A Lord for Miss Larkin

by Carola Dunn

  “Faith, cousin, I’d not let you down before yon Sassenachs.”

  “Hush!” someone hissed behind them as a tall, thin girl ran her fingers across her harp.

  “Sure and she could climb right through her own instrument,” whispered the irrepressible viscount.

  The harpist finished and it was time for the grand finale. Footmen pushed the pianoforte to the centre of the dais as Fanny and Robert made their way to the front, the latter carrying his flute and looking decidedly self-conscious.

  “I can’t!” said Alison, looking from Neil to Philip in sudden panic.

  “You can,” they chorused, and Emma nodded encouragement from Philip’s other side. Neil took her hands and hauled her to her feet, then led her up to the dais, one arm about her shoulders, whispering in her ear.

  Philip noted that he kept her hand in his as they turned to face the audience. For support, of course; they could be brother and sister. They were a handsome pair, Alison in a simple gown of palest blue, Deverill with a blue satin waistcoat under his black coat. Was the coat a trifle shiny at the elbows? Philip told himself to stop looking for flaws.

  The performance was delightful. Alison’s voice was not strong, but in unison with her cousin she sang true, enjoying herself whole-heartedly after her nervous start. A haunting Irish air was followed by a jig for flute and piano alone, and then a ballad. There were cries of encore and they finished with another air, to vigorous applause.

  Grinning exultantly, Neil picked Alison up in a hug and swung her around. Philip frowned and turned to make some comment to Emma. She was watching her brother and Miss Witherington, who had their heads together over some music, apparently oblivious of the audience’s enthusiastic reception.

  “Do you know,” Emma observed, “it would not surprise me if Robert and Fanny were to make a match of it. Robert has never before admired the same female for more than a fortnight, and Mama says he practises the flute for hours at a time until she is driven to distraction.”

  “At least poetry was silent.”

  “Not the way Robert did it. He was used to wander about trying out phrases in a semiaudible mutter. But I am serious. He seems to be growing up at last. At least, he no longer falls into the sulks at the slightest thing.”

  “That is hardly sufficient basis for a marriage!”

  “No, you are right. I go too fast. But it would be an unexceptionable connexion on both sides. I am sure Papa and Mama would happily give their consent.”

  “Wait until Robert offers, my dear,” Philip advised her. He wanted to ask whether a match between Alison and her cousin would be equally acceptable to all concerned, but people were approaching to congratulate Emma on her protégée’s performance. Alison, eyes bright, face flushed, appeared at his side dragging Deverill after her.

  “What did you think?” she asked, and he had to assure her that the Irish had won the day.

  Within a few days, his unvoiced question about Neil’s acceptability was unexpectedly answered. With some reluctance he had agreed to accompany a friend on an expedition to retrieve an imprudent younger brother from one of the more notorious gambling houses of the city.

  Number Seventy-Seven St. James’s Street, for all its fashionable address, had relieved as many young bucks of their fortunes as any less elegant hell. The bruiser who admitted them was clad in bulging evening dress, but his broken nose and cauliflower ear proclaimed him a veteran of the ring. Assaulted by stale fumes of wine and tobacco, Philip’s nostrils wrinkled as he stepped into the main saloon. Beneath chandeliers and hangings fit to grace any ballroom, a noisy throng of well-born gamesters and high-flying Cyprians crowded around the tables. Not a few were underneath.

  Philip was not pleased to see Lord Deverill seated at the roulette table, his avid gaze on the bouncing ball as it rattled around the wheel.

  As Philip watched, the ball settled in a slot. Deverill sighed, pushed back his chair and stood up. Philip abandoned his friend without a second thought.

  “Lost much?”

  “What?” The viscount turned, startled by the quiet voice at his ear. “Oh… no.” He grinned. “I didn’t have much to lose. Sure and I don’t mind admitting, Mr. Trevelyan, that it’s low tide with me. I ought to stay away from the tables. I’ve better luck on the horses.”

  Philip’s immediate impulse was to offer the man a couple of hundred pounds—he’d even go as high as a monkey—to take himself back to Ireland and stay out of Alison’s life. He looked at the candid, rueful face, the blue eyes and black curls so like hers, and changed his mind. At least he was not the worse for drink. Alison was prodigious fond of her rapscallion cousin, and whatever his faults he lent her consequence by his very existence. A word to Emma would be sufficient to ensure that matters went no further.

