Amanda Scott (34 page)

Giving up in the belief that Pamela could hardly be expected to view the man objectively, Gwenyth decided to wait and judge him for herself after she had had the privilege of meeting him. He sounded like a worthy opponent, if he could make Pamela fear him even a little, as it seemed she did. Miss Beckley’s experiences with her papa having led her to believe that all men would dance easily to her piping, her cousin Marcus must have come as something of a shock.

Glancing at her friend as the carriage drew up before the modiste’s establishment, Gwenyth decided with a complacent smile that she herself, having nothing to lose, would be much better able to deal with the earl.

R
ISING EARLY THE NEXT
morning, the two young women took their leave of Berkeley Square, with amiable, modestly garbed Annie Gray sitting opposite them in the hired post chaise.

“Very kind of Lord Tallyn, I’m sure,” the plump middle-aged abigail said approvingly as the chaise lurched forward over the cobbles. “Two boys and a full team. Very pleasant indeed.”

“Joss arranged for the chaise before he left,” Gwenyth told Pamela. “I fully expected us to have to lumber along in that old coach we used yesterday, because he is using his own chaise himself, of course. You can imagine my astonishment when Marwyn told me this morning that Joss had ordered a post chaise and four, as well as a pair of armed postilions, for us.”

“How very kind he is to you,” Pamela said. “How lucky you are to have an older brother to look out for you.”

Gwenyth chuckled. “I have a notion, however, that this time he did it not for me but to impress you.”

“Goodness,” Pamela said, tossing her head, “I cannot think what you mean.”

Annie looked sharply at Gwenyth and raised her eyebrows in the sort of silent query that would have been intolerable in any maidservant who had not known her mistress from birth.

Gwenyth laughed. “She sent him to grass, Annie. He tumbled just like every other doltish man Miss Beckley has ever met. Why do they do it, do you suppose?”

Hiding a smile, Annie pretended to examine Pamela, then shook her neatly capped head. “I cannot imagine, m’lady. So ugly as she is, so common in her manner, so—”

“Oh!” Pamela’s squeal of indignation caused her companions to cover their ears in protest. “Gwen, make her stop!”

“Very well,” Gwenyth said, laughing, “but if you expect me to sing your praises, you are out, for I shan’t do any such thing. To my mind, you are as conceited as you ever were, and that is your greatest fault, next to your fascination for Drury Lane drama. Frankly, I must tell you I am still uncertain as to the truth of all you unfolded to me yesterday.”

“Well, but …” She glanced uncertainly at Annie.

“We needn’t discuss it now,” Gwenyth said kindly, knowing that however much she might trust her abigail, Pamela would find it disconcerting to discuss personal matters before any servant. “Tell us instead how you left Miss Fletcher.”

Pamela blinked. “On the common coach. I told you.”

“Don’t be blockish. You know perfectly well what I mean. Does she still wear flowers in her hair to Sunday dinner?”

Miss Beckley had no objection to telling her all the news of Miss Fletcher’s academy for young ladies in Tunbridge Wells, and that pleasant topic and various tangents thereof occupied them pleasantly all the way to Maidenhead, where they left the main road to take a tree-lined private drive, drawing up shortly thereafter before an elegant three-story manor house nestled in a thick grove of trees. A few moments later, Annie having been borne off to visit friends in the nether regions, the two young women were escorted into Lady Meriel Davies’ drawing room.

Their hostess sat comfortably before her hearth, becomingly attired in a cheerful pink morning gown, her matching cap trimmed with mint-colored ribbons and creamy, elegant lace. She greeted their entrance with undisguised pleasure, her smile setting dimples to dancing in a face grown plump from three previous confinements, as well as her present interesting condition.

“Goodness, Gwen,” she exclaimed without rising, “what a marvelous surprise! Do you come to stay? Who is your lovely friend?” When Gwenyth had introduced Pamela, Meriel said apologetically, her gray-green eyes atwinkle, “Forgive me for remaining seated, Miss Beckley, but I have been threatened with dire consequences if I overtax my strength.”

“Meri, what is it?” Gwenyth demanded, instantly concerned. “Are you ailing?”

Shooting her a glance brimful of amusement, Meriel said, “Not ailing, only in the family way, as you know perfectly well.”

Gwenyth frowned. “But this is not your first confinement, and it is not like you to coddle yourself. What’s amiss?”

