Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind (25 page)

“Of course, the roses. Well, if that is all you are worried about I suspected from the beginning that the whole thing might have been a plot to throw us together,” he conceded. “It was a rather unorthodox request”

The duchess sniffed. “There is nothing unorthodox about my love of roses, Anthony. However, there is more. I hoped to throw the two of you together for as long as possible to give the two of you time to find the best in one another.”

“You have behaved rather outrageously, Grandmama, especially for something so left to chance. I love Ginny with all my heart but I doubt I would have given the girl a chance if we hadn’t had our time together, here.”

“I am not a total flat, Anthony. I took steps to ensure a measure of success. What I hadn’t counted on was you getting yourself engaged to that Barrington chit, though I knew she would be here. Why else would the squire come pelting back to the country in the middle of the season?”

Sir Anthony shook his head to clear it of his confusion. “You were afraid he was going to take advantage of your absence to pilfer your roses, so you sent Ginny and myself out here, hoping we would fall in love? Grandmama, forgive me, but it still does not make sense”

“Of course it doesn’t,” she snapped. “Unless you add the part where I hired those two ruffians to hold you up and take off with your coach within walking distance of Rose Arbor.”

Sir Anthony wasn’t sure he heard correctly. “You what?”

“I never repeat myself, Anthony. Though I will add that it seems a waste of money to pay highwaymen to hold you up and steal my coach only to see you become engaged to the wrong girl! Not to mention the fact that my roses remained in jeopardy!”

“Grandmama! Forget about the roses! You would do that to Ginny? We could have been stranded out there! Worse, we could have been stranded at the inn! Had you no thought to Ginny’s reputation?”

Grandmama winced. “The girl already has a reputation, that of a forthright bluestocking, too lively and intelligent to make anyone a comfortable wife. That is, almost anyone. It has always been my dearest wish the two of you should wed, but you formed such a hearty distate for each other the moment you met. An afternoon together was not going to be long enough for Ginny to see the man of substance you are, or for you to see the generous-hearted woman she has always been. Have I done so wrong?”

Outside her Grandaunt Regina’s door, Ginny stood, hesitating to knock. She heard voices deep in conversation and though she had been sent to summon the dowager duchess to the drawing room, Ginny could not bring herself to interrupt.

As Sir Anthony had not yet appeared, she had to assume the masculine voice she heard through the door belonged to him. Perhaps he was discussing his dilemma with Grandaunt, that of being engaged to Lucinda but loving another. She knew it was rude in the extreme, but she must hear what they were saying. She put her ear to the door to listen. As fate would have it, the door was slightly ajar and Ginny was able to widen the crack.

“Does she know?” she heard Sir Anthony say.

“No, she does not, and I would thank you to keep it that way. Before I arrived I hadn’t thought she would care. However, after speaking to her this morning it occurred to me how humiliated she would be if she were aware of the situation.”

Sir Anthony gave a harsh laugh. “Yes, I can well believe that. As am I!”

What was it she was meant not to care about? What was it that was so humiliating to the both of them? Ginny felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach.

“Grandmama, how could you do such a thing? Those two are idiots and might have done us serious harm”

Harm? Idiots? Who could he be speaking of? What had Grandaunt Regina done?

“Seb and Dobbs?” the duchess cried. Ginny froze. “They wouldn’t hurt a fly! They are actors from the traveling troupe. I am sorry if you were frightened, but it seemed the only way to throw the two of you together.”

Ginny began to tremble, and her hand on the door felt like ice. What did it mean? Why would Grandaunt ask someone to do such a thing? She wasn’t sure what the answer was, but she did know things somehow weren’t as they seemed a few moments ago.

“Well, Grandmama,” Sir Anthony said. “You should be congratulated! You have surpassed yourself!”

