“He is very b-big and t-tough just like you,” Geordan announced, walking the mongrel up next to Gentleman Jackson and confidently offering the man his end of the neckcloth. Hesitantly Jackson accepted it and stared down at the creature. It was all feet and legs and head, and its shoulders reached to Jackson's thigh. It might have been tan or brown. There was no telling what color was its own and what was dirt. Geordan pushed down on its haunches and told it to sit. It did so, looking up adoringly, its tongue lolling and dripping saliva. “He will be g-grand when he is well-f-fed and c-clean,” Geordan assured the boxer hopefully. “And he is b-brave and has a lot of, of b-bottom. And you will be p-proud of him.” The earl then slipped his hand back into Jackson's and stood looking up at him. “I am r-ready to learn about b-boxing now, Mr. J-Jackson.”
Gentleman Jackson looked down at the earl, then down at the mongrel, then across at Tony. “Facer,” he muttered, his stunned expression breaking into a wide grin. “The bantam slipped in under my in guard.” Chuckling, he turned with the dog's neckcloth in one hand and Geordan's hand in the other and wandered off with them to introduce both to the world of the ring.
DAVID MAPLETON stood behind his sister, grinning widely as she took careful aim and pulled the trigger, “Bull's-eye,” he announced merrily. “You are incredible, Amy. That is the fifth in a row. If I am ever called out, I shall ask you to substitute for me immediately.” The brother and sister had come to shoot at Manton's at Amelia's insistence. Her father had brought her to the gallery often when she was a child, and to be barred from it because suddenly she was a young lady grated upon her terribly.
“Shhh,” she hissed at him. “Do not call me, Amy, David. I am Edward, remember. If I were to be found out, I should be terribly disgraced and Mama would never forgive me.”
“Oh, phoo, you know that is not at all the case, Ame—I mean, Edward. Mama would not care a thing about it. She has come here with Papa many times.”
Amelia giggled, thinking of the stories their father told about his strange courtship of their mother. “I am lucky, you know,” she said, laying the pistol down upon the counter. “Kit's old clothes fit me tolerably well. Mama had to make do with the Duke of Richmond's when Papa could manage to steal them.”
“I don't think Papa stole them at all,” David declared, shoving his hands into his breeches' pockets so he would not forget and offer her his arm. “I think the duke smuggled them out and still is afraid for the dowager to know about it.”
“Well, I do not wish for Mama to know either. Which reminds me,” she added as they left the shooting gallery and climbed up into David's phaeton, “what secrets have you discovered about Mr. Talbot? Did you learn anything last evening?”
David, who had awaited this question all afternoon, was well-rehearsed. “Talbot was extremely good company, Ame. I may call you that now, may I not, for no one else can hear us. Yes, well, he and Geordan both were in high spirits until...”
“Until what? David, tell me.”
“Well, Papa took Geordan to meet Mr. Kean, and I thought Talbot was going to explode when he discovered it. I do not know what was said. Talbot waited for them outside the box and I could not hear, but Rutlidge was so upset that even Kean's performance could not keep him from fidgeting for the longest time. I asked him if he wished to leave, but I think he feared to do so.”
“There,” said Amelia emphatically. “Now you must believe me. Geordan is terrified of the man. Why on earth should he object to the poor boy's meeting Mr. Kean?”
“Well, I gather it was not his being introduced to the actor that caused the commotion, but the fact that Rutlidge had gone off without Talbot at his side. I say, Amy, I do not think you are far off the mark. The man not only rang a peal over Geordan, but over Father as well. There is something odd going on there, but I cannot see what it might be. It would be best, I think, were we both to spend as much time with them as possible. Perhaps Rutlidge will confide in one of us. Or perhaps Talbot will do or say something to give his game away. Which reminds me: have you sent Talbot an invitation to your come-out ball?”
“Yes, but I cannot imagine that he will come, David.”
