by Amanda Scott
“Indeed, ma’am, but I hope you will not disdain my escort as well.” He offered his arm, smiling when she placed her fingers lightly upon it, and nodded to Sarah to follow them, then adding, “Is your errand a complicated one, or do you merely come to exchange a book? I ask, because if it is the latter case, you appear to have left the book in your carriage.”
Brittany chuckled, then thanked her footman for opening the door of the shop. “You may await us at the carriage, John,” she added as she crossed the threshold of the cozy but seemingly unoccupied little bookstore. Smiling up at the marquess, she went on, “I hope my errand is not a complex one, sir. ’Tis merely to order new visiting cards for Mama.”
“I see.” Amusement softened the harshness of his features. “Since I am certain that the duchess usually hales Mr. Mitchell to Malmesbury House in order to make her wishes known to him, I conclude that there is need for haste. May I take your errand to mean that Lady Alicia has won the day?”
“As to that, I do not really know, for she was about to sustain an interview with Papa when I departed. I-I fear I did not remain to discover the outcome.”
“Coward,” he murmured. “Is he such an ogre then?”
“Not that, precisely. At least he has never seemed so to me. But he has a fiery temper, and Alicia has the knack of stirring it to its greatest heat.” She glanced around, noting that although Mr. Mitchell was still nowhere to be seen, Sarah stood behind them with her eyes demurely downcast. “I am sure we ought not to be discussing such matters here, sir.”
“No one is about,” he said, blandly discounting the maid. “Indeed, if you desire to make your needs known to the proprietor, I fear one of us will have to shout for him.”
“Sarah,” said Brittany, turning to the woman with a twinkling look, “do you see if you can rout out Mr. Mitchell before his lordship embarrasses us both.”
“Did you really think I would shout?” he asked when Sarah had disappeared through a curtain at the back of the book-littered shop.
“I know Tony wouldn’t hesitate to do so,” she confessed.
“Then Tony wants manners,” he informed her.
There was time for no more just then, because Sarah returned with the rotund Mr. Mitchell in tow. The little man’s face was beaming, though he expressed his dismay when he learned that Brittany had come on her mother’s behalf instead of sending a footman round to fetch him to the house. She explained that haste was necessary due to the duchess’s having overlooked the necessity to include the Lady Alicia’s name on her new visiting cards, whereupon he became all understanding and compliance. And, Brittany noted thankfully, he also remained remarkably devoid of curiosity.
“I’ll see to the matter myself this very day, ma’am. You may tell her grace that she shall have her new cards by this time tomorrow.”
Back on the pavement outside, Cheriton asked if he could relay her orders to the footman.
She smiled at him again. “John knows I mean to go on to the Strand, sir, ostensibly to look for a new bonnet, though I confess ’twas merely an excuse to get out of the house. I am indeed the coward you name me, for I dislike shouting or any other part of such scenes as develop when Papa decides that Alicia must be punished.”
“I am coming to think that your sister counts such scenes as necessary adjuncts to getting her own way. Most girls would tremble at the thought of bringing such fury as you describe down around their ears, but your sister seems to think it all part of forcing your father to give in to her wishes. Will he truly do so, do you think?”
“Oh, Mama seems assured of it, because Papa will wish to avoid scandal if he can. To send Alicia to Malmesbury Park or do anything else to keep her from the public eye would create just the sort of gossip he deplores. And if the patronesses were ever to discover that she had played them such a trick, there would be no end to it. Even Arabella and I might be barred. Papa will not allow that, so I am persuaded he must give in to Alicia, but not before he makes her suffer for defying him.”
The carriage door was open, and Sarah waited patiently. Cheriton offered his hand again, but before taking it, Brittany found herself asking almost shyly if she could drop him somewhere on her way.
“No need,” he responded. “In point of fact, I had intended to pay a morning call at Malmesbury House, because I remembered that her grace had expressed the intention of corresponding with my mother and I neglected to inform her that Mama is presently visiting my uncle and his wife near Bath. Since your mother will require her direction, I hoped that such an errand would see me past the doors before the onset of what I presume will be a host of afternoon callers, even though I can scarcely call myself a family member or even a close friend.”
