Amelia's Intrigue (Regency Idyll Book 1)

by Judith A. Lansdowne

  “W-why?”

  “Because when you were very ill you could not say Theckla, and so she said you might call her Jeanie because that was her middle name. No one else, however, is allowed to do so.”

  “When I w-was very ill I c-could not say most anything,” the earl smiled at him. “I c-can say Theckla now.”

  Simpson coughed in the breakfast room doorway to gain Mr. Talbot's attention. “Lord Northampton and Lord Bristol to see you, sir,” he announced as Talbot's gaze flicked toward him.

  “Fine, show them in here, please.”

  “Yes, sir,” Simpson nodded and trotted off to return in a matter of moments with those two gentlemen in tow.

  “It is beyond imagination,” Lord Bristol declared as he entered the breakfast room.

  “What is?” Tony asked,

  “The house, Talbot, the house. Zounds, even the win-dows are open everywhere. And the Holland covers are off the furniture.”

  “And I saw a footman, Tony,” added Northampton with a wink.

  Talbot laughed. “Help yourselves to some breakfast,” he suggested with a nod at the sideboard. “Plenty to go around.”

  “Don't mind if we do,” Northampton grinned, strolling directly to the food with Bristol close on his heels. ”Cannot remember the last tune I saw your sideboard this loaded, Tony.”

  “Simpson now lives in constant hope of unexpected callers,” Talbor provided as the two gentlemen began to fill their plates. “I believe the two of you have just made his day. You remember, Geordie, I should think,” he added as Northampton and Bristol found themelves places at the table. “Geord, this is—”

  “I remember them, t-too,” the earl interrupted with what Talbot thought was a very odd look on his face. “I am p-pleased to s-see you again,” he continued with a rather hesitant smile.

  Northampton studied the earl with a teasing look. “Who tied that neckcloth for you, my lord?” he asked.

  “T-Tony.”

  “I thought as much.”

  “What do you mean, you thought as much?” Talbot glared.

  “Well, it ain't quite the style, Talbot,” Bristol offered, his eyes sparkling.

  “No, it ain't any style at all,” Northampton said with a sad shake of his head. “Pitiful is what it is.”

  “I thought it m-might be,” the earl agreed, trying to look down at it, “but I d-did not want to hurt T-Tony's feelings. He is n-not up t-to snuff, you know.”

  “Geordan,” Talbot threatened mockingly.

  “He d-does not like to be at all f-fashionable,” the earl continued, his dark blue eyes brimming with mirth. “Only l-look at how l-low are his shirt collars.”

  “Yes, deuce it,” laughed Bristol, “and he ain't got no tassels on his Hessians neither.”

  “Tassels?” Geordan asked, his eyes widening.

  “Oh, no, Geord. Forget it,” Talbot cried hurriedly. “I am definitely not going to dress like a Macaroni, nor am I going to be persuaded to let you dress like one.”

  Northampton, Bristol, and the earl all roared with laughter.

  “Actually, we came to see if you'd accompany us to the museum,” Northampton said as the laughter faded. “Take a peek at the Elgin marbles, you know. Been here forever and I ain't seen them yet. Thought Rutlidge might find them int’resting.”

  Talbot’s mouth opened and shut again without a sound coming forth. He looked from Northampton to Bristol to Geordan, “The Elgin marbles?” he asked finally. “You two? Why?”

  “Just thought it might be int’resting,” Bristol offered, pouring himself another cup of coffee. “Thought Rutlidge might like to see ’em.” His hawklike gaze fell upon Geordan. “Say yes, Geordie,” he urged. “I guarantee you will not regret it.”

  “Yes,” the earl answered promptly. “When?”

  “Soon as we finish breakfast,” Northampton said around a mouthful of jelly tart.

  “Do not speak before you've swallowed,” Talbot ordered rather bemusedly. “If you do it, Geordan will.”

  “Will n-not,” the earl protested. “I know b-better.”

  “So does Robert, though he appears to have forgotten. The Elgin marbles? Geord, are you sure? They do not have any motors, you know. They are just statues.”

  Bristol whispered in the earl's ear.

  “Yes,” the earl said, smiling innocently. “I should l-like to see them very m-much.”