“I think he might. He has ties now with Robert and Papa and Kit and myself. He might feel obligated to come, you know. And Rutlidge rides with you. That might provide him reason to come as well. What the deuce?” he added on a soft intake of breath as a curricle coming from the opposite direction swerved into his path. Had David and the gentleman driving the other vehicle not both been exceedingly fine whips, there would certainly have been a collision. As it was, they came so close as to graze each other's wheels. “Speak of the devil,” murmured David, pulling up his horses and sending his groom to their heads. “It's Talbot, Amy,” he cried, already climbing down.
“Yes, I see it is, and something is wrong,” she an-swered, climbing down herself and hurrying to where Talbot had drawn his team up against the flagway, sending his tiger to control the horses. One knee on the seat, he was standing in the box struggling with something on the passenger side.
“What may I do, Talbot?” David called up to him, just as Amelia arrived. “Can you hand him down to me, do you think?”
“David,” Talbot sighed, giving him a quick glance, “I felt the wheels graze. You were not harmed?”
“No.”
“Catch then,” Talbot ordered. Amelia stared wide-eyed as Talbot lowered his brother's limp form down into David's waiting arms. He then jumped down himself, took the unresisting body from David, and looked around him rather wildly. Amelia thought she saw a look of panic in his eyes. But his words, when he spoke, were calm. “There must be a bit of grass around here somewhere. I cannot just toss him down onto the flagstones.”
“Behind this shop,” she said hurriedly. “There is a small lawn and some trees and a fountain.”
“Show me,” Talbot ordered, striding off in the direction she had indicated, the earl cradled tightly in his arms. At the back of the building, he saw that she was correct and carefully set the earl on the grass in the shade of a small oak tree.
“Water?” David asked, about to set off toward the fountain, willing to sacrifice his hat to carry it back.
“No,” Talbot answered in the midst of unbuttoning the earl's waistcoat. “There's nothing to do but to let him lie here.”
“What has happened to him?” Miss Mapleton asked, noticing the missing neckcloth and the dirty coat and breeches. “Has he been in an accident?”
“No, young man, he has not,” Mr. Talbot answered gruffly, and Miss Mapleton suddenly remembered she wore Kit's clothes. On the ground before her the earl lay very pale but not quite still. His fingers twitched and his whole body trembled, slightly, as if it did not wish anyone to take notice of it. “Where are we, Mapleton?” Talbot asked, turning away from his brother and looking in the direction of the street. “I did not pay much attention once Geord... Are we somewhere near Berkeley Square? I cannot recognize the streets from here.”
“We are just off Whimpole.”
“Tarnation!” Talbot growled. “I should have turned left.”
“I rather think you had your hands full at the time, Tony.”
“Yes, but now I shall have to take Geordan an extra five blocks or more, and I do not care for the thought of it.” He was still kneeling beside the earl, and now he stripped his gloves from his hands and touched his palm to the earl's brow. “At least it is not too bad of a one.”
“Too bad of a what?” asked Miss Mapleton, trying hard now to sound a bit more boylike. But the question brought Mr. Talbot's eyes to her, and he stared, blinked, stared again. “Miss Mapleton?” he asked, surveying her attire with disbelief.
“No, it's my cousin Edward,” David offered with a grin. “Up from the country just today.”
The earl made a small sound, and Talbot's eyes immediately returned to him. “Geordan?” he whispered, but was no answer, and so he returned his attention to Miss Mapleton, who had lowered herself to the gras
s at the earl's feet. David sat down cross-legged beside her and patted her buckskin-encased knee with his hand. “I take it he has not just fainted, Tony?”
“No, not fainted. It is a seizure. They have plagued him ever since that deuced coach... but this one is very slight. He will be exhausted, but he will not remember having had it. By all that's holy, Miss Mapleton, why do you want to go about pretending to be some stripling named Edward?” he asked suddenly, his great brown eyes gazing at her in some exasperation. “What if someone should catch you at it? It would be all over town in less than a day and you could not show your face again for months.”
Just as Amelia opened her mouth to speak, the earl stirred next to him and Talbot turned away. “Geordie?” he whispered.