“Of course you may count yourself our friend, sir. You are a close friend of Faringdon’s, are you not? And he is quite one of the family, or as near as makes no difference. Moreover, since you have found me out and since I really have no need of a new bonnet, there is little reason not to take you up with me, after all. I am quite certain the fireworks will have ended by now. Do come with us, and we will go straight back to Malmesbury House.” It did not occur to her that she might simply offer to relay his mama’s address to the duchess.
Cheriton bowed. “’Tis kind of you, ma’am, and I accept if for no other reason than to keep you from standing any longer on the pavement.”
She expected him to mention the fact that her beauty would draw the eye of every Bond Street beau and saunterer, but he said nothing of the kind. He merely offered his hand again. Now that she came to think of it, Cheriton had not once paid her a compliment. Nor had he flirted with her. Indeed, he had not so much as raised his quizzing glass to examine her. She told herself firmly that his behavior was refreshing, if a trifle unusual. From the carriage she watched as he offered his hand next to Sarah. Most gentlemen would simply have followed her into the carriage and left Sarah to see to herself. Brittany hid a smile when her maid pointedly took the seat beside her instead of the facing seat. That would teach him.
But Cheriton settled his long form onto the opposite seat without demur or, indeed, without the slightest sign that he knew he had been outmaneuvered. And with the doors closed upon them, Brittany no longer had thought for such things. She was suddenly too aware of the man’s presence in her carriage to think of anything else. The spacious interior seemed much too confining for three people, though she had often been driven quite comfortably with four. Now the air around them seemed to crackle, making it difficult to breathe, and the fine blond hairs on her arms stood on end. She had all she could do to keep from fidgeting like a child in church, but the feelings she experienced in the next few moments were anything but holy. What on earth, she wondered, was the matter with her that this man’s presence could disturb the repose of her mind in such a way?
“’Tis a well-sprung carriage,” said Cheriton appreciatively as the coachman gave his horses the office to start and the vehicle moved smoothly over the cobbles of Old Bond Street and turned into Grafton Street.
Brittany nodded, unable to think of a reply.
Cheriton smiled at her in such a way as to give her the odd notion that he read every thought passing through her mind. Still, there was warmth rather than amusement in his eyes, and she soon found herself relaxing again. When next he spoke, she was able to answer him with composure, and by the end of the short journey to Malmesbury House, she felt again as though they had been comfortable friends for many years.
As the carriage was drawing to a halt before the high, pedimented front entrance of the mansion, she noted that the tall entry doors were open and that her father’s butler was evidently having difficulty with a would-be caller. Then, even as awareness of what she was observing touched her mind, she recognized the gentleman who was angrily gesticulating at the top of the broad stone steps. Faringdon turned just then, recognized the carriage, and abandoned his discussion to run down the steps to meet her.
“I say, Brittany,” he said, snatching the c
arriage door open, “that stiff-rump says no one’s at home. Dash it all, don’t he know he can’t do that to morning callers? Hey, there, Cherry, that you? What are you doing in a closed carriage with my betrothed, you dog? Come down from there at once and I’ll teach you better manners.”
The footman had hopped down from his perch by then, but he was clearly hesitant to move forward with the earl blocking his way. Cheriton leaned toward Faringdon and spoke in an amused drawl, “Either step aside or let down the steps yourself, dear boy. ’Tis dashed unmannerly to keep a lady waiting.”
Abashed, Faringdon jumped back and signed for the footman to get about his business. Carefully straight-faced, the young man did as he was bid and Brittany followed the others from the carriage. It was Cheriton who assisted her, while Faringdon, ignoring the presence of three nearby servants as though they had been so many potted plants, continued to demand to know why he was being denied entrance to the ducal mansion.
