by Lynn Collum
The children drew near the parrots, but the wily birds, seeing captors approach, took to wing. They flew about the large room in great swooping dives. Emily remained standing with arms extended and continued to whistle.
At that moment, the door to the library opened and she was vaguely aware of two tall male forms silhouetted in the door. But she was fearful of taking her eyes off the circling and diving parrots. Knowing the danger, she called, “Close the door quickly or the birds will get out.” She heard the door click shut.
Just then Juno spread her red wings and swooped down at Emily, but at the last moment, with a soft flutter, the parrot gently lit on the lady’s extended left arm. Following suit, Janus circled one last time and glided to Emily’s right arm.
“You have done it, Miss Collins. Is she not splendid, Uncle?” Honoria called from the catwalk.
Emily’s gaze went immediately to the earl, looking handsome in his evening black. Her heart fluttered much like the birds’ great wings when the gentleman smiled at her, saying, “So she is, my dear niece.”
Embarrassed by the trembling which seemed to come unbidden to her knees, Emily drew her gaze to the second gentleman. He was a stranger, and from the look on his lined face, not one happy to be at Hawk’s Lair. Tall and greying, with gaunt features, the gentleman was dressed in a black evening coat and white waistcoat, but somehow looked less splendid than the earl despite the similarity in their attire.
As the birds’ talons dug into the white gloves which protected her arms, Emily suddenly realized she didn’t know what to do now that she had them. “I am not sure how splendid I am, for I cannot get down to put these two back where they belong.”
The earl stepped forward. “Jamie, Honoria, come down slowly. I feel certain the birds will allow you to put them back, since they have known you the longest.” The children came down the stairs and slowly made their way to where Miss Collins stood like a statue, praying the parrots didn’t take flight again.
The earl positioned them on either side of the desk. “Bend down, Miss Collins and the children will each take one of your feathered friends.”
Jamie and Honoria, long familiar with their pets, each extended an arm and the parrots stepped onto the new perches without the least fanfare. The children moved them to the cage and quickly closed the door once the birds were safely behind the bars.
The earl turned and grinned at Emily. “I won’t ask how this all came to be. It is what I have come to expect in my new life as guardian. May I assist you down, Miss Collins?”
Before Emily could say a word, the gentleman put his hands about her waist and lifted her to the floor as if she were as light as a dried leaf. Briefly his hands lingered, feeling warm through her gown as he gazed into her eyes and asked, “Are you unharmed? The birds didn’t scratch your arms?”
It took her a moment to gather her thoughts. As his hands dropped away, she took a step back and then made a great show of smoothing her gloves back into place. “Not a bit, my lord. I assure you, I am fine.”
The earl’s gaze lingered on her face for a moment longer before he seemed to come to his senses. “Then allow me to present you to the Marquess of Halcomb. My lord, Miss Emily Collins.”
The scowl on the older gentleman’s face was anything but welcoming. Despite his grim look, the marquess said all that was polite, even inquiring about her journey from Calcutta.
After several minutes of polite yet stilted conversation, Hawksworth said, “ ’Tis almost time to join the others. Would you be so kind as to return these imps to Nurse, Miss Collins, or shall I?”
Feeling uncomfortable under the marquess’s unwelcome stare, Emily assured the earl that she would be delighted to see the children safely to the nursery.
With a hug for their uncle and a polite bow to the new guest, the children exited the room, Emily following. In that moment before the library door closed behind her, Emily heard the marquess’s angry tones. “I am displeased with your conduct, Hawksworth. That woman—”
What else the gentleman said was lost as the oak portal clicked shut, but Emily was curious who this marquess was and what he had to do with the earl. She led the children up the stairs, but her mind was full of the strange undertones now present at the castle. Was she in some way to blame?
Whatever was the matter with her? She wondered. First his grandmother had seemed to take her in dislike, and now, so it would seem, had the marquess as well. Then that dark thought was lost as she remembered the exciting feel of the earl’s hands at her waist and the way the blood had rushed in her ears. She reminded herself that the gentleman was an accomplished rake. Doubtless the moment had affected him little.
Perhaps it was just as well that others had come. It would keep her from being too much alone in his lordship’s company and that might be the safest thing for her own well-being.
“I am displeased with your conduct, Hawksworth. That woman should be on her way to wherever it is she resides. It is an insult to my daughter that you—”
“My lord”—the earl’s back stiffened at the rebuke, his face becoming a frigid mask—“I think you forget that whatever plans you and my grandmother have laid are just that—yours. I am fully prepared to admire your daughter and give my grandmother’s wishes due consideration. Beyond that I make no promises. My first consideration at this time must be my wards and seeing them comfortably settled in their new home.”
Oliver felt a brief twinge of guilt to be using the children to dodge his grandmother’s plans, but in truth, he knew he had come to care about their welfare.
The marquess’s face grew red. “Do you have any—” At that moment the library door opened and Sam stepped in, butterfly net in hand. “Sorry, my lord, didn’t know you was in here. Just came to—” Seeing the birds back in their cage, he bowed. “Miss Collins got them creatures back where they belong. She’s a right ’un.”
