Charles, caught off guard, looked dismayed. “Here, I say, it’s none of my affair. Davina, tell her. Not my affair at all, but dash it, Daintry oughtn’t to talk to my father in that dashed impertinent fashion. Tell her.”
Davina, pressing her lips together, said nothing.
Looking around for allies, Daintry realized that Susan and Melissa—neither of whom she would have expected to fill that role—had vanished. Sir Geoffrey looked annoyed. Lady Catherine still looked fascinated. Lady St. Merryn was engaged with her salts bottle, and Cousin Ethelinda was engaged with Lady St. Merryn. Only Lady Ophelia appeared at all likely to back her.
“Aunt, please.”
But Lady Ophelia shook her head. “I can do nothing to prevent your father from making a fool of himself if he wishes to do so, my dear. Tuscombe Park does belong to him, after all, and he can deny anyone he dislikes the privilege of setting foot upon its soil.” She smiled at Deverill. “It has been extremely stimulating to make your acquaintance, young man.”
“Never mind that,” St. Merryn snapped. “Must I call my servants to escort you from the premises, sir?”
“That will not be necessary. I can find my way. Your servant.” Deverill bowed, his dignity apparently intact, and strode from the room, nodding at Sir Geoffrey, who held the door open for him, as though he had been a lackey.
Daintry waited only until Geoffrey shut the door again before rounding on her father. “Papa, you are mistaken—”
“Silence, I said!” St. Merryn bellowed, advancing on her with menace in his eyes. “How dare you speak to me as you did? Have you no manners? Is this what your precious education has produced? You see, Ophelia?” Pausing in his advance, he glared at Lady Ophelia, who gazed imperturbably back. “You see what you have created with your foolish nonsense? At least Susan has had better sense than to—” He broke off, looking around the room in sudden bewilderment. “Where is Susan? And Melissa? Not that I want them, mind you, but where the devil did they disappear to?”
Seacourt said blandly, “I sent them away, sir, when it became clear that this discussion was no concern of theirs.”
“You did?” St. Merryn blinked at him owlishly. “Blessed if I know how you manage that sort of thing, lad.”
“A man is master of his own household, surely.”
“Oh, surely,” St. Merryn agreed, grimacing, “but how the devil he convinces the women of that fact is what I should like to know. I am master here at St. Merryn, right enough.” His glare swept the room, as if he dared anyone in it to challenge his declaration, and came to rest upon Daintry. “You still here? Thought I sent you to your bedchamber, girl.”
“No, Papa, you did not,” she said. “You ordered me to be silent and then demanded to know if I had any manners. Since I could not reply to the second statement without disobeying the first, and since the question was clearly rhetorical, I did not attempt to answer. But you did not tell me to leave the room.”
“Well, I’m telling you now, and I’ll tell you another thing, too, my girl. You are to have nothing more to do with that lying jackanapes Deverill. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you, sir, but unless you mean for me to send regrets to Mount Edgcumbe and the other places to which I have accepted invitations for house parties, and to remain here throughout the entire London Season, I cannot promise to have nothing to do with him. When I encounter him, as I am extremely likely to do, good manners will demand that I be civil to the man.”
“Damn it, don’t quibble! Go away!”
She went, hearing Sir Geoffrey say as she passed him, “I do not know why you put up with her impertinence, sir. I am sure I should never tolerate such behavior from Melissa.”
On her father’s “Ha!” she closed the door, only to hear it open and shut again seconds later as she was nearing the stairway to the upper parts of the house. Turning, she beheld her sister-in-law, and stifled a sigh of annoyance.
“Really, Daintry,” Davina began before she had even caught up with her, “I cannot understand why you persist in stirring up such commotions. I had hoped, just this once, to come home to a little peace and quiet. Life amongst the beau monde is exhausting, and I had looked forward to finding at least a modicum of tranquility here at Tuscombe Park.”
“I suppose that means that you and Charles are at outs again,” Daintry said. “Who is the lovely Lady Catherine Chauncey, Davina? Is she Charles’s retaliation for your indiscretions in Brighton, or Geoffrey’s latest conquest?”