  “Perhaps this will tide you over,” he said, extracting a twenty pound note from a roll of flimsies. He did not for a moment believe Deverill’s promise of prompt repayment.

  His friend reappeared at that moment with a hangdog youth in his grasp. They headed for the exit.

  Philip called on Emma the following afternoon. Alison was driving in the Park with Lord Fane, so he was able to pass on his warning without roundaboutation.

  “So it seems the fellow is a penniless adventurer,” he finished. “You will know best how to tell Al. . .Miss Larkin.”

  “Yes, it will not do for her to develop a tendre in that direction,” Emma murmured. “It is already bad enough that he is a first cousin. I shall see that she understands the situation. Oh dear, she does hold him in considerable affection. I hope she will not be out-of-reason distressed.”

  Emma seemed somewhat distraite so Philip did not stay long. As he was walking homeward along Park Street, enjoying the fine April day, he saw Ralph Osborne coming towards him. Doubtless Emma would inform Mrs. Winkle’s watchdog of Lord Deverill’s pecuniary embarrassment. Another vigilant pair of eyes would be fixed on the poor fellow at every turn and Alison’s safety, if not her happiness, was assured.

  He felt a pang of regret as he exchanged brief greetings with Mr. Osborne and walked on.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Regret was Alison’s first emotion when Lady Emma told her that Lord Deverill had nary a feather to fly with.

  “If only I had known!” she exclaimed. “How shocking that my own cousin should be in need when I have so much of everything. Do you think he will be offended if I offer to help? There must be some tactful way to do it.”

  “I hardly think your aunt will permit you to support the viscount with her money.”

  Her face fell. “I had not thought. I daresay my two pounds a week will not go very far for a gentleman.”

  “My dear, anything you give him will immediately vanish on the gaming tables. I did not want to tell you, but Philip met him in a gambling club.”

  “But all gentlemen gamble. That does not mean Neil’s pockets are to let. Phil. . .Mr. Trevelyan himself was at the club, you just said so.”

  “Though I cannot deny that most gentlemen gamble, Philip was there with a friend for quite another purpose. Nor is he guessing about the state of Deverill’s pockets. It seems your cousin admitted that he is purse-pinched.”

  “There must be something I can do to help him!”

  Lady Emma shrugged. “I doubt he will starve. He is a personable young man and a favourite with hostesses. As a peer, he cannot be imprisoned for debt.”

  “If there is nothing I can do, why did Mr. Trevelyan tell you?”

  “He wanted me to put you on your guard. I have told you that any young woman with your expectations is bound to be a target for fortune hunters.”

  “Cousin Neil is not a. . . You mean he wants to many me for my money?” Alison’s forehead wrinkled. “I do not believe that he wants to marry me at all. He is like a brother to me.”

  “Don’t frown, you will develop lines,” said Lady Emma automatically. “I would not go so far as to say that Deverill has designs upon your fortune, but it is best tha
t you should be aware of the possibility. While we are on the subject, I ought to warn you that Lord Kilmore, too, is said to be badly dipped, and his reputation in other matters is far from spotless.”

  “Lord Kilmore!” Surprise turned to thoughtfulness. “You know, I can imagine that he might marry for money. I can never be sure what is going on in his head. If you think it best, I shall try to be stand-offish with him, but indeed I cannot cut poor Neil.”

  “I shall not ask it of you, my dear. On the whole, he is an asset to you.”

  Alison sighed. “That is two lords who are ineligible. The real world is not at all like Mrs. Cuthbertson’s novels. Lord Fane is as respectable as he appears, is he not?” she added anxiously.

  “Thoroughly respectable, and more and more enamoured, if I am any judge. I beg you will not count on his declaring himself though, Alison. Sooner or later he must discover the other side of your family, and whether his admiration for you is strong enough to overcome that disadvantage I cannot guess.”

  “I do not like to deceive him. Perhaps it is best that he should find out soon.”