  TALBOT stared with a touch of wonder at his brother as that gentleman wandered from one to the other of the statues lately brought from the Parthenon in Athens. “Told you he'd be interested, Tony,” Bristol grinned.

  “I cannot fathom it,” Talbot replied quietly. “Until now all he has wanted to see were animals and machines.”

  “We were wondering where you'd been. Expected you to turn up at one of the clubs. Never did.”

  “No, it appears there is a great lack of machinery at the clubs, Chet. Now it appears there is also a dearth of statues. We got to Tattersall's though.”

  “Did he want to buy all the horses?”

  “Only a Shetland pony. I think he felt sorry for it. It was just a little bit of a thing, and no one wanted it.”

  “Are you going to buy it?”

  “I already have. Do not tell him so, however. It is to be a surprise.”

  “Not a word,” Bristol assured him, as the earl and Northampton wandered back in their direction.

  “R-Robert s-says they are thousands of years old,” Geordan told his brother, a note of awe in his voice. “The G-Greeks made them. They are older even than all of England.”

  “I take it you are suitably impressed. my lord,” Talbot replied with a cocked eyebrow.

  “Y-Yes, Tony, only I should l-like to know where the missing p-pieces are.” The earl’s eyes wandered from his brother's face to something just behind him, and Tony turned to see what it might be. At the same time Miss Mapleton’s eyes wandered in Talbot’s direction. A rather startled light sprang into both sets of orbs as they connected. “That is M-Miss M-Mapleton, is it not, Tony?” asked the earl with a quick glance at Northampton. “I m-met her when we first c-came to town.”

  “Yes.” Talbot answered, turning back to face his brother.

  “Ought we n-not go over t-to say hello, Tony?”

  “Indeed we ought,” Northampton agreed readily. “It is the polite thing to do.”

  All four of the gentlemen crossed the room to where Miss Mapleton stood beside her mama. Lady Mapleton smiled widely to see them and found herself swept of by Northampton and Bristol to look at the marbles, abandoning Amelia to the company of the earl and his brother.

  “Do you not care to view the marbles as well, Miss Mapleton?” Talbot asked quietly. “Geordan finds them remarkable.”

  “Do you, my lord?” Amelia asked, her eyes on the earl.

  “Yes,” Geordan answered, lowering his gaze to the of his new Hessians. Talbot waited for more of an answer, but no further words appeared to be forthcoming.

  Miss Mapleton was quick to notice Mr. Talbot's hand grasp the earl's arm, and to catch the fierce look that sprang into Mr. Talbot's eyes as he gazed into her own. “I think we have both seen enough of them,” he said, preparing to take leave of her.

  “No,” the earl said clearly, his gaze riveted on his hoots.

  “No?” Talbot asked.

  “I sh-should like to l-look at them just one more t-time please, T-Tony... if Miss M-Mapleton will accompany us.” Geordan looked up at her then, and her heart lurched at the innocent pleading in his deep blue eyes.

  “I am fairly sure Miss Mapleton is not interested, Geordan,” Talbot said.

  Amelia was not slow to recognize that Mr. Talbot expected her to decline his brother's invitation. It was for that very reason that she accepted gaily. “Of course, if you are averse to viewing them again. Mr. Talbot, we shall proceed nicely without you,” she declared, smiling.

  “You wrong me, Miss Mapleton,” replied Talbot, “I am never averse to a bit of intellectual stimula
tion.”

  The earl made a quiet noise which sounded very much to Miss Mapleton like a desperate gasp, and she gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. Talbot, who knew his brother had just barely kept from laughing aloud, lifted an eyebrow in his direction. “Is there some comment you wished to make, my lord?” he asked gruffly.

  “N-No, Tony,” the earl mumbled.

  “THE man is a brute, Mama,” Miss Mapleton announces as she and Lady Mapleton entered their own home on Brook Street.

  “What, Mr. Talbot? I cannot conceive how you come to think so, Amelia. Why, he is one of Robert’s dearest friends. Thank you, Smythe,” she added, giving her wrap into the butler’s care. “We will have tea in the drawing room if you please.”

