Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind (14 page)

“My poor darling girl.” Mrs. Barrington patted Lucinda’s hand while the squire attempted to ply his slender body to the task of lifting her.

Sir Anthony knelt by Lucinda. “Did she hit her head, do you know?”

The squire looked at him with alarm. “Oh, no, sir, no indeed. She fainted! The sight of Lord Avery in flames undid her.”

“Then I daresay she will be all right presently. I shall be happy to carry her to her room for you. With your permission, of course.”

“Of course, of course,” the squire babbled.

Belatedly, Sir Anthony realized his coat was not tailored for such activities as scooping maidens from the floor. Lucinda was a bit heavier than he knew and his coat a bit tighter than he thought but he would worry about that slight tear in each armhole sometime after he had rid himself of Miss Barrington.

Ginny watched Sir Anthony leave the room, Miss Barrington cradled in his arms. The tenderness with which he shifted her about, so cognizant of her comfort, caused a curious deflation of her spirits. For some reason she did not care to examine, she wanted Sir Anthony to find her admirable beautiful, and charming, but it seemed little had happened to change Sir Anthony’s opinion of her since that first conversation in Grandaunt Regina’s library. Was she still so distasteful to him?

There were moments when she thought not. There was a quickness of wit in their conversation and at times an intangible connection between them that bespoke a lively attraction. A look in his eye that was sometimes present… Could he be unaware there were moments when his social facade melted away to reveal glimpses of something much more?

Breakfast was more restrained than it had been the morning previous. Lucinda was still in her chamber when Ginny entered the breakfast room. Squire and Mrs. Barrington seemed greatly shaken. Sir Anthony was inscrutable as ever, his face a mask of indifference and very white, except where the brown and purple bruise spread along his forehead.

Lord Avery, his hair no longer curling in waves to his cravat, seemed more concerned with other matters than his shorn locks. “I must insist all the servants be questioned.”

A pained expression crossed Mrs. Barrington’s face. “We have already done so. They were much aghast at the loss of so valuable a piece.”

“Loss? Loss you say? One does not lose a diamond of that size.”

“Of course not,” the squire assured him. “No doubt it was taken by somebody. Indeed, I had it of Mrs. Crandall that she found the kitchen door unbolted this morning, not to mention Grandmama’s broken urn. We are very concerned about it, very concerned”

“Are you trying to say somebody entered the house, came to my room, and stole my diamond stickpin without so much as glancing at any of the other valuables in this house?”

“You forget the urn,” Mrs. Barrington retorted.

Lord Avery blanched.

Ginny had to agree with Lord Avery. It seemed unlikely that someone from outside the house was the culprit. “I see Lord Avery’s point. The door was most likely left unbolted by someone on the inside.” Ginny hardly knew what she was saying until it was said. With a start, she remembered Sir Anthony’s midnight rides and her promise not to reveal him.

Did he catch her slip? His dark head was bent and his gaze on his plate. Surely he wouldn’t allow one of the servants to fall under suspicion for his own folly. Ginny waited for him to speak, but he did not.

“No” Mrs. Barrington shook her head. “Mrs. Crandall locks and bolts that door every night before she goes to bed. There is no need for anyone to use it after that. Ah, Lucinda,” she said. “You have joined us at last.”

“Yes, Mama” Lucinda quickly filled her plate and sat across from Lord Avery. She darted a venomous look at Ginny, which she could only credit to the fact that her beau had gone up in flames in her honor, so to speak. Life would certainly settle down when Lucinda decided that the love of one man was preferable to the attentions of all. Ginny hoped it would be soon.

“Oh, Eustace,” Lucinda said, “I nearly forgot. I found this in my room this morning.” She placed the diamond stickpin on the table. Then she picked up her fork and began to eat, blithely unaware how everyone stared aghast at the diamond. Even Sir Anthony betrayed a hint of surprise.

Mrs. Barrington, her eyes fastened on the stickpin and her breath coming in little gasps, found voice to rend the air with a screech.