  “Pray do not do anything precipitate. It takes time to build a solid foundation of attachment that will not be rocked by the disclosure of your father’s birth.”

  Alison was not convinced. Besides her dislike of deceit and of acting as if she was ashamed of her family, she hated the uncertainty. How dreadful it would be if she came to love Lord Fane, only to have him turn tail after she had given him her heart.

  She had to admit that so far that organ had remained remarkably untouched by the gentleman’s undoubted virtues.

  Two days later, not having seen Lord Fane in the interim, she received an invitation from him. She was at breakfast with Lady Emma, and Philip had joined them for a cup of coffee as he sometimes did after an early ride in the Park.

  “This is for you, Alison.” Lady Emma passed her a sheet of paper from the pile of post beside her plate. “Though very properly addressed to me.”

  “From one of your admirers, then.” Philip smiled at her. He was excessively handsome in his well-fitted riding clothes. His usually immaculate hair was slightly ruffled and the exercise had brought colour to his cheeks.

  Alison scanned the brief letter. “It is from Lord Fane. He has been called out of Town for a few days, but before he left he procured a box at Drury Lane for… Oh, the play is Antony and Cleopatra! And he asks us to make up a party for him, ma’am, if we care to go, as he will return only just in time for the performance. How Aunt Cleo would love to see it.”

  “Out of the question,” said Lady Emma at once.

  Alison turned to Mr. Trevelyan with a pleading look. “Emma is right, I’m afraid. It simply will not do.” Alison’s shoulders slumped but she tried to keep the disappointment from her voice as she said, “Then will you join us, sir?”

  “As a matter of fact I have my own box, but alas! I am behindhand with my invitation to you.”

  “We could pretend you asked us first,” Alison suggested hopefully. “Lord Fane would never know.”

  “I have a better idea. Think you that your aunts would honour me with their company?”

  “Oh, sir!” Pushing back her chair she ran around the table to drop a kiss on his cheek. She started back at once, crimson-faced and appalled at her own impulsive action. “I…I beg your pardon,” she stammered. “I did not mean to. . .”

  “Why, I rather hoped that you did.” His face was equally red, but a warm light in his eyes belied his mocking tone. “No gentleman with the least degree of sensibility can object to being kissed by a pretty young lady. I take it you approve of my notion?”

  “Did you mean it? You will invite all my aunts to the theatre? Oh sir!”

  “Not again!” said Lady Emma hastily, holding up her hand. “Really, Alison, I cannot think what came over you. If it had been anyone but Philip we should have had a full-blown scandal on our hands.”

  “I’m very sorry, ma’am. But only Mr. Trevelyan would have made such a suggestion, so there was not the least danger.”

  Philip laughed. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, standing up. “I must be off to pen a note of invitation. Emma, will you drive with me this afternoon?”

  “I’m sorry, I am expecting a visitor.” Her cheeks were pink now, too, Alison noted in surprise. It must be catching.

  “Then will you be so kind as to join me, Miss Alison?”

  She curtsied and said in her primmest voice, “Thank you, sir, I shall be delighted.”

  He bowed deeply over her hand and she half expected a formal retort to match hers. All he said was, “Minx!” and took his leave.

  Alison sat down again to finish her buttered eggs. Lady Emma did not give her the scolding she knew she deserved. Her chaperon sipped her tea from a delicate Crown Derby cup while regarding one of her letters with a dreamy smile. It was most unlike the practical Lady Emma.

  “I must return a book to Hookham’s this morning, ma’am,” Alison regretfully interrupted her reverie. “Is there any errand I can do for you?”

  “What? Oh yes, if you would not mind picking up the fan I left to be mended. Be sure to take Carter or Henry.”

  Now Alison knew that Lady Emma was lost in an air-dream. It was weeks since she had needed to be reminded to take a servant with her when she went out.

  “If you will tell me whom you wish to ask to join us in Lord Fane’s box,” Alison persisted, “I shall save you the trouble of writing invitations.”

  “Box?”

  ‘‘At Drury Lane.”

  “Ah yes. Fanny and Robert will do.”

  “And another gentleman, since Mr. Trevelyan has his own box?”

  “Do you think Mr. Osborne would enjoy the play?”

