Aggie nodded. “Very well, Bates. We shall go directly there.” She glanced at the monkey. “Perhaps you should call a footman to return Dillydums to the room. He does not do so well when his - when we are having a discussion.” It might be common knowledge that Dillydums couldn’t stand his lordship, but she did not intend to mention the matter to his servants.
“Yes, miss,” said Bates, taking the monkey from Cecilie.
“What do you suppose he wants?” asked Cecilie as they moved off down the hall.
“I’ve no idea,” replied Aggie. “But we shall soon know.”
She paused at the door to draw a deep breath. As always, the thought of seeing Denby was disturbing to her. She followed Cecilie into the room.
The Earl looked up from his desk. “Come in, ladies. Be seated. We have a matter to discuss.”
Aggie and Cecilie took the proffered seats and turned to the Earl in expectation. He drew up a chair facing them. “The come out was quite successful,” he said, “and has resulted in Cecilie receiving several offers.”
Cecilie caught her breath. “Wh-who?” she stammered.
The Earl did not seem to hear her. “So far you have received three offers. Two of them need no discussion. The men are not suitable and I dismissed them. The third, however, seems quite an eligible connection.”
“Who?” repeated Cecilie, by how having regained her breath.
“I am coming to that,” said the Earl patiently. “This man is eminently suitable. He has quite a lot of property. He has agreed to very favorable terms on the jointure in the event you are made a widow. He seems genuinely fond of you. I advise you to accept him.”
“His name!” cried Cecilie impatiently. “Tell me his name.”
“The Marquess Connors,” announced the Earl.
“No! No! No! I’ll never marry that -that-”
Aggie had expected some such outburst; still, she was startled by its vehemence. Could Cecilie never do things in an ordinary, reasonable way? Why couldn’t she say a simple no and let it go at that?
By now Cecilie was on her feet, dramatically clutching her handkerchief. “I’ll never marry such a man,” she declared again.
The Earl’s face clouded and his brows began to draw together. “Sit down, Cecilie. There is no need to give me a Cheltenham tragedy. Why don’t you like Connors?”
Cecilie resumed her seat with an aggrieved air of martyrdom. “He’s a stuffy old man,” she pouted. “All he did was lecture and scold about horses and the cost of racing.”
The Earl nodded. “He recently lost a bundle and swore off racing.”
“That’s hardly my fault,” said an affronted Cecilie. “Besides that, he’s an old, old man. Older even than you.”
A certain tightening around Denby’s mouth told Aggie that this hit had scored. “The man is not that old,” said his lordship. “I can’t send you off with some little lordling still tied to his papa’s purse strings.”
Cecilie stared at him defiantly. “I will not be married to some dreadful old man,” she cried angrily. “And you shall not make me. Not even if you lock me in the attic and feed me only bread and water!”
Aggie felt a giggle bubbling up in her throat; sometimes Cecilie’s dramatics were quite amusing. One look at his lordship’s face, however, caused her to swallow the giggle immediately.
“You are being quite ridiculous,” he said sternly. “I should do no such thing.” He paused and seemed to be contemplating even worse atrocities.
“Who were the other two?” asked Aggie in an effort to ease the strain.
“It doesn’t matter,” replied the Earl. “They were not at all suitable.”
Aggie nodded and was surprised to hear Cecilie say, “I think I have the right to decide that.”
“Cecilie, really. The Earl knows best about such things.” Couldn’t the girl tell his lordship was near to exploding? The way his dark brows drew together, the stiff erect way he sat in his chair, and the grim tightening of his mouth, certainly indicated as much.
“It’s my life,” insisted Cecilie. “And I have a right to know.”
The Earl shrugged. “So far as I know I am in charge here. As your guardian I am empowered to turn away anyone I please. The final decision is mine.”
“That’s not fair,” screamed Cecilie, again jumping to her feet and beginning to pace around the room in a distracted fashion. “I am the one who has to live with the man, aren’t I?” she demanded angrily.
