Country Flirt (15 page)

“Shalimar, you say? I didn’t hear Samantha mention—
1
’

“That is what I’ll call the place. It is a famous garden in Kashmir. I mean to duplicate something of the sort at my place. We’ll be happy to throw up a little dower house for yourself as well, missie, if you care to join us. I daresay Sam would have no objection to your living in her dollhouse. She plans to keep the Langford place for her own amusement,” he explained when Mrs. Bright frowned at this peculiar offer.

“The Langford house—yes, I see,” she said, bewildered. Why had Sam not mentioned any of this?

The call was interrupted by the arrival of Clifford Sutton, bearing a bouquet of flowers from his conservatory.

Flushed with success, the nabob greeted him with a crippling swat on the back. “Another suitor, eh?” He laughed. “It must be the balmy spring weather. I shall leave and let you two get on with it. But don’t you forget my offer, missie. You would be very happy at Shalimar. I’ll come back later to plot out the
burrakhara
and
nautch.
We will want a proper feast and celebration to honor the occasion. Perhaps the dancing girls might go amiss,” he added, his brow pleated with a frown. He stroked his chin and left.

“What did he mean by that?” Clifford asked suspiciously. “Why is he pestering you with talk of feasts and celebrations?”

“He has offered for Sam. Sixty thousand pounds, Clifford!”

“Good God!” Mr. Sutton exclaimed, and turned pale. His flowers hung by his side, forgotten. “I was afraid it was yourself he had come for.”

Mrs. Bright felt again that warm rush of blood, the buzzing in her ears. A watery smile flooded her face. Upon seeing it, Clifford assumed much the same expression, as he handed her the bouquet.

“Thank you,” she said, and immediately tried to turn the visit to its proper course. Unfortunately, her voice betrayed her by rising to a squeak. “Irene didn’t tell me she would be meeting you here this morning, Clifford.”

“She won’t be coming, Nora.”

Their eyes met in guilty pleasure. Mrs. Bright called Foley to arrange her flowers and led her guest to the morning parlor. “Can you stay for a cup of tea? Perhaps Irene will drop in...”

“I wrote and told her my decision,” Clifford announced manfully. “My footman brought a note back. It says—and I quote her verbatim—’If you cannot behave like a
gentleman,
Mr. Sutton, I cannot continue seeing you.’ “

“She never called you Mr. Sutton!”

“That may be my fault. I addressed her as Lady Monteith.” He pulled out the much-read note and handed it to Nora. “ ‘Not behave like a gentleman,’ mind you!” he said, fuming with rancor. “Accusing me of shabby behavior, after what she has put me—
us
—through! Honorable gentlemen don’t go slipping behind the backs of brothers-in-law, who have nothing to say about anything. I mean to answer that note and tell her exactly what I think. I consider myself entirely at liberty,” he added, to make his point crystal-clear.

But still he was uncomfortable courting before he and Irene were formally through, so the conversation turned to Samantha’s offer. “Why did he say you would be welcome at that foreign-sounding place?” Clifford asked.

“That was what made me fear—er, think—he had offered for yourself.”

She related any item of interest she could remember regarding Shalimar. What stood out in her mind was the sixty thousand, but what rested at the bottom of her heart was a reluctance to see Samantha marry such a tiger.

“I cannot like to discourage her—such a grand match!— but, oh, dear, he is so loud and foreign-looking,” she worried.

“She will certainly never get an offer to equal it, from the worldly point of view.”

“Oh, no, indeed! Monteith himself hasn’t half so much money. If I thought she really cared for Lord Howard, I wouldn’t have a word to say against it.”

Clifford assumed the male’s prerogative of telling her what she should do. “Tell Samantha his offer,” he advised. “Neither encourage nor discourage her. Sam is a sensible girl. She will make up her own mind, and we shall support her in whatever she decides.”

The telltale “we” came out so naturally Clifford didn’t even notice it. What was in his mind was that Nora would be all alone once Samantha married. He knew the nabob’s way of rushing at things as if there were no tomorrow. The wedding might very well take place within a month. What better and more natural time for Nora to settle elsewhere?

His own courting would be difficult, as any local outings would also involve Lady Monteith. There was the f
ê
te champ
ê
tre that was fast expanding into an orgy, with a ball to follow at Lambrook Hall. Naturally, Nora would want to attend that, and so would he.

