Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind (24 page)

“I am glad you are here, at any rate,” Ginny said. “It is possible Sir Anthony will have need of you before long.”

Conti froze her with a haughty stare. “I sincerely doubt that, Mees Delacourt. Sir Anthony is a crack shot!”

Ginny could not help but notice the intense distress that suffused Lucinda’s face but could not give it further thought. Her attention was arrested by a new diversion.

“Conti, you fool! What are you doing here?”

Merciful heavens, it was Grandaunt Regina!

Mrs. Barrington scurried to her feet. “Your Grace, we are honored”

The dowager duchess fixed Mrs. Barrington with a basilisk stare. “If you were honored you would have seen fit to send someone to answer your bell. My servant has been ringing for the past ten minutes.”

“Ohhh,” Mrs. Barrington moaned, sinking into her chair.

“As for you,” the duchess said, advancing into the room. “I have a few choice words for you as well.”

It seemed that Conti had not been forgotten. It was pitiful to see the proud man reduced to a state of kneeknocking terror when faced with the full force of her grace’s wrath.

“I repeat, what are you doing here?”

“I… I had a letter from Sir Anthony expressing hees wishfulness for me to come. I read between the lines. I knew there were troubles of the heart. Eet was my duty to come”

“I see” Grandaunt Regina brushed the valet aside as if he were a gnat, and she a woman of more than five feet, two inches tall.

“I should like to be seen to my room, and after that, I will require an audience with my grandniece. Is that understood?” She glared at Mrs. Barrington until that lady had the presence of mind to instruct Mrs. Crandall to prepare a room, any room.

Ginny bit her lip. What had she done to displease her aunt this time? “Grandaunt, perhaps you would like some tea while you wait?”

“I will not,” she snapped. “It is an ungodly hour of the morning for tea. I shall have hot chocolate.” She planted herself on the nearest chair.

Mrs. Barrington’s eyes filled slowly with tears. “Yes, of course. Cook, do see if there is any hot chocolate in the house”

“Grandaunt,” Ginny hissed. “What are you doing here? You should be in London, enjoying the rest of the season.”

“And so should you. The truth is, I have been growing concerned for my roses. What with you trapped here and the squire out of my sight, I thought I had better see to matters myself.”

She knew how her grandaunt was about her roses. Still, it did not explain why she was in such high dudgeon. “Why? Has something happened to the roses?”

But her grace was not attending. She was staring at the door, her face white with rage. “Thomas Barrington! How dare you!”

The squire stood transfixed like a fox caught in his lair. Even if he could have, it would have done the squire no good to run, for the evidence of his guilt was in full view. His hands were full of rose cuttings.

Mrs. Barrington slithered to the floor. Squire Barrington tossed the roses into the air and rushed to his lady’s side. Ginny hurried to the sink to get a wet cloth when a cry from Lucinda filled the air. “He has returned!”

Ginny closed her eyes and prayed.

It was Lord Avery.

Perhaps God had not heard her through all of the chaos. At least Lord Avery was not hurt. He was trembling, disheveled, and crying like a stuck pig, but from what Ginny could see, there was no blood.

Mrs. Barrington had rallied upon Lord Avery’s return and was hovering about him with her husband and daughter. Conti was attempting to call him to task for dueling with his master, and Grandaunt was still complaining about her roses. Ginny was finding it difficult to claim Lord Avery’s attention.

“Please, please, just tell me if he is all right,” she pleaded.

“Oh, I daresay he will get over it in time,” came a voice from behind her.

Ginny whirled around. “Sir Anthony! You’re here!”

“Somebody had to see the poor sot home”

“But the duel! What happened?”

Sir Anthony leaned his shoulder against the wall and sighed. “The guns weren’t loaded”

Ginny was too stunned to reply.

“It’s really very simple. As the challenged in this duel-did I say this duel? That implies there are more than one, and I can assure you this was my first. As a man about to enjoy the bliss of matrimony, I intend to make every effort to ensure it is my last as well.”

Ginny blushed and looked down at her hands.

“Delightful girl,” he murmured. “Ah, I digress. As the challenged it was up to me to select the weapons. I chose pistols as I knew the squire has a very fine pair in the library. It was his duty to check them, load them, etcetera, but it seems he was oblivious to anything but roses. The man actually loped off before the actual proceedings to pillage Grandmama’s garden, leaving Avery lying low.”

“Lying low?” Ginny was utterly confused. “Was Lord Avery hurt?”

Sir Anthony fingered his quizzing glass. “Not at all. Only his pride. He pulled the trigger, then fainted dead away. Poor fellow. I believe he has had rather a nasty time of it.”

Ginny smiled through her tears. “Thank you. You said I had nothing to fear, and you have made it so”

“It was nothing,” he said. “I only hope that all of your requests are as easily carried out” He gave her a look of such depth and meaning that it took her breath away.

“I daresay some of them will be,” she replied, hoping he saw the same burning emotion in her eyes that she saw in his. She smiled and held her hand out to him.

He snatched it to his chest more quickly than she thought possible, and she heard his breath catch in his throat. “You can start by saving a dance for me at the ball.”

“I shall be pleased to save them all for you, sir.”

“And I should be more pleased to have you do so, but I fear there are others who might demand the same,” he said with a playful air, but his gaze moved to Lucinda and his eyes were troubled. “I am afraid things haven’t gone quite as planned,” he said in a low voice. “Avery fainting dead away at a duel does not cut nearly the romantic picture as the same Avery wounded in a duel. We shall have to hope that matters between those two improves between now and the ball”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Until then.”

Sir Anthony was astounded. Dressing for a formal occasion was suddenly much easier than it had been since he had arrived at Rose Arbor. His hands did not shake with nerves, and he seemed to be possessed of the traditional number of fingers and thumbs. Could it be love that accounted for this feeling? Could it be the knowledge that his love was returned in such a way that he felt no nervousness, no qualms?

