Gayle Buck

by The Hidden Heart

  “What is the verdict to be, my best of friends?”

  The words were the final catalyst. Lady Caroline raised thoughtful eyes to the earl’s expectant expression. His audacity in asking of her such a favor had initially stunned her. His easy assumption that their friendship should stretch so far had struck her as extremely telling. They were intimate but casual friends, and would remain so. In fact, his lordship seemed to look upon her much as he would a male colleague.

  Despite knowing all that, she might have agreed.

  She might have acquiesced if Lord Trilby had remained silent.

  But Lord Trilby had spoken. With humor in his voice, he had addressed her as his “best of friends.’’ Best of friends! It cut her to the quick. Abruptly all fantasies of being able to mold the pretended understanding into one of permanence were dashed as though they had never been.

  Lady Caroline rose precipitately, leaving his lordship behind on the settee as she went to the window. She looked through it with blind eyes. “What you would ask of me is ludicrous. I am more sorry than I can say.”

  When Lady Caroline left him so suddenly, Lord Trilby caught a glimpse of a peculiar bleakness in her eyes. He gathered that he had gravely offended her. At once he stood up and moved to stand close beside her. He said quietly, “Caroline, you and I have been such good friends. You know that the notion would never have crossed my mind otherwise.”

  She made a small dismissive gesture that he interpreted as reproof.

  Lord Trilby said even more quietly, “I would not have you think that I hold our relationship trivial or insignificant. That has never been the case, and what’s more, never shall be.”

  Lady Caroline turned her head to glance over her shoulder at him. Her large eyes were somber. “I do not think it, Miles. I, too, treasure what we have—more than you know. I would do anything in my power to help you. But to pretend to be your intended...” She shook her head.

  The shadow of her former smile returned to her eyes. “Why, the temptation to hold you to the deception could have proved irresistible, my lord.”

  She spoke only half in jest. As soon as she had done so, she feared that he might sense the underlying truth in her bantering tone. She was relieved when he laughed.

  Lady Caroline turned fully toward him, saying decisively, “Definitely that would not do.”

  A full smile now graced her lips, though it did not entirely dispel the shadows in her eyes. “You shall simply have to work your devious escape in another fashion. If the war were not on, I would suggest that you assume another name and take up residence abroad. I suppose that you have thought of making a clean breast of the matter to the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits and discarded it—yes, I thought that you must have. Well, then, I suspect that I shall shortly read of your upcoming nuptials in the Gazette.”

  “I am overpowered with apprehension at the mere thought,” Lord Trilby declared. There was a certain quizzical light in his eyes as he watched her face.

  Lady Caroline felt the alertness of his regard and instantly her defenses went up against him. Lord Trilby knew her perhaps better than anyone else. Not wishing him to see more than she wanted him to, she moved away. “I shall inform Simpson that you are staying the weekend, shall I? If you have no other engagements?”

  “No, none at all. I did not send word to my staff at Walmesley to expect me before setting out from London. I posted directly down to Berwicke with but one errand in mind,” Lord Trilby said, with the faintest twist of his lips.

  Lady Caroline paused before she had reached the door. She said sympathetically, “I am sorry your trip has been in vain.”

  “Ah, well, it was a gamble, and a madder one than most,” he said with a shrug and a smile.

  Lady Caroline shook her head and turned once more to the door. She was reaching for the knob, when suddenly the door was flung open. She stepped backward swiftly to avoid being knocked aside.

  Mrs. Burlington stood framed by the doorway, while behind her was the hovering figure of the butler.

  Lady Caroline recovered herself almost at once, laughing at herself for her moment of fright. “Amaris! How you startled me.”

  Chapter Eight

  Mrs. Burlington looked at her niece without a hint of apology in her visage. She did not enter the drawing room, but stood on the threshold with her hand still on the knob. The door shielded most of the drawing room from her view. Unsmiling and without preamble, she demanded imperatively, “What is this I have heard from Simpson that Lord Hathaway has gone away very hurriedly?”

