“Yes,” agreed Miss Taverner, with a marked lack of enthusiasm. “I have had a letter from my uncle also. You may read it, if you choose. It is painful: one cannot but pity him. He seems to have known only part of what my cousin intended.”
“Oh well, don’t let us be thinking of him now!” said Peregrine. “We are very well rid of the pair of them. Only fancy, though! Worth told Sir Geoffrey the whole, when he saw him in town this week. Sir Geoffrey thinks Worth a very tolerable sort of a fellow.” He poured himself out a cup of coffee. “Now, what would you like to do today? You have only to give it a name; I am quite at your disposal. Shall we drive over to Lewes? I believe there is a castle, or some such thing, to be seen there.”
“Thank you, Perry,” she said, touched by this handsome offer. “But Lord Worth is coming to see me this morning. I was thinking that you should stay at home with me. You will want to thank him for all that he has done.”
“Oh, certainly!” said Peregrine. “I shall be very glad to meet him, to be sure. I want to talk to him about my yacht, you know.”
Shortly before noon Peregrine, who was seated in the window of the drawing-room, quizzing the passers-by, announced that Worth was approaching. “My dear Ju,” he said in tones of awe, “only look at the coat he is wearing! I wonder whether Weston made it? Do but look at the set of it across the shoulder!”
Miss Taverner declined leaning out of the window to stare at his lordship, and begged her brother to draw in his head. Instead of doing anything of the kind Peregrine waved to attract Worth’s attention, and, upon the Earl looking up, was instantly struck by the exquisite arrangement of his cravat. He turned, and said impressively: “I do not care if he does give me one of his set-downs; I must know how he ties his cravat!”
The Earl had knocked on the door by this time, and in a few moments his step was heard on the stairs. Peregrine went out to meet him. “Come up, sir! We are both here!” he said. “How do you do? You are the most complete hand indeed, you know! My head, when I awoke! My mouth too! There was never anything like it!”
“Was it very bad?” inquired the Earl, leisurely mounting the last three stairs.
“Oh, beyond anything! But I don’t mean to complain; I have had a famous time of it! But come into the drawing-room! My sister is there, and I have something very particular to say to you. Ju, here is Lord Worth.”
Miss Taverner, who, for reasons best known to herself, had suddenly become absorbed in her embroidery, laid aside the frame and got up. She shook hands with the Earl, but before she could speak Peregrine was off again.
“I wish you would tell me, sir, what you call that way of tying your cravat! It is devilish natty!”
“I don’t call it anything,” replied Worth. “It is a fashion of my own. You are none the worse for your adventure, Miss Taverner?”
“Oh, a fashion of your own! That means, I daresay, that it will be all the crack in a week. Is it very difficult to do?”
“Yes, very,” said the Earl. “Is that particular thing you wanted to say to me? I am highly flattered.”
“Oh no, that was not it! You must know that I took a great fancy for the sea—never was upon a yacht before in my life, and had no notion what it could be like. Such a degree of comfort in so small a space! And then, sailing the vessel, you know! Evans thinks I have a natural aptitude for it. It was a pity I had to come ashore so soon, for there is a great deal about a ship I have not learned yet.”
The Earl’s attention seemed to be fixed on Miss Taverner, but he turned his head at that, and said in some amusement: “Is there indeed? Well, I am happy to know that you are not going to challenge me to a duel (as you once did) for putting you on board my yacht.”
“Challenge you to a duel! Good God, no! Of course, I don’t say that I should have gone aboard willingly if you had asked me to, because then I knew nothing of being at sea, but that is all changed now, and I am excessively grateful to you.”
“Lord Worth,” interposed Miss Taverner, “Perry and I feel we owe you an apology for not treating you with that degree of confidence, which—”
“No, I don’t,” objected Peregrine. “I never mistrusted him, Ju. It was you who did that. All I ever said of him was—But that don’t signify!”
