And then, while Aggie still stood stunned, he stormed from the room, yelling for Bates as he went.
Aggie sighed heavily. Incredible as it seemed, Cecilie had won this round. But she could not continue to do so. And the brash way in which she had covered her infraction of the rules... The Earl would not take well to being gulled by a woman, especially one not yet full grown. With another sigh Aggie turned toward the door. She must go and talk to her ward, but what she would say was beyond imagining.
Chapter Eight
The next hours were difficult ones for Aggie. Part of her could not help rejoicing in the fact that a mere chit like Cecilie should have managed to thwart his lordship as she had, but another part of her could not help but sympathize with Denby. She, too, had had her moments of frustration and anger over Cecilie’s behavior. But eventually she had learned the best ways to manage the girl. It could not be expected, however, that Denby would take such a subtle approach. His lordship seemed to feel that he knew how to handle everything.
From time to time Cecilie would giggle and remark about the stupid look on his lordship’s face when she returned. To all this Aggie turned a deaf ear, merely keeping her attention on her needlework. Only once did she comment. “The Earl is not a man to be trifled with. You should not antagonize him deliberately.”
Cecilie’s eyes widened with that look of innocence she did so well. “But Aggie, I only spoke the truth. I was really hipped. You wouldn’t want me to throw things, would you?”
“Of course not. Such behavior is extremely unladylike.”
“Well then,” said Cecilie as though that settled it, “you must see that I had to go for a walk.”
Aggie did not see this. However, it seemed rather useless to say so. “You could at least have worn your bonnet and gloves.”
“Oh, Aggie, I was too hipped to think of things like that! You know, you should have seen the expression on Bates’s face. He knew he couldn’t stop me.” Her eyes gleamed at the memory. “I just sailed past him big as life.”
Aggie did not smile. “You will not make yourself popular with the servants by putting them in such delicate positions.”
“Oh pooh!” said Cecilie, tickling the monkey with a feather from the comforter and giggling at the antics this inspired in the little beast. “You are becoming stuffy. If the Earl yells at his servants because they can’t stop me from taking a walk, that’s not my fault. He’s just mean.” And she made a face. “One of these days I shall be married and then the Earl won’t be able to tell me what to do. And if he comes anywhere near me, I shall cut him dead. Papa taught me how.” And she stared through the imaginary Denby with an iciness that made Aggie smile.
“In order to be married you must find a husband,” Aggie reminded her charge. “Are you quite sure the Marquess is unsuitable?” She asked the question very quietly, trying not to drive the girl further into her antagonism.
Cecilie sighed. “I know you are being patient with me, Aggie, but truly the man is dreadful bore. The only thing he can do well is dance.” She turned to Aggie with a mischievous smile. “And didn’t you tell me that marriage must be based on something more than the ability to dance well?”
“Of course I did,” replied Aggie. “But you well know I had in mind something a little more important than dancing - or riding.”
Cecilie’s smile broadened and a giggle bubbled from her throat. “You also told me it would be impossible to find out about chests.”
Aggie’s smile faded. The vision of Denby’s bare chest appeared far too often in her mind as it was. “Cecilie! I know that you think this whole matter quite amusing. But you must consider that marriage is a serious business. You are deciding on a partner for life.”
“That is precisely why I cannot be leg-shackled to a perfect block like the Marquess,” replied Cecilie. Then, seeing Aggie’s expression, she hurried on. “But I will receive him. And I’ll be polite. Surely that will satisfy his lordship.”
Aggie was not too sure of this, but she did not think it wise to say so. Let Cecilie make whatever conciliatory amends she could. In his present mood the Earl was not going to be easy to placate. She swallowed a sigh. How differently she had once planned her future. Back in those beautiful days she had envisioned a life of love and happiness with Denby beside her. Well, she told herself, perhaps she should consider herself lucky. Denby was not the man she had thought him. He was arrogant and tyrannical; witness his behavior with Cecilie.
