by Joan Smith
As soon as Auntie had satisfied her curiosity, she gave Robert a conspiratorial nod and said, “Can you come along upstairs with me, Lollie? I want you to move my dresser. I bump it every time I turn around.”
“I’ll call George,” he said, unaware of her effort to leave Robert and myself alone.
“It will take both of you,” she insisted, adding such grimaces and squints and nods that Lollie finally figured out something was afoot, though he still didn’t know exactly what.
I heard him say, “What ails you, Aunt Maude? Is your liver acting up?” as they left.
“Alone at last,” Robert said, and came to join me on the sofa by the cold grate. He seized my hand. “Now where were we this morning when we were so rudely interrupted?”
I assumed an air of artful confusion, for I was suddenly overcome by a fit of bashfulness as the fateful moment was upon me. “There was something you wanted to say, but you didn’t think a graveyard the proper place,” I said vaguely.
“So there was. Now what was it, I wonder?” he asked with a weighty frown.
“Robert! You were going to propose!”
“Ah, that was it! It slipped my mind.”
“Oh, you beast!” I tried to wrench my hand away.
He grabbed my fingers and squeezed them. “Goose! You know what I want to say.”
“Well, for goodness’ sake, say it then.” Impatience and nervousness lent a sharp edge to my words.
“Somehow this isn’t exactly the mood I had hoped to establish. I envisaged a rose garden, moonlight, and romance—not a scowl and a push.” I smiled at the folly of love, arguing at such a precious moment.
“That’s better,” he said softly, and drew my hand to his lips for a kiss. “Miss Talbot. I am very much in love with you. Will you do me the honor to be my wife?”
I was thrilled to death, but just a little disappointed at the stilted phrases. I just looked, and he continued, “Madly, passionately in love with you since the first moment I saw you sketching in the garden, with the tip of your tongue caught between your teeth and your gown spattered with paint. ‘Now there is the very elegant creature to lend you a touch of class at Belview, Robert, my lad,’ I said to myself. I shall love you forever and ever, till the oceans run dry. And if you dare to say no after leading me on scandalously for a whole week—”
“I didn’t lead you on! For half the time I thought you were a thief!”
“But you were still interested. I can tell a hawk from a handsaw, miss!”
“I am neither a hawk nor a handsaw, sir.”
“A little something of the hawk when you’re angry, my pet, but never mind. I’m feeling hawkish myself, I like a lady of spirit. How does a gentleman hawk propose to a lady hawk, I wonder? My wits are gone begging. We birds of prey don’t ask. We take.”
On that warning he snatched me into his arms for a most predatory and satisfactory embrace. The hawks were tamed to cooing doves before it was over.
At its conclusion he looked as dazed as I felt. He said in a husky voice that was trying to sound playful, “I consider myself quite compromised, Miss Talbot. If you don’t want to find yourself saddled with a breach of promise suit, you will send the notices into the journals tomorrow at the latest. I shall have to be in London for a few days, which will allow you time to prepare your finest feathers for the nuptials.”
“Will we be living in London or at your hops farm?”
“Oh, good, you said we. I take that as an acceptance. We shall be living in both places. I must spend some time at Belview. We’ll be staying at the London house for the Season, of course, and from time to time when His Majesty has a little job for me to do. You won’t mind?”
“I should adore London.”
“There’s just one little thing ...” He gave me a look that was tinged with fear.
“You’re not planning to go back to the Peninsula!”
“No, not that. It’s Isaiah. I’ve asked him to, er, cmwthuz,”
“I beg your pardon? I didn’t understand—”
“I’ve asked him to come with us,” he said in an unnaturally loud voice, and rushed on with his explanation. “I am responsible for his behavior, you see. In order to keep him out of jail, I undertook to make myself responsible for him.”
He obviously expected me to rip up at this. I had already deduced something of the sort and approved. Being a rational lady, I also had a few reservations. “That should keep things lively,” I said.
There was a racket at the doorway. Isaiah appeared in a clean white shirt that was several sizes too small, threadbare trousers the same, and bare feet. Both body and hair had been washed, however. I never realized he had such brilliant hair. It was as red and shiny as polished copper. For Isaiah, he looked extremely elegant.
“I had a baff,” he announced proudly. His freckles stood out like beacons on the bridge of his nose. “Will this outfit do for Lunnon, Colonel?”
“That will do splendidly until we get you into livery,” Robert replied.
“Liv’ry!” His eyes bulged from their sockets. “You mean a jacket with tails and silk stockings and all?”
“Yes, that is my meaning.”
“Gor blimey. Will I get to ... have to wear shoes as well?”
“The streets of London are hard. I’m afraid you’ll have to wear shoes.”
“Gor blimey!” he said again. Such a beatific smile alit on his freckled face that I hardly recognized him. I had never seen Isaiah actually smile before. I had often seen his impish grin, but there was more mischief than pleasure in it. This was a real smile of joy.
“Wait till I tell Ma that!”
“Why don’t you tell her now?” Robert suggested. “I thought you were to spend this last night at home, Isaiah.”
“I was afeared you’d snek off without me in the morning. I decided to sleep in your rig. Ma knows I’m here. She packed me up a bite to eat.”
“I’ll stop for you. That’s a promise, Isaiah. Gentlemen don’t lie, nor do they tolerate untruths in their staff.”
“Me, lie?” he demanded. “Not to you, Colonel.” One would think he was talking to God from the expression of reverence on his freckled little face. “What color’s my liv’ry?” he asked, shattering the illusion of reverence.
“Dark blue, with gold trim.”
“Gor blimey! I wish Ma could see it.”
“She’ll see it, when my wife and I come to visit Oakbay.”
“You’re marrying her then,” he said, tossing his head to me.
“Miss Talbot has done me the honor of accepting my offer. It will be proper for you to address Miss Talbot as ma’am in future.”
“Yessir, ma’am.” In an excess of obedience, he saluted us both, then flew out of the room, his bare feet squeaking over the marbled hallway as he left.
“There’s a deal of potential for either bad or good in the lad,” Robert said. “It seemed a shame to leave him to sink into a life of crime for lack of guidance and opportunity. Besides, Chilton Abbas is too small for him. He’s ready for London.”
“Whether London is ready for him is another matter.”
“If he gives you any trouble, any trouble at all, you have only to let me know.”
“I’ll do that, Robert,” I said demurely. But having brought a colonel to heel, I didn’t think I would need any help with Isaiah Smogg.
Copyright © 1996 by Joan Smith
Originally published by Fawcett Crest (ISBN 978-0449223826)
Electronically published in 2016 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
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This is a work of fiction. All names in thi
s publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