“What is the meaning of this?” the squire demanded. “How did this, I say, how did this get in my daughter’s room, my lord?”

Lord Avery began to blubber. “I-I don’t kn-know. I haven’t set foot in there”

“I should say not!” Mrs. Barrington cried.

“And for what reason would you have done so, my lord?” demanded the squire.

“How did your diamond come to be in my poor dear’s room if you weren’t with her?” Mrs. Barrington wailed. “Lucinda, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“No, Mama. I don’t know how it came to be in my room. It was simply there, and I’m ever so glad I didn’t step on it. I almost did and I think it would have been very painful for I had on no shoes at the time.”

Mrs. Barrington’s eyes rolled up into her head. “Lucinda, how could you speak of such things? To your room at once!” She jumped to her feet and shooed Lucinda out the door. A silence fell on the room, pierced here and there by diminishing wails from Mrs. Barrington.

“Avery, you must marry my daughter!” The squire came to the point in a minimum of words. It was evidence of his great anger, as if the crimson face and bulging eyes weren’t enough.

“Come, Miss Delacourt,” Sir Anthony said. “I believe there is a splendid art gallery on the second floor you have not as yet seen” He held his hand out to her.

She allowed herself to be led from the room but not without a backward glance for poor Lord Avery. She felt sorry for him. It was bad enough to be shackled to Lucinda for life without the engagement occurring under such unsavory circumstances.

“Do you think they are guilty of wrongdoing, Sir Anthony?”

“Those two? Hardly. Innocent as two lambs”

“Yes, but, there comes a time when innocence ends. Who’s to say the moment when it all occurs?”

Sir Anthony gazed down at her and shook his head. She could see he was amused. She was learning to discern the subtle clues. “Believe me, my dear,” he drawled. “There are signs. If there was anything haveycavey going on between them we should all be the wiser.”

“Lucinda’s parents seem to think there is reason to be alarmed. Surely he was in her room! How else would she have the pin? Lucinda may be a half-wit but she wouldn’t steal it simply to return it. There is no sense in that”

Sir Anthony dismissed her comments with a wave of his hand. “There are a variety of ways it might have occurred. He could have unknowingly wandered into her room during Hunt the Slipper and dropped it, or better yet, it could have become tangled in her clothes when they were in the hallway”

“You see! There is reason for her parents to be alarmed. I would not wish my daughter to be embracing a man in a dark hall.”

“Does that go for you, as well, or only your daughters? You’re not bound to have many with that prudish attitude!”

“There are other ways to come about daughters, Sir Anthony. Proper ways.”

Sir Anthony frowned. “And there are other ways to acquire a stickpin. We could try dancing.”

“What does dancing have to do with anything?”

“Why, only that it allows close enough proximity to entangle a gentleman’s stickpin in a lady’s gown without precipitating an engagement.”

Ginny considered. She supposed it was within the realms of possibility. “If we could prove how easily it could be done, Lucinda and Lord Avery would not fall under such suspicion.”

“Done.” Sir Anthony held out his hands. “You hum. A waltz, I think.”

Ginny felt her heart begin to quicken in her breast. The gallery they had now entered was large enough for a couple to waltz in, though it hardly seemed proper.

“Come, come, Ginny. I promise, children cannot be produced through waltzing.”

Ginny felt heat wash over her entire body. No one had ever discussed such intimate things with her. Despite her embarrassment she wanted to waltz with him. She wanted to feel his arms around her, wanted to hear him say her name again. But if she did he would feel the pounding of her heart.

She found she could not look at him and glanced down. “You aren’t wearing a stickpin. Perhaps tonight.” That would be safe enough with everyone present. “I daresay the Barringtons will not object. It would give us young people something to do”

“Very well. I shall be sure to wear one to dinner.”

She felt her composure returning and dared to look at him. “Why? What reason could you possibly have for helping clear up this mess for Lucinda and Lord Avery?”