  Miss Mapleton divested herself of her own wrap and followed her mother up the stairs “But you did not see how effectively he intimidated the earl, ma’am/ Why, if I had not understood the look in Lord Rutlidge’s eyes, Mr. Talbot would have whisked him away immediately. As it was, he would not leave him alone in my company for a moment, nor permit him to speak of anything but the marbles. The least little hint on Mr. Talbot’s part brings that poor boy into submission. There is something very wrong, Mama.”

  “You have inherited all this wild imagination from your father,” sighed Lady Mapleton, settling herself into her favourite chair and putting her feet up on its matching footstool. “And I do not think you ought to refer to Lord Rutlidge as ‘that poor boy’; really, I do not. He is near ten years your senior, Amy.”

  “But he does not seem so, Mama. No, nor does he look it. In fact, he seems a great deal younger than Mr. Talbot.”

  “Yes, dear, but he is not. Geordan is, well, he is slow, darling. He was in a dreadful accident when he was a child and his mind was… affected.”

  “I know all about the accident, Mama. Lord Eliot told me.”

  “Well then, you must see that Mr. Talbot’s every motive must be to protect and care for the brother who saved his life, not to intimidate him. No one of sensibility could feel otherwise.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Miss Mapleton agreed, as one of the footmen carried in the tea tray, “but I do not think that Mr. Talbot is a person of any sensibilities at all.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MISS MAPLETON, who had curtsied prettily to the Dowager Duchess of Richmond, much as her mother had, was taken aback when her father took that formidable lady in his arms and gave her an immense bear hug. “Max,” the dowager exclaimed as soon as he had released her, “you remain as incorrigible as ever.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lord Mapleton grinned with a wink at the quietly laughing duke.

  “I would not tease her too much, Max,” Richmond grinned, shaking Mapleton’s hand. “She is like to box your ears.”

  “Is Rutlidge planning to attend, Tracy?”

  “So I’ve been told. But I think he and Tony will be late.”

  “What makes you think so?''

  “Well, consider, Max. Rutlidge and Talbot both dressing to please my mother’s notions of propriety, and in the same house? Unless they began to do so yesterday, they will be late.”

  The Duke of Richmond was not far off. At Rutlidge House Tony was angrily tossing his twelfth neckcloth to the floor. “I cannot think why I bother,” he grumbled, as Parsons handed him a fresh one. “I will never get it right. We should have left by now.”

  “Yes, sir,” Parsons nodded, “but it is your Aunt Theckla's party, and ’tis better to be late than to appear with a neckcloth that displeases her.”

  “I know, Parsons. I know. But I must tie Geord's as well.”

  “No, Tony. I t-tied it myself,” the earl announced from the doorway to his brother's dressing chamber. Talbot spun around to look at him and broke into laughter. “What do you call that particular arrangement, brat?”

  “‘The Byron,’” Tyler answered as he came up behind Geordan, “because it is romantical and goes on forever.”

  “You know, T-Tony. It is t-torturous,” Geordie smiled.

  “Stay right where you are,” Mr. Talbot grinned, pointing at the earl. “Do not move. Do not attempt to don another thing. I shall tie this blasted thing and then I shall get you a fresh one and tie yours. Aunt Theckla will have your head on a platter if you enter her house with that, that thing about your neck.” Still chuckling, Mr. Talbot turned back to dealing with his own neckcloth and this time managed to achieve a very acceptable Mathematical, which was all he sought. Then he stood his brother before the mirror and did the same for him, “There,” he murmured. “Now go let Tyler get you into your waistcoat and coat.”

  “Which w-waistcoat, T-Tony?”

  “The white one.”

  “I w-was afraid of that,” sighed the earl.

  “Why?”

  “B-Because it has a s-stain on it.”

  “No, it doesn't, Geord. It just arrived yesterday.”

  “Yes, b-but it does anyway. I m-mucked it up.” Mr. Talbot, who was busily fastening his own waistcoat stopped midway through and turned to stare at his brother. “How?” he asked quietly. “Is it something that will come off?”

  “No, sir,” Tyler offered quietly. “It is strawberry jam. and I have been attempting to remove it since yesterday afternoon.”

  Tony, quick to notice the apprehension on his brother's face, began to unfasten his own waistcoat. ”We will be like Brummell then,” he said cheerfully. “We will create our own fashion. Parsons, do I still have that gold waistcoat with the red stripes, or did you actually listen to me and dispose of it?”