“For, dash it all, Brittany, ’tis customary that morning callers be admitted without question. That sour old man simply keeps repeating that her grace ain’t at home when I know for a fact that she is. She never goes out on Thursday mornings unless Ravenwood’s in town, and if he were, I’d have heard of it, sure as check. And what are you doing riding about with Cherry, may I ask?”
“You may ask, certainly,” Brittany said calmly, “but I should infinitely prefer that you wait until we are within doors rather than make a gift of our affairs to the entire street.”
Faringdon, taking two steps backward as she moved toward him, waved away such petty concerns. “I suppose this is all that dashed Alicia’s fault, one way or another. If the duchess is prostrate, I am sure no one can blame her.”
“Tony, for the love of heaven, hold your tongue.”
“Get you inside, bantling,” recommended Cheriton, giving his friend a gentle push, “and pray, do not tread upon her ladyship’s feet as you go.”
With a snort, Faringdon turned toward the steps, at the top of which Pinchbeck waited patiently. Then, accepting Cheriton’s warning as a reminder that Brittany ought to go first, he glanced back ruefully and gestured for her to precede him. Whether he had also intended for the marquess to do so was open to question, but since Cheriton had retained his hold on Brittany’s hand and now, without comment, tucked it in the crook of his arm, clearly intending to escort her, the earl had little choice but to give way to them both as gracefully as he might.
Halfway up the stairs, Cheriton murmured quietly in her ear, “How discreet are your servants?”
She looked up at him, a small frown forming upon her brown. “Fortunately, those who might have overheard Tony are most discreet, sir. Their families have served ours for several centuries, and they are as proud of that fact as we are. But what possesses him? He is not usually so heedless.”
“Temper,” said Cheriton shortly. He could say no more, for they had reached the entrance and Pinchbeck was greeting them in his stately fashion.
“I must apologize, sir,” he said when Faringdon glared at him in passing, “I was merely obeying the mistress’s orders to deny her to everyone.”
“An oversight, I assure you, Tony,” Brittany said. “You will wish some refreshment, I believe. See to it, if you please, Pinchbeck, upstairs in the yellow drawing room. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I will go directly to Mama to inform her of your arrival. I am persuaded that she will wish to see you both.”
As the butler turned away, Cheriton spoke quietly, “Your mistress will accept a cup of tea with us I am certain, Pinchbeck.”
“Well, I don’t want tea, thank you,” said Faringdon testily.
“No, Tony.” The marquess spoke soothingly, though Brittany thought she could detect a note of amusement in his voice.
She smiled at him. “Pinchbeck will see to everything, sir, but it was kind of you to think of Mama’s needs.”
“’Twas your own I thought of, as well, ma’am,” he said matter-of-factly. “You will return with the duchess, will you not?”
Searching his face for some sign that he was flirting with her, Brittany saw nothing but calm there. He was not begging her to return, as many of her swains would most certainly have done; he was merely assuming that she would accompany her mother.
Cheriton returned her gaze with a steady one of his own, then raised an eyebrow as though he wondered why she had not answered him.
“Yes, sir,” she replied hastily. “I … of course, I will.” Her cheeks felt warm as she turned away, and she could not immediately comprehend the feelings within her breast. It was not until she was halfway up the grand stair, Sarah close upon her heels, that she realized her ego had been bruised, that it was embarrassment she was experiencing. Indeed, it was almost as though she had asked the marquess flat out if he was flirting with her and had been told to her head that such a notion had never occurred to him. But no such words had been exchanged between them. How, then, could her emotions be reacting in so distressing a fashion?
Moments later, in her mama’s sitting room, she pushed aside her own concerns, for the duchess, swathed in becoming lavender silk, sat staring unhappily out of the window that overlooked the main garden.
“Mama, what is it? Tony and Cheriton are below, and I told them you would see them, although Pinchbeck quite properly denied you to Tony before I arrived.”
