Country Flirt (21 page)

“Where else should you come after your travels, but to your home, Howard? I’ll hear no more of nuisances, if you please. What have I to do all day long, alone as I am nine-tenths of the time? I am delighted with your company.”

“Do the youngsters not visit you? I had hoped to see Ted and Bert before now.”

“Had they known you were coming, Howard, wild horses wouldn’t have kept them away. They are touring the Lake District this summer. Monteith thinks they should see their own country, to develop a proper feeling for it and all its beauty. We’ve written, and hope to see them soon.”

“Ah, well, I hope they don’t come till I am feeling more the thing. Youngsters racketing around a house are the very devil, but I do want to speak to them later on and see what I can do for them. I thought twenty-five thousand apiece would see them settled in whatever careers they have in mind.”

A gush of pure joy made Irene’s rouge unnecessary. “Oh, Howard, you are too generous! Fifty thousand pounds!” In her excitement, she reached forward and grabbed his hands. He squeezed hers and took advantage of her proximity to slip a kiss on her cheek. Soft as a baby’s skin, that cheek. And what a pretty flowery smell came from her.

“The least I can do for my nevvies.”

And the least Irene could do was keep them out of his way while he was ill. There was no point risking the fortune by having the ill-bred whelps where Howard could see them. It hadn’t taken Monteith long to come to cuffs with the nabob, and he was the most civilized of her sons.

Receiving gifts and money always put Lady Monteith in high spirits. She could hardly control her joy that morning. She became quite frolicsome just before dashing downstairs to write the notes telling her younger sons to prolong their tour.

“Let me straighten these pillows,” she said, lifting Howard’s head in her two soft hands.

He grabbed her fingers. “Why are you so kind to an old sinner like me, Irene?” he asked. His dark eyes gleamed with the stirring of passion.

She suppressed her joy and allowed a wistful smile to do its work. “We shan’t have you with us much longer, Howard. Soon your marble walls will be rising.”

“I shall miss Lambrook Hall. Remember, we used to chase the peacocks, Irene? I pulled a feather from old Inky’s tail and gave it to you. Papa gave me a sound thrashing. You no longer have peacocks in the park.”

“I remember,” she said, on a luxurious sigh. “No, the peacocks are gone.”

“I shall give you a pair—and come and visit them often, if I may.’’

“I wish you never had to leave.”

Irene was careful not to look at Howard as she uttered this lure. She busied herself straightening his blankets, and as she left the room the feminine swaying of hips was a little more pronounced than usual.

Howard watched her departure with admiring eyes. A fine figure of a woman, always was. In his weakened condition, the upheaval of building Shalimar seemed like a hideously bothersome and expensive business. How nice it would be to finish his days here at the Hall, or someplace like it.

As to a young bride and a parcel of sons—children were noisy, troublesome wretches. His little lad in India—Georgie, he called him—had squalled night and day from the minute he was born. His lineage lived on in Ernest’s sons. It was not as though he had a title of his own to bequeath.

Of course, Irene was a widow. As that handsome hussy, Serena, said, a woman was not a suit of clothes ordered for one man, but a book to be read. For that matter, he had often worn Ernie’s jackets and been quite comfortable in them. Sammie was as pretty as could stare, but a prudish young lady. The young didn’t understand passion. It would take months to heat up her ardor. He could hardly jilt her—Mrs. Bright was Irene’s best friend. Monteith seemed rather fond of the young lady….

His eyes fluttered shut and he wafted in dreams back to Kashmir, where he wandered through the gardens of Shalimar with Jemdanee.

Monteith noticed his mother’s juvenescence and had some notion of its cause. It was the fifty thousand for the boys and the great ruby ring that she spoke of, but her smiles looked like million-pound smiles. The solution to every problem lay in his mother’s being able to pull it off. He personally went to the bookstall and picked up half a dozen romantic novels and a pot of rouge of a less glaring red.

Chapter 17

Two days after the f
ê
te, Monteith went to the Willows to deliver Sam to the Hall for her first visit to the invalid.

“Don’t leave me alone with him, Monteith!” Sam warned, as she put on her bonnet at the hall mirror.

“You’ll find him a changed man,” Monteith promised. “I’m almost beginning to like him myself.” He tilted her bonnet at a more fashionable angle and gazed at her with a long, unsettling look. “Don’t worry I’ll leave you alone. You might find yourself falling under his spell again.”