After Clifford left, Mrs. Bright went upstairs to tell her daughter of Lord Howard’s offer. Mrs. Bright had no intention of pressing her daughter, but she couldn’t keep the enthusiasm from her voice when she echoed the wonderful words, “Sixty thousand pounds! So generous! And he offered to build me a dower house as well—or to let me live in the Langfords’ house.”

“But money aside, Mama, what do you think of him? His character is far from steady, you must know.”

“You are thinking of his son, who died in India.
1
’

“That, and his chasing after Mrs. Armstrong.”

“I daresay all the English bachelors in India carried on with the local women. About Mrs. Armstrong—I cannot feel he would expect to do anything like that after he married a young bride. Marriage might be the very thing to stabilize him. But it is up to you, Sam. You’re old enough to know your own mind. I have nothing to say against it. What you must ask yourself is whether you would be happy living in a castle and married to a millionaire. Always bearing in mind, of course, that the millionaire is the nabob,” she added scrupulously.

“Aye, that’s the rub,” Samantha said, and drew a long sigh.

“He’s very good-natured and would give you whatever you wanted—more than you wanted, for your tastes are simple like my own. If only he weren’t so loud and— raucous.”

“And old,” Samantha added. “It isn’t a decision to take in a minute. I’ll think about it.”

After Mrs. Bright left, Samantha lay on her bed thinking. Her mother’s bright eye and air of excitement suggested she favored the match. Her whole conversation had been encouraging. It was a life that sounded like a dream— except for Lord Howard. If only it could be Monteith ... Monteith, of course, was definitely not interested in her, and was at pains to announce it to his uncle. It would put Monty’s aristocratic nose out of joint if she married Howard. As appealing as this was, the price to be paid was very high. She was extremely loath to accept the nabob’s offer, yet common sense and ambition lured her toward it. She must see more of Howard, see if it was possible to tame his Indian ways. And if it gave Monteith a few bad days while she made up her mind, that was unfortunate but unavoidable. Her lips curved in a parody of a smile as she considered the next few days.

Lord Howard returned that same afternoon to take Mrs. Bright to see the site where Shalimar would be built. Of course Samantha accompanied them. The ladies heard tales of the beautiful Vale of Kashmir, which was apparently Howard’s goal in landscaping Shalimar.

He took them to the top of the “squat hill” and gazed across the water. “This reminds me of Kashmir,” he said softly. “You come from the wretched, hot misbegotten plains of India up past Tibet and Nepal, and it’s like entering paradise to feel the gentle breezes. There high up in the mountains there is a green oasis of lakes and lotus blossoms and rivers. We hired a
shikara
and sat under the canopy while our rower took us down the Dal River. You could see the mountains reflected in the water as clear as a picture. What a sight! And it’s even better at night, with moonbeams dappling the water. I wish I could take you there, missie.”

He wiped a tear from his eye as he remembered that trip with Jemdanee. “But I shan’t tackle India again. I was thinking in terms of France and Italy and the rest of the continent for a honeymoon, while the builders put up Shalimar for us.”

Samantha’s mind drifted off to the boulevards of Paris and the fountains of Rome. She had always wanted to travel. If she didn’t marry Howard, the alternative was not some other eligible match but spinsterhood in Lambrook. Howard seemed less loud today. In this more subdued mood, she almost felt she could find some happiness with him.

Then he turned away from the water and gazed up to where the mountain would rise. “I have been thinking of having Shalimar faced with marble,” he said, “with a few domes and minarets in the Indian style. The Taj Mahal is a dandy building. Folks would see it from the sea as they sailed by, and say ‘An eccentric nabob built that for his lovely young wife.’ That was how the Taj Mahal came to be built, you know.”

Samantha glanced at her suitor and felt some stirring akin to love at this romantic notion. She would be remembered throughout history. She wished Howard would hold her fingers and squeeze them, to show he was thinking in the same vein.

Howard shook his head and said, “The Taj Mahal was the lady’s burial tomb. I have heard it cost four hundred lakhs of rupees.”

How very appropriate. Shalimar might prove her tomb as well.

“What is a lakh, Howard?” Mrs. Bright asked.