“I have not overlooked that.” The Earl was obviously doing his best to keep his temper in hand. “But I know these two. They are both fortune hunters of the worst stripe. There is no way that I would let you marry either of them.” His black brows met in the line that indicated his anger. “The matter is closed. We will not discuss it further.” He glared at her until she resumed her seat.
But Cecilie was not cowed. Even as she sat there, she returned his glare defiantly.
The Earl spoke slowly, evenly, and his tones carried the greatest authority. “The Marquess is an honorable man. It ill behooves you to dismiss his suit so lightly.” He paused, fixing his eyes on her sternly. “The Marquess has requested permission to call. I have given it to him. You may expect him this afternoon.”
Cecilie’s chin jutted out stubbornly. “I won’t see him,” she declared angrily. “I despise the man.”
“You will see him,” the Earl replied harshly. “And behave civilly. Otherwise you will no longer have a monkey for a pet.”
Cecilie jumped to her feet, her face gone white at the threat. “You - you wouldn’t!” she cried in a voice that broke.
Aggie felt real concern for the girl. It was not Cecilie’s fault that she had always gotten her own way. This was quite a painful awakening for her. And his lordship was not helping at all with his tyrannical, highhanded ways.
“You mistake your man,” he said curtly, “if you think I make empty threats. I shall do anything necessary to getting you safely wed. Anything!”
The threat was quite real. Even Cecilie saw that. She faced him for one long moment while the tears rolled unheeded down her cheeks. When finally she spoke, her voice was strained. “You are a despicable man,” she declared. “Quite the most depraved and cruel person that I have ever had the misfortune to know.” And holding herself in wounded dignity she marched slowly from the room.
Aggie got to her feet to follow. Cecilie needed her now as she had never needed her before.
“Miss Trimble!” The Earl’s words rolled through the room like thunder. Automatically Aggie fell back into the chair, her heart pounding in her throat. This was ridiculous, she told herself, her annoyance growing. Just because he had bungled the thing, he thought he could yell at her.
She raised her eyes to his. “Yes, milord?” She deliberately kept her voice low and even in the hope that he would take a rebuke from it.
Whether he took the hint was impossible to say. He did, however, modulate his tone somewhat. “I wish to speak to you. You can go to Cecilie later.”
Aggie cast a look toward the door. In her present mood it was difficult to say what Cecilie might do. “I really should go to her -” she began.
Denby’s mask of composure slipped. “Later!” he snapped, his eyes flashing with pent-up anger. “I want to talk to you. Now.”
Aggie’s expression was not one of agreement, but she forced herself to nod. “Very well, milord. What do you want to talk about?”
He flashed her a look of pure rage. “About that idiot charge of yours! What else?”
Aggie felt her hackles rising. All this was his own fault. If he weren’t such a bully -”Cecilie is not an idiot,” she said.
The Earl grimaced as though in pain. “She certainly behaves like one! She’s impossible.”
He stared at her for several minutes while she searched her mind for some reply, but decided to make none. Rational discussion with a person in such a rage was well nigh impossible.
“Well, have you nothing to say?” he
demanded crossly. “I don’t know why you obstruct me like this. Surely the girl’s marriage will benefit you, too!”
Now Aggie’s hackles were really up. She rose quite steadily to her feet and returned his angry glare with one of her own. “You mistake yourself, milord. I do not obstruct your plans. You do that quite well yourself.” She continued to gaze into his blazing gray eyes, she had no other choice. She would not behave like some abject hireling.
He took a step toward her, but she held her ground. “What are you talking about?” he growled.
“Your tyrannical ways. It’s quite clear that you’ve never dealt with anyone like Cecilie before. But do you ask for advice or even try to figure out the best way to deal with her?” She had not thought his face could darken any further, but it did. She had never seen him so angry before, but suddenly she didn’t care. “Of course not,” she continued. “You merely go on in the same bullying manner, riding roughshod over everything in your way. Well,” she said, giving him a look of pity, “you’ve made a terrible mess of things. And it’s all your own conceited fault!” By the time she had finished this impassioned speech her bosom was heaving under the thin fabric gown and their eyes were locked in deadly combat.