“Uh-huh,” the Earl answered rather groggily. His gloved hands went to rub at his eyes, and his left knee bent, and then he was pushing himself into a sitting position. Talbot put an arm around him and helped. The earl's dark blue eyes looked slowly about him. “I do n-not remember this p-place, T-Tony,” he whispered. “When did we c-come to b-be here?”
“Only a moment ago,” Talbot assured him, brushing blades of grass from the auburn curls. “You did not miss much of anything.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE earl slept most of the way home, his head resting against his brother's shoulder, and he went immediately to lie down in his bedchamber without one word of argument. Tony, who knew well the feelings of self-deprecation that plagued his brother whenever he suffered one of the abominable seizures, left him to himself, even ordering Tyler from the room once the earl's coat, waistcoat, and boots had been removed. “For you know how it is, Tyler,” he muttered as they walked together down the hallway. “He gets very disgusted with himself and angry, and embarrassed as well, and does not wish to face anyone.”
“But if he should suffer another, sir? They sometimes come one after the other.”
“I will look in on him from time to time, Tyler, and you may do so as well. But do not plague him. It was not so severe, after all, and I certainly do not wish to let him think it was.”
Talbot asked to have dinner set back to nine o'clock and then hid himself away in his library, deciding to take advantage of Geordan's absence by catching up on his own paperwork. His mind, however, insisted on wandering away from his ledgers and reproducing the vision of Miss Mapleton sitting in the grass at his brother's feet, dressed in a stripling's clothes.
“Whatever possessed her?” he murmured to himself. He gave his head a shake and refocused his attention on his work, but the thought of her would not be discarded so easily. After a series of futile attempts to balance his accounts, he tossed his pen onto the desk, clammed the ledger shut, and leaned back in his chair, propping his boots up upon the desk top.
It was not long afterward that Simpson scratched upon his door and delivered the note from his mother, along with a number of invitations that had lain on the silver tray in the hall for the entire day. Talbot scanned the note quickly and smiled. “M'mother and Uncle James come to visit on Sunday, Simpson,” he said, glancing up. “Has Ludlow started back already or does he wait for some answer?”
“He has gone,” Simpson answered, the vestige of smile playing about his lips. “Am I to assume that her ladyship's visit will be a protracted one, sir?''
“Indeed, Simpson. And all that that implies. I may trust you to see to it that the house is well-prepared to receive her?”
“Most certainly, sir.”
“Yes. I knew I could. You'll be in heaven, will you not?”
“Yes, sir,” acknowledged Simpson. “It will be exceedingly pleasurable to have her ladyship again in Rutlidge House. We have all missed her greatly, Master Tony.”
“Well, and I don't doubt that, Simpson. Mama will keep you all scurrying about from morning till night and make you all feel much more important and necessary than Geordan and I can manage to do. I shouldn't wonder at it if she don't throw a party or two, perhaps even a ball. Mama has always loved balls, and I cannot think but that she will find some reason to hold one.”
“Indeed, sir,” smiled Simpson. “There was always a ball at Rutlidge House before your father passed on. Will there be anything else, Master Tony?”
“No, thank you, Simpson,”
With a strong feeling of detachment, Talbot flipped through the invitations to musicales, routs, drawing rooms, and levees. He could not understand why any one of these had been addressed to himself, nor trust that any of the senders truly counted upon his presence. Now that the curiosity about the earl had been adequately satisfied by Geordan's public appearance at the Dowager of Richmond's ball and at the theatre as well, he could not imagine that anyone truly cared whether the earl showed his face in society again either. When his eyes fell at last upon the invitation to Miss Mapleton's come-out ball, however, his detachment gave a distinct lurch.
“Do you mean to tell me you have not even come out yet?” he whispered to no one. “Why, you should have done so at least four years ago, m'dear.” The vision of her in Kit's clothing once again shimmered before him. More than that, he saw this time the look in her emerald eyes as she had watched his unconscious brother. There had been interest, sympathy, and when Geordan awoke, an attempt to relieve him of any embarrassment. There had been no sign in them of pity, fear, or disgust.
