Lord Darlington's Darling (11 page)

“I see,” said Mrs. Crocker thoughtfully. She slanted
an inquiring glance at her sister.

Abby’s thoughts were a tangle. She intuited at once
that Mr. Farnham had given her a note for Lady Bethany. The small scrap seemed to burn a hole right through
her glove. Abby didn’t want it. She did not know what
she was going to do. She couldn’t very well give it
back to him without engendering just the kind of at
tention she most disliked.

“Cedric Barthlew made us known to one another,”
she said hastily. Clumsily, she pretended to be looking
for her handkerchief and managed to drop the note
into her silver-knotted reticule.

“I had hoped Miss Fairchilde might have a dance
still free on her card,” said Mr. Farnham, still smiling. His eyes held a glinting expression as he watched her
tuck away the note.

Abby’s first instinct was to fib and say her entire
card was filled. Under the combined gazes of her fam
ily, however, (all of whom knew very well that she
had several places open), she was unable to utter the
falsehood. She examined her card quickly. If she must
stand up with Mr. Farnham, it would be so much bet
ter to offer him a country set. With relief, she saw
one was open. “I have a country-dance,” she said,
trying for a polite tone.

Mr. Farnham took her card and penned in his name
on
the appropriate line. He bowed, and
after a few
ingratiating words, he took himself off.

“Well!” Mrs. Crocker turned to her sister with a speculative expression in her brown eyes. “I did not realize you were becoming such an adroit flirt, Abby.”

Abby flushed. “It is nothing of the kind,” she re
torted with more spirit than was her wont.

“Pray do not be unkind, Melissa,” said Mrs. Fairchilde reprovingly. “I for one am very proud of Abby
for attaching such a fine-looking gentleman. On the
basis of a chance meeting, too! It is very wonderful.”

“Hmph! I like that young buck Darlington the best
of them all,” said Mrs. Paddington.

August slanted a startled glance at his aunt, then
looked at his sister’s revealing face. He pursed his lips
in a soundless whistle.

Mrs. Crocker’s brows rose. She looked again at her sister. “The marquess? Has his lordship been making
himself agreeable, Abby?”

“Very agreeable,” said Abby with a hint of defiance.

“You need not eat me,” said Mrs. Crocker mildly.

August gave a crack of laughter, swiftly changing it into a cough as several pairs of eyes turned his way.
“Something in my throat,” he mumbled.

Abby did not heed her brother, having at once felt
contrite over her spurt of temper. “I am sorry, Me
lissa! It is just that—-I scarcely know what will hap
pen next!”

Mrs. Crocker chuckled. “I can well imagine your feelings, my dear! First Lord Fielding, then Lord Dar
lington, and now this Mr. Farnham. I never thought to see you so sought after.”

“Before you know it, we’ll be tripping over a slew
of admirers at the town house,” said August flippantly.

“Oh, how nonsensical you are!” exclaimed Abby,
nevertheless pleased by her brother’s somewhat blind
affection. She shook her head at August, but soon a
disquieting thought occurred to her. Somewhat wist
fully, she asked, “Is it so very bad to attach a few
suitors?”

“Of course not! But we mustn’t let the object of
the Season to be forgotten,” said Mrs. Crocker, shak
ing her finger.

Abby nodded. “Of course.”

“Oh, do not be hammering at her all the time, Me
lissa,” said August, all of his easy humor disappeared.

“But Melissa is quite right, August,” said Abby.
With a sigh she said, “I must be credibly established.”

Mrs. Crocker smiled reassuringly, “Pray do not look so anxious, Abby. Look, here is Lady Bethany to give your
thoughts a different direction.”

August turned quickly. His fair face became bur
nished with a faint touch of red. “Lady Bethany!”

“Mr. Fairchilde!” Lady Bethany curtsied gracefully, then
fastened her laughing gaze on her youthful admirer.
“I trust you intend to dance with me before the eve
ning is quite over!”

“Of course! I mean, I shall be happy to dance with you!” exclaimed August, flushing deeply. All saw that
he was supremely pleased.

Lady Bethany turned her attention to the ladies and
thereafter bestowed only a word or two more on Au
gust, but Abby noticed it was enough for her brother.
Even though she smiled, she hoped that August was
not deeply enamored of Lady Bethany Hart, since
that damsel had placed her affections on quite an
other gentleman.

With the reflection, she was reminded of Mr. Farn
ham. Lady Bethany’s appearance had indeed given Abby’s
thoughts a turn, but it was not a comfortable one.
As soon as could be managed, Abby slipped the
note to her friend. She was glad to be rid of it. Lady Bethany
’s quick smile and glowing eyes were scant reward
for her uneasiness. Abby hoped Mr. Farnham had written his good-bye, and there would be no more
notes.