“All you ever said of me was that I was the most unamiable person of your acquaintance,” said the Earl. He flicked open his snuff-box and offered it to Peregrine.
Peregrine looked as though he could hardly believe his eyes, and blurted out: “You have never done that before, sir!”
“I am in an unusually mellow mood to-day,” explained the Earl.
Peregrine took a pinch, and his sister, seizing the opportunity for speech afforded by him being slightly overcome by the honour of being invited to help himself out of the Earl’s box, said: “Lord Worth knows, I hope, that it is many months since I was foolish enough to mistrust him.”
“Lord Worth is much obliged to you, Miss Taverner,” said the Earl.
She raised her eyes rather shyly to his, and saw that he was still looking amused. She said with an admonitory glance at Peregrine: “Had we been more in the habit of attending to you perhaps none of the measures you have had to take for Peregrine’s safety would have been necessary. I think we do owe you an apology; and we are very grateful to you for your care, are we not, Perry?”
“Yes, of course,” replied Peregrine, brushing some grains of snuff from his sleeve. “Extremely so, and I more than my sister, sir, because if you had not put me away as you did, I might never have taken it into my head to go for a cruise my whole life long. And that does not bear thinking of, for sailing a yacht, you know, has even curricle-racing beat to a standstill. I like it better, at all events.”
“I hope you do it better,” commented the Earl.
“Well, I believe I shall,” said Peregrine eagerly. “And that is what I wanted to ask you. Nothing will ever satisfy me until I may have a yacht of my own! Pray do not say no! I daresay that is what you mean to do, but only consider! If it does mean that I must have a larger allowance, you cannot object to that, surely! And Harriet would like it excessively! I told her how enchanted she would be, and she agreed to it at once. But you must give me an answer soon, if you please, because the case is that Evans knows of just such a vessel as would suit me—two-masted, fore-and-aft rigged: the neatest little craft imaginable, he says! She is lying in Southampton Water. I forgot who owns her, but she is to be sold privately, and Evans says I could not do better than to snap her up before it becomes generally known. And Evans has a cousin who would be the very man to put in command of her. He says—”
“Peregrine,” interrupted the Earl, “do you know where to find Evans?”
“Why, he will be on board the Seamew, I suppose.”
“No,” said the Earl. “At the present moment he is somewhere in the town. Possibly at the Crown and Anchor, or, failing that, the Greyhound. I am sure you will be able to find him if you search Brighton carefully. And when you do find him, give him a message from me that I shall be obliged to him if he will kidnap you again, and take you for a long, long cruise.”
“Oh,” said Peregrine, with a grin, “he would not have to kidnap me, I can tell you! But can I have a yacht?”
“You can have a dozen yachts,” replied the Earl, “if only you will go away!”
“I was sure you would agree!” declared Peregrine radiantly. “I could not conceive of any reason why you should not! And do you think Evans’s cousin—”
“Yes,” said the Earl. “I am persuaded Evans’s cousin will be the very man for you. You had better go and talk it over with Evans before he leaves Brighton.”
Peregrine was a good deal struck by this suggestion. “Upon my word, that is a capital notion! I believe I will do it at once, if you don’t mind my leaving you?”
“I can bear it,” said the Earl. “Let me advise you not to lose any time in setting out.”
“Well, I think I had best be off at once,” said Peregrine. “A
nd when I have talked it over with Evans I will come and tell you all about it.”
“Thank you very much,” said the Earl gravely. “I shall be on the watch for you, I assure you.”
Miss Taverner turned away to hide a smile, and after a final promise to call at the Earl’s house later in the day Peregrine took himself off.
The Earl looked at Miss Taverner, his brows lifting a little. “I perceive that it is you and not Peregrine who must bear me a grudge for that kidnapping,” he said. “Really, I had no idea it would produce such unnerving results. I am exceedingly sorry.”
She laughed. “I think it is Harriet who is to be pitied.”
“I must remember to make her my apologies. May I felicitate you, Miss Taverner, on having attained your majority?”