“So,” he whispered to himself, tapping the invitation card against his knee, “once again you have proven yourself to be quite beyond the ordinary, Miss Mapleton.” He put his feet back on the floor, placed the remainder of the invitations on the corner of his desk, and left the room with his mother's note and Miss Mapleton's invitation in hand.
“SHE thinks that I did not see her sneaking ever so quietly up the backstairs, Max, and, of course, I shall not tell that I did, but it was so funny. I almost thought we had a twelve-year-old boy on our hands again.”
Lord Mapleton, his arm across the mantel in the sitting room that divided his wife's bedchamber from his own, chuckled and kicked a log back onto the fire with the toe of his boot. “Do you remember, Kate, when we used to sneak off to Manton's?”
“Well, of course I do. If I did not, I should ring a terrible peal over the girl. But I can hardly do so when I have been guilty of the same impertinence myself.”
“No, you cannot. And I should not wish you to do so. Amelia will walk her own path in this world just as the rest of us have done, and I do not wish her to become pattern miss simply to please a bunch of old biddies.”
“Max, honestly! Some of those old biddies are my friends,” giggled Lady Mapleton.
“Well, yes, I know, but it don’t keep them from being old biddies, Kate. I like that Amelia knows how to handle a pistol. And I like that you do as well. Now that I think of it, I should enjoy taking you both to Manton’s again.”
“Max, you are not going out tonight, are you?”
“Out? To the theatre, do you mean?”
“You know perfectly well I do not.”
With a sympathetic smile Lord Mapleton sat down beside his wife on the little couch before the fire and stretching his legs out before him, put his arm about her shoulders and pulled her close. He gave her ear a soft, whispering kiss and then turned to stare into the flames. “I have work to do, Catherine. Sometimes I must attend to the doing of it.”
“I wish you had never agreed in the beginning.”
“Ah, but you were not there to stop me in the beginning, my love. I never thought to find a girl who would marry me, and so I never thought ’twould worry anyone. And it seemed a reasonable sort of work for a man of my considerable... talents.”
“But, but could you not resign, Max? Surely they may find someone else. It has been so long they have depended upon you.”
“I suppose I could, Katie. But what would I do then? I have never been very good at just frittering away my time. You worry much too much, do you know that, my girl?”
“And you worry far too little. Are you going out tonight?”
“Yes, my love, I am. I cannot avoid it I'm afraid, but I promise you that I shall be most careful and I shall not do anything at all nonsensical or dramatic or inordinately brave.”
Lady Mapleton giggled in spite of herself, and he gave her a very romantic kiss upon her gorgeous red lips.
GEORDAN was extremely quiet over the dinner which Tony had thought to have served in the comfort of the second-floor sitting room. With the drapes drawn across the long windows, a bright fire crackling in the grate, and the soft light of the candles, the cosy room seemed a haven from the outside world, and that was exactly what Tony thought the earl needed. “Are you not going to eat anything more, Geord? Not even the little caramel tarts?”
The earl shook his head without looking up at his brother.
“You know,” Talbot smiled, “I have got two important messages since we came home, both of which concern you.”
“Wh-what?” asked the earl quietly, pushing the food about on his plate with the tines of his fork.
“Well, first, Mama and Uncle James are coming to London.”
“B-Because I was ill? I d-did not mean t-to be, Tony. P-Please do n-not send me back t-to Westerley.”
“Whoa, Geord, no one will send you back to Wester-ley unless you wish it. Mama and Uncle James do not even know that you were ill. They are coming to visit. You know how much Mama likes London. Do you not think it will be fun to have her with us?”
“Y-Yes, b-but are you g-going to t-tell her that I was ill?”
“No.”
“Really, T-Tony?”
“Really, scamp. Geord, you know that it is not your fault, do you not? You cannot help when it happens.”
Amelia's Intrigue (Regency Idyll Book 1) Page 11