  Lady Caroline glanced swiftly at the butler, whose expression was one of appalled anxiety. She sighed and returned her attention to her aunt. “I am certain that his lordship regretted being unable to pay his respects to you, but Lord Hathaway felt that he had overstayed his welcome.”

  “Pah! You have sent his lordship away with a bug in his ear! Have you so little sense? Why, the gentleman is positively your last hope of wedding and becoming mistress of your own house. I cannot imagine any female so lost to her senses that she would turn down such an acceptable offer as Lord Hathaway has repeatedly made to you,” Mrs. Burlington said.

  From the corner of her eye Lady Caroline was painfully aware of Lord Trilby’s interested expression. The half-open door still hid his presence from her aunt, and she could not imagine why he had not already made himself known, unless he was quite simply struck immobile by the ghastly faux pas.

  Lady Caroline saw that her aunt was drawing breath to deliver another denunciation and she hurried to deter Mrs. Burlington’s embarrassing diatribe. Not for worlds would she have wanted the Earl of Walmesley to know what wretched dealings she endured from her aunt. “Amaris, please. This is neither the time nor the place. Lord-”

  Mrs. Burlington pounced. “Lord Hathaway! Yes, he is whistled down the lane for the last time, I’ll warrant, which you will doubtless regret—and much sooner than you could ever anticipate.”

  Lord Trilby thought he had heard enough. He had already crossed the room in response to Lady Caroline’s rather wild glance in his direction, and now he stepped around the edge of the door into sight.

  Mrs. Burlington gasped and fell back in astonishment. “My lord! I had no idea! I had no notion whatsoever that you were present.”

  “So I gathered. It is perhaps unfortunate that I was unable to bring myself immediately to your attention.” Lord Trilby’s voice was austere. His gray eyes rested thoughtfully on Mrs. Burlington’s face. She flushed under his cool assessment.

  Lady Caroline trembled with anger and mortification. She held her hands clasped tightly together, fearing that in her vexation she might slap her aunt. She maintained, however, a carefully neutral voice. “Lord Trilby arrived just as Lord Hathaway was taking his leave.”

  “As I fear that I now must,’’ Lord Trilby said. He caught Lady Caroline’s fleeting glance before her eyes fell from his. He knew her character well enough to ascertain that the flush of color blooming in her face owed more to the seething fury that he had glimpsed in her eyes than to the embarrassment she must have felt that he had been made witness of her aunt’s abominable treatment of her.

  Lady Caroline offered her hand to the earl. “I am glad that you came, my lord.”

  Lord Trilby carried her fingers to his lips. “As am I. I shall be fixed at Walmesley for an indefinite time, as I told you. I will call on you again, Lady Caroline.”

  She understood then that he would not be remaining for the weekend at Berwicke. It was an example of his exquisite discretion, and the anger burned brighter in her eyes for the humiliating moments just past. “I will be most happy to receive you, my lord,” she said formally.

  Lord Trilby slanted a smile down at her. Then, with a nod and a long cool look for Mrs. Burlington, he sauntered past the ladies. He was met in the entry hall by Simpson, who stood ready with his greatcoat, beaver, and gloves. “Thank you, Simpson.”

  He left by the front door, and it was as though the sound of the clo
sing door set free the two immobilized and silent ladies.

  Mrs. Burlington at once stepped fully into the drawing room and sharply shut the door. “I was never more mortified in my life! How dared you let me go on when all the time his lordship was behind the door!”

  “It is quite your own fault, Amaris. As I recall, I did make some attempt to warn you, but you were absolutely bent on speaking your mind,” Lady Caroline said coolly. She brushed past her aunt without another word or glance, not trusting herself to retain her civility.

  Mrs. Burlington’s strident voice followed her. “Pray do not think that you may so easily push me aside, niece! I have had a letter from Lady Eddington, advising me of her and Lord Eddington’s own early return.”

  Lady Caroline paused in the act of opening the door. Making an immense effort to ignore her aunt’s spiteful tone, she said, “Their return? But I have heard nothing of this.”

