Lord Darlington's Darling (16 page)

Abby was more shaken than she cared to admit
even to herself. Her companion’s obvious apprehen
sion worked on her own spirits, making her feel quite
sick. “What shall you do?”

“What can I do? I must abide by Sylvan’s wishes,”
said Lady Bethany bitterly, swiping away tears from her
cheeks. She turned completely around, facing Abby.
“You must warn Richard for me, Abby!”

Abby shrank from her. “No, I—”

Lady Bethany spoke fiercely. “You must, Abby, for I dare
not! You must impress upon him that he must give
me up and to stay out of Sylvan’s way. Otherwise—
but the alternative does not bear thinking about!
Promise me, Abby! Promise me that you will tell
him!”

Abby swallowed a constriction caused by fear in her
throat. “Very well, Bethany. I—I shall do it.”

Lady Bethany hugged her quickly. Her beautiful smile
flashed, accompanying an expression of relief in her
eyes. “Thank you! I will never ask anything more of you, ever!”

After a few minutes of walking along the path, Lady Bethany announced that she was quite ready to quit
the park. The two young women had discussed the
best possible way for Abby to relay Lady Bethany’s mes
sage. It was decided by Lady Bethany that Abby would con
vey a verbal message, for Lady Bethany mistrusted anything
committed to writing since her brother had shown
himself so percipient.

Abby quaked at the thought of her formidable task.
The execution of it might have proven completely daunting, except that Mr. Farnham had established himself as a hangers-on among those few gentlemen
who formed her coterie of admirers. She allowed her
self to be persuaded by Lady Bethany that she could con
ceivably speak to Mr. Farnham at a convenient
moment during a dance or when he came to leave his
card at the town house.

Doubts continued to assail her, however. “But what
if he doesn’t ask me to dance or come to call any time soon?” asked Abby, feebly expressing fears of being unable to commandeer Mr. Farnham’s attention. Lady Bethany
would hear none of it.

“Oh, I am persuaded you will think of something,
dearest Abby,” said Lady Bethany, more sanguine than she
had been since the beginning of their outing. “Now,
let us go do our shopping! I have a most particular
desire to purchase a new pair of evening gloves, for mine are becoming sadly shabby.”

Though visiting a glovemaker was of scant interest
to her in light of what had transpired, and the fix she
found herself in by giving her promise, Abby agreed.
She did not wish Lady Bethany to realize that her feet were
made entirely of clay.

During the following week Abby was conscious of
Lady Bethany’s questioning gaze everywhere she went,
and whenever that damsel had an opportunity to do
so, she taxed Abby about the message to Mr. Farn
ham. Abby began to dread seeing Lady Bethany approach
her. It was not a comfortable feeling at all, especially
when the other girl began to exhibit some impatience
with her ineptitude. “Just tell him!” Lady Bethany whispered curtly on one occasion before sweeping away.

Abby felt her spirits to be depressed. She knew that if their roles were reversed, Lady Bethany would already
have managed in some way to have a few private
words with Mr. Farnham. But try as she might, Abby
could not overcome her overly cautious nature. She
wanted to be certain of not being overheard and that
was a very difficult thing when one was always sur
rounded by relations or a circle of acquaintances. Of course, Mr. Farnham was usually to be found at the
functions that Abby attended, and he at times came
up to convey his compliments. However, Abby felt
suppressed equally by the surroundings and by her
dislike for her role as messenger. In addition, whenever she saw Lord Darlington or had the opportunity to speak with him, she felt so guilty as to sink into the floor. If it were not for
the promise she had made, she would have told Lady Bethany that she had changed her mind and shunned her responsibility as messenger.

At last, feeling that she could no longer stand the position in which she found herself, Abby made what
was for her a bold move. As Mr. Farnham bowed
over her hand one evening, she pressed his fingers
meaningfully, saying, “I hope you will call on us one
day soon, sir.”

Straightening, Mr. Farnham looked at her with a
sort of speculative surprise in his eyes, but he was too
well mannered to allow his expression to betray his
mild astonishment. “Of course, Miss Fairchilde. In
fact, I hoped to find you at home tomorrow at tea, if
that will be convenient?”

“Most convenient, Mr. Farnham,” said Abby a bit
breathlessly, still shocked by her own boldness.

Mr. Farnham smiled and moved away.