“That would upset your plans, wouldn’t it?” She sniffed.

“More than you know.”

“I never was under his spell.”

“I swear Mama is. Of course, his kind donation to the boys has something to do with it.”

They went to the carriage and in due course entered the grounds of Lambrook Hall. Samantha looked at the stretching sea of lawns and the spreading breeches, with the stone walls of the Hall rising in the distance. “How lovely it is here.” She sighed.

“I mean to spend more time at home in the future.”

“A city rattle like you? Dr. Johnson says when a man is tired of London, he’s tired of life.”

“Dr. Johnson is wrong. I am not tired of life; I’m only tired of wasting it. This illness of Howard’s has made me realize I’m mortal.”

“That must have come as a sore blow,” she said curtly.

“Most knowledge is hard gained. Being only mortal and with a mortal’s wish for eternity, I mean to marry and populate the county with my offspring.”

“In that order, I hope?”

“In that order, if Howard is well enough to receive your rejection,” he said, and cast a meaningful smile at his partner. “Otherwise . . . well, I don’t mean to wait much longer.”

Sam stared at him, a hopeful question burning in her eyes.

“I
did
mention the epilogue, didn’t I?”

“I wish you wouldn’t speak in riddles,” Sam said coldly, and turned her attention to the swallows screeching above as they darted from tree to tree.

Samantha hardly recognized Lady Monteith when she met her in the saloon. What had wrought this change? Her eyes and cheeks glowed, but not so noticeably as her henna hair. Her toilette, too, was livelier than before. She hadn’t quite sunk to sprigged muslin at her years, but she wore a pretty gown of emerald green that reminded Sam of the lawns just admired, and Howard of Kashmir.

“How kind of you to come,” Lady Monteith said. Sam’s uncertain position had robbed her of vitality. Lady Monteith’s heart soared to see such slender competition. Even a distressed young maiden was still plenty attractive, however, and further measures were called for.

“Try to cheer him up,” she said. “Make him laugh, if you can. You go with her, Monty. Howard will like to hear the lively chatter of you youngsters. Urge him to talk about building Shalimar and filling it with children.”

Howard had admitted his dread of this project. Peace and quiet were what he spoke of now. “Stay as long as you can. He has trouble getting in the days,” she added, as a final deterrent.

Though the ordeal loomed with all the attraction of a visit to the tooth drawer for Sam, she gamely attempted to carry out instructions, as she felt guilty about breaking the engagement. Monteith knew his mother well enough to recognize her scheme. He thoroughly approved of her intentions and was ready to abet her. He opened the door and entered the sickroom with a loud “Holloa, Uncle. See who I’ve brought to entertain you.”

Lord Howard sank deeper into his pillows and assumed a sickly air without too much trouble. His pallor was not the sickly white of a normal invalid, but a bright yellow, due to his liverish condition and the results of long exposure to the tropical sun. “Sammie, kind of you to come,” he said in a puling whine.

“Good morning, Howard. I trust you are feeling better.” She smiled.

“Not as fit as I would like.”

“Why, you’ll be up and about in no time,” Monteith said heartily, and sat on the edge of his uncle’s bed with a lurch that sent the mattress bobbing. “You must be back on your pegs for next week’s assembly. Sam is looking forward to having a jig with you.”

Samantha looked at the wreck before her and felt grave misgivings as to Monteith’s attitude. But she really felt sorry for Howard and wanted to cheer him.

“I’ll save you every dance,” she promised rashly. “Monteith is going to set up waltzing lessons, if you please.”

“I have seen the waltz done in London. I’m not sure I approve of it for ladies.”

“Gentlemen can hardly perform it alone!” Sam said, and laughed.

“They can perform it with the other sort of woman,” Howard pointed out. Sam’s face took on an expression of shocked disapproval. Irene would have laughed and teased him. The young were really tediously self-righteous. He had convinced himself he must be rid of Miss Bright and decided to show her the rough side of his nature. “Gentlemen are allowed some latitude in such matters,” he said haughtily.

Sam looked warily to Monteith, to see if he concurred with this notion. He nodded his agreement, but when she caught his eyes, she noted the glint of mischief. “I must disagree, Howard!” she said firmly.
“My
husband will not carry on with lightskirts, I promise you.”

