Emily Hendrickson (15 page)

On that depressing thought she marched down the stairs, then sought the drawing room.

Lord Augustus turned from his contemplation of the fire to greet her. “Heard about your dip in the pond, dear girl. Really, not quite the thing to do on a February day, what? Now, come July . . .” He subsided a moment, apparently contemplating a lovely summer day. “Shan’t leave here today. Roads bound to be nasty. Always are,” he reflected gloomily.

“Ah, the intrepid Miss Elizabeth.” Young Mr. Percy sauntered into the drawing room, raising his quizzing glass to inspect her person, as though anticipating a drapery of pond weed or some such nonsense.

Elizabeth was hard put not to laugh at his pretensions. “Indeed, sir. Not altogether as intrepid as you might believe. I fear I wholly disliked plunging into that frigid water, then being trapped by my heavy skirts, unable to climb free. It is a good thing that Lord Leighton found it possible to pull himself out, and thus drag me free of the pond’s icy grip.” Had he used both hands to do so? She worried that he had harmed himself and was too heroic to complain. Oh, if he had reopened his wound, she’d not forgive herself.

“Ah, dear cuz, ever the champion,” Egbert said with a sneer.

“My maid informed me that Lord Crompton is improved,” Elizabeth said to Lord Augustus rather than reply to his son’s graceless remark.

“Good to hear,” offered Lord Augustus, shifting about in his chair accompanied by the usual creaking of his corset.

“Pity David couldn’t have kept you from ruining that admirable pelisse I saw you wearing earlier,” Egbert added in a snide undertone.

She tensed, wondering how Mr. Percy had seen what she wore if he had remained in bed at that hour. “I fear it is a total loss, in spite of Rose’s attempt to restore it. I shall wear it home and hope that not a soul sees me.”

He affected a look of horror. “My dear Miss Elizabeth, that would indeed be unfortunate.”

Firmly repressing a strong desire to laugh, she calmly replied, “At least my fur muff escaped a watery grave. I tossed it toward the shoreline when we plunged into the water.”

“Indubitably fortuitous.” He raised his quizzing glass to his eye again, offering Elizabeth a highly magnified view of that slightly reddened object.

She turned aside, choking back the laugh that longed to escape. “How true,” she managed to say. Then she considered the foppish gentleman. The notion had occurred to her before that he must spend an inordinate amount of money on those elaborate clothes, not to mention the seals and fobs—discreet but of the highest quality. Shifting about, she attempted to study him without his being unduly aware of her scrutiny. Would he? Could he? Everyone in the house knew that Egbert slept late of a morning, that he detested ice skating. What better cover than to slip from his room when all expected him to be inside? He could have made his way to the pond, removed the warning sign that had been posted, then returned to his bed with none the wiser. If Lord Augustus inherited, Egbert would have access to all the funds he desired, for his parent seemed most indulgent.

“I say. Miss Elizabeth, you are inspecting me as though I was a worm that had turned up in your apple.”

“I do beg your pardon, I was deep in reflection.” She added, “I hope that Lord Leighton has not taken ill from his immersion in that frigid water. It is not long since he was injured.”

“You ought to tell me more about that particular event. I find I am most curious.” Egbert strolled closer to where she stood, peering at her with intent curiosity.

She had done the foolish now, Elizabeth decided. Not knowing what Lord Leighton had revealed to his family about his injury, or her part in it, she hadn’t the vaguest idea what to say.

“Ought not pry,” Lord Augustus growled from his chair by the fire.

“Pry?” queried Lord Leighton as he strode into the room, looking for all the world as though he never heard of such a thing as falling through thin ice or a February wetting. He had exchanged his banyan for an elegant corbeau coat which covered a rose waistcoat of fine marcella. His buff pantaloons blended nicely and created an impression of refinement.

“Questions,” Lord Augustus said abruptly, staring at Elizabeth from beneath those shaggy brows as though she were responsible for his son’s behavior. He brushed a bit of snuff from his dark brown coat as he happened to catch sight of it.

“ ‘Tis all very vague, you know,” Egbert continued, ignoring his father.

“Did you enjoy the novel by Miss Brunton last evening?” David turned to inquire of Elizabeth, just as though he had not seen her in her sitting room but an hour past.

Guessing that he did not wish to have the subject of his injury brought up for discussion, Elizabeth searched for an intelligent reply.

