Lord Darlington's Darling (15 page)

W
hen Lord Darlington returned from his ride and had changed out of his riding clothes to appro
priate morning attire of frock coat and pantaloons, he requested his sister’s presence in the library. It was all
of a quarter hour before Lady Bethany ventured to knock and
come in. He raised his eyes from the correspondence in
his hand, his expression frowning. His expression did
not alter upon seeing his sister slip into the room.

“You wish to see me, Sylvan?” asked Lady Bethany. She
was smiling but her brother was quick to note the
wary look in her eyes.

Lord Darlington gestured for her to seat herself in
one of the wing chairs in front of his desk. As she did
so, he leaned back in his tall chair and regarded her
thoughtfully. “I trust you are fully recovered from
last night?”

“I am, thank you,” said Lady Bethany formally. She gave
all the appearance of one who was trying quite hard
to appear at ease.

Lord Darlington said nothing for a moment, looking
at her from under narrowed eyelids. He was well-
aware of her hidden discomfiture, and it was not his
intent to alleviate it. He wanted to put her off balance,
for what he had to say to his sister had to make a
lasting impression. Finally he sat forward, resting his
elbows on the desktop. “Bethany, something has come
to my attention which has me in a grave puzzle. Per
haps you may hazard a guess at what it is?”

“Why, no I—I am sure that I could not,” said Lady Bethany
, her gaze more wary than ever.

Lord Darlington smiled slightly. “I shall let that go for the moment. We shall come back to it presently.
Pray tell me—what was in the note August Fairchilde
passed to you which so upset you as to cause you to completely forget yourself?”

Lady Bethany gave a start, and her widening eyes ex
pressed her astonishment. “Sylvan! However did you
know? No one saw it! No one!”

“On the contrary,” said Lord Darlington with finality. He did not elaborate, but moved smoothly to the main point. “I have it on good authority it was a note
from Mr. Richard Farnham. Pray do
not conceive that you can persuade me that it was
otherwise, for I shall not believe you.”

Color had surged into Lady Bethany’s face, and her eyes
flashed angrily. Defiance sounded in her voice. “I
shan’t try! Yes, it was a note from Richard! There! I
have admitted it! Is that all?”

“Not quite, Lady Bethany,” said Lord Darlington deliber
ately. He had the satisfaction of seeing a spurt of fear
in her expression. No one knew better than himself
of his sister’s headstrong personality. If he did not
handle this interview just right, he could drive Lady Bethany
straight into the arms of her undesirable suitor. Her
swift temper and obstinate nature often led her into
unthinking actions or words, for which she was invari
ably sorry for afterward. He hoped to preserve his
sister from experiencing remorse in this instance. He
sat back in his chair once more, nonchalantly twirling
the beribboned fob that hung from his waist.

Lady Bethany’s eyes were at first drawn to the movement
of his fingers, but irresistibly her gaze soon rose to
meet his own. She flushed suddenly.

Lord Darlington let the fob drop. He sighed in a weary fashion. “Must I drag it out of you, Bethany?”

She dropped her head, apparently finding the pleat
ing of her skirt of supreme interest. “I am sure I do
not know what you mean.”

He smashed his palms down on the desk, making
his sister jump in her chair. “Must we play at cat and
mouse?” he demanded harshly. He stood up and came
around the desk corner.

Lady Bethany stiffened, obviously prepared to defy his
anger.

Lord Darlington took hold of one of her reluctant
hands, folding it into both of his. In a carefully con
trolled voice, he said, “Bethany, I hold you in the
highest affection.”

Tears started to her eyes. “Oh, Sylvan!” She looked
away from him, pulling her hand free. “Pray do not!”

“Do you wish me to berate you instead?” he asked
with a touch of grim humor.

“Oh, much!” exclaimed Lady Bethany, glancing around
at her brother quickly. Her eyes were still damp, but
there was the hint of a smile in them.

Lord Darlington sighed. He sat down on the desk
edge. “Since you will not allow me to spare you, then I
cannot. Bethany, I suspect you have seen Mr. Farnham
on several occasions.”

“What is there in that, pray?” asked Lady Bethany, delib
erately obtuse. “I am sure that Mr. Farnham is re
ceived everywhere. His movements cannot be of the
least interest to anyone!”

“Ordinarily, I would not care. However, the gentle
man intrudes upon my interests. In short, Bethany, I
will not have you seeing him or communicating with
him, except be it under the eyes of our mother or
myself. Is that quite understood?” asked Lord Dar
lington.

Lady Bethany leaped up, her eyes blazing once again.
“You cannot force me to give him up! You cannot!”

“I can and I will.” Lord Darlington stood, facing
his sister and bringing all of his formidable will to
bear. “I told you once before, Bethany, how things
were. I meant every word. You will not cast yourself
away on this paltry fellow. And should you choose to
defy me—” His voice turned silken. “Why, then, you
will leave me no alternative but to
...
remove
Mr. Farnham.”

Lady Bethany’s breast heaved, while she stared at her
brother with amazed fear in her eyes. Her voice
choked, she exclaimed, “No! You cannot mean it, Syl
van! It is not true!”

Lord Darlington shrugged indifferently. He walked
back around his desk, but did not sit down in the
chair. He returned his sister’s appalled regard, and
then smiled slowly. “The end of this pretty little tale
lies in your hands, sister. One way or another, I will
persuade you to give up Mr. Farnham. I think you
know me too well not to believe I will do as I have
said.”