The duchess turned quickly, her hands fluttering nervously as she held them up to welcome her daughter. “Oh, Brittany love, you are back. Can Mitchell oblige us? Your papa says Alicia is to go nowhere until my new cards arrive. Indeed, she is to keep to her bedchamber for three days, regardless, and I fear she will disobey him again unless we can persuade her not to do so. How could you have let her do this? You are the eldest now and must learn to accept your responsibilities. You ought to have stopped her.”
Having bent to kiss the duchess’s soft cheek, Brittany drew back and stared at her in astonishment. “Mama, how can you say so? You know perfectly well, for you have already said so, that none of us had the slightest knowledge of Alicia’s intentions.”
“Well, I know you have said so, and I am sure you have never given me any cause to believe you untruthful, but your papa says you ought to have noted signs that Alicia was bent upon mischief and made some effort to deter her. And, goodness knows, you girls usually know about one another’s affairs before anyone else does.”
Feeling her temper stir, Brittany opened her mouth to debate the point, but then, perversely, she recalled certain instances of Alicia’s behavior that ought to have alerted a more observant elder sister. Guilt replaced anger and she spoke contritely. “I am sorry if I failed you, Mama. Perhaps I ought to have paid greater heed to Alicia’s insistence that she would make her come-out this Season. I will do what I can to see that she obeys Papa’s orders now.”
“Oh, dear, I hope you may succeed. He will make life miserable for us all if you cannot.”
These words being hardly encouraging, Brittany had all she could do not to utter words in her own defense. But she knew they would do no good, that if anything they would merely distress her mother more. So instead, she repeated the information that there were callers below. “Do you come down to them, ma’am. Someone must speak to Tony. He is annoyed at having been denied the house.”
“Oh, dear, Pinchbeck ought to have known better,” said the duchess, gathering her skirts quickly. “I am persuaded that Faringdon counts himself quite one of the family, as indeed he should do by now. I will say all that is proper, my dear, of course.”
With her mother bent on performing her duty, Brittany believed she might relax again and followed the duchess downstairs with her poise restored. Thus it was that she was unprepared for Faringdon’s first words upon their entrance.
Leaping to his feet, he executed a slight bow and moved quickly forward to greet the duchess. “Ma’am, you can have no notion how worried I have been lest you might be laid down upon your bed and unable to see anyone. I trust his grace has
dealt properly with Alicia, and I promise you that I shall see to it that Brittany completely comprehends her own responsibility in this matter before this day grows very much longer. I have considered the matter at length and conclude that that is the greatest service I can perform for you at this difficult time.” He turned his stern gaze upon his startled betrothed. “You need not look so astonished, my dear. ’Tis your duty to see that Alicia behaves herself. Surely you must recognize that fact without my reminding you of it.”
“Perhaps,” suggested Cheriton, who had also risen to his feet, “her ladyship is surprised only by the fact that you have not waited until you might be private with her before introducing such a topic of discussion.”
Faringdon glanced at him impatiently. “I am sure I may speak openly before her mother, dash it all, Cherry.”
“Ah, but I am here, too, you see,” the marquess observed gently.
“Well, and what if you are? Not exactly a stranger, are you? Riding about in a carriage with her, weren’t you? And that’s another thing—”
“Jealous, Tony?”
Brittany had opened her mouth to tell the earl precisely what he could do with his reminders, but these last words from Cheriton stopped her. She stared at Faringdon.
But the earl wasn’t in the least discomposed.
“Jealous!” he snorted. “Why on earth should I be jealous? Just telling you it ain’t the thing, which you ought to know very well. Not that I mind, of course. Just like riding around with my brother, dash it all. Nothing more. Just trying to see to the proprieties. We don’t need any more scandal out of this house, not with young Alicia doing her possible to set the ton on its ear. I’d like to have a word with her, dashed if I wouldn’t.”
“Well, you cannot,” Brittany pointed out, amused now in spite of herself. “She wouldn’t listen to you anyway, Tony, and you ought to know as much. Here is our tea, Mama,” she added as the doors opened again to admit the butler and the young footman, William. “And perhaps we ought to allow Pinchbeck to admit other callers now, don’t you agree?”
