Lord Darlington's Darling (17 page)

“Pray do not believe I hold you responsible for my
sister, Miss Fairchilde, for I scarcely think you, or any
one else for that matter, is able to curb Lady Bethany’s
worst starts,” said Lord Darlington with a hint of his
usual amusement in his voice.

Abby was so relieved by this sign of her return to his good graces that she smiled dazzlingly. “Thank
you, my lord!”

Lord Darlington stared at her for a second, then
appeared to shake himself free of some abstraction. “I do not wish to belabor the point, especially when
I would infinitely rather talk to you about anything
else in the world, but I feel I must ask. What do you
know of this affair of Lady Bethany’s?”

Abby stared at Lord Darlington in consternation.
“Know, my lord?” she repeated, and realized at once how stupid she sounded. She shook her head quickly.
“I know little, my lord, except what Lady Bethany has con
fided to me.” It was a slight deviation from the truth,
but nevertheless she guiltily kept to herself how she
had assisted his sister in her clandestine dealings with
Mr. Farnham. She had screwed up her courage to
speak to Lord Darlington on Lady Bethany’s behalf and had
suffered a major rebuff. She dared not confess to his
lordship about the notes and messages for fear of los
ing his regard altogether. Yet she despised her own
lack of character, for she had been given the perfect
opening to make a clean breast of the whole. In some ways it would have been preferable that Lord Darling
ton express his astonished disgust rather than continue
to harbor a secret from his lordship that must surely
color her perception of their relationship.

“I hope you will gently turn aside Lady Bethany’s confi
dences on this subject in future, Miss Fairchilde. My
sister is greatly at fault to place you in the role of
confidante in this regard,” said Lord Darlington.

Abby managed to smile at him. She profoundly
hoped that she would be able to put behind this uncomfortable business once and for all when Mr. Farn
ham called at tea tomorrow. “Of course, my lord. I assure you, I do understand. Pray believe me when I
say I have not the slightest wish to interfere in your
affairs.”

“I trust this particular affair can be brought to a
speedy and conclusive end,” said Lord Darlington, his
tone devoid of amusement. He turned to politely reply
to a query put to him by the lady on his other hand.

Rather than being miffed that she had lost the
marquess’s attention, Abby was somewhat relieved. She
devoted herself to finishing the excellent course of lob
ster, though hardly tasting a bite of the rich dish. She
could scarcely wait for dinner to be done, when she could gracefully take her leave of Lord Darlington and
return to the ballroom.

Ab
by did not look forward to tea the following
afternoon, since Mr. Farnham had pledged him
self to call. It was rather an evil necessity to which
she had resigned herself.

Mrs. Crocker expressed herself astonished when Mr. Farnham’s card was sent up. “Gracious! Mr. Farnham
becomes quite attentive.”

Her friend Mrs. Scope, who sat beside her, was
equally surprised. “Farnham! Why, Abby, surely you are not encouraging anything from that quarter.” She did not wait for Abby to do more than shake her head
before she continued. “Melissa, have a care, for I have it on good authority that Mr. Farnham is a hardened
gamester and is careless with his reputation, besides.”

“You need not be anxious, Beatrice. I trust Abby
is too levelheaded to throw over her chances for a
mere hanger-on,” said Mrs. Crocker. “Really, it has
been a much busier Season than I had ever antici
pated, what with Mr. Farnham and Lord Darlington
and Lord Fielding being my sister’s most persistent
admirers!”

Mrs. Scope bestowed an arch smile on Abby. “You
are doing quite well for yourself, indeed!”

As the gentleman was at that moment announced,
the ladies left off further teasing of Abby to accept
his greetings. Whatever else might be said of Mr.
Farnham, Abby thought with grudging approval, no
one could deny his excellent manners nor the
grace of his bows.

Mr. Farnham was quickly seated at his hostess’s in
vitation and began to regale the ladies with a nice
blend of flatteries and scintillating
on-dits.
Abby sat quietly, listening, adding an appropriate word now and
again. She was nervous, wondering how she was to
contrive to get Mr. Farnham to herself for long
enough to pass on Lady Bethany’s message, when the gen
tleman himself took a hand in the matter.

Smiling at Abby, Mr. Farnham said, “I have a spe
cial offering for you, Miss Fairchilde, which I trust
you will find to your liking. Recalling how much you
appeared to enjoy the musicale last week, particularly
the pianoforte piece, I cajoled the sheet music used
that evening from our former hostess. I was persuaded
you would not despise it!”

