The Last Waltz: Hearts are at stake in the game of love... (Dorothy Mack Regency Romances)

by Dorothy Mack

  Before she knew what she was about, Miss Beckworth found herself replying to his compelling manner. “He and Jean-Paul share a room, but naturally we have moved Luc out for the duration of his brother’s illness. We have made up a pallet for him out here.”

  Lord Creighton was shaking his head. “It won’t do. None of you will get any rest under this arrangement. I will carry Luc home with me this evening at least and return him in the morning. We will see what the doctor says then about moving Jean-Paul.”

  Luc protested that he was needed to help nurse his brother and run errands for the women, but after a thoughtful interval Miss Beckworth agreed that she and Adrienne would be easier in their minds about him if they knew he were sleeping in a proper bed and eating regularly while they were so taken up with the care of his brother. She declared that they needed nothing to be fetched before morning, when Luc would be back again to assist.

  Lord Creighton expected to have to defend his suggestion against arguments offered by Miss Castle before he could put it into operation, but Luc, who had gone into the room he shared with his brother to pack a change of clothing, emerged in short order with a small valise. When questioned, he replied casually that Adrienne, on hearing the proposal, had merely cautioned him not to trouble his cousin’s household unnecessarily before returning to her task of bathing Jean-Paul’s forehead with lavender water.

  Had fast-moving events permitted advance planning, it is probable that Lord Creighton would have turned his cousin over to his reliable butler with orders to feed the boy and make him comfortable for the night. As matters stood, however, they had not covered half the distance between the two residences before he had decided to cancel his plans for the evening in order to remain at home with his guest. Luc looked as miserable as he remembered feeling his first night at Eton. The boy’s spirits required supporting, and strange servants in a huge barracks of a house would contribute little toward hoisting him out of the dismals. The earl devoted his energies and not inconsiderable charm to soothing his cousin’s unspoken fears for his brother before and during the consumption of a tasty meal his cook retrieved from the threatened debacle of the master’s unscheduled disappearance and equally untimely reappearance over an hour later. When Luc had regretfully declined a third helping of chocolate mousse on the ample grounds of satiety, the two retired to the library, where Lord Creighton was surprised to find himself extremely hard pressed to defeat his young cousin in a lengthy game of chess. The lad went off to bed presently, much buoyed by the unstinting praise for his grasp of tactics expressed by this splendid new relative for whom he was already halfway to a case of hero worship. He was nearly asleep before his head hit the pillow.

  After his guest had retired, the earl sat on in the study for a time, sipping occasionally at a glass of brandy while he pondered the situation into which he had been propelled. Between escalation of the military preparations in the area, and this unexpected responsibility for three half-grown cousins (he conveniently lumped Adrienne in with her brothers for purposes of classification), and his recent betrothal, life was suddenly fraught with interest. Here in the privacy of his own dwelling — in possibly the last moments of pure privacy he would know for an indeterminate period of time — he could admit that, had he been consulted, he would have opted for a bit less interest and more routine. His duty was clear. These pathetic newfound cousins could not be permitted to remain in their squalid surroundings under the present circumstances. His mother would expect him to provide for them, and provide for them he would, even if it meant running roughshod over his prickly female cousin’s highly developed sensibilities. He must see about getting another medical opinion first thing in the morning and removing that poor child to his house as soon as medically feasible. He gathered that the boy was not in any immediate danger of his life. If he were well bundled up, a short ride in a well-sprung carriage should not set his recovery back. Miss Beckworth and Miss Castle would have servants to assist them here. Both were looking worn to a frazzle under the strain of nursing Jean-Paul. Surely Miss Beckworth was of an age to provide adequate chaperonage for Adrienne under his roof, and herself was enough older than he to give rise to no malicious whispers on that head. It was a trifle awkward, of course, but the best solution he could contrive in the present emergency.

