Amanda Scott (15 page)

“Oh, Abberley, of course,” admitted Margaret, frowning. “Just when I believed he was really turning over a new leaf, here he is raking again and no doubt falling into bed as dawn is breaking, reeking of brandy.”

“I doubt the dawn reeks,” said Lady Celeste demurely, surprising Margaret into a near smile. “That’s better, dear. It don’t do to allow oneself to be swayed too much by the doings of others. Abberley will reap the rewards of his naughtiness just as surely as Timothy does, mark my words. If he does swill brandy all night, his morning head will make him rue his excesses.”

“He deserves a sore head,” said Margaret vehemently. “Who do you suppose his guests are, anyway?”

“Such curiosity is unbecoming in a young lady of quality, my dear,” said her ladyship virtuously.

“Pooh,” retorted her undutiful niece. “You would like to know as much as I would.”

“Very true,” sighed Lady Celeste, “but then, as Annis so rightly says, I often behave in an unbecoming fashion. That does not mean that you should do so.”

“Do you suppose he invited a party and then forgot he had done so?” Margaret asked, ignoring both the sigh and the observation that followed it.

“No, of course not, for he was meaning to go to London not long since, you will recall. Unless he invited them before then and has had no word from them since, which is very unlikely in such a case, then they must have arrived unannounced. It is the sort of thing members of his set frequently do when they are bored, you know. Most likely, they heard he was fixed at Abberley for a time—and he is likely to have written to tell someone that much, isn’t he?—and they decided to surprise him, to liven up what they must have believed to be a dreary country existence. Since we have not been invited to take part in the festivities, we must assume that his friends are not suitable company for us and must await his next visit to discover if their arrival was indeed unexpected.”

They did not see the earl, however, for four long days, and Margaret quickly came to realize how much she had come to enjoy his visits. She had become accustomed to being able to ask his advice about everything, from truly important matters to questions that might better have been put to the bailiff, as well as some that were of small importance to anyone. In point of fact, she missed Abberley’s company. Despite his newborn interest in his own estate, he had spent part of each day at the manor, and four days without sight of him proved to be four very long days, indeed.

When he did ride over at last, he was not alone. The gentleman with him was dressed elegantly in a bright-blue, brass-buttoned riding coat with wide lapels and a rolled collar, buff breeches, tall white-topped boots, and a curly-brimmed beaver hat. The earl was dressed as usual in his buckskins and a dark coat. Margaret was surprised, but pleased, too, to note that he seemed none the worse for four days of carousing with his friends. The stranger’s hair was lighter than Abberley’s and his eyes were brown instead of blue. They sparkled merrily as the earl performed the introductions.

“May I present Lord John Kingsted, Aunt Celeste? He is Morehampton’s younger son, you know, and has decided to hunt for a rich wife in Hertfordshire.” The earl shot a grin at his friend. Standing side by side, they were almost the same height, though Abberley appeared to be a shade taller and a good deal broader in the shoulders.

“Seems to me Morehampton ought to have enough to settle between two sons,” said Lady Celeste dryly as she acknowledged Kingsted’s bow.

“He does, ma’am,” that young man informed her with a twinkling grin. “I can’t deny I’m looking to settle down—nearly thirty, y’ know, n’ high time to put childhood aside, as m’ father says. But I can keep a wife in proper style, stap me if I can’t. Can’t say I wouldn’t welcome an heiress as quickly as any other gent would, but one ain’t necessary to m’ comfort.”

Margaret glared at Abberley, who returned her gaze blandly. He was pretty pleased with himself, she thought. Did he look to see her married off to a marquess’s younger son? Not that young Kingsted wasn’t well-mannered and pleasant looking. But he wasn’t her style. Not at all, and if Abberley thought for one moment that he could carry this big brother business to such a pass—

“Margaret, dear, you have not answered Lord John,” Lady Celeste said gently. “He has been saying all that is kind.”

Margaret realized she had not paid the slightest attention to anything the gentleman had said. She had simply stared malignantly at the earl. Blushing furiously, she turned to Kingsted. “I beg your pardon, sir, my wits must have gone begging.”

“No need to apologize, Miss Caldecourt. I merely said I was sorry to have heard of your brother’s death and that I hope things have not been found to be in too much of a tangle here at the manor. We all liked Michael very much, you know.”