“Oh, no!” said Abby, surprised by his thought
fulness. “I mean to say, how kind of you, Mr. Farn
ham.” She accepted the folded music sheet, wondering
exactly what the gentleman meant by going to such
trouble on her account.

“Indeed! It is a most considerate gesture,” said Mrs.
Crocker in accents of surprise.

“Unusual, to say the least,” said Mrs. Scope, pursing
her lips speculatively as she glanced from Abby’s
heightened color to Mr. Farnham’s suave expression.

“I trust you will not deny me the pleasure of escort
ing Miss Fairchilde to the pianoforte, Mrs. Crocker?”
asked Mr. Farnham with a glimpse of his beautiful
smile.

Mrs. Crocker blinked, apparently dazzled, and ges
tured gracefully with her fan toward the pianoforte at
the opposite end of the room. “Of course not, sir!”

Still smiling, Mr. Farnham escorted Abby away
from the other two ladies and solicitously handed her
onto the pianoforte’s stool. “Allow me to turn the
music, Miss Fairchilde,” he said, plucking the sheets
from her hands and placing them on the pianoforte.

“I really couldn’t play, Mr. Farnham,” said Abby,
at once struck by shyness.

“Nevertheless, pray do so. It will enable us to enjoy
a few moments of private conversation, which is the
sole reason I have come today,” said Mr. Farnham.

Abby stared upward at him for a second only, then bent her gaze on the music. She had no apprehension
that her skill would be found wanting, but it was diffi
cult for her to play before others, since she shrank
from anything that caused her to be the focus of atten
tion. However, when she threw a glance toward her
sister and Mrs. Scope, it was to find them engrossed
in their own conversation and, whatever had been just
said, afforded both ladies considerable amusement.
Heartened, Abby felt surer of herself and her
performance naturally improved.

“Excellent, Miss Fairchilde! I had no notion you
were so accomplished,” said Mr. Farnham.

She glanced at him, not surprised to see the satirical
look in his eyes. “That is not what you wish to say, is
it, Mr. Farnham? Rather, you wish to demand of me
what news I have from Lady Bethany,” said Abby,
surprising herself by her own forthright statement.

Mr. Farnham appeared equally surprised, but he
swiftly chuckled. “You have hit it exactly, Miss Fair
childe. And since this is not an overly long piece, I
trust you will enlighten me before much longer!”

“It is quickly said, and must be as quickly believed,
sir!” Abby drew in her breath, not looking at him.
“Lady Bethany wished me to tell you that you must
give her up. Not only that, but you must stay out of
Lord Darlington’s way. It—it is dangerous for you to
do otherwise.”

“The devil! So Darlington takes a hand!” It was not
a lover-like exclamation, but angered.

Abby raised her eyes, just as her fingers faltered on the keys. His expression was closed, but there was a
glitter in his eyes. Her heart speeded a little, for she
was not used to such a look of suppressed rage. “Mr.
Farnham—

“No, no, Miss Fairchilde! You must keep playing!
I must think for a moment!” he said harshly.

Abby did as she was bid, politely requesting the
gentleman to turn the sheet for her when it became
time to do so. Mr. Farnham heeded her request with
out a word, his brows creased and the expression in
his eyes intent.

“I am coming to the end, Mr. Farnham,” said
Abby finally.

He looked down quickly. “Quite! Between us we
have done marvelously, don’t you agree? Pray convey
to Lady Bethany that I remain her devoted ser
vant!” He straightened from his leaning posture
against the pianoforte and offered his hand.

Abby accepted his aid in rising, but said quickly,
breathlessly, “Think of me no longer in the role of
messenger, sir!”

Mr. Farnham glanced down swiftly at her as he es
corted her leisurely back to join the other ladies.
“Jumping ship, are you? Just as well, perhaps.” As he
approached them, he drew on a winning smile. “In
deed, Miss Fairchilde! I could not be more pleased by
your appreciation of my humble gift.”

Abby murmured something, but it was doubtful the
gentleman was attending, for he began taking his
leave. Abby offered no more than a civil nod and the
slightest of smiles as Mr. Farnham left.

“Well!” There was a wealth of meaning in Mrs.
Scope’s tone as she glanced at Abby, raising her
brows. “It appears that gentleman is quite smitten
with you!”