It was with some surprise that Aggie realized the effect of her words, but it was too late now to take them back. Best just to leave him to his rage.
She turned toward the door, but he was there instantly, his hands gripping her upper arms cruelly. “Just a minute. You’re not going anywhere. Since you think you know so much, you tell me. How can Cecilie be handled?”
For some insane reason a picture of Lady Alicia sprang to life in Aggie’s head. “Surely a man like yourself,” she said caustically, “a man who’s been on the town these many years, knows that soft words and persuasion work better with young women than angry avowals of authority.” His face was very close to hers now and she felt her knees trembling with something akin to fear. But in spite of the fact that his fingers dug painfully into her arms, she was not physically afraid of him. This fear was of a different nature.
He stared at her for long seconds, his anger reflected in his eyes, his anger and something else she could not quite distinguish. When finally he spoke, there was a strained quality to his voice. “Soft words and persuasion,” he said gruffly. “And yet there are some women who reject even that.”
There is was again - that strange look in his eyes - of hurt. Yet how could that be? She had not hurt him. He was the one who had run away, left her without a word of explanation.
“You speak in riddles, milord,” she replied, making her voice as brisk as possible.
“Riddles, is it?” he snarled, pulling her sharply against his chest. “Soft words,” he repeated, his mouth against her hair. “And persuasion. They have gotten me nowhere at all.”
Her mind was a mass of confusion. He sounded almost as though he were speaking of the two of them. And he couldn’t be. She tried to wriggle free of his arms; the heat of his body, the male smell of him, the feel of his arms around her, all were causing her body to respond.
“Aggie!” he said, and the word was plea and groan combined. In her surprise she raised her eyes to his. There was only a brief moment when their gazes locked, but it was enough for Aggie to see what blazed there - desire. A shudder ran through her trembling body as she stood helpless in his arms. And then he bent his head and took her lips. Here was no softness, no persuasion. His mouth was hard and demanding, its pressure on hers insistent. She tried to fight him, to remain cold and impassive - a woman’s best defense in such a situation.
But she could not do it. Her own body rebelled against the constraints she tried to impose on it. There was no way she could fight both Denby and herself. It took all her effort to keep herself from throwing all judgment to the wind and giving herself up completely to him. She could not keep her lips from softening and opening under his, or her body from melting against his hardness. She did manage not to throw her arms around his neck in utter abandon. When finally he released her mouth, she felt drained of all resistance.
But then he looked down at her and a cruel smile twisted the lips that had just left hers. “It seems that there is more than one kind of persuasion,” he said sardonically.
Aggie was wrenched suddenly out of her ecstasy into a world of harsh reality. She drew herself up to her full height. “Release me,” she said in broken tones. “You have had your revenge. That should be sufficient.”
For a moment the anger in his eyes dissolved and she glimpsed again that look of pain. Then his eyes clouded over. It seemed that he was about to say something to her, something important, but a sudden knocking on the door caused him to drop his hands and abruptly back away. “Yes?” he barked.
The door opened to disclose a distraught Bates. “It’s the young lady, milord.”
The Earl frowned darkly. “What about her?”
“She’s gone, milord.” Bates made no attempt to hide his apprehension.
“Gone!” echoed Denby stupidly. “What do you mean - gone?”
Bates seemed about to wring his hands. “She came out of the library, milord. And she seemed quite angry. She swept up the stairs and came down again with the monkey. And then, milord,” he paused in obvious distress.
“Yes?”
The Earl’s tone was not encouraging, but Bates plunged on. “Then she went out.”
“Just like that - she went out,” bellowed the Earl. “And you didn’t stop her?”
Bates looked slightly affronted. “It was not my place to put hands on the young lady, milord.” He hesitated. “I sent Dunner after her, milord. He won’t let her come to harm. And Franklin went along, so he could come back and report where she went.”