Lord Fielding, who had witnessed the encounter
though had not been close enough to be privy to what
was said, watched Mr. Farnham go with a heavy frown
on his face. When he came up to Abby, he said by
way of greeting, “Miss Fairchilde! I trust that fellow
was not annoying you?”

“No, of course not,” said Abby, hoping that her
guilty feelings did not show in her expression.

“I must inform you that I do not like him, Miss
Fairchilde. I do not like him at all,” said Lord Fielding
with strong approbation. “I wish you will not encour
age Farnham to hang about.”

Abby glanced up at his lordship in some surprise.
“Why, my lord!”

“You are no doubt astonished at my plain speak
ing,” said Lord Fielding, nodding. “But I consider myself to be in a somewhat favored position, so you will agree I have some right to make known my wishes on
certain matters.”

Abby was thrown into dismay and confusion, espe
cially since Lord Fielding had taken her hand as he
had spoken and was now regarding her with a grave
smile. “My lord, pray let us say no more about it!”
she said hastily, trying unobtrusively, so as not to give
offense, to retrieve her hand. However, his lordship
seemed not to take the hint and did not free her.

“No, we shall not on that head,” said Lord Fielding,
his expression easing into an indulgent expression.
“However, I have something of particular importance
to say to you, Miss Fairchilde. I trust I may find you
at home tomorrow?”

“As to that, I cannot really say, my lord,” said
Abby, temporizing and hating herself for it. “I
think
I might be home at tea, but—but I believe my sister wishes me to accompany her tomorrow on several
errands.”

“Tea?” Lord Fielding seemed to consider, before
shaking his head. Regretfully, he said, “I fear such
lack of privacy that must attend tea will not suit my
purpose at all. I shall call on you later this week when
I may be assured of finding you alone, Miss Fair
childe.” Lord Fielding bent nearer, still holding her
hand. His pale blue eyes held unaccustomed
warmth. “I am fairly certain you know why I wish to
speak to you, Miss Fairchilde. I—”

“Miss Fairchilde, Lord Fielding.” Lord Darlington’s
greetings interrupted their impromptu tête-à-tête, for
which Abby was profoundly grateful. “Miss Fairchilde,
I have come to escort you into supper.”

“Oh! Of course, my lord,” said Abby, gladly ac
cepting. She fleetingly looked up at Lord Fielding’s
sudden frown. “Until later in the week, then, my
lord?”

“Yes, indeed,” said Lord Fielding. He realized then
that he still held her hand, and he released her. A
slight flush of annoyance mounted into his face as he
met the marquess’s quizzical glance. “Your servant,
Miss Fairchilde.” He pointedly ignored Lord Darling
ton and marched away.

“Our friend appears to be vexed over some trifle
or other,” remarked Lord Darlington. He glanced at
Abby’s face as he walked with her toward the dining
room. “I suspect he has reason enough, for I should
feel the same if some fellow commandeered you from
my company.”

Abby blushed and bit her lip to keep from smiling.
It was a pleasant thing to be flirted with by this partic
ular gentleman. “You are nonsensical, my
lord.”

“Not at all,” said Lord Darlington. He steered her
into the dining room and, speaking softly for her ears
alone, said, “Do you mean to have him, my dear?”

Abby looked at him quickly, startled. “My lord!”

Lord Darlington did not seem to appreciate the im
propriety of his question. “He won’t do for you, you
know. His lordship is by far too puffed up in his own
consequence to know how to appreciate you properly.”

Abby felt her face to be burning. “My lord, I im
plore you, do not put me to the blush.”

“It is already too late,” said Lord Darlington with
a laugh. “You blush quite becomingly, more than any
other lady of my acquaintance.”

“How well I know it! It is a mortification to me, indeed,” said Abby, sighing.

“Why should it be? So many have lost the naiveté
which you so delightfully exemplify,” said Lord Dar
lington. He pulled out a chair and offered the seat to
her. “I find your blushes . . . adorable.”

“Oh!” Abby slipped into the chair. She did not
know what to say or, if it came to that, where to look. She dared not meet her escort’s glance, suspecting that
she would be even more put out of countenance by
his expression. There was that in his voice that was a
caress, and which set her pulses to pounding. He had
pushed in her chair and was still half-bent, his head
almost at a level beside her shoulder. If she turned
her head just so, her lips would very nearly touch his.