“Well, she has a charming manner, but I fear I fell asleep before I could get very far into the story.”

“I trust that virtue will be rewarded?” he said with a lift of that devilish brow.

“Ought to replace her pelisse,” Lord Augustus volunteered, totally ignoring their conversation. “Poor gel. Not the thing to be falling into ponds in the middle of February. Not the thing at all,” he scolded.

David tugged at his ear lobe while he considered this comment.

Unable to repress a smile at his obvious surprise at this attack from his uncle, Elizabeth picked up a dainty statue from the table, ostensibly to study it.

“No worry, Papa. Once David and the lovely Elizabeth are wed, she’ll have no end of pelisses—and other interesting things as well, no doubt.” Egbert’s smile was excessively crafty.

“Forgot,” Lord Augustus mumbled, studying the fire once again.

Hoping the sound she heard in the hall was that of Sidthorp coming to inform them that it was time to march across to the dining room, she was dumbfounded when the portly butler ushered in her cousin Hyacinth.

The pretty redhead rushed to Elizabeth’s side, then flung her arms about her in a tender show of sensibilities.

“I vow, when his lordship’s footman brought news of your catastrophe, I simply had to come. It was not easy to persuade John Coachman to make the trip, for the poor man feared for the horses all the way over, but I knew there would be no peace in my heart until I assured myself that you were safe. You
must
need more of the tonic Purvis made.” She thrust a basket at Elizabeth, cast a calculating glance at Lord Leighton, then shifted her attention to Mr. Percy.

“I believe I may set your heart at rest. Miss Dancy,” Lord Leighton quietly replied, his very calm making Hyacinth seem silly and affected. “Your cousin is quite all right, and there is no cause for alarm in the least.”

He met Sidthorp’s inquiring look with a nod, then said to Hyacinth, “I do hope that you will join us for dinner. Uncle Augustus prefers to keep country hours, and so we dine early here.”

She fluttered her hands in the air, looking fragile, lovely, and frightfully vulnerable. “I should adore it, if it does not discommode you?”

“I should think that anyone who has the temerity to charge into another’s home at this hour of the day might expect to find them at the dinner table,” Elizabeth could not resist saying, her tone as dry as a desert.

Hyacinth’s pretty chin trembled, and from the depths of her reticule she fetched up a scrap of lace and cambric to dab her eyes. A flash of what Elizabeth believed resentment appeared for a moment when Hyacinth looked at her. It disappeared when she turned her splendid green eyes toward Lord Leighton.

“I merely grew concerned, and I fear 1 am never practical,” she added with a helpless shrug of her slim shoulders incased in sheer, buttery velvet. She seemed like a delicate flame, all red and gold, glowing with her inner fire on this cold, snowy February day. Elizabeth felt like a frump in yesterday’s gown that was not quite unwrinkled, in spite of Rose’s valiant attempt to restore it.

Hyacinth gave the sort of performance, Elizabeth decided, that brought out every chivalrous instinct in any living, breathing male. Lord Leighton appeared stricken, Lord Augustus lumbered to his feet, intent upon assuring the fragile creature of who knew what, while Egbert sauntered to Hyacinth’s side, offering his arm.

“This is all frightfully tedious. Let us set aside reasons and all that dreadful nonsense. Join us for dinner, for you will perk up the dining room no end.”

Blinking in surprise at the assertion of the dandy into what had been a conversation between herself and Lord Leighton, Hyacinth nonetheless placed a dainty hand on Egbert’s arm. A triumphant glance at Elizabeth told her that Hyacinth had planned and hoped for, well, not precisely this event, but near enough.

“I do apologize for my cousin’s sad want of manners, my lord,” Elizabeth whispered as she walked with Lord Leighton some distance behind Hyacinth and Percy.

“I dimly recall another young lady who was used to be thought a bit of a hoyden.” Although she could not see his face, she could hear the laughter in his voice.

“No names, please,” begged a chagrined Elizabeth.

When they were seated at the hastily rearranged table, she considered the order admirable. Hyacinth perched between Egbert and Augustus, who took his brother’s place at one end of the table. At the other end. Lord Leighton bent his attentions on Elizabeth, which seemed to irk her adorable cousin no end.

Jeremy Vane sat silently between Elizabeth and Lord Augustus, making no attempt to engage either young woman in conversation, although he stared frequently at Hyacinth.