“I believe eet is due to the presence of your valet, sir.”

Sir Anthony jumped. He was not aware he had spoken aloud. “You will be pleased to keep your opinions to yourself in future, Conti.”

“Yes, sir,” Conti replied, with an air that implied his master was making a huge mistake.

His master regarded himself in the mirror and tried to ignore the sheepish look in the eyes staring back at him. True, Conti was of considerable help in these matters, and he did seem to have a second sense when it came to matters of the heart. Hadn’t he advised him three years ago to keep a sharp eye out for Miss Delacourt, as she promised to become a woman of rare qualities? He should have paid the valet’s words more heed.

Of course Grandmama had said the very same thing on numerous occasions, but surely one could not blame him for not putting much stock in her opinions at the time.

“You had best mind what her grace has to say to you tonight. She’s waiting for you in her boudoir.” Conti treated his master’s coat sleeve to a final swish of his brush.

“Do you read minds as well, Conti?”

Conti managed to look surprised and injured at the same time. “No, sir. That is, unless you insist on speaking your mind aloud.”

Sir Anthony ignored the valet and checked the mirror for the fit of his black evening coat. It was worn over a waistcoat of pink cabbage roses on green stripes. Conti claimed it would complement Miss Delacourt’s gown to perfection. How the man knew to bring it with him from town would forever remain a mystery.

“I can’t think what Grandmama could possibly have to say to me two minutes before dinner and a ball.”

“Your grandmama is never at a loss for words, sir,” Conti said with a shudder. Then he bowed and handed Sir Anthony his mask and black domino.

Grandmama did not often require his presence, but when she did, she usually had something of great significance to impart. He supposed she might not approve of his lingering engagement to Lucinda, which was just as well. Neither did he. He relished the thought of telling her so.

“You are looking well tonight,” he said upon being ushered into his grandmama’s room. “I have long admired you in just that shade of purple”

“You have had little opportunity to do otherwise, Anthony. I have worn this color for decades.”

Sir Anthony repressed a smile. “I see you are not got up in costume. It is to be a masquerade, you know.”

“Naturally I have been made aware of that fact, but even had I brought something suitable along, I hardly think I would so indulge myself in such childish fancies.” She eyed her grandson with an unapologetic air. “I see such reticence runs in the family.”

Sir Anthony glanced down at his perfectly correct evening attire. “Yes, well, I have donned a domino. I haven’t decided whether or not to wear the mask. I haven’t had much time to procure myself a proper costume.”

Grandmama sniffed. “I should say not. You have been here less than a fortnight and already you have managed to get yourself engaged to an empty-headed peagoose, fought an equally mindless duel, and wreaked havoc on my heart”

Her heart? “A pretty impressive list for someone you deemed useful only as an escort to Miss Delacourt in taking a look in on your roses”

“Precisely what Ginerva said when I had my interview with her this morning. The part about you being useful as well as impressive, that is. Do not fear, I allowed her to think my displeasure was entirely for your failure in that one endeavor.”

“And for this I suppose I owe you my thanks.” Sir Anthony folded his arms across his chest and regarded his grandmama unflinchingly. Somehow the old termagant seemed less threatening than before. He supposed it had something to do with Ginny’s armed assaults on his person, which made his grandmother seem to pale in comparison. Zeus, it was going to be an exciting life!

“You may thank me later if you are so inclined. There is something I must tell you first”

Sir Anthony was startled to see his grandmother a trifle discomposed. “Nothing has happened, has it?”

“No, of course not” She rose from her chair and wandered to the fireplace and back with a distracted air. Sir Anthony was not sure what to think. He had never seen his grandmother so unsure of herself.

“Come, dearest, it cannot be as bad as all that.”

“I hope that it is not. Nevertheless, you are bound to be angry with me”

Sir Anthony felt his heart grow sick with fear. “You haven’t done anything to further my engagement to Lucinda?” He could just hear his grandmother promising the precious rose cuttings to the squire in exchange for the peagoose.

“Don’t be a fool! You have done very well for yourself in that regard. No, my boy, that coil is entirely of your own making, one which I hope you are as desperate to undo as I.”

He enjoyed a momentary surge of relief until a new fear gripped him. “You haven’t given your permission for Ginny to marry that lily-livered milk-sop!” he roared. “For if you have, I cannot be held accountable for my actions!”

The duchess treated him to a frosty glare. “What kind of fool do you take me for? I have more in my skull-box than your Lucinda, after all.”

Sir Anthony fell into a chair and passed a shaking hand along his forehead. “She is not my Lucinda,” he ground out.

There was a pause before his grandmama rustled over to a chair across from him and sat. “I do believe you have changed, Anthony.”

He dropped his hand and looked her in the eye. “Oh? In what way?”

She pooh-poohed his question with a wave of her hand. “There are too many little details to mention. I can think of only one thing that could have brought about this metamorphosis. I believe you are in love”

Sir Anthony felt his mouth relax into a foolish grin. “Touche, Grandmama. You always were a knowing one”

“And am I right to assume it is not with your intended?”

“Just so!”

“Excellent. Then perhaps you may not be as angry with me as you could be, given the circumstances. You are perfectly aware how I have long wished for you to marry Ginerva.”

Sir Anthony winced. Grandmama was sure to gloat, never a pretty sight. He decided to brazen it out with a lie. “No, I can’t say that I have. I have been aware that you wished me to marry, though not to anyone in particular.”

“Leave it to you not to see what is in front of your very eyes ! I have known her to be perfect for you from the very beginning. Nevertheless, my subtle attempts never led to success. Thus, I determined that more, shall we say, desperate measures were in order.”