by Joan Vincent
Audacia cast a knowing look at the younger girl. “What do you think Trotter would do if a snowball accidentally hit him?” she whispered conspiratorially.
The disgruntled expression upon the young girl’s face melted into an appreciative smile, giving it a comely cast. “But not now,” Audacia cautioned. “Later. Friend?”
Helene took a new assessment of her companion. “Friend.”
* * * *
“Helene, I have told you I will not tolerate such abominable behaviour,” Lady Darby began a scorching reprove as soon as the pair entered her sitting room.
“Why, Miss Aderly—I cannot believe—why—”
“Helene was simply enjoying a winter romp. Even I felt the need after the journey,” Audacia told her calmly.
“But young lady.” Lady Darby bit her lip.
“I apologize, my lady,” Audacia said as she sank into a low curtsy before the viscountess. “I could not see the harm here in these comfortable surroundings. Please pardon me for drawing Helene into such unladylike conduct,” she said with the proper contrite tone but winked at the young girl.
Helene stared with admiration at such bold handling of her mother.
“Of course, we are in the country and—and you are not accustomed to our more formal ways. We must see to your instruction before we leave for London.”
“Yes, my lady,” she answered meekly.
“Well, then . . . both of you off to your rooms and change to dry garments. We leave for Malvern as soon as you are ready. Hurry now for we must see to many details today. Lord Darby has decided we are to leave for London four weeks hence.”
* * * *
Greydon emptied his glass of port and studied the squire’s brooding features. “That was a huge dog by ordinary standards we bagged today. I am happy we were able to get him before my departure. Your sheep should be safe now.”
“Ummmm,” Geoffrey answered vaguely.
Greydon continued to stare. “Did it have six or eight legs?”
“Eight, I suppose.” Geoffrey shook himself and looked at his friend. “What was it you asked?”
“How many legs the wild dog had,” Roland returned with a smile. “Rather unusual beast to have eight, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention. Would you care for more port?” He set his empty glass upon the table between them.
“Yes.” The earl held out his and the squire replenished both. “You have been . . . preoccupied these last three weeks, Geoff. I know I am—have not been,” he corrected himself, “the best guest—”
“Nothing to do with you, Roland. I’ve enjoyed your stay. Sorry to see it end.”
“You aren’t still anxious about Miss Aderly, are you?” he quietly probed.
“Odd—you never were one for names,” Geoffrey remarked casually, shifting in his chair. “Audacia has been in my thoughts. That Darby fellow—well, I’m concerned.” He ended with a shrug.
“Must admit I’m surprised Miss Aderly hasn’t returned home. Oh, not because of young Darby. I really didn’t think Lord and Lady Darby would welcome a guest in their, er, straitened circumstances.” Greydon sipped his port while he watched the other. “If you wished, I could stop in at Worcester on my way to London,” he remarked indifferently.
“Unless London is recently moved—or Worcester—it is hardly convenient for you, Roland,” Webster returned.
“I merely offer as a friend. I dislike knowing you are upset about the matter. It would be easy enough for me to see how Miss Aderly fares and then send word to you. Save me a night in an inn, in fact. But if you think it unwise . . .”
Geoffrey closely scrutinized his friend. They had not discussed Audacia since the day he had called upon her. “Roland, it would be a great favour if you would stop at Darby Hall,” he said slowly. “A great favour.”
“It is only for your sake I offer to do so,” Greydon put in quickly—too quickly.
Geoffrey’s smile widened at Greydon’s serious assurance. Mayhap it will prove to be a greater favour to you, my lord, the squire thought and nodded to his friend.
Chapter 10
“Audee, Audee!” Helene Darby came running into Audacia’s room, grabbed hold of her hands, and whirled her in a circle. “Mother has consented. I am to go shopping with you.” She hugged the other close. “I am so happy you came to stay with us, Audee.”
“Calm yourself, Helene,” Audacia said and laughed. “You will tire yourself before we leave the house.”