Davina stiffened. “You never cease to amaze me, Daintry. Such vulgar accusations are entirely unwarranted, I assure you. She is a cousin of Sir Geoffrey’s, just as he said, a widow for whom he feels a natural, even admirable, sense of responsibility. Her husband fell at one of those dreadful places on the Continent. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Daintry did feel slightly chagrined, but she saw no point in admitting as much. Instead, she said, “Is that a new gown? Did you have some new things made up for Charley, too?”
Davina’s gray eyes lit with laughter. “Goodness, are you going to tell me Charlotte wants new dresses? It must be for the very first time. I am persuaded she would liefer have a new riding habit, but I did not see any reason to have one made up at London prices or in Brighton, I can tell you. It was bad enough having to discover a new governess, but we did find an acceptable woman, who promised to come to us at once. I would like to know, however, just how Charlotte frightened away Miss Pettibone.”
“She asked her more questions than the good lady was able to answer,” Daintry said bluntly. “Miss Pettibone, my dear Davina, expected to teach her to do fancy needlework, to speak a few fashionable phrases in French, and to play the pianoforte in elegant style. She was not prepared for a child whose French surpassed her own and who reads Latin and a bit of Greek as well. Nor was she a match for Charley when it came to persuading her to practice deportment or her music lessons, things in which she has not the smallest interest. I only hope this new one is better.”
Davina shuddered. “I do not know how your aunt expects us to find a husband for such a child.”
“Well, you scarcely need think about it at this early date,” Daintry said, her ready sense of humor stirred by the thought.
“Oh, you may laugh,” Davina said bitterly, “but you, of all people, ought to understand the difficulty she will face. I am not the only one to suspect that it was not you who gave the congé to your various suitors, but they who fled in dismay. What gentleman wishes to marry a woman as well-educated as himself?”
Daintry said sharply, “I’ll have you know, Davina, that not one of my suitors feared my education, for not one of them had sufficient understanding to fear it. Indeed, all three proved to be little more than fashionable fribbles. I am going up to Charley now,” she added, striving to moderate her rising tone, since Davina was looking increasingly wary. “Will you come?”
“No,” Davina said hastily, “I must see that my woman is attending to my unpacking. Charlotte will be allowed to come down to dinner this afternoon, in any event, will she not?”
“I daresay she will,” Daintry said, sorry now for her brief outburst, knowing Charley would be waiting hopefully for her mother to come up and see her. “She has missed you, you know.”
“Has she, indeed?” Davina’s tone was skeptical. “We had no more than three letters from her the entire time we were gone.”
“And how many did you or Charles write to her?” Daintry demanded, her temper rising again.
Flushing, Davina turned away. “I must see to my unpacking.”
Sighing, aware that she had not handled Davina well, Daintry went to the upper west wing of the house, where the schoolroom and Charley’s bedchamber were located. Not much to her surprise, she found Susan and Melissa with Charley in the schoolroom. The two little girls got politely to their feet when she entered, and she saw that Charley wore Melissa’s gold bangle on one wrist and had been admiring the way the sunlight from the window reflected from it
s highly polished surface.
“That bracelet is lovely,” Daintry said. Grinning at her sister, she added, “And your ear bobs are dazzling, Susan. I seem to be the only one for whom Sir Geoffrey did not bring a gift. Even Cousin Ethelinda got a new silk scarf.”
“I daresay he simply forgot to give you whatever it is he brought you,” Susan said placidly. “Things did become a trifle unsettled down there, did they not?”
“That is certainly one way to put it.”
Susan grimaced. “Did Papa forbid Deverill the house?”
“He did. He was most unfair.”
“Oh, Daintry, do not tell me you have formed a tenderness for that deceitful young man! It will never do, for Papa will shout himself into a seizure, or worse.”
“Nonsense, Susan. He said he never raises his voice.”
Charley giggled, and even Melissa smiled. Hugging them both, Daintry told them they might sit down again, and took a seat beside Susan, saying, “Melissa, darling, did your papa bring you anything else?”