  “Perhaps you would like to be apprised of the whole, then,” Mrs. Burlington said.

  There was a short silence while the two ladies exchanged stares. Lady Caroline said quietly, “How is it that Lady Eddington has written to you, Amaris? I had no inkling that you and she were on such friendly terms.”

  Mrs. Burlington smiled with a certain satisfaction. “Lady Eddington and I became quite close in those short weeks that she, whilst in company with her stepmother, was visiting Berwicke before her marriage to your brother, the earl. Surely you must recall that Lady Eddington was often to be found in my company.”

  “Yes, indeed. It became something of a joke with my brother that he always knew where to look whenever he had misplaced his prospective bride,” Lady Caroline said, deliberately deflating her aunt’s pretensions. She was still in a flaming temper, and if it were not for the information that Mrs. Burlington claimed to hold, she would not have willingly chosen to stand about bandying words with the disagreeable woman a moment longer than necessary.

  Mrs. Burlington’s eyes flashed at the set-down, and she snapped, “I found Lady Eddington to be just as she ought to be, most respectful and accommodating to one who must by age and experience be thought to be wiser than she in her own tender years.”

  The implication was plain, but Lady Caroline did not react to it. “When are my brother and his lady returning, Amaris?”

  “The letter was postmarked nearly three weeks before I received it, so they must already have set out. I expect that Lord and Lady Eddington will be returned to Berwicke in less than a fortnight,” Mrs. Burlington said shortly. She paused a moment, then added, “Lady Eddington and I are as one in our agreement that your continued presence here at Berwicke would be a matter of considerable upset to Lord Eddington.”

  There was a short silence.

  “I beg your pardon?” Lady Caroline’s voice was at its most controlled, quiet and yet not at all retiring.

  Mrs. Burlington was unheeding of the danger signals telegraphed by Lady Caroline’s eyes. Her own eyes were bright with triumph. “Lord Eddington will naturally wish to indulge his new bride in all her little whims. And I do not think it at all unusual. After all, a newly wedded couple should not be required to divert their attentions from one another to accommodate the awkward presence of a family relation. His lordship will also wish Lady Eddington to take on the responsibilities of her new position, which she cannot easily do under the present circumstances, as even you must agree.”

  Lady Caroline stared at her aunt for a long moment. Her delicate brows had lifted slightly as Mrs. Burlington had spoken, and now there also came an unmistakable curl to her lips. “I see. What of your own presence, Amaris? I should think that if mine was de trop, yours must be equally so.”

  Mrs. Burlington was momentarily taken aback. Her surprised expression quickly smoothed, however. “My dear, it is hardly the same thing. I am an old woman and unlikely to demand much either in the way of entertainment or lavish civilities. In addition, Lady Eddington has most graciously assured me that she does not regard my presence at Berwicke as inhibiting in any way. To the contrary, I believe she thinks of me mostly in the guise of an amiable aunt.”

  “And what has Lord Eddington said?”

  Mrs. Burlington’s eyes slid away. She smoothed her sleeve. “As to that, I couldn’t say.”

  “What you mean is that my brother has not been consulted one way or the other, but that you have taken it upon yourself to make every attempt to eject me from my home before ever he arrives, so that you will be firmly ensconced as mistress of the house,” Lady Caroline said. “Pray allow me to inform you, Amaris, that I have no intention of packing my bags and bidding leave to Berwicke Keep in accordance with your opinion, nor on the basis of what you say are Lady Eddington’s wishes. When I leave Berwicke, it will be when I wish it or at my brother’s express request. I hope that I have made myself understood.”

  “Perfectly,” Mrs. Burlington said through stiffened lips. “However, I think you should know that the matter does not end here, with you and me.”

  “No, I should rather think not,” Lady Caroline said. Before she went through the door, she glanced once more back at her aunt. Cold anger shone out of her eyes. She was past caring that servants had begun to linger curiously in the entry hall.