Hawksworth, not wishing a prolonged argument with his guest, moved to the doorway. “Sam, see that my papers are picked up and put back on my desk.” Looking back at the marquess, the earl added, “I think we have said all we need to for now. Shall we go to the drawing room and await the ladies, my lord?”
A glowering marquess marched past his host out of the library. “Think I’d best see how my daughter’s health is after the journey here.”
Halcomb wasn’t happy with the earl’s declaration, but he was not prepared to give up. Cora had her heart set on being a countess and that was what she would be. He knew that with a little luck and the dowager’s help, they would still see an engagement before they departed Hawk’s Lair.
Eight
Lady Cora Lane was a Diamond of the First Water. It had been an acknowledged fact in the ton these five years. Guinea-gold curls framed a heart-shaped face of porcelain-white skin. Her aqua-blue eyes were large, with long brown lashes and delicately arched brows, her ruby lips full above a tilt-tipped nose. There were few who did not own that the marquess’s daughter would have rivaled the goddesses of legend. Unfortunately, upon closer acquaintance, there were few whose opinion of the lady could be found to be as high as her own.
She’d arrived in London at the tender age of eighteen with the advantages of birth, beauty and fortune. Alas for her marital hopes, her sharp tongue and arrogance soon drove all but the most desperate fortune hunters to seek out the lesser lights of the Season.
Lady Cora had gone home from that first Season unbetrothed, but convinced it was only because of the paltry number of eligible candidates. Yet the results of successive Seasons had ultimately been the same.
Having reached the advanced age of three-and-twenty unwed, the lady’s desperation had added a shrewishness to her manner. Her father had begun to fear that his beautiful daughter would be left on the shelf, which meant she would be under his roof, wreaking havoc on his peace, for a lifetime. Then salvation had come in the form of the Dowager Countess of Hawksworth, who’d hinted of arranging a marriage of convenience with her raffish grandson.
/> Lady Cora knew of the earl’s unsavory reputation, but his wealth and impeccable lineage made him a perfect husband in her opinion. In truth, she was completely content with the notion that he would keep a mistress and not bother her, so she’d made up her mind that the thing she wanted most was to be Countess of Hawksworth.
Presently the lady was lounging on a day bed in her elegantly appointed room in the west wing, attempting to recover from the rigors of the journey south. Her maid, having just returned from below stairs with tea and toast, was unpacking the numerous trunks and imparting all the gossip she’d gleaned from the castle servants about his lordship.
Lady Cora was now aware that Hawk’s Lair was a bit topsy-turvy because of the arrival of several children and females from India, some relations of the earl. Certain that these people had nothing to do with her, she put the matter from her mind.
A sharp knock caused Maggie to fall silent as Lady Cora signaled her to the door. Lord Halcomb entered his daughter’s room and ordered the maid gone in a gruff voice.
Lady Cora sat up, taking note that her father’s face looked a thundercloud. “Whatever is the matter, Papa?”
“Why are you not dressed, child?”
“There is no rush. Besides, I thought to make an entrance in my new blue sarcenet gown with the white beading. The cut of the dress complements my—”
“Don’t be talking about your fripperies, girl. I just spoke with Hawksworth, and matters are not as settled as the dowager would have us believe.”
Lady Cora’s cheeks blanched white. “What do you mean? I am to be the countess. You said so. I demand you keep your promise.”
Lord Halcomb eyed his daughter warily. The one thing he didn’t want was a tantrum for all to hear. “And so I shall, my little dove, if I have anything to say about the matter. But remember, you have never formally met the earl, nor he you. He seems to feel there should be a period of acquaintance before anything definite is decided. Problem is that he’s just acquired his brother’s children and seems much involved in his role as guardian.”
“Children!” Lady Cora said the word as if she spoke of some vile affliction. “You know how I dislike them, Papa. The noise, the dirt, and their flying about from one mischief to another. Why, I had to cut Lady Albina from my acquaintance due to her forever wishing to display those dreadful boys every time one paid a visit. I simply cannot abide children.”
In truth, it had been the baroness who’d ceased to invite Lady Cora after the young lady had remarked on the children looking rather like monkeys with all that dark hair and forever climbing about in the trees outside the drawing room.
Halcomb wagged his finger at his daughter. “You will not only abide these children, my dear, you will convince the earl they are the dearest things in nature, if you take my advice. I would never have thought it, but London’s most notorious rake seems to actually like the little monsters.”
“But, Papa, I cannot!” The lady rose from the daybed, a hint of tears filling her lovely eyes.
The marquess was not the least bit swayed, for he’d seen such a display over as simple a matter as his refusal to purchase a new fan. He took her by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “You must be guided by me, child. None of your high-in-the-instep manners or ill-advised tantrums here. You must be all politeness to the earl and his guests.”
A look of horror crossed Lady Cora’s beautiful face. “But Papa, Maggie says there are several hurly-burly females presently staying at the castle just returned from India without so much as a gentleman to escort them. Not to mention a barbaric Scotsman. You cannot think I should unbend myself to take notice of such inferior sorts.”
“Do you wish to be a countess?”
She gave a vigorous nod of her head, her blond curls bouncing.