“Allow me to drop a word of caution in your ear,
dear ma’am. Lord Fielding is at least worthy of your
notice. Not so Mr. Farnham.”

That name acted like a douche of cold water on her, steadying her seesawing emotions. As Lord Darlington
took the seat beside her, Abby turned her head and
looked squarely at him. With a fair assumption of dig
nity, she said, “My lord, do you dare to question
whom I choose to associate with?”

“Not at all,” said Lord Darlington suavely, his
glance flicking toward her from under narrowed lids.
His dark eyes were impenetrable in expression. “I
merely give you friendly warning. Mr.
Farnham is perhaps not so honorable as one might
like.”

“I believe I am not without protection, my lord,”
said Abby in gentle set-down.

Lord Darlington understood her precisely, as could
be seen by his faintly mocking smile. “Ah, I have been
stung, indeed! I shall take better care in future, be
lieve me!”

Abby shook her head, smiling. She attended to her
other partner for a few moments, conversing with
greater ease than she might have done a few weeks previously, but her thoughts were never far from her
passage with Lord Darlington. When she was able to
turn back to him, she said, “My lord, since you have
brought up a certain gentleman’s name, I should like
to talk to you for just a moment regarding him.”

Lord Darlington’s brows rose. “Indeed, Miss Fairchilde
?”

Abby almost disbelieved her own temerity, but the
last meeting she had had with Lady Bethany was vivid
enough in her mind to cause her to press on despite how cowardly she felt. “Is he truly so very bad, my
lord? I know many who—who have not the least ob
jection to Mr. Farnham.”

Lord Darlington regarded her thoughtfully. There
was a certain grimness about his mouth. “And you
are one of them, Miss Fairchilde?”

“Pray do not misunderstand me, my lord! I am
hardly acquainted with the gentleman,” said Abby
quickly.

The tension in his lordship’s expression dissipated.
“I am glad to hear that, at all events,” he said. “I
know only what I have heard, Miss Fairchilde. The gentleman is a hardened gamester and possesses a few
other peccadilloes that make him quite an unsuitable
parti
.”

“Yet he is received everywhere,” said Abby.

“Not everywhere, Miss Fairchilde,” said Lord Dar
lington dryly. “What is your interest in Mr. Farn
ham?”

Abby cast her gaze at his face, trying to read his
expression. His eyes were inscrutable, however. “I
have none, my lord. However, Lady Bethany—”

“I understand you, ma’am! All too well, I fear,”
said Lord Darlington. His mouth curled unpleasantly.
“Did she put you up to this?”

Abby denied it swiftly. “Of course not! Lady Bethany is
my friend, however, and she has been so desperately
unhappy that—”

“Miss Fairchilde, you meddle in what does not at
all concern you.” Lord Darlington’s voice was cold.

Abby felt herself scorched by the rebuff. Stiffly, she
said, “My pardon, my lord. I shall not speak of it again.” She turned at once to her dinner partner on
the other side.

Several minutes later Abby found her conversation
with the gentleman to be at an end, for at last she
could not think of anything else to say but the most
complete inanities. She was almost ready to sink with
the reflection that no one could ever say of her again
that she was a tongue-tied, shy little miss, for she had
run on like a fiddle.

Abby avoided looking at Lord Darlington and
sipped her wine.

“Miss Fairchilde, I must beg your forgiveness.”

The marquess’s voice was low, but she heard it nevertheless. Abby glanced quickly toward Lord Darlington
and discovered that he was intently regarding her. She flushed. “I was at fault, my lord,” she said hurriedly,
trying to cover her sudden confusion. The expression
in his eyes was not at all cold or distant. She did not
understand his lordship’s turnabout, but she was glad he no longer appeared so impossibly arrogant and
angered.

“We shall not debate, ma’am,” said Lord Darling
ton. A serious note in his voice replaced the teasing
intimacy she had grown used to from him. “Miss Fair
childe, I am happy my sister may call upon your
friendship. I am certain you are a steadying influence
on one who is far too headstrong for her own good.”

Abby shook her head quickly. She—a steadying in
fluence? Hardly that, when she had allowed Lady Bethany
to persuade her into this horrid game of message
bearer. It was impossible, really! “I fear my influence,
as you call it, is far less beneficial than you know,”
she said unhappily.