“Thank you,” murmured Miss Taverner. “Perhaps it is I who should felicitate you on being rid of a charge which I believe has been very irksome.”
“Yes,” remarked the Earl thoughtfully. “I do not think you missed many opportunities to flout my authority.”
She bit her lip. “If you had used me with more courtesy, more—more consideration, I should not have done so. You missed no opportunity to vex me!”
“But I should not have done so had not you made the temptation irresistible,” he pointed out.
“I believe,” said Miss Taverner coldly, “that you have some papers you wish to hand over to me.”
“I have,” he replied. “But on second thoughts I have decided—with your permission, of course—to send them instead to your lawyer.”
“I am sure I do not know who is to look after my affairs for me,” said Miss Taverner.
“That will be a task for your husband,” he answered.
“I have not got a husband,” said Miss Taverner pettishly.
“Very true, but that can soon be remedied. Now that you are free from my shackles your suitors will flock to the house.”
“You are extremely good, but I have no wish to marry any of them. I confess I did not like it at the time, but lately I have been glad that you refused your consent to them all. Which puts me in mind, Lord Worth, of what I wish to say to you.” She drew a deep breath, and embarked on the speech she had prepared. “I have not always appeared to be sensible of the care you have bestowed on me, but I know now that it has been unceasing. I am deeply grateful for your kindness during the past—”
“My what?” demanded the Earl.
She said stiffly: “Your many kindnesses.”
“But I thought I was the most odious, provoking, detestable creature alive?”
She regarded him with a smouldering eye. “Yes, you are!” she said. “Civility compelled me to try at least to thank you for the services you have rendered me, but if you will have none of it, I assure you I do not care! You put me in the horridest situation when you encouraged my cousin to make off with me; you had not the common courtesy to call to see how I did yesterday; you wrote me instead the most odious letter (and I daresay if he had not been away you would have told Mr. Blackader to do it to save you the trouble!); and now you come to visit me in one of your disagreeable moods, and try to make me lose my temper! Well, I shall not do it, but I shall take leave to tell you, my lord, that however glad you may be to be rid of your ward you cannot be as glad as I am to be rid of my guardian!”
His eyes were alight with laughter. “I am very sorry to have put you in a horrid situation,” he said. “I did not come to see you yesterday because you were still my ward then; I had no idea of writing you an odious letter (and Mr. Blackader is not away); and I am not in one of my disagreeable moods. But I am very glad to be rid of my ward.”
“I know that,” said Miss Taverner crossly.
“I imagine you might, but do you know why, Clorinda?”
“I wish you will not call me by that name!”
He took her hands in his. She made a half-hearted attempt to pull away, and averted her face. “I shall call you just what I choose,” said the Earl, smiling. “Are the recollections that name conjures up still so painful?”
“You used me abominably!” said Miss Taverner in a very small voice.
“It is very true,” said the Earl. “I did use you abominably, and I have been waiting ever since to do it again. Now, Miss Taverner, you are not my ward, and I am going to do it again!”
Every feeling of propriety should have prompted Miss Taverner to resist. She did indeed blush rosily, but although her hands moved in the Earl’s it was only to return the clasp of his fingers. For a moment he held her so, looking down into her face; then he let go her hands and swept her into his arms.
Mrs. Scattergood, quietly coming into the room just then, stood transfixed on the threshold, gazing in blank amazement at the spectacle of her charge locked in the Earl of Worth’s embrace. He was standing with his back to the door, and Mrs. Scattergood, recovering from her astonishment just in time, whisked herself out of the room again before her presence had even been suspected.
“Now do you know why I am glad to be rid of my ward?” demanded the Earl.
“Oh,” said Miss Taverner foolishly, “I was afraid you meant me to marry your brother!”
“Were you indeed? And was all the determined flirting I have been watching between you merely to show me how willing you were to oblige me? Nonsensical child! I have been in love with you almost from the first moment of setting eyes on you.”