Ginny felt her heart stop. Grandaunt had manipulated the both of them, and he sounded so angry! So lost was she in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the heavy footsteps cross to the door until it was too late. He swung open the door to find her hovering in the hall. She could see that he was angry, more angry than she had imagined. He didn’t look at her and said nothing, only swept past her and out of sight.

Recovering herself quickly, she stepped into the room. “Grandaunt Regina, it is time to meet in the drawing room for dinner.” She prayed her grandaunt didn’t realize she had been eavesdropping.

“Ah, darling girl, you look scrumptious! A pink wig! Well I never! It has been years since I have seen one of those. Come, take my arm and let’s be off!”

Ginny was grateful for her grandaunt’s continuing prattle, as it gave her time to think. She knew how Sir Anthony felt about having been thrown together by his matchmaking grandmama. Didn’t she feel the same humiliation? He, however, was so angry. Would his feelings about what had happened transfer themselves to her? Would it be too much on top of his reticence to callously jilt Lucinda? Was it all too much for a newfound love to endure?

Soon she found herself in the drawing room with all the other players in this drama: Sir Anthony, who looked angrier than a polite gentleman should at dinner; Lucinda, who hadn’t been shaken from her resolve to marry him, in spite of the psuedo-duel; the Barringtons, who were still adamant that Sir Anthony should do the pretty and make their daughter an honest woman; and Lord Avery, who was looking far too delighted to see her than should a man who was in love with another.

The moment they arrived, the bell was rung and they all proceeded into dinner in order of precedence: Grandaunt at the fore with Lord Avery, Mrs. Barrington as the hostess, on the arm of Sir Anthony, Ginny on the arm of the squire, and Lucinda trailing along behind. Somehow, she was placed across the table from Lord Avery at dinner. Sir Anthony was both across table and one seat down, too far away to make polite conversation.

She felt rather numb through the soup course. Her confidence that Sir Anthony would be able to extricate himself from his engagement before it was announced at the ball began to wane. For what had he been waiting?

She felt positively miserable through the meat and fish course. Would an already humiliated Sir Anthony be willing to bring more humiliation down on his head? As a result, would he find it too distasteful to humiliate Lucinda?

By the fruit and cheese course, she had resigned herself to any possibility. As the female of the species, she could only deny or accept an offer of marriage; she could not make one happen. Before this jaunt into the country, she had been persuaded that there was no one she could care for as much as her life at Dunsmere with her books and roses. However, compared to a life with a man she loved, who challenged her yet loved her just as she was, it now seemed a dreary prospect indeed.

Finally, by the dessert course, she felt angry enough to fight. She knew she could not get Sir Anthony out of his predicament, nor could she force him to offer for her hand. What she could do was disappear. Not forever, of course, just long enough for Sir Anthony to feel that wanting her was his own idea, not his grandmama’s. Long enough for him to know that being without her felt far worse than any scandal or humiliation at the hands of scheming females. Long enough for him to decide what he wanted most: to be accepted by the rigid codes of society, or to be loved, wholly for himself, by her.

She only needed to get as far as Dunsmere, but who could she get to help her escape? Such a short distance she could manage on her own, but it was late and soon would be dark. People would be arriving for the ball, and she didn’t want to be spotted walking along the road; therefore, she needed a carriage. Stealing one was out of the question, as was asking for permission. No one must know she was leaving. They would only try to stop her.

There was no one she could turn to, unless…. Lord Avery! If he were expecting to hear Lucinda’s engagement to another man announced to the county, he no doubt planned to leave Rose Arbor soon anyway. He had asked her to fly off with him, had said to only name the time. She hoped a short flight would satisfy him.

With all the courage she could muster, Ginny leaned across the table and said, “My lord. It is time.”

Sir Anthony wondered what Ginny could possibly have said to Avery to turn his skin so deathly white. True, he was always rather pasty-faced but never quite so colorless, even when looking down the barrel of Sir Anthony’s pistol. Why, the man looked positively ill.