“Not with me!” said Abby swiftly, her thoughts
tumbling over what Mr. Farnham had said and, more
importantly, what he had not said.

“Whatever do you mean, Abby?” asked Mrs.
Crocker curiously.

Abby pulled herself up short. She shook her head
with a semblance of ease. “Why, only that I should
hope not! I do not care for Mr. Farnham in the least.”

“You are a sensible miss,” said Mrs. Scope approv
ingly. “I would not have been at all surprised if your
head had been turned just a bit by such striking atten
tion. A thousand pities that he is completely ineligible.
Such an air! Such a smile!”

“I doubt such things carry much weight with my
sister, Beatrice,” said Mrs. Crocker, not without pride.
“My sister is much too obliging to forget where her
duty lies! I am certain I may rely upon your discretion,
my dear, so that I may tell you in perfect confidence
we live in hourly expectation of accepting an offer
from Lord Fielding!”

Abby flushed, thoroughly embarrassed and for once
feeling incensed. “Really, Melissa!”

“You see how she colors up whenever I mention it,
so not another word shall 1 say,” said Mrs. Crocker.

Chuckling, Mrs. Scope rose and started to pull on
her gloves. “It has been a thoroughly pleasant visit,
Melissa, but I really must be going. Abby, I wish
you well!”

Several minutes passed while the two ladies chatted as they slowly exited the drawing room. Abby did not
go with them, but remained behind, her reflections not
very happy.

When Mrs. Crocker returned from accompanying her friend to the front door, she remarked, “I have
always liked Beatrice. She feels just as she ought on
any number of things.”

Abby had been waiting for her sister. She had come
to sort of a decision, and she hurried into speech before her courage completely deserted her. “Melissa,
pray do not broadcast it about that I might receive an
offer from Lord Fielding, or indeed, anyone else! I do
not wish to give rise to gossip.”

“What is behind this start, Abby?” asked Mrs.
Crocker, perfectly astonished. “As for gossip, Beatrice
would never—”

Abby shook her head. “You don’t perfectly under
stand, Melissa! I may not accept an offer from Lord
Fielding even if he were to be so obliging!”

Mrs. Crocker frowned, the expression in her brown eyes disquieted. “Why, Abby! Of course you shall ac
cept his lordship! Why, it is an understood thing!”

“Not by me,” said Abby, beginning to tremble. She
was surprised that she had been able to say as much,
for she had never gone cross-grain of her sister before.

“Abby, this is mere megrims! I am persuaded once
you have reflected upon all you have said, you will feel
very silly, indeed,” said Mrs. Crocker, dealing patient
common sense. “My dear, you have nothing to fear
of Lord Fielding. I judge that he will make you an
admirable husband! My fondest wish is for you to be
happy. Now, if you would but stop leading on poor Lord Fielding, we may all be comfortable.”

“Oh!” Abby was so vexed that she was nearly
speechless. She dashed past her sister and escaped upstairs, leaving Mrs. Crocker looking after her in con
siderable astonishment.

It was not to be thought that Abby regarded the
evening’s obligations with pleasure. She was certain to
see Lady Bethany at the function, and she knew well
enough how that damsel would tax her about Mr.
Farnham, once she knew the gentleman had paid her
a call. And so it was.

Abby sighed as she tried to respond with patience
to her friend’s demand for further enlightenment.
“Bethany, I have told you several times already what
Mr. Farnham said when I relayed your message to
him.”

“He remains my devoted servant,” said Lady Bethany,
nodding. Her expression was anxious. “But what does
it really mean, Abby? Did he quite understand? Oh,
what shall I do? I must talk to him—make certain
he understands what Sylvan said. Abby, you must
contrive to get him alone and—”

Abby shook her head. “I am sorry, Lady Bethany! But
I cannot!”

Lady Bethany sighed. “Abby, it is the simplest thing. Just
let him know in passing that you wish to speak pri
vately and—”

“You do not understand, Bethany. I will not play
the role you have assigned me any longer,” said Abby.
Her heart was beating quicker than usual, and she
dreaded how her friend would react. Nevertheless, she
felt that she had utterly gone her length in helping the
star-crossed lovers.

Nonplussed, Lady Bethany stared at her. “You cannot be
so mean as to deny me now! Not when I am in such
a quake! Why, it is so heartless!”