Lady Bethany soon flitted off, announcing her intention
to seek out her mother, but Abby rather suspected
her friend would find a private alcove first in which
she could unfold the precious note from Mr. Farnham.

Her suspicions proved correct, for after several more
minutes, Lady Bethany came back to beg that Abby be able
to bear her company to the seamstress’s room. “I have
torn my lace, as you can see, and Mama has scolded me
grandly for it,” said Lady Bethany gaily.

Mrs. Crocker laughed. “Take Abby with you by all means, Lady Bethany. She has been quite abstracted
ever since her last turn on the floor. I should like it if
you bring her back in a more sociable frame of mind.”

Lady Bethany also laughed and playfully nipped Abby’s
arm with her fingers. “Oh, do come with me, Abby!
I detest having to stand still while my laces are sewn
up with no one to talk to!”

“Very well,” said Abby, not at all adverse to leaving
her sister’s chaperonage. Mrs. Crocker’s eyes were
sharp. She did not know how much longer she could
hide the depth of her agitation of spirits.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Abby confided,
“Lady Bethany, Mr. Farnham has asked me to stand up
with him!”

“Oh, that’s famous! For I did not know how I was
to contrive a second meeting between you, so that you
could give him a message from me,” said Lady Bethany.

Abby stopped dead. She eyed her friend in acute
dismay. “Lady Bethany! You said it would be but the once!
You told me that you wished to relate your good-byes
lo him!”

“And so I did! Abby, do come along! You are at
tracting attention,” said Lady Bethany in some urgency. The tenseness of her expression lessened when her friend
started keeping pace with her again. “Listen to me,
Abby, for you are the only one in whom I may con
fide. Indeed, I am all distracted! I do not know what
I shall do if you will not help me!”

Abby was at once sympathetic. “I shall do anything
I can, of course! But, Bethany, do you not think that
your—your acquaintance with Mr. Farnham is not
quite suitable?”

“I do not care a rush what anyone may say!” ex
claimed Lady Bethany. She swallowed a sob. “Abby, the
worst possible thing has happened! Sylvan saw me
with the note. He wrested it from me. His expression when he read it—!” Lady Bethany shuddered dramatically.
“Oh, Abby! I don’t know what to do!”

“But surely, Lord Darlington would be delighted
to learn Mr. Farnham was giving up courting you,”
said Abby.

“If only it had said that! I should feel so much easier!”
exclaimed Lady Bethany. Her beautiful eyes flashed. “Richard
declared himself unable to give me up, Abby! He truly,
truly loves me. He—he wants to see me again. And
he suggested we meet at a certain place.
That
is what
my brother read!”

“Oh, dear!” said Abby, not finding any more adequate words.

The two young women had reached the door of the
seamstress’s room. Lady Bethany dropped her voice to a
whisper. “That is why I simply had to talk to you,
Abby. The only thing I could think of was to tear my
laces so that we would have an excuse to come off
alone like this.” She clutched her friend’s hand tightly.
“Abby, I am so very afraid.”

“Of what?” asked Abby, astonished by the trembling
sincerity in Lady Bethany’s tone.

“Sylvan intends to hurt him, Abby! I know it!”

There was no more time for rushed confidences
, for the seamstress hustled forward and invited the two
young ladies to enter the room. In any event, Abby
could not have taken anything more in just then. She
was startled and taken aback by Lady Bethany’s extraor
dinary assertion. Her mind fumbled, trying to grasp
the significance of what had been said. “But Lord Dar
lington couldn’t—”

A sharp pain on her ankle made her gasp. Abby was astonished
when she realized that Lady Bethany had actually kicked
her. She sank down in a chair, rubbing her ankle as
she looked up in reproach. Lady Bethany shrugged and
made a grimace over the seamstress’s head, who was
kneeling on the floor and pinning the torn lace at her
skirt hem.

“And so, Abby, you must tell our friend that all
our plans have gone awry,” said Lady Bethany brightly. “I
shan’t be able to keep our engagement, after all.”

“But, Lady Bethany, I couldn’t possibly—
”

Lady Bethany gestured urgently down at the seamstress.
Abby stopped speaking, at once cognizant of her
near-indiscretion.
At the seamstress’s respectful request for Lady Bethany to
turn so that she could reach the end of the torn lace,
Lady Bethany did so. She looked over her shoulder with a
pleading expression. Her bright voice was at complete
variance to her face. “Please be so obliging, Abby! I
don’t know what I shall do otherwise!”