His eyes were kind now, the twinkle gone, and she felt more ashamed of herself than ever. Her rudeness had been inexcusable. To her surprise, Abberley came to her rescue.

“At first,” he said calmly, “matters were a bit confused, but Michael’s affairs have been found to be in good order. I am one of the trustees, as I believe I may have mentioned to you.”

“Indeed, you puffed it off once or twice,” retorted Kingsted with a grin. “How Michael came to make such a mull of things as to give you control of his estate beats me all hollow.” Still grinning, he actually winked at Margaret.

“A fine attitude to take after driving all the way here from London merely to ask my advice,” Abberley told him roundly.

So, Margaret thought with another sidelong look at the earl, Lord John had sought advice, had he? And no doubt Abberley had brought him straight along to make her acquaintance. Well, matchmaking from his lordship was the last thing she wanted, but she could handle Kingsted. There was no harm in being kind to him.

She smiled at him and said sweetly, “Abberley has been very helpful.”

Kingsted leaned toward her and said confidentially, “You could do a deal worse than to follow his advice, you know. Got a good bit of intelligence in his cockloft, has Abberley.”

“Will you stay to tea, gentlemen?” Lady Celeste asked. “I am persuaded that Lady Annis will wish to meet Lord John, and she is out driving just now.”

The gentlemen stayed willingly, and by the time Lady Annis had returned from her sedate drive round the countryside, Pamela Maitland had also come to call. She was introduced to Kingsted and greeted him with as much poise as she would greet a friend of her father’s or the gardener’s boy, unawed by his high estate. She inquired after his journey from London, and soon everyone was trading tales of harrowing mishaps upon the road. Though Miss Maitland had rarely journeyed more than ten or twenty miles from her own home, both Lady Celeste and Margaret could easily match any tale told by the gentlemen, thanks to their extensive travels.

When Lady Annis arrived at last, Margaret took the opportunity provided by Lady Celeste’s performing the necessary introductions to ask Abberley if he had left all his other guests at the hall.

“Only John remains,” he said, smiling down at her. “The others left this morning.”

“Was it a large party, sir?”

“Large enough. About fifteen persons, I believe, but enough to throw Mrs. Puddephatt off her stride a bit. I haven’t entertained here in Hertfordshire for some time, and although the household staff is back to full strength now, a number of the servants are inexperienced. It was good of you to allow Mary Muston to come back to us on short notice.”

Margaret regarded him closely. In the past weeks his old color had returned. He was looking tanned and much more healthy than that first day, certainly, and even now she could see little evidence that he had used his visitors as an excuse to return to old habits. She didn’t dare to ask him whether he had done so, of course, nor did she wish to let him know how much she had missed him. One always resented change, she told herself firmly. That was all that had distressed her. She had merely grown accustomed to his visits. Nothing more. She glanced toward Lord John Kingsted, now engaged in polite conversation with Lady Annis.

“He seems perfectly charming,” Margaret said, looking down at her hands so that Abberley wouldn’t see the glint in her eyes. “Have you known him long?”

“Many years. Michael and I knew him at Eton. Then he went on to Cambridge, poor fellow, but we still managed to see him now and again. I’m surprised you haven’t met him before.”

“No, I know the name, of course, but I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of an introduction before. To be sure, one meets so many people during the Season that it is possible to forget a face or two, but I am persuaded I should have remembered him.”

“Yes, ladies generally do,” Abberley said with a small chuckle. “He purchased a set of colors not long after leaving school, which may account for it.”

“Oh, was he on the Continent?”

“Not he. Coldstream Guards, assigned to St. James’s Palace, if you please. Spent his time doing the pretty for the queen and that lot. Soft work.”

He raised his voice slightly upon noting that Kingsted had excused himself to Lady Annis and now approached them. That young man’s eyes narrowed in mock anger. “Watch what you say, Abberley. Soft work, indeed. I’ll have you know there’s no duty so hazardous as looking after royalty. One never knows what to expect from one moment to the next. Assassination attempts, young whippersnappers accepting dares and trying to invade her majesty’s bedchamber, others wishing to win bets by seducing a princess—one never knew, that’s all. And no soldier on the Continent ever came to grief through failing to polish a button, I can tell you.”