Since his lordship seemed to have lapsed into a stunned silence, Aggie spoke. “You did well, Bates. Especially in such trying circumstances.”
The old butler sent her a grateful look. “Thank you, miss. I did the best I could.” His gaze returned to Denby, almost furtively.
His lordship seemed to gather his wits. “Yes, Bates. Well done. As soon as Franklin returns let me know.”
“Yes, milord.” Bates made his retreat.
Aggie turned her gaze on Denby. He was still frowning, his fine features distorted by his rage. “Well,” he said angrily, “what do I do now?”
Aggie considered. “You might send out and scour the streets,” she said, restraining herself from reminding him that all this could have been averted if he had not insisted on her staying with him. “Or you might sit here and wait for Franklin’s report.” She paused as a sudden thought struck her. “She might even come back herself. She could have just gone for a walk.”
It was obvious from the contortions of his handsome features that the Earl was fighting a battle with his anger. Finally he seemed to have conquered it enough to permit him to speak. “Do you really think that is possible?” He was unable to keep complete incredulity from his voice, but he was at least clearly sincere in his desire for her opinion.
Aggie felt herself suddenly very weary and sank into a chair. “I can’t really say. But it seems entirely possible. After all, where has she to go? She knows no one in the city. She has no funds. Perhaps after her anger fades she will realize that and return.” Wearily she leaned her head on her hand. Would they never get Cecilie well married so that she could escape this terrible round of frustration and pain?
The Earl spent some time in silence before he spoke again. “I hope to God you’re right. This city is full of the most wicked men. If she should fall into their hands -” He shuddered and sank into a chair.
“Don’t worry, milord.” Aggie found herself taking the role of comforter. “No one can hurt her with Dunner there.”
He shook his head. “I suppose not. Still, it’s hard work waiting.” He consulted his timepiece. “I’ll give her another hour, then I go to Bow Street.”
Aggie nodded. She was trying not to think of that, but to concentrate on the moment when Cecil
ie would be found. She must be found.
Some thirty minutes passed slowly by -so slowly that to Aggie they seemed like years. And then there was the sound of the door knocker. They looked at each other, but neither made a sound as they waited for whatever noises should reach them from the hall.
Finally Bates knocked discreetly.
“Come in,” said the Earl, his voice still gruff.
Bates entered beaming. “The young lady has returned, milord. I have prevailed upon her to wait in the hall.”
Denby nodded. “Send her in.”
Aggie sent him a quick glance. “Milord,” she began, but he cut her off with a look of utter outrage. Then Cecilie came in, wearing the peaceful smile of innocence.
“My, Aggie, are you and his lordship still talking?” She did not wait for a reply, and Aggie, at least, was clearly aware of the mischief in her eyes. “I took Dillydums for a walk. It’s the nicest kind of day out. I’m sorry I didn’t wear my bonnet. I do hope my nose won’t freckle, but I was rather in a blue funk and I wanted to escape before I did any damage to his lordship’s establishment.” She gave the Earl a quick glance, but did not pause for comment. “The weather was just beautiful and I walked out all my rage. In fact,” she said, smiling sweetly at the Earl, apparently oblivious to his fiercely frowning brows and the angry set of his mouth, “the walk cleared my mind. I see the error of my ways. You were quite right, milord. The poor Marquess deserves another chance. So if you’ve nothing more to discuss, I’ll just go up to my room and rest a little. Walking does tire one so.” And still wearing that sweet smile of innocence, she cast them each a quizzical glance, turned, and walked cheerfully from the room.
The Earl took one step after her and opened his mouth. But he closed it again with a sudden snap and stood silent until the sound of her footsteps had retreated down the hall. Then he threw Aggie a look of utter disgust. “I shall be out for dinner,” he said, his voice betraying the struggle it caused him to speak evenly. “Pray God I shall not have to see either of you until night after next when we go to Drury Lane.”
A Matter of Honor Page 8