“Anything to make you happy, Miss Delacourt. Your servant, as always,” he said with a sketch of a bow.

Ginny swallowed to ease her tightening throat. As usual, the dratted man was just being polite! She changed tack. “And if your theory is not so easily proven?”

Sir Anthony stroked his chin. “There are always the servants. Perhaps we could convince the Barringtons that one of them took it, then suffered pangs of guilt. It would be easy to drop it in Lucinda’s room and hope for the best”

“Would you truly allow one of the servants to stand accused of something he or she has not done?” She saw that he opened his mouth to respond, but she charged ahead with a new accusation. “Which reminds me, why did you not speak up about the door? I think I am right in suspecting it was you who left it unlocked.”

He inclined his head. “Yes. I went for a ride again last night.”

“Under the circumstances I think it best if you inform the Barringtons”

“I almost spoke, but then Miss Barrington entered the room and made my confession wholly unnecessary.”

“Still, it would ease their minds and perhaps save Mrs. Crandall a scolding.”

Sir Anthony clenched his jaw and swept his gaze to the floor. “I would rather not.”

“I think, sir, you have something to hide.” Ginny was greatly agitated by his lack of response. “I think I should leave.”

“Have I given you such a disgust of me then, Miss Delacourt?”

“Yes” Ginny wished she could recall the word, but it slipped out before she could stop it. “Unless, of course, you tell me what it is you so desperately wish no one to know.”

He cocked his head. “I will if you tell me why you had tears in your eyes during Lord Avery’s nauseating recitation.”

“Why, I thought it a charming poem.” The fact that her tears were the result of holding back her laughter was one she did not wish Sir Anthony to know. Poor Lord Avery deserved better. “I was … deeply touched” And so she had been, in a ridiculous sort of way.

Sir Anthony stepped closer and tilted her chin. “I do not think you are telling the truth, Miss Delacourt.”

“What you mean to say is that you hope I am not telling the truth.”

“Did I say that?”

“Of course not. You wouldn’t. You don’t care to reveal anything you feel.” Ginny could hear her voice growing louder, almost shrill, but it didn’t signify. “In fact, I begin to doubt you have feelings. You, Sir Anthony, are a man without feelings, emotions, or passions!”

Ginny only caught a glimpse of Sir Anthony’s face, white with anger, before he jerked her into his arms and kissed her with searing hot lips. Under his demanding mouth she gasped in protest, but it only afforded him further opportunity to batter her defenses. She felt as if her body was melting into his despite her best efforts to remain rigid and inaccessible.

Sir Anthony chose the moment her breath came in shuddering gasps and her knees buckled beneath her to suddenly release her. Then he stepped back and regarded her with an expression of cool indifference. “You were saying?”

Sit Anthony could not believe what he had done. With growing alarm he watched Ginny run out of the room and out of his life. Surely she would have nothing to do with him after the way he had treated her.

What had caused such madness? The blood that had been boiling in his veins since Avery had read that cursed poem took only a moment to bubble over into uncontrollable passion. What did it mean? He couldn’t possibly be in love with that opinionated, headstrong, loose-tongued girl! It defied contemplation. Ah, but he had caused her pain, and it was as if the knife was buried in his own heart. With a groan he balled his fists together and pressed them to his forehead.

He willed calm to his pounding heart and strolled to the window at the end of the gallery. He must beg her forgiveness at the first opportunity. Even if she did her best to elude him for the rest of the day, she would have to afford him a moment after dinner. After all, she had promised him a dance.

The balance of the day was one of torment for Sir Anthony. He was unable to catch even a glimpse of Ginny, something he found more irritating than surprising. Where she could be hiding was a mystery. He knew she wasn’t with Lucinda, who had closeted herself in her room ever since her engagement to Avery over the eggs and kippers. Mrs. Barrington sailed between him and Lucinda’s locked door every half hour, hoping to soothe ruffled feathers.