  Alison frowned. Was she to be watched over even at the theatre? Then she had an idea. “I do not know if he likes Shakespeare, but if he comes he can take me to Mr. Trevelyan’s box to see my aunts, and no one else need be the wiser. That is a splendid notion. I shall write to him at once.”

  Her chores completed, Alison dressed to go driving. She put on a new primrose promenade dress with lilac ribbons and a matching lilac spencer. Her straw hat had silk lilac blossoms alternating with posies of primroses around the brim. White kid half-boots and gloves, and a white parasol with primrose ribbons completed the ensemble. She twirled before the mirror. If Philip had called her pretty this morning in her old morning gown, what would he say to her now?

  She laughed softly to herself. Probably nothing, but she liked to look her best for him anyway.

  In fact, his first words as he handed her into the tilbury had nothing to do with her appearance. “I sent a footman with my invitation to the Misses Larkin this morning, and one of your lads brought a response not half an hour ago. They would dearly love to accept, but it seems your Aunt Di is indisposed and may not be able to go.”

  “Aunt Di is ill? Please, will you take me there instead of the Park?”

  “She wrote herself. I do not believe she is seriously ill. Would you not prefer to show off your dashing outfit to the Fashionable World?”

  “Don’t be caperwitted,” she said severely. “I must go and make sure that Aunt Di is all right. Even if she is, I expect she cannot walk Midnight, and no one else can manage him. I shall have to take him out.”

  Philip groaned. “I’ll call you a hackney,” he offered.

  For a moment she thought he was serious, but even as he spoke he gave Spaniard and Conqueror the office to start and turned their heads towards the unfashionable regions of the city.

  He even walked with her and Midnight through the muddy fields around the brick kilns east of Grays Inn Lane. Though his glossy hessians were horridly splashed, he only murmured, regarding them thoughtfully, “That will give my valet something to worry about for a change.”

  Alison was not allowed to see Aunt Di, who had nothing worse than a bad cold and hoped to recover in time to see Antony and Cleopatra. By the third day her health was sufficiently
improved to allow her to walk Midnight herself. Unfortunately, the cold had already been passed on to Aunt Cleo. It hit her much harder. By the day of the performance she was confined to her bed with a raging fever and a putrid sore throat.

  Squeak brought a wavery note from Aunt Polly: Di was nursing Cleo and the household was all at sixes and sevens. What was she to do?

  No argument of Lady Emma’s served to persuade Alison that her duty lay anywhere but at her aunts’ service, whatever Lord Fane might think of her defection.

  “Indeed I shall be very sorry if his lordship is offended, ma’am, but I must go. Poor Aunt Polly is simply unable to manage, and I cannot forget how my aunts nursed me through all my childhood illnesses. You will make my excuses to Lord Fane?” she pleaded.

  “Of course, my dear, yet it is no good pretending that he will not be gravely displeased.”

  “I am very sorry for it,” Alison repeated helplessly, “but I have no choice.”

  Within half an hour she had packed up the simplest of her new clothes, and Lady Emma’s landau carried her back to her old home.

  Philip found her there the next morning. She was in the kitchen, sitting at the table with Polly, a trio of ragamuffins and a scrawny child Philip assumed to be the scullery maid. A large tome was open on the table before Alison, who was poring with wrinkled forehead over the faded, spidery writing, liberally spotted with unidentifiable stains.

  She looked up as he entered and her expression brightened. “Philip! Perhaps you can guess what this means. I want to make a Restorative Meat Jelly for Aunt Cleo but I cannot read the receipt. Move over, Squeak, and let the gentleman sit down.

  The urchin kneeling on the chair beside her to squint at the book obligingly vacated his place. The four youngest members of the company were all staring at Philip with wide eyes.

  “Us di’n’t ought to be ‘ere,” said the boy with the freckles.

  Aunt Polly found her voice. “Alison, dear, Mr. Trevelyan should be entertained in the parlour,” she pointed out timidly.

  “Your maid very properly tried to show me in there,” he assured her. “I am the intruder here and should not dream of turning anyone else out. Let me see that, Miss Alison.” He had noted her slip of the tongue in addressing him by his Christian name, but this was no time to tease her about it.