His alarm grew when Lord Avery gasped, choked, and coughed for a full three minutes, forcing Grandmama to halt her discourse on the rare forms of roses to be found in the Dunsmere gardens.

Ginny’s behavior was equally puzzling. She at first appeared to be unaware her dinner companion was suffering any distress whatsoever. After a full minute of choking and coughing, she seemed unable to ignore it longer and offered him a napkin, saying, “There, there. You will be fine in a moment.”

When the moment had passed and he had not recovered, Ginny actually seemed almost angry. She forced a glass of wine into his hand and bade him drink. He obeyed, too hastily, which only deepened his distress.

By this time Grandmama had stopped speaking and the occupants of the table gave up pretending they were unaware of Lord Avery’s difficulties. Sir Anthony supposed it was pure embarrassment that finally gave Avery the strength to force air into his lungs again.

“Are you quite all right, Avery?” Sir Anthony asked.

Avery nodded his head vigorously, his hand clamped tight to his mouth.

Ginny, looking self-conscious, became suddenly very interested in the contents of her plate. Sir Anthony felt sure she hadn’t eaten a bite since she sat down, but the food was now disappearing with amazing alacrity.

“You seem to have recovered your appetite, Miss Delacourt,” he observed. And he had recovered his equilibrium. He had been angry with Grandmama, but when Ginny entered the drawing room, so lovely in her pink-and-green costume, he had felt his anger melt away.

To his amazement, she dropped her fork with a clatter and folded her hands in her lap. “Actually, I am not very hungry.”

“You must eat,” he insisted, “if you are to dance with me at the ball.” He most desperately needed to speak with her and a waltz would give him the perfect opportunity for a private conversation.

He was startled when five more forks clattered to their china plates. Grandmama glared at him, Lucinda pouted into her lap, and her parents stared at him in open amazement.

“Sir! Your engagement to our daughter is to be announced, I say, announced this very evening at the ball!” the squire protested.

Lord Avery took up choking into his napkin again, the claiming of it having necessitated the dropping of his own fork.

“It would not be appropriate,” Mrs. Barrington added, “to be courting another young lady under the circumstances!”

It was difficult to know how to respond to that, but Ginny came to his rescue. “I should be honored to save a country dance for you,” she said. “Lord Avery has already requested the waltzes.”

Lucinda gasped with dismay, and Avery, whose face had begun to take on some of its usual color, turned purple.

“You seem to be suffering from some kind of distress, Avery. Perhaps another napkin will do the trick. Here, have mine,” Sir Anthony said, passing the snowwhite cloth down the table.

“Perhaps you should rest for a bit in your room, Lord Avery.” Ginny gave him a meaningful glance. A bit too meaningful, Sir Anthony thought. “The guests will be arriving for the ball shortly.”

Avery nodded and hastened from the table, a perfect picture of misery while Lucinda watched him go, looking utterly lost. Then she gave herself a little shake and turned to her fiance.

“Anthony, you haven’t complimented my costume.”

“It is very lovely. Just the color of your eyes” He smiled the appropriate smile, all the while watching Avery. He had just reached the door when Avery stiffened and turned to look at Lucinda over his shoulder. He nodded, then left the room.

Something smoky was afoot. Sir Anthony was determined to discover what, even if it meant horning in on one of Avery’s waltzes. Especially if it meant horning in on one of Avery’s waltzes. He’d be hanged before he sat on his thumbs watching some other man spend the evening with the woman he loved.

Sir Anthony cleared his throat. “Your costume is very lovely also, Miss Delacourt” Well, that certainly didn’t come out right. Lucinda was wholly eclipsed by Ginny. He wasn’t sure about the wig-he much preferred the chestnut of Ginny’s curls-but the gown suited her to perfection. She looked like a princess from another time, like a pink confection of homespun sugar. Then again, there was something about the way the lines of the gown hugged the curves of her excellent figure that was not quite so innocent. The word “goddess” came to mind more than once.