  “I do not think I have ever told you before, out of respect for my mother’s memory, Amaris, what I have always thought of you. But now I feel compelled to do so. I have always found you to be ill-bred, patronizing, and quite mean-spirited, to boot.’’ With that, she flung shut the door behind her and walked swiftly away.

  Chapter Nine

  The sky was lowering and sullen, threatening snow.

  Lord Trilby cast a calculating look up at the heavy gray clouds overhead. His breath frosted the air as he said, “Ugly weather shaping up, John.”

  The bag bearer knowledgeably eyed the sky in his turn. He sniffed the air experimentally, much like the tired spaniel at his feet was doing. “Aye, m’lord. I can scent the new snow. A right nasty spell we’re in for, I’ll warrant.”

  “Yes,” Lord Trilby agreed thoughtfully. He had left the manor house early, with his hunting gun over his shoulder, dressed warmly in hunting togs, a spaniel cavorting at his heels, and accompanied by his bag carrier.

  The sport had been indifferent and resulted in a disappointing brace of hares and a pheasant or two, when what Lord Trilby had hoped for was a haunch of fresh venison for his dinner that evening.

  The weather and the cold seemed somewhat ominous to him. He decided suddenly that he had had enough tramping about the fields and woods. “Let’s go in, John.”

  “Aye, m’lord.” The bag bearer threw a sympathetic glance at his master as they started back the few miles to the manor house. The earl had started out in good spirits, but the exercise and the disappointment of not even catching sight of a likely stag had brought a deep frown to his lordship’s face. The bag bearer shrugged philosophically, reflecting that the next time his lordship took his gun out, the sport would likely be more to his taste.

  Lord Trilby would have been amused at the construction that his servant had put upon his frowning expression. Actually he had a prescience of something impending. Perhaps his restlessness was brought on by the threatening weather, but more likely it was owing in large part to the lack of word from his secretary.

  Lord Trilby had sent to Mr. Weston by messenger word that his meeting with Lady Caroline Eddington had been unsuccessful, along with a query whether the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits had arrived. The messenger had returned with only a short acknowledgment of the earl’s message, which had left Lord Trilby dangling in mild suspense. He still had no notion when, or even if, the grandduchess had yet arrived in London. It was very unlike Weston not to think of including some indication of the situation, Lord Trilby thought, and not for the first time.

  When Lord Trilby got back to the manor house, he was greeted by the intelligence that a personage had arrived. The young manservant, who had not been with the household more than two years, appeared u
ncharacteristically flustered as he led the earl to understand that the personage was demanding his lordship’s immediate attendance.

  Lord Trilby raised his brows as he continued to give over into the trust of the footman his gun, his hat, and his gloves. “Indeed!”

  As he walked rapidly in the direction of the drawing room, his keen ears picked up an unmistakable voice raised in imperious query. Servants bearing unfamiliar and innumerable pieces of baggage scurried past him with scarcely a murmured recognition. The very aim seemed to crackle with energy. Lord Trilby grinned to himself, recognizing without ever having heard a name that the personage who was the cause of such a stir of activity could be none other than the Grandduchess Wilhelmina Hildebrande of Schaffenzeits.

  Lord Trilby stepped into the drawing room.

  The earl’s entrance was at once noted. The diminutive and aged lady who was beleaguering the butler at once laid off with her demands and questions. She brushed past the butler as though the man had ceased to exist. She stretched out one withered hand, wielding a finely polished walking stick with the other. “My dearest Miles.” Her greeting was heavy with the guttural accents of her country.

  Lord Trilby took his great-aunt’s hand and bent down, avoiding the brim of her bonnet, so that he could place a fond salute on her powdered and wrinkled cheek. “Your grace.”

  The Grandduchess Wilhelmina Hildebrande stepped back so that she could look at her grandnephew. The pleasure that had lightened her sharp visage lessened as she looked him over. Her guttural voice deepened with disapproval. “Why have you attired yourself in such a mode? I do not find it at all appropriate that you should receive me in your dirty boots.”