“Nothing, I promise you, only I had the misfortune after a particularly tiresome day to swoon at Antony’s feet just before he left for Oxfordshire, and although Dr. Knighton—hailed forth from London with scarcely time to snatch up his coat—pronounced me perfectly fit, the result is as you see. Antony made me promise to do nothing strenuous while he is away if I do not wish to be packed off to his Aunt Selena in Dorset. Since I do not care for Dorset or for Aunt Selena …” She spread her hands.

“But surely you ought not to be alone,” Gwenyth said.

“Alone? With three children, their nursemaids, a butler, a housekeeper, and a dozen other servants in the house? You have no idea how much I sometimes yearn to
be
alone!”

The door flew open just then, and a towheaded little boy of five in nankeen breeches and a wrinkled blue coat dashed in, glancing over his shoulder as though he feared pursuit.

“Mama!” he exclaimed, dashing to Meriel’s side. “Please, Mama, you must tell Daisy I am not to have runner beans for my dinner. You promised, Mama, not for a whole week, but Daisy says that’s nonsense, that greens is good for me.”

“They
are
good for you, Tony,” his mother said gently, “but I will speak to Daisy. Do you turn about now and make a proper bow to my callers, if you please.”

He whirled on his small heels and bounced his head forward, looking up almost immediately with his blue eyes dancing. “It is Auntie Gwen,” he said. “Do you like my bow? I practiced.”

Gwenyth’s heart turned over as it always did when she beheld her little nephew, and she held out her arms to him, hugging him tightly when he ran to her. “Ah, Tony, you are a gentleman born,” she said, delighting him, “but you did not greet my friend Miss Beckley.”

Straightening, he turned and executed another quick bow. “I do one lady at a time,” he explained. “How do you do, ma’am?”

A plump, red-faced maidservant appeared in the open doorway just then and gasped apologetically, “Beg pardon, m’lady, but I turned my back for just a twink and he disappeared. I’ve run down all them steps, and ’tis a wonder I didn’t fall and break my neck. And his little sisters sitting proper at table like the precious angels they be. What this young scamp needs—”

“Yes, Daisy, but I did promise him he need not eat runner beans for a week. I ought to have told you, but I forgot. Do you take him back upstairs now, and he will behave himself just as he ought. Will you not, Tony, my lamb?”

“Yes, Mama, I always do,” said her lamb with wide-eyed innocence as he placed his small hand in Daisy’s. “We’ll go up the stairs slowly, Daisy,” he added consolingly, “so you can catch your breath again. You oughtn’t to run. It ain’t proper for a female to run. Ain’t you always telling the girls?”

Hiding a smile at the nursemaid’s disgruntled snort, Meriel turned back to her guests, but Gwenyth saw nothing to smile about. Barely waiting until the door had shut again behind the pair, she said, “Do you think that woman ought to be trusted with Tony, Meri? Will she really—”

“No, of course she will not,” Meriel said, “though he must tempt her sometimes beyond all reason, for he is the veriest imp. Even Antony cannot always control him. The unfortunate thing is that he makes us laugh just when we ought to be scolding him. Davy was much the same, you’ll remember.”

“Well, if you are certain that she will not mistreat him,” Gwenyth said, unconvinced. “He may be a devil, but he is much more entertaining than the girls, however angelic they may be.”

“What you need, sister mine, is a dozen such little devils of your own,” Meriel told her roundly. “’Twould teach you to appreciate a woman like Daisy, if you were ever so fortunate as to find another willing to put up with such mischief.”

“As much as I should like to be surrounded by children,” Gwenyth said firmly, “I am not ready to relinquish myself to any passing gentleman merely to get some.”

“So I should hope,” Meriel said with another chuckle.

“You know what I mean.” Gwenyth turned to Pamela. “My family wants nothing more than to see me wedded. Even Meriel, though she values her own independence, desires to see me riveted to some fool man who would order my every movement and thought.”

“Good gracious, Gwen,” Meriel said, “surely you don’t think Antony orders me about like that.”

“Observe,” Gwenyth said, indicating her reclining position. “When Antony says, ‘sit,’ you sit, do you not?”

Meriel laughed. “You know very well that he rarely exerts himself to such purpose. Normally he is the soul of languor.”

“What about when he forced his way into your bedchamber?”