“Isn’t everything wonderful? I can scarcely believe it. Here I have been given the room next to yours and will be allowed to go with you about London.” She sighed happily. “Mother says the rooms are too small here, but I think the house is beautiful.”
“My chambers at Bedworth are much this size,” Audacia answered, looking about the room she had been given upon their arrival at the Mount Street address in Mayfair two days past. “I think this shall suit very well.”
“Oh, we shall have such fun. You promised to take me to Madame Tussaud’s and the cathedral,” the young girl reminded.
“I haven’t forgotten. Remember I have never seen them either. Your mother will surely consent now that Miss Bea has said she will go with us. I do wish Geoff—Squire Webster was here. ‘An escort is so much more proper,’” Audacia mimicked Lady Darby and Helene broke into giggles.
“Do you miss him, the squire, I mean. Is he your beau?” Helene asked stretching out upon the bed and watching Audacia put her black mane into a neat bun.
“My beau? Goodness, no. Whatever put such a silly thought into your head?” she laughed.
“You do speak of him oft.”
“As I do my father.”
“Well, yes. But it would be so exciting to have a beau. Are you certain he is not?”
Audacia rose and straightened her skirt. The high-waisted lilac batiste gown with deeper lavender pinstripes and puffed sleeves showed her colouring and form to perfection.
Despite all of Lady Darby’s irritating foibles, she had proven an excellent guide in the selection of Audacia’s wardrobe. This morning they were to journey to St. James and Bond streets to find the last of the frippery needed to set off the gowns and daydresses that had been made in Malvern.
Also on the agenda was a stop at the establishment of Madame Fraiche, a French modiste. Lady Darby had insisted their ball gowns come from this woman’s shop since her reputation and choice of materials could not to be surpassed. While all this shopping held little pleasure for Audacia, she found she did enjoy the look of her new attire, which also gave her a new confidence.
Examining her form in the looking glass, she wondered how surprised her neighbours at Bedworth would be if they could but see her.
And the earl of Greydon, came unbidden. What would he think?
“Audee, you aren’t listening,” Helene intruded. “When shall you be finished?”
“Right now. Let us go down. You know your mother does not like to be kept waiting.”
“Just as I was saying,” Helene said, tumbling off the bed.
Audacia halted her and motioned for her to straighten her gown. She retied Helene’s hair ribbons and smoothed a few stray curls for the young girl.
“Mother said my brother Patrick would be coming to London soon,” she noted absently.
“Oh? That should please you.” Audacia patted the last curl into place. “I know I would be very pleased to see my brother.”
“Patrick and I are not well acquainted,” Helene shrugged, “but even were he not one and ten years older than I, I think I should still dislike him.”
“That is unkind, Helene. Mayhap you could come to learn more of him and thus think better of him while he is here.”
“Would you help me do that, Audee?” she asked eagerly.
“Of course. Now come along. Mustn’t spoil the good impression we’ve wrought thus far,” Audacia said, taking Helene’s hand and leading the way.
“It is very strange how M
other lets you speak your mind, Audee. And how she finds ways to approve your behaviour. More than once I have thought you were to get a good scold only to hear Mother say little or nothing,” commented the young girl.
“It is only because I am the daughter of a dear friend. Father says our mothers were very close,” Audacia answered, but silently admitted the thought had occurred to her.
“No matter what the reason, I am happier for it.” Helene glanced all around as they paused at the top of the stairs. “Do you think we shall be able to find any excitement here?”
“There should be little trouble with that—but be careful of your pranks. I was hard pressed to keep a straight face when Trotter unveiled the bird’s nest at supper last eve. Whatever did you do with the pheasant we were supposed to eat?”
“Did you see the look on his face when—” Helene fell silent as Miss Bea came to the foot of the stairs.
“Good morn, Miss Strowne,” she greeted the abigail.
“Lady Darby awaits you both in the salon, Miss Audacia. You had best hurry.”
“We were just going there.”