“Children, children,” Monteith said. “It’s time for a glass of wine to clear the air.”

He went to the door and let out a bellow that sent Howard into a grimace. “None for me. The doctor has got me on infants’ fare,” Howard said.

“A glass of wine won’t do you any harm,” his nephew said.

“Much you know about it! It could kill me. You wouldn’t believe how my poor gut gripes at anything sour.” He rubbed his stomach and frowned in imaginary pain as he spoke. He’d make sure the bottle stayed behind when the youngsters left.

Monteith chattered inanely and loudly as he filled two glasses. “A toast to the handsome couple,” he said, clinking Sam’s glass and smiling at Howard.

He then turned his attention to relating some long and not very amusing stories, which sent both himself and Sam off into peals of noisy laughter. Sam noticed that the louder they laughed and talked, the less happy Howard became.

“I fear we’re tiring you, Howard,” she said after half an hour that had seemed much longer.

“I could do with some quiet,” he said weakly. “Thank you for coming, Sam. You mustn’t put yourself out too much on my account. Visits are tiring. You youngsters have better things to do than sit with a sick old man.”

“You’re not old!” she told him. But he seemed to have aged twenty years since his first coming to the Hall.

“I fear I am, my dear. That promise I so rashly made you at Shalimar—I may have to renege on it. You recall what I said, about my gray hair....”

She gave a blush and lowered her eyes. Prude, Howard thought. “You run along, Nevvie,” he said to Monteith. Samantha bit her lower lip and looked alert.

Monteith looked a question to her. She nodded, and he left.

“Draw your chair closer to my bed,” Howard suggested.

She nudged the chair an inch closer, ready to flee at the first sign of passion. “What is it, Howard?” she asked stiffly.

“Nay, there’s no need to freeze on me, lass. It’s time you and I admitted the truth. We don’t suit. I’m too old, and you’re too young. It will be a disappointment to you now, but in time you’ll get over it. I’ll see what I can do to hint Monteith in your direction. If you can lose that missish way of pokering up at any mention of sex, you might nab him. He ain’t a nabob, but he’s got a handle to his name, and the Hall is a fine little house.”

A wave of relief inundated Samantha. She felt as if she had been released from prison. “If you’re sure, Howard...”

“It’s a pity, but facts are facts. Winter and summer don’t belong together. I waited too long to come home. I shan’t be building Shalimar after all. I daresay that was half what attracted you to me.”

“No, to tell the truth, I wasn’t attracted by Shalimar at all. I thought it sounded silly.” She drew the heavy ring from her finger and handed it to him.

He shoved it back, saying, “Keep it as a reminder of me.”

“As if I needed a reminder!” she exclaimed.

Howard felt a proud swelling of his chest and smiled benignly. “Call it a little something for the trouble and disappointment I’ve caused you.”

“I couldn’t keep it. It’s too valuable,” she said firmly, and set it on the table.

“As you wish, my dear. So it is good-bye,” he said, with a sad smile, and an eye to the table to see the level of the wine bottle.

“Yes, it is good-bye, dear Howard.”

Assured of her freedom, she risked a very quick kiss on his forehead. It felt hot and dry, and nearly as repulsive as his lips. Then she rose and glided quietly from the room.

Monteith was waiting for her in the hallway. “Well?” he asked.

“Monty, he jilted me!” she whispered, and fell into a fit of nervous giggles.

He lifted her in his arms and swung her around in the air, with her feet ten inches off the ground. “Then we can make it official. You’re my woman!” he said.

He gazed into her face, hovering above his, then lowered her till their lips met in a frenzied kiss. His lips moved restively as her arms tightened around his neck. The long kiss continued as she slid slowly to the floor, gliding against him in a body caress.

When at last he released her, she looked shyly at him. “Is that what you’ve been waiting for all this time?” she asked. “For Howard to jilt me?”

“We foolish gentlemen have a code in these matters. Stealing another man’s bride is frowned upon. I’ve wanted to make my declaration for days. I was within a breath of it that afternoon in your saloon, but somehow we came to cuffs instead. I was jealous as a green cow.”

“And I was mad as a hornet. I thought it was only my getting Howard’s fortune that upset you.”