Too late. She had seen him. She tripped into the room like a battle ship in full gale. “Sir Anthony, is that you?”
Gad. Could that be a musical tone to her voice? He wondered what he had done to put her in such charity with him. He lowered the paper. “I’ve just been helping myself to the periodicals. It seems that the ‘change has suffered a bit of a reverse”
“How unfortunate,” Mrs. Barrington crooned. “My, you are looking very natty this morning, Sir Anthony.”
He emerged from the society page and gave her a wary smile. “Yes, well, one can affect wonders with a good, bracing bath”
“Dear me. Was the water that cold, then?”
“Just a bit cooler than tepid, but I’m not wishful to complain. Your hospitality has been most abundant.”
Mrs. Barrington blushed and twittered behind the hand she had put to her lips. He supposed it was to hide a row of sadly yellowed teeth.
“Well! I am most happy to hear you say so. I imagine you might have heard already. The doctor has ordered the house under a ten-day quarantine.”
“There was a rumor bantered about at breakfast. Miss Delacourt and I are fortunate to have stumbled upon such a capable hostess”
“It is our good fortune that we have two handsome bachelors in our midst at such a time.”
“Two?!” Sir Anthony prayed he wasn’t being considered a potential mate for the Barrington’s hen-witted daughter. “Ah, that is to say, Avery is staying? He can’t have been exposed as of yet”
“Very true, but we mustn’t let on. Our poor Lucinda has been confined to the house for the past month, and we could not let such a talented young man slip through our fingers. He is a poet, you know.”
Sir Anthony tried to smile. “So I’ve heard”
“Yes, well, we shall convince him to stay. Actually,” she added coyly. “It should not be very difficult to achieve. He has had his eye on Lucinda for quite some time.”
“That is not surprising. Miss Barrington is a treasure” One to whom Lord Avery was more than welcome.
Mrs. Barrington perched on a burgundy leather chair across from Sir Anthony and launched into what proved to be a well-rehearsed report. “Our Lucinda has been trained in all the fine arts, as you yourself can plainly see. She is literate in French and the language of music. She plays, sings, dances, and paints the most exquisite watercolors! She has the manners and conversation of any young miss above her station, and though her lisp is a bit unusual, I hear they are considered quite exotic in London this season” Mrs. Barrington punctuated this last remark with an arch look and a meaningful nod.
“Yes, she is, to say the least, captivating. In turn, she seems quite captivated with Lord Avery. Is there an understanding between them?”
“Naughty, naughty, Sir Anthony” Mrs. Barrington wagged a jeweled finger at him. “It wouldn’t do for you to show too much interest in my little darling.” She affected a comely blush. “There is nothing to speak of as of yet. You can see that it wouldn’t be proper to say anything further on the matter.”
The woman certainly had a wily way about her. Sir Anthony inclined his head. “Consider the matter forgotten”
“You do have such pretty manners, Sir Anthony” Mrs. Barrington gave him a bright smile. “I must say, after clapping eyes on you last evening, I never dreamed you had turned into such a pleasant gentleman. I’m sure you have ever so many young ladies throwing their caps over the windmill after you.”
“Would that it were so, Mrs. Barrington, but I am only a baronet. Pleasant manners are a poor substitute for nobility. I would even go so far as to say that there be certain ladies who will hold out for the highest title to which they can aspire.”
Mrs. Barrington’s smile faded and she twisted her hands together in her lap. “I daresay that is the case with some ladies. Er … you must be bored to Hinders in here without any young people present to entertain you” She stood. “I shall set about rectifying the situation!”
Sir Anthony lost no time in rising to his feet and bowing Mrs. Barrington out the door. Her tone of voice when pleased with him was nearly as strident as that when she was not. He felt sympathy for the squire. It must always be the high-pitched whine or that strident falsetto for the rest of his days. Wouldn’t it be much more efficient if she simply said what she felt rather than subjecting mankind to such unpleasantness?