He was easily diverted to talk of money. “A hundred thousand. It was almost impossible to calculate such a sum. And people think
I
am rich. I am a pauper next to Shah Jahan.”

They took a quick look through the house. Samantha noticed her mother’s interest. How Mama would love to live here, in Langford’s gracious home. It would be good to have her close by for company. And as Mama grew older, she wouldn’t have to worry about her being alone. There was so much to recommend the marriage Howard offered! But she had told him she wanted a week to consider it, and she would take her seven days.

They drove home to the Willows. Lord Howard didn’t accept an offer to stay for tea. “I have to hire a builder to get busy on planning Shalimar. I shall run to London and hire the fellow who builds palaces for the Prince of Wales. I daresay he would do well enough. I shan’t be here to press my suit for a few days, missie,” he added.

“You’ll miss the f
ê
te champ
ê
tre,” Mrs. Bright exclaimed.

“We’ll have another when I get back. Now I would like to say farewell to Sammie.” A commanding look was directed at Mrs. Bright.

She took the hint and left the lovers alone. “Since you want to keep me on tenterhooks for a week, I might as well get the house started,” Howard said. “There is no point wasting time. The sooner it is built, the sooner we can move in and start filling up the nursery.”

To hear the seven days of courting described as a waste of time did nothing to soften Samantha’s feelings. There was surely a hint in his speech that her breeding potential was a strong feature of the marriage as well. Naturally, she wanted children, but “filling the nursery” of such an enormous house was an appalling prospect. And how was she to get to know Howard better when he was in London? His assuming that he had already been accepted was another annoyance.

“Do you really feel this is the proper time to go?” she asked. Frustration lent a sharp edge to her voice.

Howard nodded his head and winked. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so folks say. If I come back any fonder of you than I am, we had best post the banns before I go.” He tried to pull her into his arms.

Samantha pulled back. “I haven’t accepted your offer, Howard!”

“Heh, heh. You are a clever little minx. Whetting my appetite! You need not fear such tricks are necessary. I am very eager to have you.”

Without further ado, he lunged at Samantha and crushed her against his chest. His strong arms closed around her, and his lips began chasing hers as she squirmed and wriggled to be free. There was no escaping him. He soon caught her head in the palm of his hand and attacked her in a fierce kiss. One hand began groping toward the opening of her bodice. She pushed him back and tore out of the room without so much as a good-bye.

Lord Howard left the house frowning. A shy young filly. He would have to dull his appetite while in London or she’d bolt on him. Indeed, dulling his appetite was half the reason for the trip, as Mrs. Armstrong was proving such an evasive mistress.

Sam sat in her room, trembling. Her anger at Howard’s leaving had turned to relief. When he returned, she’d tell him she had decided they did not suit. His only disappointment would be in the few wasted days. Let him buy some other lady to fill up his nurseries. She’d rather remain a spinster than be subject to his pawing.

An hour later, a great, gaudy diamond-and-ruby engagement ring arrived at the Willows by messenger. Samantha put it in the bottom of her drawer so she wouldn’t have to look at it.

Chapter 13

The days after the nabob’s departure provided a much-needed period of calm in the emotional turbulence of Lam-brook. Lady Monteith, brooding upon recent events, came to think of Howard as a tropical storm that had blown through the neighborhood leaving chaos in its wake. It
seemed she hadn’t a friend left to her name. She had come to cuffs with Monty and most of her staff; she and Clifford were no longer on terms of civility—who would have thought Clifford capable of such a rebellious streak? She had heard distressing rumors of visits to the Willows by Clifford, even after he refused to meet her there. Was it possible Nora was trying her hand at stealing Mr. Sutton? If so, it meant she had lost her best friend. She could hardly continue on terms with Nora if Clifford offered for her.

The f
ê
te champ
ê
tre, which had been expanded at much cost in money and labor to an all-day-and-half-the-night celebration for Howard’s amusement, was scheduled to occur during his absence. And to top it all off, Howard had offered for that provincial miss, Samantha Bright. Such a prime piece of news as that wasn’t long making the rounds. No one told Clifford it was a secret; naturally, he had told his sisters and mentioned it to the Russels. By the time church let out on Sunday, the whole neighborhood was aware of the event. Samantha felt like Mr. Dod’s three-legged chicken when she walked up the aisle, with every head turning to stare at her in rampant curiosity.