“This,” the little girl said, producing a flaxen-haired china doll from beneath a fold of her skirt, which had concealed it when she sat down. She handed it to Daintry.
“Oh, how pretty! She looks just like you, my dear.”
“Dolls,” Charley said scornfully, “are for babies. Melissa would much rather have had a new riding whip.”
“You would rather have had a riding whip,” Daintry said, smoothing the doll’s pink silk gown and admiring the roses and cream complexion of its exquisite face.
Melissa said, “You can keep that bracelet since you like it so much, Charley. It looks very pretty on you.”
Susan exclaimed, “Oh, no, darling, your papa would be so extremely disappointed if you were to give away his gift. He will want to see you wear it frequently, you know. Gentlemen are very observant about such things.”
“Oh,” Melissa said. “I just thought that since Charley so rarely likes feminine gewgaws Papa would not mind if—”
“No,” Susan said with uncharacteristic firmness.
“Very well, but you may wear it this afternoon, Charley.”
“Well, I will wear it if we are allowed to go downstairs for dinner,” Charley said, “but since I mean to ride Victor this afternoon, perhaps you had better keep it until then.”
Susan said quietly, “I am sorry to sound disobliging, Charlotte, but when the two of you go downstairs, Melissa must wear her bracelet, for it will be the first time she sees her papa after receiving his gift. Moreover, you forget that you are in disgrace. Your grandpapa ordered you to seek your bedchamber, you know, and in all truth, though I did not like to say so, that is where you ought to be right now, not here with us.”
Seeing that Charley was about to say something impertinent, Daintry intervened. “Aunt Susan is right to remind you that your credit is not very good at the moment. You must make your peace with Grandpapa before you do anything else, certainly before you go out to the stables again.”
“But—”
“No,” Daintry said. “It is as important for you to learn that limitations exist as to learn to think and to speak for yourself. Part of thinking for oneself is learning to recognize obstacles when they present themselves, and understanding that one must confront those obstacles, not merely ignore them in the mistaken hope that they will disappear.”
“But I already sent an order to the stables,” Charley said stubbornly, “and I promised Melissa she could go too, so you are punishing her if you forbid me.”
Daintry stood up, but before she could administer the reproof the child so richly deserved, there was an interruption.
“Begging your pardon, Lady Susan,” the maid at the door said, “but Sir Geoffrey requests your presence in the drawing room at once. He said …” The maidservant paused, swallowed, looked at the floor, then murmured, “He said to tell you, you be neglecting your guest, ma’am.”
Daintry’s temper, checked mid-breath by the entrance of the servant, found welcome relief in an even more worthy target than Charley. “If that is not just like a man,” she snapped, “to blame a woman for not being where he wants her when he is the one who sent her away!” Turning on the quaking maidservant, she said, “Did he order you to say those exact words to her ladyship? Come, Millie,” she added, forcing herself to speak more quietly. “I did not mean to terrify you, but do answer my question.”
Still looking at her feet, Millie said, “In truth, m’lady, his lordship told Jago to say it, and Jago told me. Said it warn’t his business to be coming up to the schoolroom, that he’d go to Lady Susan’s bedchamber, and I were to come up here in case she had come up to visit the young ladies, which she had.”
“Just as I thought,” Daintry said. “You may go, Millie. And I hope you, Susan, will give Geoffrey a piece of your mind for sending such an impudent message to you by a servant.”
Susan smiled. “Oh, no, for it would do no good, you know, and I believe poor Lady Catherine must by now be quite bewildered by all the commotion, and yearning for someone to take her away for a quiet respite. Why, she has not even seen the bedchamber that has been allotted to her. We have been quite remiss.”
“In my opinion, she was highly entertained by it all,” Daintry said, “though I cannot doubt that she will be glad of a chance to get away from Papa’s ranting and Geoffrey’s absurd advice to him on how he ought to manage things. Even Davina abandoned her, for she followed me out of the room to speak her mind to me. She called the proceedings a commotion, just as you did, but she blamed me for creating it, if you please.”