Sir Anthony caught himself up short. He was beginning to sound like Ginny. He muttered an oath and tossed the paper into the chair by the fire. He prowled the room, restless to be away from matchmaking, both Grandmama’s and Mrs. Barrington’s. It wasn’t as if he wanted to marry Lucinda… gad! But nor could he stomach Lord Avery’s being preferred as an eligible parti simply because he had a higher title. He had a sudden memory of Ginny’s smile when Avery had kissed her hand and felt as if he had been kicked in the gut.
A rustle of silk outside the door caught his attention. Surely this was Lucinda come at her mama’s behest to ease his boredom. He hoped he was safe in that quarter. Surely her parents preferred the lord to the baronet. It was always best to be courteous even so. He adopted his most charming smile. “Miss Bar-“
“Oh, were you expecting Miss Barrington?” Ginny quizzed as she came through the door. “The last I saw her, she was playing chess with Lord Avery in the drawing room. You sent me a message?”
Sir Anthony didn’t know what she could mean. He stood silent a moment too long, but it was a moment well spent, taking in the pleasing contrast of the dusky curls against her creamy skin and the way her long lashes swept just along the crest of her pink cheeks. “Message? I sent you a message?”
“Yes. Mrs. Barrington said you wished to see me”
Comprehension dawned. He had assumed she had gone in search of Lucinda, but it seemed he was expected to entertain Ginny while Lord Avery put the seal on his relationship with Miss Barrington. “Yes! Of course..” he said, but he could formulate no further reply.
“Sir Anthony, what is it? If you wish to discuss travel arrangements, I’m afraid it is impossible. We are all confined to the house for the better part of a fortnight.”
“Thank you, I’ve been informed.” He retrieved his paper and made himself comfortable. “In light of our situation, I thought we should make other arrangements” Of what sort, he wasn’t sure. He was hoping Ginny would take the reins from there.
“Do you refer to informing Grandaunt Regina of our whereabouts? She won’t be expecting to see me anytime soon, but I daresay she hoped I would send a note about her roses back to London with you. We really should write to her and explain our situation.”
By Jove, the very thing. “Very good, Miss Delacourt. I thought perhaps you had better write it. You would know better than I how to appease her on the subject of her roses.”
Ginny walked over to the escritoire and drew out some notepaper. “I don’t know about that. I’m afraid nothing will serve short of my laying eyes on them” With a graceful swish of her skirts, she seated herself at the desk and tapped the tip of her nose with the quilled pen. “I suppose I shall just have to tell her the truth.”
As she dipped her pen in the inkwell and began to write, he studied her profile. He was fascinated by the way her emotions were mirrored in her face. He knew just when she came to the part about their misfortune on the road by the way her eyes flashed and her chin raised a fraction. When she wrote why they must stay on at Rose Arbor, she bit her lip with empathy for Nan. Her little nose wrinkled in consternation, most likely when she wrote her apology for not sending a report on the roses.
She signed her name with a flourish and sanded the paper. “Do please read this and see if I left out anything important. I want to send a note to Dunsmere and have some of my clothes sent here. I can’t get along with just this one gown”
Sir Anthony took the paper and perused it. “Naturally, you will want to look your best for Lord Avery”
Ginny looked at him in some surprise. “My only wish is to not offend my fe
llow housemates by appearing at dinner in the same soiled and crumpled gown night after night. I should think you of all people would understand”
To his surprise, he chuckled. “I think I shall never again take good grooming for granted. I would be most grateful if you would ask that my spare wardrobe I keep at Dunsmere be sent along, as well.”
Ginny stared at him, wide-eyed. “Those clothes must be at least three years old”
“What of it?”
“Only that they won’t be bang-up-to-the-mark such as what you have on presently.”
“Ah, yes, Miss Delacourt, but as you said, they will provide relief for my companions.”
Ginny scratched out the second note leaving him to read what she had written to Grandmama. It was well written and certainly factual until the end, where she had added a postscript, which read: “Sir Anthony wishes to send his apologies for failing to accomplish his task.”