  Lord Creighton’s brow furrowed as he realized his personal plans would have to be altered. His engagement dinner party must be postponed for a time. It would be inappropriate to have any kind of revelry in the house until he knew Jean-Paul to be on the mend. He must arrange to call on his fiancée first thing tomorrow, or at least as soon as he had contacted Dr. Hume and sent him to the Castles’. He hated to disappoint his lovely Pamela, but she would appreciate the necessity. The frown smoothed out of his forehead as he pictured Pamela’s beautiful smiling mouth and soft amber eyes. His own eyes brightened with eagerness momentarily as he glanced at the clock on the mantel. Ten-forty-five. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to try to catch up with her on the social round. Anticipation faded as he tried in vain to recall which receptions she had planned to attend this evening, and was entirely extinguished when his glance fell on his informal dress and crumpled cravat. By the time he had changed into suitable attire… He sighed, settling deeper into the overstuffed chair. Better leave it till tomorrow. He would have something definite to tell her by then.

  It was nearly noon when Lord Creighton entered the drawing room of the modest lodgings Sir Ralph Morrison had hired recently. If he was disappointed to find both tenants in occupation at the moment, he concealed his feelings behind a social smile that warmed as his gaze rested on the beautiful face of his fiancée.

  “Good morning, my dear.” He bent over her hand, keeping it in his after pressing a kiss on her palm while he greeted his future brother-in-law with a bow. “Servant, Sir Ralph.”

  The bow was reciprocated by the immaculately turned-out gentleman raising a glass of sherry to his lips. Lady Tremayne’s lips moved into a provocative pout that increased her appeal, if possible. Her voice had a slightly breathless husky quality that never failed to intrigue him. “I should scold you, Dominic, for failing to appear at the Montroses’ last night, conduct vastly unbecoming to a newly betrothed man, but I shall demonstrate my forgiving nature by inviting you to lunch instead.”

  “Thereby intensifying my feelings of guilt,” said Lord Creighton with a rueful smile. “I hope your evening was enjoyable.”

  “Without your saving presence, I’m afraid I found it tedious.” Long curling lashes swept up, enhancing amber-brown eyes of a rare brilliance that sparkled invitingly in a face of classic perfection. A wealth of dark brown hair arranged today in a coronet lent regal grace to her proudly held head.

  “And yet you contrived to amuse yourself tolerably well, I observed, my dear.” The insinuating suavity of Sir Ralph’s voice acted on the earl’s ears like chalk squealing across a slate, but his sister replied indifferently:

  “You know I always contrive to amuse myself, Ralph, but Creighton’s presence eliminates the need for contrivance. Can you stay for lunch, Dominic?”

  Lord Creighton responded with a gratified smile to the eagerness in his fiancée’s manner. “Thank you, I’ll be delighted.”

  If he hoped to discover Sir Ralph with a previous engagement that would allow him to rejoice in Lady Tremayne’s exclusive company, Lord Creighton was doomed to disappointment, for the former got lazily to his feet when luncheon was announced and followed the engaged pair into the small dining room. There was nothing for it, since he could not remain past lunchtime, than to acquaint Pamela with the changes in his situation in the presence of her brother. He needed more time than would be provided by a quick private farewell to explain the sequence of events that made it necessary to postpone their betrothal dinner.

  Although he had every confidence that she would understand and approve his actions, he found himself unsure of exactly how best to phrase the news, which was bound to prove upsetting at first. A wry
smile twisted one corner of his mouth as he confessed:

  “I fear I am about to require more proof of your forgiving nature, my dear.”

  For a second, Pamela’s lovely features seemed to freeze into lifelessness; then she smiled blindingly, dispelling the illusion. “Are you about to tell me you cannot after all escort me to the Amberlys’ rout party tonight?” she asked in tones of mock despair as she sliced a piece off one of the cheeses the butler had left when he cleared the remains of their luncheon. She offered it to Lord Creighton, who accepted it automatically, saying in surprise:

  “Had we made plans to go there tonight? I’m glad you mentioned it, for I had not remembered. Certainly we shall go if you would like it, my dear.” He shook his head. “No, what I have to tell you is the result of a promise I made to my mother to act for her in the assistance of some young relatives.” He recounted the story of his mother’s letter and his first meeting with his unknown cousins, omitting any reference to Adrienne’s impulsive call at his house, before describing his plan for their journey to England. His listeners made no interruptions, giving him the courtesy of their complete attention until he came to Luc’s visit acquainting him with Jean-Paul’s illness.