“Well,” Susan said, getting to her feet and smoothing the front of her skirt, “you did little to pour oil on the troubled waters. No, no, pray do not bite my head off! I am sure that even you could not have stopped Papa from ordering that poor man off the premises. In any case, I must go downstairs at once.”
She was gone on the words, and Daintry turned back to attend to her errant niece.
The two little girls had their heads together, but Charley looked up just then and said quickly, “I’m sorry, Aunt Daintry. I should not have spoken as I did, and I ought not to have talked to Grandpapa as I did either. I will apologize to him when we go down for dinner. And,” she added with a sigh and a glance at Melissa, “if you truly forbid it, I suppose I can send a message telling them we won’t want our horses after all.” The look that accompanied this noble statement was both melting and hopeful.
Daintry, her sense of humor tickled and her temper eased by the opportunity to express her opinion of Sir Geoffrey’s behavior, nevertheless forced herself to remain firm. “An excellent notion,” she said. “If you do make your peace with your grandfather, then you and Melissa may go to the stables after dinner to take sugar lumps to Victor and Tender Lady.”
“Very well.” Charley sat down again, looking rather put out but resigned. Then a new thought entered her agile mind, for she widened her eyes and said, “And tomorrow, Aunt Daintry, will you take us riding again?”
Daintry hesitated. “First we must discover when your Uncle Geoffrey intends to take his family home,” she said.
Melissa said, “Mama told us that he wishes to remain here for a few days, Aunt Daintry. I think that when he wrote to tell her to look for his arrival, he wrote that as well.”
Charley said casually, “We could ride up onto the moor if it is not foggy, and have a really good gallop. Although,” she added with a thoughtful frown, “I daresay we ought not to mention the galloping part to Uncle Geoffrey.”
Deciding that she had been firm enough for one day, Daintry refrained from pointing out the impropriety of the afterthought, particularly since she wholeheartedly agreed with it. Instead, she said that if the little girls behaved themselves and the next day proved a pleasant one, she would certainly take them riding.
Not until later did she wonder if Charley had mentioned the moor for any particular reason, but she dismissed the thought at once, for it led far too easily to others that wer
e much more disturbing. As she tossed and turned in her bed that night, unable to sleep, she came to the unwelcome conclusion that a certain tall, broad-shouldered gentleman with speaking golden eyes, an attractive smile, and a deplorably commanding nature had made more of an impression upon her wayward sensibilities than was commensurate with the comfortable image she had of herself as an independent female.
Seven
GIDEON’S IMAGE OF HIMSELF had been severely shaken. Riding away from the house, he had all he could manage to maintain his dignity, for the memory of St. Merryn’s demanding to know if he should send for his servants to escort him out had been nearly more than his temper could bear. Bad enough that it had happened at all; much worse that it had happened before such an audience. In his mind’s eye, he could still see Seacourt’s expression of contempt, and it brought forcibly to mind certain incidents of his school years that he would just as soon forget.
Briefly he wondered if Jack had ever made a cast toward St. Merryn’s daughters, but a moment’s reflection told him he had not. He had had no interest in galloping gentility, as he called it, and since he had not yet been on the lookout for a wife, and preferred to spend his time in such manly pursuits as boxing, gambling, hunting, and shooting, he was more likely to have been found at the Newmarket races than at Almack’s Assembly Rooms.
Gideon smiled, suddenly remembering the way Daintry had leapt to his defense against her irascible parent, just as if she had not torn a strip off him herself less than half an hour before. The wench had some odd notions in her head, thanks to that formidable aunt of hers, and was too much accustomed to having her own way of things, but she was nonetheless beautiful or desirable for all that. Penthorpe would have been no match for her, of course—would have found himself living under the cat’s paw within a month. She was a termagant, but a magnificent one, and his own temper could match hers any day.
It was a pity that St. Merryn’s commands would make it a trifle awkward for him to pursue the acquaintance. Still, she was determined to end the old feud, and she seemed the type who, once she’d got a bee buzzing in her bonnet, would do all in her power to put it to rest. Moreover, it was the house-party season, and he had received a number of invitations. No doubt Daintry Tarrant would turn up at some of the same houses.
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