Meriel smiled reminiscently. “The fact that you have to go back six years to find a second incident proves its own point, and poor Antony insisted that it took him the first two months of our marriage to recuperate from that exertion. He would have stayed in bed the whole time, too,” she added with a wicked look, “had not other duties beckoned him forth. But you have not yet told me why you are here. I hope you mean to stay long enough at least to take a nuncheon with me.”

Gwenyth assured her that they would be glad of food. “Joss has gone to Plas Tallyn, and we are on our way to Molesford. Though I know that any house in which Auntie Wynne resides will be prepared to receive guests at any hour, I believe it is as well to take no chance of starving.”

“Gluttonous girl,” her sister retorted. “You never change. Do you ring that bell, and I shall prove that I, too, am prepared to feed unexpected guests.”

In response to a request from Pamela, Meriel entertained them with tales of her exploits in France until her butler announced that their meal had been served in the dining room. But when they had seated themselves at the table, she said after a long, thoughtful silence, “I have a notion, Gwen, that you have not completely explained this sudden visit of yours. Are you in the briars again?”

Glancing at the hovering servants, Gwenyth replied airily, “No, of course I am not. What a thing to suggest!”

“You are very glib,” Meriel said with a searching look. “Is there something you are not telling me?” When Gwenyth remained silent, she glanced at Pamela, who blushed and looked away. Dismissing the servants with a wave of her hand, Meriel said firmly, “You had better tell me the whole, you know, and at once, before I imagine worse things than the truth.”

Briefly Gwenyth considered prevaricating, but she knew it wouldn’t answer. Meriel knew her too well, and besides, Pamela was looking as guilty now as a child caught out in mischief. Sighing, she told her sister everything.

When she had finished, Meriel said, “Did you explain this farrago to Joss? He might be able to help, you know.”

“No, for he was in a great hurry to leave London.” In response to a skeptical look, she added hastily, “I want to do this myself, Meri! I was bored to tears in town, but now I can have my own adventure—well, mine and Pamela’s.”

With a reminiscent gleam in her eye, Meriel gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment before she said, “Very well, then, but mind you do nothing to fling us all into the suds, Gwen. Antony may not exert himself often, but I’d as lief he not find out that I was the least party to this if you make a muck of it. His temper when he does exert himself is not pleasant to behold.”

Reaching out to squeeze her hand, Gwenyth said gratefully, “I knew you’d understand. And you won’t tell Joss, will you?”

“Good gracious, do you think me a ninnyhammer? I shall plead ignorance to everything if I see him before you do. No doubt you will have Miss Beckley’s problems solved long before then anyway, and will be longing to leave Molesford. You can stay with us then if you like. Antony will be home in a sennight, I daresay, or a fortnight at most.”

“Did you say he went into Oxfordshire?” Gwen said. “Is that not unusual?” Glancing at Pamela, she added for that young lady’s benefit, “He is something marvelous in the government, you see. Usually he doesn’t say where he goes at all. Is this family business, Meri?”

“Pray, do not ask me to explain, for I know as little as you do, though I do know it is not family. I think he has been looking into something for the Customs and Excise Service.”

“In Oxfordshire?”

“Well, I thought that’s what he said,” Meriel said with a shrug. “He doesn’t tell me much, Gwen. You know that.”

“Secrets,” Gwenyth said, wrinkling her nose. “How dreadful to have to live with them all the time. I should hate it.”

“I know,” Meriel agreed with a chuckle. She looked at Pamela. “Gwen prefers gossip to secrets. She will no doubt grow up to be just like one of those eccentric Berry sisters.”

Pamela wrinkled her brow. “Who?”

Meriel shot Gwenyth a teasing look, then said to Pamela, “They are two elderly ladies who live near us in London. If I tell you that they extinguish the lamp over their door whenever they have had a surfeit of lady callers and will then admit only gentlemen, will that describe them sufficiently?”

“But how rude!” Pamela said. “Why, I should think no one at all would visit them when their lamp is out.”

“Oh,” Meriel said, “the gentlemen know they are always welcome, and the Berry sisters’ receptions are very popular.”

Gwenyth sighed wistfully. “Those ladies may be a trifle peculiar, but they have exactly the freedom I hope to have myself one day. If only Joss would permit it, I should set up my own household at once and hold my own receptions. I am certain they would quickly grow to be as popular as any in London.”