Abberley grinned at him, but Pamela Maitland, rising to take her leave, said his duty sounded most interesting to her, and surely it must have been very exciting to be at the center of things as Lord John had been. His lordship, grinning appreciatively, made her a profound leg.

“Have you brought a footman with you, Miss Maitland?” Abberley inquired, chuckling.

“Oh, no, sir, for the distance is not at all great. I walked over with Sir Timothy and Melanie when they returned from the vicarage, you know. You needn’t worry about my safety. I shall be quite all right.”

“No doubt, but it would give me pleasure to see you home. You needn’t come, John,” he added, “if you would prefer to remain here and visit a bit longer. You know your way back to the hall.”

“Yes, indeed, but it would give me pleasure, also, to accompany you,” said Kingsted with that twinkling smile.

“Perhaps you would all honor us by coming to dinner tomorrow evening,” Lady Celeste said quickly as the group prepared to take their departure. “We would be pleased.”

“Celeste,” hissed Annis, “this is a house of mourning.” Realizing the others must have heard, she turned a deprecating smile toward Kingsted. “Not that we would not greatly enjoy your company, sir. ’Tis merely that my health is so uncertain, you know, that I find it difficult to exert my mind to other things when I am overset by grief.”

Lady Celeste shot her a look of displeasure. “I had not forgotten, Annis, but there is nothing amiss with having friends in to dine. Indeed, it would add levity to what are increasingly dull meals. We will have no dancing, although perhaps a tune on the pianoforte would not come amiss,” she added, glancing at her grandniece. “You all must know that Margaret plays excellently well, and no one can say that music is frivolous, after all.”

“We would be honored, ma’am,” said Kingsted promptly. The others agreed, and Pamela was asked to invite her father as well. After they had gone, Lady Annis repeated her strictures on the wisdom of entertaining in a house of mourning, but Lady Celeste told her roundly that she didn’t want to hear any more about the matter.

“They are coming, and even you, Annis, would not suggest that I rescind the invitation now that it’s been accepted. You would do better to concern yourself with that son of yours.”

Margaret gasped, fearing that Lady Celeste meant to put into words their belief that Jordan had been responsible for Timothy’s fall and for tampering with his medication afterward. Lady Celeste heard the gasp and folded her lips together. But Lady Annis wasn’t about to allow her to fall silent after making such an observation.

“Just why should I fret about dearest Jordan, Celeste?” she asked dangerously. “I can assure you that he hasn’t given me a moment’s distress since the day he was born.”

“Then he is either cleverer than I give him credit for being, or you are a zany,” retorted Lady Celeste, taking up the gauntlet with enthusiasm. “If you haven’t seen him pinching the maids, I have. I daresay he’s running rampant in the villages hereabouts, as well, for he struts whenever a female is present. Even Margaret and poor Miss Maitland have been annoyed by his attentions.”

“Nonsense, Margaret has said nothing to me.”

“No, Annis, I haven’t,” Margaret said quietly. “I have not needed your assistance to deal with his advances. But neither do I welcome them.”

“Well, you would do better to reconsider before you make up your head on that score, my dear. You are nearly three-and-twenty, and that puts you well upon the shelf. I hope you do not think you will see another Season in London. You would look a hag next to all the seventeen-year-old chits.”

Lady Celeste snorted. “Annis, you clearly need spectacles. Margaret’s light would outshine any number of those young things. And even if it didn’t, she would have no need to settle for the likes of Jordan. She’s a wealthy young woman. Not a great heiress, by any means, but very few gentlemen would scoff at her portion, I assure you. She is hardly on the shelf yet.”

“That is as may be,” said Lady Annis stiffly, “but she had several Seasons in London without achieving a successful connection, and if you are about to remind me of young Frederick Culross, I beg you will not. Eligible he may have been, but he was scarcely a brilliant match.”

Margaret felt herself beginning to tremble with anger at being discussed in such a fashion. She wanted nothing more than to turn on her heel and leave the room. She saw Lady Celeste grimace with annoyance and believed her ladyship was about to pull out all the stops. “Please,” she heard herself saying in a strangled voice, “I do not wish to hear any more. I am not interested in forming any connection, I assure you. I wish only to be left alone to pursue my life in my own fashion. So please do not bicker over what is best for me. I shall decide that in my own good time.”