  “So you see, all my plans for their removal are now in abeyance until the boy is fit for travel.” His brow darkened with worry. “He is a very sick youngster at the moment. I had Hume go over him this morning, and he confirms the Belgian doctor’s diagnosis. I am having him brought to my house this afternoon. I trust he will make a complete recovery, but you can see that it will be necessary to postpone our dinner party until —”

  “Postpone our engagement dinner?” Dismay sounded in Lady Tremayne’s voice. “Why on earth should that be necessary? And why is it necessary to have the boy conveyed to your house at all? Surely it is better not to move him if he is dangerously ill.” She had her voice under control by the end as she posed this reasonable objection.

  “If you had seen the place where they have been living, you wouldn’t ask that. It is totally inadequate for nursing an invalid. His sister and Miss Beckworth are worn to the bone already. I am happy to be able to put the resources of my house at their disposal during this critical time, though, as you say, one doesn’t like to move a sick person. In this case it is imperative, however. I will be supervising Jean-Paul’s removal myself shortly.”

  “I must of course accept your judgment of the necessity of taking in these children and their guardian temporarily,” Lady Tremayne conceded, forming her words carefully, “but I don’t understand why it should be necessary to postpone our dinner party. Surely your house is large enough that a few guests won’t disturb the sickroom.”

  Lord Creighton waved this aside, a puzzled expression on his amiable features. “It isn’t a question of noise penetrating a sickroom, my dear,” he said gently. “I’m sure you will agree that we could not give our engagement announcement the happy atmosphere it deserves while Jean-Paul’s condition is so critical.”

  “I must beg to differ with you,” Lady Tremayne retorted coolly. “These children are strangers to you. You are more than doing your duty in providing them with temporary shelter. They have, after all, no claim on your generosity.”

  Sir Ralph, seeing the blank look of shock on his future brother-in-law’s face, shot his sister a quelling glance and said in placating tones, “Well, a few days’ delay is of no moment in the long run. Children recover quickly from illness.”

  Lord Creighton looked at Sir Ralph with gratitude for his intervention. “We must hope so.” He turned back to his fiancée. “I am desolated to have to disappoint you, Pamela. I don’t like to delay the announcement either, but I must accept that these children have a legitimate claim on me as my mother’s deputy.”

  “Yes, of course,” she agreed, making handsome amends with an intimate smile. “My own disappointment made me less than generous. You wouldn’t be the man I chose if your generosity and kindness couldn’t be aroused by your mother’s request.”

  The earl’s delightful smile rewarded his love. “Thank you, my dear. Naturally I am prepared to do my mother’s bidding, but I want to help the children for their own sakes too. You’ll understand when you meet them. And now I must rush off, I’m afraid, to set the wheels in motion to receive my guests.”

  All three rose and left the dining room, Sir Ralph heading back into the salon to allow his sister a moment of privacy in which to bid her betrothed adieu. Lord Creighton promptly took advantage of this tactful gesture by enfolding Lady Tremayne in a warm embrace. She raised her face for his kiss willingly. It was several minutes later that she broke away with a light laugh.

  “If you are going to kiss me like that, Dominic, I can only trust that nothing delays our engagement much longer.”

  “You don’t know how I long to make you my own,” Lord Creighton muttered a trifle thickly.

  Lady Tremayne’s smile was edged with triumph. “I think I do,” she murmured provocatively, “because it is the same with me. Goodbye for now, dearest.”

  There was no smile in evidence a moment later when Lady Tremayne entered the drawing room and cast a wary eye on her brother tapping his foot impatiently by the window, where he had been observing Lord Creighton’s departure.

  “That was not very well done of you, Pamela,” he remarked acidly.