Failing to accomplish his task! That was outside of enough! He forced himself to remain calm. “Miss Delacourt, I believe you have made an error here in the postscript.” He leaned over her and pointed to the offending phrase.
She studied the paper. “No, I don’t think so. I can’t see that I’ve misspelled anything.”
He felt his back stiffen. “It is the entire postscript that is in error. I’m sure I don’t recall having said anything along those lines.”
“Oh, that! You know your grandmama. A few wellchosen words and she is much more amiable about things. I hope you aren’t going to make me write it over.”
That was exactly what he had in mind, but it wouldn’t do to say so at this point. In fact there was very little he could say without revealing how annoyed he felt. He knew it was unjustified. If only he knew what accounted for it. Surely he didn’t care if Ginny called him a failure! Did he?
Pulling himself together, he said, “Very well, Miss Delacourt. I concede to your wisdom. If you will be needing me in the near future-a circumstance I very much doubt-I will be in the drawing room with the others” He managed a very proper bow and a perfectly correct smile before he got himself out of the room as fast as he could, no mean feat considering his sore ankle and the nonchalant stroll at which he forced himself to proceed.
Perhaps Miss Delacourt had no need of him, but there was little doubt in his mind he could make himself useful to Lucinda Barrington. He should attempt to save her from the lily-faced Avery. It would give him a way to pass the time. Besides, she couldn’t possibly look forward to a lifetime of listening to his insipid poetry. Then again, she was not a girl without resources. It seemed that lisping baby talk could be unsheathed at will. Twenty years of that could pall on a man of even Lord Avery’s stamp.
How he was to deal with either of them for the duration of the quarantine was a more troubling question. By the time Sir Anthony pushed open the drawing room door, he had developed a headache and a ferocious frown.
“Why, Sir Anthony, whatever is the matter?” Mrs. Barrington’s shrill cry shrieked in his pounding head.
Sir Anthony forced a smile. He had one for every occasion. This was the one he used for matchmaking mamas: charming but aloof. When Mrs. Barrington gave him a queer look and rushed out the door mumbling something about dinner preparations, he relabeled it his how-to-get-rid-of-Mrs. Barrington smile and sat down.
“Lord Avery, I understand you are to be staying on with us. It is good of you to wish to entertain the young ladies, but not at all necessary. You have not been exposed, I assure you.” He was assured he couldn’t put up with Lord Avery’s dramatics for a single evening, let alone weeks of them.
Lucinda and Lord Avery turned to him with a jerk and stared at him in consternation. Anyone could see they had plenty to be concerned about. They were so close on the sofa, practically touching.
“What concern is it of yours, pray tell?” Lord Avery took Lucinda’s hand and drew it to his lips.
“Lord Avery .. ” Lucinda gasped, fluttering her eyelids. She withdrew her hand and turned to Sir Anthony. “We were just discussing how we should pass the time during our confinement. I must say, it is much more pleasant to have the company of you two, as well as that of Miss Delacourt. When I had the spots, there was no one to amuse me” Lucinda’s lips pressed in a pretty little pout. “But now there are the two of you, and I daresay I shall be vastly entertained.” She clapped her hands, which had the effect of clashing cymbals in Sir Anthony’s throbbing head.
“But, my darling, I have waited so long to have you to myself.” Lord Avery possessed himself once more of Lucinda’s hand. “I have been in a fever to see you since last we met.”
Lucinda had the grace to look a trifle uncomfortable. “Oh yeth, it was at the Woolthley-Smythe house. Sir Anthony, were you not invited to that do?”
Sir Anthony felt himself powerless to reply. The lisp had returned. Was she attempting to attract him with her fabricated town-bronze or drive him mad?
“Leave him be,” Lord Avery demanded. “Perhaps he is fevering with the pox himself.”
“His eyes have taken on a bit of a glassy look,” Lucinda murmured.
“Dear heart, we must find a place where we can be alone. I cannot bear to have another man feast his eyes on your loveliness,” Lord Avery said, daring a tiny kiss to one of Lucinda’s fingers.