Yet, angry as she was with him, Aggie knew that in all fairness he could not be blamed for flying up in the boughs over Cecilie’s behavior. She had certainly been frustrated, irritated, and driven almost to distraction by her charge’s waywardness, especially during her early days as companion when she had not yet discovered the best way of subtly guiding her. And the Earl was a man - and a lord. He was used to everyone doing his bidding. He must find Cecilie’s pranks particularly galling.
It was only thirty minutes later that Bates announced the Marquess. Cecilie gave her curls a quick brush and turned to her companion. “At least we won’t have to worry much about conversation. The Marquess talks enough for ten.”
Moments later they entered the drawing room. The Marquess rose and bowed stiffly over Cecilie’s fingers. “Ahhhhh, Miss Winthrop. What a pleasure to see you again. You are looking extraordinarily well.”
Cecilie acknowledged this with a small nod. “Please be seated, milord.”
Aggie, watching everything, suppressed another sigh. When she wanted to, Cecilie could play the grand lady quite well. She was not at all sure, however, how long Cecilie would want to.
“I hope you have had a pleasant several days since your gala occasion,” said the Marquess.
Cecilie nodded, but did not reply. The Marquess seemed a little perturbed by her lack of response. Evidently he saw drawing room conversation as a very set form, in which one made a remark and then the other. Rather like a game of ball between two children, thought Aggie.
There were some moments of silence during which Aggie devoted herself to her needlework, Cecilie considered her fingernails, and the Marquess grew increasingly ill at ease.
Finally the Marquess cleared his throat. “Ahhhh, Miss Winthrop, is there anything you wish to know? That is - about me?” He concluded this by putting his gloved fingertips together in a tentlike shape and looking rather smug, as though anything she might wish to know was sure to redound to his credit.
The question caught Aggie by surprise and she pricked her finger and swallowed a silent ouch. Surely Cecilie would not ask - not of the Marquess, a man she had already decided against.
Demurely Cecilie raised wide eyes. “Yes, milord, there is one thing I should like to know.”
“Speak, my dear, speak.” The Marquess positively beamed, the expression sitting rather incongruously on his usually sober face.
“I should like to know if you have -”
Aggie bit her bottom lip to keep back a cry.
“Many animals,” continued Cecilie sweetly.
Aggie let her breath out slowly.
“Animals?” The Marquess seemed puzzled.
“Animals,” repeated Cecilie. “Dogs, cats, monkeys.” Her eyes widened even further. “I am quite fond of animals, you see. Have you a country estate? I believe I should like that best - to live on an estate like Oatlands. How wonderful it must be - to live as the Duchess of York, surrounded by dogs, cats, monkeys, birds; all sorts of rare beasts. I’m sure you would never complain as the Duke does, though good-naturedly to be sure, that all the chairs are filled with animals. After all, what does a little shedding hair matter? Your valet can be sure that it doesn’t stick to your clothes.”
The Marquess sat through this monologue with the stunned expression of a man who has just seen a vision of loveliness turn into a monster. It was clearly apparent to Aggie that no amount of blunt or beauty would ever persuade the Marquess to ally himself with a woman who expected such an establishment.
“I know!
” said Cecilie, jumping to her feet. “I shall go get Dillydums, so you can see him. He’s just an adorable little thing.”
The Marquess suddenly found his tongue. “Really, Miss Winthrop, that is not at all necessary.”
“I’m sure you will just love him,” prattled Cecilie. “I know you will,” she said with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll make an excellent husband, loving animals as you do. We shall deal so well together. You do like animals, don’t you, milord?”
A dazed Marquess got to his feet and nodded. “Yes, yes, of course. You must excuse me, Miss Winthrop. I have just remembered a most important engagement. Can’t imagine how it slipped my mind.” And he kissed her fingertips and departed as hastily as dignity and decorum would permit.
The two women stood in silence until they heard the sound of the massive front door closing. Then Cecilie broke into whoops of laughter. “Oh Aggie, did you see his face? Did you? Oh, the poor, poor man. I must have given him a terrible fright.” And she began to laugh so hard that for a time she could not speak.