  The slim, exquisite figure in the rose-coloured muslin gown leaned back against the closed door, her chin at a defiant tilt. “Nonsense, he is besotted with me.”

  “He’s thoroughly infatuated, I’ll grant you, but he also believes you to be a model of sweetness and light. If you will accept some advice, dear sister, may I respectfully suggest that you refrain from showing your true colours until you have his ring safely on your finger?”

  “Well, he surprised me with that lame excuse to postpone the announcement,” she replied defensively. “Any woman might be pardoned for being annoyed. I smoothed it over.”

  “Thanks to me, you were able to make a recovery, but Creighton is no fool. You could still lose him.”

  “I can handle Dominic. Leave him to me. You concentrate on keeping any whispers of our difficulties from spreading.”

  Sir Ralph left the window and advanced slowly toward the middle of the room, eyeing his lovely sister with curiosity. “Do you have any feelings at all for Creighton?”

  She shrugged. “I like him well enough. If you must know, I wouldn’t consider marrying him or anybody else if Tremayne hadn’t left me without a feather to fly with. Widowhood suits me. If the dibs were in tune, I’d enjoy the freedom.” She sighed resignedly. “Since they aren’t, I’ll marry Dominic instead.”

  “And I’ll ride on his coattails. He’s not the type to let his relatives languish in debtors’ prison, thank God!”

  “Are matters very pressing?” she asked anxiously.

  He grimaced. “Let’s just say I’d like to wring that wretched brat’s neck for getting sick at this moment in time.”

  “Perhaps I’d better offer to nurse him,” laughed Pamela. “That should convince Dominic that my heart is in the right place.”

  Sir Ralph’s thin-lipped mouth widened into a smiling sneer. “Coming it much too rare and thick, my girl. You just continue to nurse Creighton along. The brat already has a sister and a guardian to coddle him.”

  “I had forgotten about the sister,” said Lady Tremayne thoughtfully. “I’ll check up on her when I see Dominic tonight.”

  “Just mind that you don’t loose that serpent’s tongue of yours again,” warned Sir Ralph sharply.

  CHAPTER 6

  A soft knocking roused Adrienne from her rapt contemplation of the red coals in the fireplace. After a swift glance at the still figure in the big bed, she made her way to the door, admitting a diminutive maid bearing a pitcher and a covered dish on a silver tray.

  “The chef thought as how you might like something to eat later, Mademoiselle Castle,” she explained in a whisper as she advanced to set the tray on a table near th
e bed, “so he sent up some of his special fruitcake along with Master Jean-Paul’s lemonade.”

  “How very thoughtful of him. You must convey my thanks to him, please, Marie.”

  “How is he tonight, mademoiselle?” inquired the maid as she softly collected an empty pitcher and some dirty glasses and prepared to depart.

  “He was very restless earlier this evening, but he’s been sleeping quietly for two hours now.”

  “Perhaps that is a good sign, mademoiselle.”

  “We’ll hope so, Marie. I’m afraid our coming here has meant a great deal of extra work for the household. You should have been in bed hours ago.”

  “That’s all right, Mademoiselle Castle. The master has arranged that I am free in the mornings so I can sleep late. It’s just gone midnight, and I’ll be off to my bed now. Is there anything else you need before I go?”

  “No, thank you, Marie. Goodnight.”

  Adrienne stood motionless in the centre of the room for a time after the maid had gone before making her way back to the chair by the fireplace. They had been installed in Lord Creighton’s house three days ago and had been treated with every consideration. At the back of her mind was a nugget of resentment that they should have been compelled to accept charity from her father’s family, but the exigencies of their situation prevented giving in to any inclination to dig at it. For Jean-Paul’s sake she was prepared to sink her pride completely, and her gratitude toward Lord Creighton was ungrudging at this point. She freely acknowledged that his concern for their plight stemmed from his own kind nature rather than any sense of noblesse oblige. It would be up to them to keep their demands on his willing largess to a minimum, but she couldn’t think about the future at this stage. Her eyes travelled almost reluctantly over to the small figure of her brother, beginning to move sporadically in his sleep.