“Mayhap I should come with you today,” the abigail said worriedly.
“What trouble could I have with Lady Darby’s guiding presence?” Audacia answered. “I promise to be on my best behaviour. We are only going for gewgaws and to select the material for our ball gowns.”
“Yes, miss,” she sighed.
“Why, Miss Bea, are you displeased? Has Trotter—”
“No, nothing of the sort. I must be fatigued from all the excitement of the journey and getting settled in here. And I can’t help worrying about Mr. Ballin—and Sir Aderly,” she added hurriedly.
“Father’s last letter was very cheerful,” Audacia assured her.
“More to be worried about. Never knew a happy man who had no problems,” Miss Bea clucked.
“Now you are concerned overmuch. Try to rest this morn. I have taken care of all I shall need this eve.” The abigail nodded and proceeded up the stairs. Audacia watched her for a few moments, pondering the change she had noticed in Miss Bea the last few weeks.
“Helene, Audacia—hurry along now. The groom does not like to keep the beasts standing overlong,” Lady Darby called as she entered the corridor. She accepted the light pelisse Trotter held for her and waited impatiently while he assisted Helene and Audacia into theirs, then held the door for them.
“There is so much to do,” Lady Darby twittered as they settled in the coach, “and I do want you looking your best when Patrick arrives. He is coming very soon.” She flashed a toothy smile at Audacia. “Won’t he be surprised to see how beautiful you have grown? I just know you two will get along frightfully well just as you did when you were small. I do hope he arrives before our soiree.”
Nodding pleasantly, Audacia restrained a chuckle. I do not think you truly wish us to be as we were when small and Patrick was a little tyrant. Audacia thought of the suit of armour at Darby Hall.
How would he look in it? she wondered, and then shook away the mental vision of the powerfully built, dark earl of Greydon that came instantly to mind.
* * * *
A smart, freshly painted white and black phaeton halted before the stately house at No. 17 Berkeley. The tiger leaped down from his perch and went to the heads of the matched whites drawing it.
“Keep them walking,” the Earl of Greydon instructed before striding up the steps and through the waiting open door. His steps hardly faltered as the butler caught the caped coat he shucked from his shoulders and the hat and gloves he tossed.
“Roland, dear boy, when did you return? We had given up seeing you,” the Marchioness of Mandel greeted her son as she tilted her head to receive his kiss.
“I have been in London but a night, Mother. You are looking well. And Father?”
“About as usual—sad to leave the country but eager to enter the fray, as always. How have you fared, Roland?” she asked, her sharp dark eyes running over her handsome son.
“Well, as you can readily see.” He gave a wry laugh and sat next to her on the velvet Chippendale settee. “Growing fat and lazy with country ways. Geoff is the flawless country gentleman.
“You wouldn’t believe it if you saw him, Mother. His recovery is more complete than anyone could have hoped. It is as if he managed to forget—” he left the thought unfinished.
“He is a fortunate man, then. But you, Roland?” she inquired a second time, her mother’s eyes still seeing the unsettled, strained look that had concerned her since his return from Waterloo.
“Do not fret so, Mother.” He smiled gently. “I am hale and able. Now, tell me. What have you been busy with? Have the balls and soirees begun?”
“What? Has Geoffrey managed the impossible?” she asked with a laughing glint. “I thought such events were totally meprisable to you.”
“All men change, Mother,” Greydon said with a wink. “After the solitude of Warwickshire, I am hungering for le multitude.”
With one brow arched the marchioness placed a hand upon her son’s forehead. “A fever could be the only reason for those words,” she told her usually solitary son. Withdrawing her hand, she studied him.
“Actually it is rather early in the season for a full-fledged round of balls,” she told him. “We do have a card for Lord Saltouns’ affair, and Monson is having a gala. But these are both to take place in a fortnight.”
A trace of disappointment crossed Greydon’s features. He leaned languidly against the back of the settee and pondered what step to take next. He had told himself repeatedly on his hurried ride to London that his disappointment at finding the Darbys already departed was caused by his failure to be able to reassure Geoffrey. But it was Miss Aderly’s image, not his friend’s that lingered.