“Then you will condescend to make yourself agreeable to Hawksworth’s guests and his wards. There will be time enough after the wedding to have things to your own liking. Now get dressed at once. There is no time to waste.” With that the marquess left the room.
Oliver lifted the cut-crystal top off the decanter and poured out a good measure of brandy. Taking his glass, he moved to the window of the drawing room to stare out at the darkness, which seemed to perfectly reflect his present mood. What had he been thinking to agree to his grandmother’s suggestion of a marriage to a female he’d never been introduced to? If the surly Lord Halcomb was any indication, he was likely to take a dislike to Lady Cora on sight.
He swirled the amber liquid, knowing that due to the dowager’s interference, he must at least give the lady a fair chance. While he’d made no declarations, his promise to his grandfather still hung over him like an executioner’s sword. No doubt Lady Cora was as suitable as any female and had the advantage of birth and fortune, which seemed so important to his grandmother.
Then his thoughts turned to another female. He remembered the feel of Miss Collins’s slender waist as he’d lifted her from his desk and his lusty response. There had been such a rush of desire that he’d had to resist the urge to pull her to him and kiss her lovely mouth.
Abruptly he put down his brandy. He’d promised his grandmother to give the idea of marrying Lady Cora a proper chance. He had no business having thoughts about Miss Collins when his mind should rightly be turned to the matter of his prospective fiancée.
To the earl’s relief, the door to the drawing room opened, and Sir Ethan stepped into the room. The men fell into idle conversation until the next guests arrived. As the marquess and his daughter entered the room, Oliver felt the muscles in his stomach tighten, although he wasn’t certain why.
As the introductions were made, he took his first good look at the woman his grandmother had deemed a suitable match. There could be no denying that she was a beauty. Her blond curls were drawn away from her lovely face and decorated with two small blue plumes complementing her aqua eyes, which surveyed him frankly. She would certainly be a woman that a man would be proud to have on his arm. Then the memory of the violent quarrels between his father and stepmother flooded his mind, and Oliver knew there was much more to marriage than social appearances.
“My lord,” Lady Cora said, offering her hand as she smiled up at him engagingly. “I hope you will forgive my positively hagged appearance, but I fear the journey from London rather shattered my nerves.”
Oliver was certain she could have little doubt about the excellence of her looks and was forced to suppress a frown as he wondered if she was the kind of female always fishing for compliments.
“If you were any more lovely this evening, Lady Cora, the very angels in heaven would weep.” Oliver kissed the proffered hand, but found that he said the words mechanically, without the least attraction to this veritable goddess.
The lady twittered girlishly. “I do believe all I have heard of you, sir, is quite true.”
“Heard?” Oliver asked warily.
“That you are charming as well as handsome, my lord.”
Sir Ethan, well aware of the earl’s dislike of toadying, remarked, “Bless me, lass, if that’s all you’ve heard of my friend, he can count himself lucky.”
Oliver frowned a warning at the baronet, then ushered the marquess and his daughter to a sofa near the fireplace. They were soon joined by Lady Hawksworth, dressed regally in dark red, then Mrs. Keaton and Miss Collins, both lovely in varying shades of pink.
Lady Cora, after condescending to offer two fingers of her hand for the ladies to shake at being introduced, soon dominated the conversation. She paid scant heed to anyone but his lordship, announcing that she found everything at the castle to her liking. Then she went on to inform them that it was only matched by the splendor of her father’s manor in Surrey.
During the lady’s rambling discourse, the marquess closely watched Hawksworth’s reaction to both his daughter and Miss Collins. He liked neither look. For Cora there was mere polite interest, but for Miss Collins there were intimate smiles.
Oblivious to all but herself,
Lady Cora began to discuss the latest on-dits in Society, but Lord Halcomb stepped in to change the direction of the conversation. He determined to drop a flea in his daughter’s ear about letting her tongue run on wheels.
“What are your plans for your wards, my lord?” The marquess gave the countess a conspiratory smile, knowing from their earlier conversation that the lady was still dedicated to the proposed match.
“Plans?” Oliver frowned at Halcomb.
“Are they to remain at the castle, to be sent to a proper school or do you intend to bring them to London?”
Very aware of Miss Collins’s intent gaze upon him, the earl replied, “I believe they have had enough upheaval in their lives this year. For the present they will remain here. I intend, with Miss Collins’s help, to interview several applicants for the position of governess.”
“Miss Collins!” The voices of Lord Halcomb, Lady Cora and Lady Hawksworth echoed together.
Emily felt her cheeks warm at the hostile looks turned in her direction. She suddenly wished she were anyplace but in his lordship’s drawing room. Why ever did they all dislike her so?
Coming to the lady’s defense, the earl said, “Both Miss Collins and Mrs. Keaton have been generous with their time, helping me settle the children in the castle, assisting with new wardrobes for the cold weather and caring for the children while I find proper servants. Guardianship of very young ones is not a matter most bachelors handle easily.”
At that moment Bedows arrived to announce dinner. The party moved to the huge dining room, where painted cherubs looked down upon the gathering. Emily was glad they were mere wood and paint, for she felt certain that otherwise they too would be hurling arrows at her.