Abby could not stand against that desperate look.
“Oh, very well! But I must tell you that I think you are making too much out of this, Lady Bethany.”

“I assure you, I am not,” said Lady Bethany earnestly.
The seamstress got up, and Lady Bethany thanked her pret
tily, if somewhat abstractedly. “Abby, I—”

The door opened and three other ladies entered,
chattering and laughing. Lady Bethany caught up Abby’s
hand and pressed it. “Thank you, my best of friends!”
she whispered, before she swept out.

Abby stood for just a minute, feeling herself to be
somewhat off balance.

“Is there aught I can do for you, miss?”
At the seamstress’s question, Abby shook her head
quickly and smiled. “I was only wool-gathering,” she
said, and exited the room as swiftly as possible.

She looked for Lady Bethany, but to little avail. Abby
was not surprised. She had not really expected Lady Bethany
to be waiting for her. If she had learned anything about Lady Bethany Hart, it was that the young miss
knew the worth of a dramatic entrance or exit.

She soon espied Lady Bethany on the dance floor, being
partnered by her brother, August. Lady Bethany was laughing up at
him and August looked as besotted as a young man
could in the first throes of love. Abby felt a sinking
feeling, as concern for her brother momentarily crowded
out every other consideration. She hoped August’s in
fatuation would be of a short duration and that it
would not come to a painful conclusion.

As Abby made her way back through the crowded
ballroom toward her chair, she pondered over all that
Lady Bethany had told her. She thought Lady Bethany had al
most certainly overstated the seriousness of the mat
ter. Of course, Lord Darlington was probably quite
incensed to discover that his headstrong sister was still
in contact with a suitor whom he had forbidden her
to encourage. And rightly so, Abby reflected. She could
well imagine her sister’s and brother-in-law’s reactions if she were to favor anyone as inclined to the clandes
tine as Mr. Farnham.

With a shock, Abby suddenly realized that she had
unwittingly been placed in just such a position. Once
her relations came to realize Mr. Farnham’s reprehensible character, they would no doubt chide her quite
stringently for acknowledging his acquaintance. How
ever, Abby’s mind boggled at the very thought of her staid brother-in-law threatening Mr. Farnham’s well-
being.

That was just the difficulty, Abby thought. She
could not conceive how Lady Bethany could ever believe
her brother, Lord Darlington, would offer violence to
Mr. Farnham. Abby had always found his lordship to
be soft-spoken and a complete gentleman.

“There you are, Abby! I trust Lady Bethany’s
flounces were repaired to her satisfaction?” asked
Mrs. Crocker as her sister came up.

“Oh! Oh, yes,” said Abby, scarcely glancing at her
sister as her gaze went to the gentleman who was
seated beside her.

Mr. Farnham rose at once. “Forgive me for appro
priating your chair, Miss Fairchilde,” he said smoothly.
“I availed myself of your absence and have gotten to
know your sister and your other relations better. It
must be an object with me, since I count myself one of your admirers.”

Abby was tongue-tied, unable to utter anything in
the face of such bold audaciousness. In any event, her
response was not needed. Mr. Farnham turned to Mrs.
Crocker and lifted her hand to his lips. With his gor
geous smile, he reminded Mrs. Crocker that he in
tended to wait upon her not too many days hence.

“And now, I believe the orchestra is striking up our
set, Miss Fairchilde,” said Mr. Farnham, holding out
his hand toward her.

Perforce, Abby placed her fingers in his, and his
hand closed around hers. Her partner drew her onto
the dance floor and escorted her to her place in a set.
As he stepped forward, meeting her gloved hand with
his own above their heads, he said in a low voice, “I
believe you have something to convey to me, Miss
Fairchilde.”

Abby glanced swiftly around, at once convinced that
someone would overhear. However, no one seemed
particularly interested in Mr. Farnham’s statement.
“Yes, our friend will be unable to make the planned
engagement,” she said in a breathless hurry.

Mr. Farnham’s face registered surprise. The move
ment of the dance took them apart. When they came
together again, he commented, “Indeed! You astonish
me, ma’am. What if I say that I do not believe you?”

“But you must!” exclaimed Abby, looking at him
with dismay. His handsome face was smiling, but dubi
ously, as though he suspected her of duplicity. “Sir,
you must believe me. Our friend was quite insistent.
Her brother—”

Once again, the country-dance moved them apart. However, not before Abby had seen the flash of star
tled comprehension on Mr. Farnham’s face. She at
least had the satisfaction of knowing that he now be
lieved her message could be trusted.

