sport the blunt.”

David’s attention was caught in full.

“Oh? How much blunt are we talking about?”

“Really, old man,” replied Lawrence impatiently, “we don’t discuss money at the dinner table, surely.”

“Of course, not, my dear,” Regina chimed in. To David, she spoke gently. “You must strive to remember you live in a gentleman’s home now, David. Lawrence can give you the details of his purchase later.”

“I fear, my lady,” replied David, his voice sharp, “that circumstances being what they are, money will soon become a commonplace topic in this particular gentleman’s home for some time to come.” Without giving her time to respond he swung back to Lawrence.

“What is the price of the horse?”

Fortifying himself with another swallow of wine, Lawrence answered sulkily, “Two hundred guineas.”

For a moment, David simply stared at him before breaking into a bark of laughter.

“Why not two horses—a matched set? And a curricle or two, and possibly a phaeton to go with them?” His features hardened. “What do you think you are about, Lawrence? I cannot let you have two hundred shillings, let alone guineas.”

Lawrence gaped in astonishment.

“B-but, it’s for a horse! Really, old man, tremendous bargain. Shelford breaking down his string, y’know. Prime cattle, all of ‘em.”

“Ho, that’s all you know,” interposed Crawford, who had been listening intently to this exchange. “Shelford’s been trying to unload that showy hack of his for months. As for his precious string—bonesetters, every one of ‘em.”

“As usual, you little twit, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” retorted Lawrence. “If you ...”

David interrupted with a weary gesture.

“I don’t care if they’re direct descendants of winged Pegasus. We have enough nags eating their heads off in the stables as it is. If anything, we’ll be decreasing our stock, not adding to it.”

If he had proposed serving up the animals for dinner, Lawrence could not have been more affronted.

“Decreasing!
Decreasing our... You can’t be serious!” he gasped.

“I’m perfectly serious. You know, Lawrence,” he continued meditatively, “one day very soon you and I will be sitting down for an extensive chat on finances here at Westerly. Or, I should say, the lack of. In the meantime, I advise you to curtail your spending radically. I assume, since you are applying to me, that you have spent your quarterly allowance. Be advised, there will be no further funds forthcoming until next quarter.”

And you will find yourself severely curtailed even then, my lad, thought David. He felt Lawrence had sustained enough of a shock for one evening, however, and forbore to express the words aloud.

He returned calmly to his dessert, but Kate, from her position at the other end of the table, turned immediately toward Lady Falworth. Sure enough, in the deafening silence that followed David’s remarks, she cleared her throat softly.

Instantly, all eyes were on her.

“David, I’m afraid you don’t understand,” she said in a voice of patient instruction, as though speaking to a dull child. “I’m aware that you must be in the habit of squeezing your pennies, but now that you are the Earl of Falworth, you must realize that you need not continue in your shabby genteel little economies. We must maintain our standards, after all,” she concluded with a repressive shrug of her shoulders.

“Quite,” added Lawrence, in haughty indignation. “Must maintain the consequence of a gentleman, you know.”

“I see,” returned David, with deceptive gentleness. “You must teach me how to go on, Lawrence. Does it add to a gentleman’s consequence to spend money he doesn’t have?”

Lawrence stiffened, his mouth an ugly slash against the pallor of his face. He opened his mouth to retort, but Regina intervened once more, with a lift of her hand.

“Pas devant les domestiques!”
She rapped out the words sharply, glancing at the footmen standing about the perimeter of the room. “We shall discuss this later.”

“There is nothing more to discuss, ma’am,” said David indifferently, once more addressing his plate. “I shall not give Lawrence two hundred guineas to buy a horse.”

At this, Lawrence leapt to his feet, overturning his wineglass, which had once more been filled to the brim.

“By God, you jumped-up nobody, do you think you can turn Westerly topsy-turvy?” he raged.

“Why, yes, that is precisely what I think,” was David’s mild response. “However,” he continued, “it is not my plan to do so. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Lawrence made no reply, but strode from the room. Regina pushed her chair from the table and rose.

“I, too, believe I shall retire. It has been a fatiguing day.”

In a moment, with a hiss of her skirts, she, too, had departed, hurrying in the direction her son had taken.

Lucius lifted his quizzing glass to follow her with a contemplative gaze and murmured something to David that Kate could not catch. She let out the breath she felt she had been holding for the past several minutes, and turned to address a neutral remark to Cilia, who sat on her left, tittering self-consciously.

Conversation soon returned to a semblance of normalcy, and Kate found her glance returning again to David. He had displayed an aspect she did not know he possessed. How silly of her to think that he needed her protection in dealing with his erstwhile “betters.” He had faced them down with dignity and authority.