  Parsons moved to the armoire and produced the requested article. Tony took it and held it up before Tyler's eyes. ”Has Geord anything quite as hideous as this?” he asked.

  “Yes, indeed, sir,” Tyler grinned. “I know just the one.”

  “Good, then we are saved, brat.”

  “Aunt Theckla will n-not be angry that they are n-not white?” Geordan asked in a very subdued voice.

  “No, scoundrel. She will laugh at us instead. Go on, now. We are very, very late.”

  They were so late, in fact, that the receiving line had dispersed, the younger people were into their third country dance in the small ballroom, and a number of card games were well underway in the Gold Saloon. Higgins took their hats and canes and gloves with great civility, only looking aghast for the veriest breath of a second at the sight of their waistcoats, and then escorted them to the small ballroom where the dowager had gone to watch the dancing. Higgins was prepared to lead them both directly to the carved, high-backed chair in which she had settled rather than attempt to announce them over the sound of the music when the elderly lady happened to glance toward the doorway in which they stood. At sight of them, the hard obsidian eyes turned to a melting hazel, a smile as tender as a babe's made its way across her stern countenance, and all sign of her invincible claws seemed to disappear. Leaning heavily upon an ebony cane, she rose from the thronelike chair and, eschewing all assistance, made her way slowly across the room. The music came to an abrupt end as the dowager crossed the floor, and in a matter of moments all conversation within the ballroom dwindled to a halt, and all eyes turned to study the late arrivals.

  Talbot, a bit intimidated by the complete silence their entrance had instigated, nevertheless took the dowager’s hand in his own and bowing, raised it to his lips. “Good evening, Aunt Theckla,” he said, passing her hand gently into his brother's.

  “It is my fault we are late,” Geordan said, lowering her hand without letting go of it. “I am s-sorry. It is my fault about the waistcoats, too. I spilled jam on mine. Will you forgive me, Aunt Jeanie?”

  The dowager smiled, took a tighter hold of the hand that held her own, and gave it a little shake. She stared down at the earl’s waistcoat, which, with great red roses embroidered upon a pale blue background, was equally as horrible as Tony’s wide red velvet stripes on gold. “Brummell is in the Gold Saloon,” she said to Tony, her eyes shining with laughter. “You must be sure not to deprive him of the sight of the two
of you together. And Geordan, you must come and sit by me for a while before I share you with the rest of my company. Godmothers are privileged persons, you know, and are allowed to occupy an inordinate amount of a godson’s time.” Keeping his hand in hers, she led the earl back across the room and settled him into a chair beside her. Talbot, free for a time, found Bristol’s welcoming grin and made his way to where Lord Bristol stood. “So, have I missed anything exceptional, Chet?” he asked, shaking his friend’s hand.

  “No,” Bristol answered, “the only thing exceptional I have seen so far is your waistcoat, Tony, and Rutlidge’s. What in tarnation possessed you to wear that thing?”

  “You don’t like it? But, Chet, it is all the rig.”

  “Where? In the Indies? You are lucky the dowager did not toss you out onto the flagway.”

  “Yes, I know. I put a great deal of dependence on her love for Geord and her sense of humour.”

  Mr. Talbot’s waistcoat, however, had not seemed as exceptional to certain other guests as had the mere sight of the two brothers poised side by side in the doorway. “I thought I should swoon,” murmured Miss Thakett to Miss Mapleton in the small chamber which had been set aside to serve as a temporary dressing room where the young ladies might primp or have a torn flounce mended or a wayward hem put to rights. “They made such an in-credibly romantic picture, you know. Mr. Talbot so sensual and brooding and Lord Rutlidge so, so, darkly angelic.”

  “What?” asked Miss Mapleton with a lift of her eyebrows, “Darkly angelic? Fanny, what on earth does that mean?”

  “If I did not know it for fact,” inserted Miss Sonnesby with a toss of her fair curls, “I would never have believed them brothers, Would you? Mama is just ecstatic that Lord Rutlidge has come. She warned me not to be too optimistic, for no one has seen him in so very long, and once could not be sure, you know, that the accident had not left him a cripple or terribly disfigured. But now she thinks he will join the dancing.”

  “And will you dance with him should he ask you, Laura?”