“Oh, this is dreadful!” said Miss Taverner, shaken by remorse. “I disliked you amazingly for weeks!”
The Earl kissed her again. “You are wholly adorable,” he said.
“No, I am not,” replied Miss Taverner, as soon as she was able. “I am as disagreeable as you are. You would like to beat me. You said you would once, and I believe you meant it!”
“If I only said it once I am astonished at my own forbearance. I have wanted to beat you at least a dozen times, and came very near doing it once—at Cuckfield. But I still think you adorable. Give me your hand.”
She held it out, and he slipped a ring on the third finger. “You see, I had got a birthday present for you, Clorinda.”
Miss Taverner raised the hand shyly to touch the Earl’s cheek. He caught it, and pressed it to his lips. She blushed, and said: “I thought—after Cuckfield—I had no power to attach you any more. You made me so unhappy! There was no continued observance, none of that distinguishing notice which had become, insensibly, so necessary to my comfort!”
“That I should have given you one moment’s pain!” he said. “But your words to me at Cuckfield, the tone in which you uttered them, convinced me that nothing could avail to banish that disgust of me which our first meeting had given you.”
She smiled saucily up at him. “You must be so well aware of how little delicacy of principle I have that I need have no scruple in telling you that it is many weeks since I have recalled that first meeting without feeling a strong desire of having your shocking conduct repeated. But after Cuckfield all seemed at an end! I had offended beyond forgiveness. And then the mortification of being found by you in the Yellow Drawing-room that miserable evening! Shall I ever forget my dismay at what you must have been thinking!”
“That evening?” he said, holding her closer. “Shall I ever forget the look that came into your eyes when you opened them, and saw me; or the way your hand clung to mine! Till then I had thought my case to be hopeless. But you begged me not to leave you! Had Prinny not been standing at my elbow I must have thrown every consideration of honour to the winds, and spoken then! But his being there compelled me to remain silent, and by the time he was gone all the impropriety of speaking to you while I was still your guardian had been recollected. I had come, moreover, straight from delivering Peregrine into my captain’s hands! I shall not allow the evils of your situation to have been comparable to mine!”
“There was a constraint,” she agreed. “I was sensible of it even when you forgave me for my conduct at Cuckfield. It was not until you knocked my cousin down that I dared to ent
ertain the notion that your affection had re-animated towards me. But your expression then! No mere indignation at my cousin’s villainy, I was persuaded, could have brought that look into your face! I thought you were going to kill him!”
“I had momentarily forgotten your presence. You must forgive me for having given way to impulse.”
“Oh,” said Miss Taverner archly, “there can be no need for apology when you consider how much I am in the habit of staying in towns where a prize-fight is to take place! To own the truth, I had not the least objection to seeing you knock my cousin down. I would have liked to have done it myself. And until then, you know, I had never suspected that you could knock a man down.”
“Never suspected that I could knock a man down?” repeated the Earl, a good deal surprised.
“No, how should I? I was used to think you were just a dandy. But Captain Audley once said you had the most punishing left imaginable, and although I did not know what he meant at the time, it occurred to me when you hit my cousin that frightful blow that perhaps that was it. For you did use your left hand, did you not?”
“Yes,” said the Earl gravely. “I expect I did.”
“You were so quick too!” said Miss Taverner admiringly. “I quite thought my cousin would have borne you backwards through the window, for he rushed on you with such fury! But I daresay you have been in the habit of boxing a little.”
“Yes,” said the Earl again. His lips quivered. “I think I may be said to have been in the habit of boxing a little.”
“You are laughing at me!” said Miss Taverner suspiciously.
“My darling,” said the Earl, “I used to spar with the great Jem himself!”
“Oh?” said Miss Taverner. “And was he a good boxer?”
“He was the greatest of them all,” replied the Earl.
“Oh no!” said Miss Taverner, glad to be able to display her knowledge. “Belcher was the greatest of them all. I have often heard my father say so.”
Regency Buck Page 37