Aggie fought to hold back her own laughter. The Marquess had been amusing, but it would not be at all funny when news of this reached the Earl, as inevitably it would. She said as much to Cecilie.
“But Aggie,” the girl replied, wiping hastily at her eyes, “I did everything I said I would. I received the Marquess. I was polite and attentive.” A mischievous smile lit her face. “I answered all his questions.”
“And you frightened the poor man nearly to death,” commented Aggie dryly.
Cecilie grinned. “He did seem rather disturbed. But I only told him the truth.” Her smile softened and she closed her eyes as though to better envision her dream. “You know, Aggie, I’ve always loved animals. It would be so wonderful to have as many as I want. All kinds.” A blissful smile lit her face as she slid further into her dream.
“That makes a nice dream,” Aggie replied, realizing that her charge spoke the truth. “But you must think, dear. Animals are nice, but they must be fed and cared for. And they do cause a certain amount of confusion.”
“Yes, yes. I know.” Cecilie brushed this aside. “But that is nothing if one has money. And, after all,” her eyes danced merrily, “why else should one marry?”
“There is such a thing as love,” Aggie remarked quietly, aware suddenly that a great lump had risen in her throat as she spoke.
“Love.” Cecilie said the word as she might have said fever or grief, as though it signified an experience entirely unknown to her. “I don’t know that I want to feel love. From what I have read it may be a terrible nuisance.” Cecilie’s small nose wrinkled at the thought. “I really think that it’s much more sensible to love animals. In the first place, they are just about sure to return your love. And they don’t go about picking and pecking at everything one does. They are always there when you need them. Not gallivanting about at a hunt or rushing off to some gaming club.” Cecilie’s face darkened in a frown. “If only Papa had left my funds to my own management. Then I might never have married. But now...” She sighed deeply. “With his lordship the way he is, I suppose I really have no choice in the matter.”
“Even if his lordship were not - your guardian,” said Aggie, “you should still want a husband. The world is not a good place for a woman alone.”
Miss Winthrop’s eyes grew concerned. “Why did you never marry, Aggie?” she asked softly.
The question caught Aggie by surprise and for a moment she was unable to answer. Finally she mustered her wits enough to mumble, “I had only one Season.”
“One is enough, Aggie. You’re still very beautiful. You must have been a real stunner then. There must have been many men making offers for you.”
Aggie smiled slightly, her composure regained. Obviously Cecilie knew nothing of what had occurred between his lordship and her companion. “Not many, but some,” she replied.
“Then why didn’t you choose one?” asked Cecilie.
“There were none that I could love,” Aggie said. “And I knew that I could marry for no other reason. Also, at that time I thought my papa well off. I believed I would have another Season to find a husband in. But then my papa died. And there were no more young men.”
Cecilie’s white forehead wrinkled in a frown. “See? When you had no substance, they all deserted you.”
Aggie looked at her charge thoughtfully. “That is the way of the world, Cecilie. There is nothing unusual about it.”
“I don’t know about love,” said Cecilie. “What made you think you must have that?”
Aggie made no answer. She could not tell Cecilie the truth, but, as the girl’s keen eyes focused on her, she felt the scarlet flooding her face. For a long moment there was silence in the room. Then Cecilie’s face took on an expression of awe. “Oh, Aggie,” she whispered, “I see it all now. You loved someone. Do not deny it. It’s written on your face. Oh, Aggie, what happened?”
Aggie tried to collect her chaotic thoughts. Clearly she couldn’t tell Cecilie the truth; it would be unwise for her to know about the Earl. It could do nothing but make her more outraged at him. But it was obvious that she expected her companion to say something. “I - I did love someone, Cecilie, but it is very painful to talk about. I - the man I chose did not deserve my love.” A vision of Denby’s dark brooding face rose to haunt her. What she said was true. Of course, his treatment of Cecilie did not really damage him in her eyes. He was a strong-minded man and used to running things. It was his disappearance that had made him unworthy of her regard. How many long and sleepless nights she had spent puzzling over it. Even now she found it incomprehensible; to have spoken to her as he had, to have led her on in that cruel fashion. But no matter. The past was over - finished. Denby had no place in her future except as Cecilie’s guardian.