They came together again. Their hands met over
their heads as they turned together, facing one an
other, in a small circle. “I understand you perfectly,
Miss Fairchilde. Pray convey to our mutual friend my
regrets and my assurance that I shall be in touch,”
said Mr. Farnham softly.

Abby nodded, but she could not manage to smile.
She did not like the gentleman. But more than that,
she did not like her role. How much she wished she
had never agreed to be Lady Bethany’s intermediary in the
first place, for Mr. Farnham’s words gave her the dis
tinct feeling that the star-crossed lovers would drag her deeper into their convoluted machinations.

The country set was the longest Abby had ever ex
perienced. She was incredibly relieved when it ended
and Mr. Farnham escorted her back. He exchanged a
few words with Mrs. Crocker and the rest of the party,
bowed over Abby’s hand, and removed himself.

“For my part, I mislike that fellow,” remarked August. “There is something about him that doesn’t ring
quite true.”

Abby couldn’t have agreed more, but she kept quiet.

“Oh, no, no! Mr. Farnham is charming,” said Mrs.
Fairchilde.

“I’ll give the fellow that much, at least,” murmured
August. He bent to kiss his mother’s cheek affection
ately. “I am off to the refreshment table. May I bring
something back for anyone?”

“Not just now, dear. In fact, you must not wait on
us anymore, but go off and enjoy yourself,” said Mrs.
Fairchilde. “I am certain we don’t need an escort any
longer, do we, Melissa?”

“If August wishes to desert us, who am I to put a
rub in his way?” asked Mrs. Crocker, amusement
glinting in her brown eyes.

“Thank you, ma’am,” said August with such obvious appreciation that it drew laughter from his female rela
tions. He left with a light step.

“Well, I see August is not so besotted by Lady Bethany
Hart that he is reluctant to leave us,” said
Mrs. Crocker.

“Ah, young love.” Mrs. Fairchilde sighed, shaking
her head. “When did my little boy grow up?”

“Obviously when you were not looking,” said
Mrs. Paddington.

With her mother’s reference to love, Abby instantly
wondered where Lord Darlington was and began to
look around for him. She saw that he was engaged in
conversation across the room. Abby glanced down at
her dance card, hoping to see Lord Darlington’s name,
and with a leap of her heart saw that he had penciled
in another set.

Abby looked up, a smile hovering about her mouth.
Her gaze fell on her beautiful friend, who was being
that instant squired past her about the floor. At sight
of Lady Bethany, all of her pleasure dimmed, and her anx
ious reflections again took possession of her mind.
Nothing in the conversation among her relations could
dispel her thoughts.

Abby was exceedingly glad when a gentleman past
his prime came up to claim the next set. She wanted
very much to forget Lady Bethany and Mr. Farnham. Even
though she tried to banish all troubling reflections in
conversing with her elderly partner, nevertheless she could not quite forget. Since she was not thinking of
herself, her manner was less shy than it might other
wise have been, and she was able to respond to her partner’s gallantry without her usual shyness overtaking her.

Abby was astonished when, after the set, her part
ner complimented her on her sensible conversation
and promised himself to call on her later in the week.

Mrs. Crocker stared after the gentleman’s retreating
back in an astonishment equal to her sister’s. “My
word, Abby! I believe you are catching on!” she ex
claimed in amazed accents.

“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Abby. The very possibility
that she might have attracted yet another suitor fright
ened her. She did not think she would be able to
juggle many more. It had been easy when it was only
Lord Fielding. Then Lord Darlington had entered her
sphere, her dreams had begun to be disturbed,
and Lord Fielding had started to display evidence of
jealousy. “Whatever shall I do?”

For some reason, Mrs. Crocker found her sister’s
reaction exquisitely funny. She laughed, saying, “Do!
You silly goose! For goodness’ sake, Abby, enjoy this
small taste of popularity! Why, I never thought to see
you do so well this Season. Mama, Aunt—have you
ever seen the like? Abby has begun to acquire an
actual court!”

“Abby is an attractive little thing,” said Mrs. Fairchilde
fondly.

“For my part, I never thought to see that mousy
head of hers take,” said Mrs. Paddington bluntly.

Abby laughed, some of her inner tension at once
eased by her aunt’s stringent honesty. “Thank you, Aunt! You have greatly relieved my mind!”

“You talk a great deal of nonsense, Abby!” said
Mrs. Crocker. “Ah, here is Lord Darlington! My lord!
I know that it is not I or my mother or aunt whom
you have come to see. Abby, his lordship is desirous
of a word with you. Why don’t you promenade around
the ballroom for a few minutes, while the orchestra
has stepped down? My lord, if you will be so good to bring some ices upon your return, I shall be eternally
grateful. It is exceedingly hot this evening.”