“Sir!” Lucinda cried. “Pray, remember yourself.” She sprang to her feet and moved to a window. “Sir Anthony, Lord Avery and I have been playing cards. It has been such fun! Do you think Miss Delacourt would come and play too? We could have a game of whist or picquet.”
“I think that is a well-informed idea, Miss Barrington. The sooner we learn to entertain ourselves, the better.”
Lord Avery scowled, rose, and stationed himself at a mullioned window on the opposite side of the room from Lucinda. Sir Anthony couldn’t help but notice Avery had chosen the window with the most amount of sunlight, creating a positive halo around his golden locks.
Lucinda gathered the skirts of her pretty blue muslin frock in her hands and headed for the door. “I’ll go get her. Perhapth later we can play a game of hunt the slipper,” she lisped. The sound of the door slamming behind her was like the hammering of nails in a coffin. Preferably, Lord Avery’s.
Sir Anthony glared at the poet posed by the window. What right had he to mince about kissing the hands of all the ladies? However, it was the memory of the kiss on Ginny’s wrist-the inside of it, no less-that caused him to grind his teeth. In fact, his teeth were so tightly clenched together, he found it difficult to put his tongue to words.
“Sir Anthony, what am I to do?” Lord Avery spun away from the window and cast himself into a chair. “I have waited all this time for nothing, nothing! She does not love me. Her heart has not waited for me as mine has waited, waited to be near her, to breathe her air, tune my heartbeat to hers!” Mercifully, the muffled cries that followed were lost on Sir Anthony as Lord Avery had stuffed his head under the chair cushions.
“Come, come, Avery” He pulled the lime-green cushion from Lord Avery’s head and regarded the poor, sniveling sot, his nose red and dripping. “You mustn’t let the ladies see you like this. I daresay they’ll be through the door any moment now.” He handed Lord Avery his handkerchief, which he prayed would not be returned.
“Thank you,” Lord Avery gasped, mopping his eyes. “Quite right, you know. I would rather die than have Lucinda see me this way”
What a blessed relief! He hated to see a grown man cry, even Avery. “Think nothing of it. See, here come the ladies now” Lucinda and Ginny walked in, looking a bit bemused. Had they heard the sobs coming down the hall? Lucinda especially looked uneasy and launched her worst bit of lisping yet.
“I have brought Mith Delacourt with me. She thays she would very much like to play cards and tho we shall. Shan’t we, Mith Delacourt?”
Ginny agreed and stepped over to the card table. “Sir Anthony, would the two of you help to bring the table over here? We can put more chairs around it if we pull i
t to the center of the room”
“Oh, yes, I quite agree, Mith Delacourt” Lucinda tripped across the room and took Sir Anthony’s arm. “Would you be my partner? I am sure you are a most skilled player.”
For a horrifying moment, Sir Anthony thought Lord Avery would burst into a fresh bout of tears. His chin quivered, and he bit his lower lip until the spasm passed. Sir Anthony breathed an inward sigh and seated Lucinda at the table. Lord Avery, managing to be both charming and petulant, escorted Ginny to the table and professed himself “delighted” to be her partner.
“Oh, isn’t this marvelouth!” Lucinda’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, presumably in rapture.
By the end of the game, which he and Lucinda won, Sir Anthony was willing to admit it had been somewhat amusing. Avery was proper and circumspect in his attentions for once, Lucinda’s lisp finally faded into oblivion, and Ginny hadn’t taunted him even once.
That night at dinner, Ginny sat and studied the faces around the table. She sensed some definite undercurrents. Squire Barrington, dressed in prime twig, was in a jovial mood. She had no doubt it was due to the wealthy bachelors seated at his table.
Lord Avery, seated to the squire’s right, was a bit more difficult to read. He alternated between feverish good humor and morose despondency. He sported the largest diamond stickpin Ginny had ever seen. It winked with blue fire, drawing the color of his superfine coat into its breathtaking depths. She was not surprised to see the squire’s covetous gaze rest on it often.
Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind Page 6