Having written the squire of the Darbys’ departure, Greydon persuaded himself it was his duty to Geoffrey to pursue the matter.
“The oddest thing, though,” the marchioness concluded, “a bid came from the Darbys. Now they haven’t been active during the season for several years. Of course, we shall not attend. I cannot imagine Lady Darby’s thinking in having something so ghastly early in the season. No one will be prepared to go. But then—”
“Did you say Darby? Are they in town?” Greydon asked, his attention all hers.
“What possible interest could you have in the Darbys? I didn’t know you were acquainted with them,” she noted, surprised by the intensity of his gaze.
“Encountered the son once. Did you say you had a card for a soiree being given by them?”
“It couldn’t be called a soiree so early in the season, but yes,” she concluded, seeing his impatience. “As I said, we shall not go.”
“Mother, if I would escort you, would you consider going?”
“But this family has been in financial straits for years. They simply aren’t part of the ton. They are certain to have a meagre draw.”
“I didn’t know the Mandels were so pretentious,” he noted slowly. When she bristled, Roland took her hand. “They would not have a poor showing if you made it known you would be there. It would not be difficult for one of your beauty and skill.”
“What is that brother of mine trying to persuade you to do, Mother?” Lady Lucille Mandel asked laughing as she entered the salon, her fair colouring and light brown hair as opposite her brother’s dark looks as her diminutive form was to his stature.
“My lady,” Greydon rose and bowed. “You are in excellent looks.” He warmly approved the dancing light in her usually sombre gaze. “Your greeting is sincere as always.” He smiled broadly.
Accepting his words with a sisterly smile, she laughed once more and brushed his cheek with a kiss before looking to her mother. “What is this rogue trying to fob off on us this time?”
“He simply wishes to escort us.”
“My, I fear my ears do misguide me,” Lady Lucille said with feigned shock, “for I do believe you said his lordship has offered to escort us, Mother.�
� She took a seat opposite them with easy grace and stared at her brother with mischievous expectancy.
“Sat that you are not too old for a brotherly spanking,” Greydon quipped brusquely.
“Roland wishes to take us to the Darbys,” the marchioness explained. “Do you think we should accept?”
“Darbys? But isn’t that the same family whose son—”
“Lucille, young ladies do not know of such things. Certainly they do not speak of them,” her mother reprimanded.
Turning to her son, she asked, “Why would you have us go?”
Glancing with concern to his sister, he answered slowly, “It is for Geoff. He asked me to, well, to see that . . . It is very simple,” Greydon began again, trying to find words to explain.
“One would not think that from your manner,” Lady Lucille teased lightly. “Would it involve a young lady?”
“Yes, and Geoff wants her to be accepted by the ton,” he answered quickly.
Surprise and dismay flickered over Lucille’s face as she lowered her eyes.
The marchioness eyed her with concern. “This young lady is a member of the Darby family?”
“No.” Greydon rose, suddenly irritated by this questioning and distressed by his sister’s pale looks. “Miss Aderly is the daughter of a baronet, Sir Maurice Aderly of Bedworth. They are neighbours of Geoff. It seems he thinks rather highly of Miss Aderly and wishes her to enjoy her visit to London.”
“Surely she can do this without our approval?” Lady Mandel commented.
“Mother, it is little enough to do,” Lucille said slowly, raising her eyes to meet Greydon’s, “if Roland feels we should.”
He nodded.
“Then we shall. Roland, you may call on us Thursday next,” his mother told him.
“Good. Now, Lucille, fetch your pelisse and bonnet and I shall show you my new whites. They are splendid beasts,” he urged her.
“Go along,” the marchioness prodded. “You have not been out since our arrival.”
“I will just be a moment,” Lucille responded after hesitating. “It is good to see you,” she said laying a hand on her brother’s arm as she passed him.