A soft hand enclosed her own. “I’m sorry, Aggie,” the girl whispered. “I see that it still hurts. I’m very sorry.”
Blinking rapidly, Aggie held back the tears. “It’s all right, my dear. I managed to survive it.”
Cecilie shook her head vehemently, almost dislodging a pink bow perched among her curls. “It’s just not fair. I don’t think I shall want to be in love. It looks entirely too painful. I shall just look for someone I can like. A good dancer, a crack horseman, someone who likes animals -”
She paused as though about to continue, but Aggie interrupted. “It seems sensible to follow such a course, my dear. Quite possibly you are right. As long as you have some affection for the man of your choice. After all, he is to be the father of your children.”
This caused Cecilie to pause. “Children! Of course. Oh dear, my list of requirements is getting rather long, I fear. But surely a man who like animals will like children, shouldn’t you think?”
“Perhaps,” said Aggie. “But I should not like to depend upon it. Men can be quite strange creat-”
The door to the drawing room opened suddenly. The Earl stood in the doorway and he did not appear at all pleased. He was wearing a blue coat with brass buttons, breeches of cream kerseymere, top boots, and a deep stiff cravat. He paused a moment, raking them over with his eyes.
Aggie saw clearly that he was angry, quite angry. His brows already met in the dark line that portended trouble and the set of his jaw was grim. “So...” he said and the word hung in the air like the most ominous of threats.
“Good day, milord,” Aggie forced herself to say.
“It has not been a good day for me,” he snapped. “I do not know why I had to be chosen for such a task.” He swung on them, his frown deepening. “I had thought someone here might have at least a modicum of sense.” His eyes pinned Aggie.
She forced herself to remain calm. “Milord,” she replied, “what has happened to anger you so?”
“I was returning home to change for my dinner engagement,” he said, fighting to control himself. “And as we turned the corner at the Square, Connors came by in an open carriage. The man looked positively ill. His face was almost green.” He pau
sed to glare at Cecilie. “I stopped my rig to inquire about his health. And I heard such a tale that my blood ran cold. The man was gibbering almost insanely and in such shock that it took me some time to calm him. Finally, I succeeded in prying from him some nonsense about Cecilie’s multitudes of animals and the fact that he was not York and could not allow his wife to set up to rival Wombwell’s Menagerie. At first, I couldn’t make head nor tail of any of it, but finally I got the sense of the thing. Cecilie was up to her old tricks.” He paused before the culprit and glared down at her.
Aggie had to give her ward credit; Cecilie did not quiver under the intensity of those blazing eyes. She faced the Earl calmly.
There was a moment of silence, the room quiet except for the sound of the Earl’s heavy breathing. “Well?” he snapped. “What have you to say for yourself?”
Cecilie’s back was stiffly erect, but her tone was quiet. “The Marquess is a strange man, milord. I treated him quite politely, I assure you. You can ask Aggie.”
“The Marquess is not that strange,” the Earl declared hotly, not at all placated. “Exactly what did you say to the man?”
“He asked if I had any questions,” Cecilie replied. “And so I asked him if he liked animals.”
Denby scowled. “There was more to it than that. What’s this about York and Wombwell’s?”
Cecilie’s face wore an expression of aggrieved innocence. “I only told him how much I enjoyed Oatlands and the Duchess’s animals. We did not mention Wombwell’s at all. Though I should like to see it. Did we, Aggie?”
As the Earl’s eyes swung round to her, Aggie wished devoutly that she were somewhere else, anywhere else. “There was no discussion of Wombwell’s,” she said. “And Cecilie’s account is essentially correct. The Marquess did ask her if she had any questions and she did ask him if he liked animals.”
“I see.” Denby glowered at her, but she refused to drop her eyes, though her heart thudded painfully.
“Well, you certainly did a job on the man!” He paused for a moment as though to control himself. “He withdrew his offer of marriage. Said he didn’t want a wife after all. He’s going back to his country estate, which is remarkably free of animals!”
A Matter of Honor Page 9