Lady Bethany shuddered and averted her gaze. In a
smothered voice she said, “I hate you. Sylvan! I detest
you with all of my being!”

Lord Darlington did not allow his feelings to show.
It was not in his plans to reveal how much hurt his
sister’s words could inflict upon him. He had long ago
recognized loneliness as a constant companion, and he
had stoically accepted it. His role being what it was,
he had always felt it impossible to relate to his siblings,
or indeed, to anyone, on a warmer plane. There was
a flicker of memory, of a pleasant face, one whose
expression was gentle and undemanding. He sup
pressed it swiftly. Even Miss Fairchilde must not be
allowed to hinder the completion of the moment.

“When has it been otherwise?” he said, not really
addressing his sister, but all of those through the years
who had spurned him. He had suffered greatly due to
his family’s circumstances, his father’s blasted reputa
tion, his own unexpressed rage and resentment and
fear that had placed him at the helm of the Darlington
fortunes at too young an age. Even the taunts of those
at school, making rude fun of his Christian name, had not been easily borne. He still bore the scars on his
knuckles of innumerable fights to uphold his honor
and prove that the name “Sylvan” was one not to be
ridiculed, but rather, one to be respected.

“I shall never forgive you!”

Lord Darlington’s attention was drawn by his sis
ter’s whitened face and the tragic expression in her
eyes. He started to lift a hand, but stayed it, allowing
the incomplete gesture to fall. “I am sorry for it, Bethany
. However, I trust you will not force my hand. Stay
away from Farnham.”

Lady Bethany gave a strangled sob and ran to the door.
She struggled briefly with the knob and then flung the
door open, fleeing out of the library.

Lord Darlington stood where he was, feeling hollow
inside. It was a terrible thing when one’s own sister
loathed one, he thought, before catching himself up.
Firmly, decisively, he strode over to the library door
and closed it. Then he turned and walked back to his desk, where his correspondence and business papers
awaited.

* * * *

Abby was gratified when she was informed that
Lady Bethany had called. She cast a glance at the
clock and was surprised to see that it was an hour
earlier than the time she and Lady Bethany had settled on
for their shopping expedition. However, there was
nothing holding her at the town house, since her brother-in-law had gone to his club and her sister was
out visiting a close friend. It was but a small task to
inform her mother and aunt of where she was going,
before she put on her bonnet and ran downstairs lo
join her friend.

When Lady Bethany turned at her pleased greeting, Abby
was appalled by her paleness. At once, she was all solicitude. “Lady Bethany! What has happened? You look
about ready to faint!”

“I believe I am,” said Lady Bethany, drawing her gloved
fingers across her eyes. There was a distracted air
about her. “Abby! I must talk to you! But not here,
where someone may come in at any time!”

“Of course. I shall accompany you immediately,”
said Abby.

Within minutes the two friends were in the carriage
and bowling along the boulevard. Abby reached for
Lady Bethany’s hands, which instantly clasped hers so tightly
that she was astonished. She looked anxiously into Lady Bethany’s closed face. “Pray tell me! Something dreadful has
occurred, has it not?”

Lady Bethany shot a warning glance forward at the
coachman’s back. “I can’t say. I—I should like to take
a walk in the park before we do our shopping.”

“Yes, of course. I shall be glad of the exercise,”
responded Abby, growing more alarmed by the in
stant. Lady Bethany’s disregard of servants was well-known
to her by now, and for her friend to become suddenly cognizant of listening ears seemed to her more telling
than anything else. She therefore agreed readily to
Lady Bethany’s suggestion, once they had alighted from the
carriage, they walk along one of the less trav
eled footpaths.

“Now we are quite private, so you must tell me the
whole, Bethany,” said Abby.

“Sylvan knows about Richard! He knows everything!”

“Every—everything?” Abby looked at her friend in
lively dismay. Anxiety on her friend’s behalf was
joined by acute dismay that the marquess had somehow become aware of her own deceitfulness. “Does Lord
Darlington know about—about my role?”

“Oh, no, no! At least, I do not believe so.” Lady Bethany gave the matter such scarce consideration that Abby’s alarm was barely assuaged. “But what does it matter
when I am so utterly undone?”

Abby could have told her that it mattered a great
deal to her, but Lady Bethany’s fingers had tightened once
more and were digging into her arm, so Abby set aside
her own interests once more. “How did his lordship
guess? Oh, Bethany, what have you done?”

Lady Bethany gave a shrill, almost hysterical laugh. “It is
not what I have done, but what Sylvan means to do!
Abby, he as good as told me that he intends to kill
Richard if I do not sever the connection.”

Abby shook her head quickly in instinctive denial.
“I scarce credit it, Bethany. Lord Darlington would
never—”

“Wouldn’t he? You do not really know my brother,
Abby. He is the rock upon whom we all lean, but
such dependence comes with a price. He cannot bear
to be crossed. I have seen that implacable look before
today! When Evan was in some sort of trouble last
year, and when Sybil had the fever, and—but I need
not bore you with all of it! I need only say that Sylvan
moves heaven and earth to achieve the results he
wishes.” Lady Bethany shuddered and shook her head.
“And I
know
he will do just as he said! Abby, I—I
am afraid!”