It was truly amazing, considering the lengths Hyacinth had gone to be here so she might assure herself of Elizabeth’s health, that not once had she actually inquired about it. Oh, there had been that touching display when Hyacinth arrived. But Elizabeth hoped that at least David would see through her beautiful cousin’s machinations.

“I fancy you will find the roast to your liking,” David said as he gestured to a laden platter. “Even if the little cabbage is a bit strong.”

Elizabeth smiled. He understood, bless him.

The meal had proceeded nicely, she thought later, as Sidthorp offered the sweets—burned pudding and a nut torte.

Hyacinth eagerly consumed her portion of torte. Elizabeth accepted a dab of the same, but spent her time watching Egbert with a narrow gaze.

When they left the gentlemen to their port, Elizabeth steered her cousin to the drawing room, urging her to take one of the chairs by the fire.

“You seem quite at home here.” Hyacinth pouted, not quite as charming as when the men were around.

“One can quickly accustom oneself to almost anything. It was most unwise of you to come dashing over here. I fear Lord Leighton now considers you a harum-scarum sort of girl. It is not well done to behave so. And I thought better of you. Indeed, Aunt Bel has been constantly reminding me of your propriety ever since I arrived at Montmorcy Hall.”

“Truth be known, I felt it incumbent upon me to rescue you from what must be an intolerable situation. Imagine being cooped up in this house with all these men.” Hyacinth gave a dainty wave of a golden-sheathed arm.

Elizabeth wondered if her aunt had ever seen this side of Hyacinth, then decided that even if she had, she’d not pay the least attention to it. It seemed that once Aunt Bel made up her mind about something, it remained set.

“Well, I will be glad enough for your company on the ride home. It has been a trying day.” Hyacinth had not made it any better. It was clear that now Elizabeth would have to leave. There was no excuse for her to remain.

Any reply she might have made was lost when the men strolled along the hall and into the drawing room. Quite familiar with the leisurely consumption of port, while ladies languished in the drawing room, eagerly awaiting the gentlemen, Elizabeth raised an expressive brow at Lord Leighton.

He immediately sought her side, drawing her away from the others. “We must send your cousin back to your aunt. I shan’t allow her to interfere with the progress we have made. Improper little baggage.”

Elizabeth struggled to avoid drowning in those hazel eyes, so deep with meaning. “She is curious and a bit willful, but means no harm.”

David shook his head, turning his gaze on the young woman.

“As much as I would keep our delightful guest here, I fear her carriage awaits without,” he said in a more carrying tone, bestowing a charming, and quite impersonal, smile on Hyacinth.

As on cue, Sidthorp entered the room, carrying Hyacinth’s lovely purple cloak that had a hood trimmed in ermine. He placed it over her shoulders, then stood waiting to usher her from the room.

Hyacinth obviously wished to protest, but Lord Leighton inexorably swept her along to the hall, ignoring the complaints from Lord Augustus and Egbert. He ushered Hyacinth to the coach, fussing over her comfort in a manner that brought pink color to her cheeks. The door clicked shut, and Hyacinth left long before she intended.

The scene at Montmorcy Hall was as frosty as the weather outside. Aunt Bel proceeded to ring a peal over Hyacinth.

“I vow that was the strangest dinner I have ever attended,” Hyacinth complained, trying to direct the subject away from herself.

“Actually, you were not invited, so you scarce have cause for grievance,” Aunt Bel reminded.

“Well, I think it strange that you permit Elizabeth to remain there.” Hyacinth fussed with her gloves, then her reticule. “I do not see why I shouldn’t have gone.”

“I suggest you retire for the night, Hyacinth Dancy. We shall discuss this further in the morning.”

Chapter Nine

“I knew it! I knew he had overdone,” exclaimed Elizabeth upon learning that Lord Leighton was in bed with a slight fever and not feeling at all the thing. She had spent time with Lord Crompton after breakfasting in her room. When Rose had returned from the kitchen with a light meal for the earl—prepared by Rose and Filpot— Elizabeth had been appraised of Lord Leighton’s setback.

Not bothering to check her appearance, she marched down the hall. “I had best give him some of the tonic Purvis sent with me. She must have anticipated such a thing, for she sent an ample supply. I knew he ought not have exerted himself. That stubborn man!” Elizabeth muttered as she made her way along the south wing.