Anne Barbour (11 page)

She sighed. “What has all this to do with me?” she repeated, in a gentler tone of voice.

Charlie instantly noted the change in her demeanor. He grasped her hands again and spoke eagerly.

“Everything. You’re right, of course, I’m still in the running for the pot. Sally ...” He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. “...the tontine prize is now twelve thousand pounds!”

“Twelve thousand ...” Sally’s voice trailed off in awe.

“Yes. And there is only one other man left of the twelve of us who is still unmarried.” He paused again, and as Sally gazed questioningly at him, his eyes took on a wicked glint. “The one remaining bachelor besides myself is—Lord Walford.”

Sally’s jaw dropped open. “Sedgewick Home, Lord Walford?”

“The very same. Earl of Walford, heir to the Marquess of Bridgeworth and cynosure of every swooning maiden on the marriage mart.”

“For heavens’ sake, Charlie. Is that ... ? No, certainly he has not remained unmarried in the hopes of winning twelve thousand pounds.”

Charlie snorted. “Of course not. Twelve thousand pounds is—well, not precisely a drop in the bucket to the Homes, but it’s certainly not an incentive to avoid parson’s mousetrap. The marquess is rich as what’s-his-name—Greek fellow.”

“Croesus?”

“Yes, that’s the chap. No, Sedge remains a bachelor due to his own carelessness.”

“What?”

“Well, he knows he must marry. His mother has been rattling on at him for years about it, but he’s always got his head in a book, or he’s busy blowing up some shed or other with his experiments, or he’s off fishing, or ...”

“Yes, I get the idea, Charlie, but I will ask you one more time. What has all this to do with me?”

“Why, I want you to marry him, of course.”

For a full minute, Sally gaped at him. Several times she opened her mouth to speak, but whatever thoughts churned within her, they remained unuttered until, at last, she stood and faced him.

“Charlie, this time you’ve gone ‘round the bend. Or perhaps I did not hear you aright?”

Charlie, too, rose to his feet.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I should not have sprung it on you so abruptly; but if you’ll just think it over, I know you’ll see what splendid sense it all makes.”

“Sense!” Sally gulped indignantly. “You want me to set my cap for a man who has never indicated the slightest interest in me, or any other female! And how can you cold-bloodedly plan to marry off one of your best friends just to snatch a silly prize out from under his nose? Charlie, you’ve done some insane things before, but this—this is just wicked!”

Charlie did not reply for several moments. He paced the floor once more before stopping before her.

“Sally.” His voice was quiet, and an expression Sally had never seen before rested on his features. His eyes grew serious, and his jaw was set in a manner that gave him a seldom-seen look of maturity. “Let me see if I can explain this to you. I know you think me—and with good reason—a reckless care-for-nobody, but things have been different with me lately. All the pastimes that seemed so important—the gambling, the larks—they seem trivial beyond bearing now.”

He smiled faintly. “I never thought I’d be saying this, but I want to do something with my life. And if I win the tontine, I can do so.”

Sally sank back onto the bench. She had never thought to hear Charles Darracot say those words, and she listened unbelievingly as they echoed in the sunny peace of the greenhouse.

“Go on, Charlie,” she said softly.

“Philip Grantham is selling his stud farm. Do you know the name?”

“I believe Father used to buy from him now and then.”

“He was seriously injured recently, and he is no longer able to manage things. He told me that if he can’t run the place himself, he would just as soon get rid of it altogether. He wants eight thousand for the farm and the stock. Sally, you know how I am with horses. I could do this!”

“Yes, Charlie,” she breathed, recalling the hours he had spent in the stables as a boy. He had never been happier than in the company of the head groom at Westerly Court, the Darracot estate, and that venerable personage had eventually declared him as knowledgeable as any stablehand in the country—to Charlie’s vast delight. “I believe you could. But why not borrow from your father? He was willing to buy you a pair of colors, or set you up as a barrister—or even to provide you with a living as a clergyman. Surely ...”

“That’s true, because those are all gentlemen’s professions. You know father; he’s a right ‘un, but he’s got some old-fashioned notions, such as the idea that earning one’s own living is somehow beneath the son of an earl.”

“Mmm,” replied Sally. “You are right. I imagine Lord Frane would cut up very stiff at the idea of one of his offspring raising horses. However, and be that as it may,” she continued, sitting up very straight, “I fail to see why I should make a fool of myself over Lord Walford just in order to fulfill your boyish dream.”

“You can’t tell me, Sally Berners, that you haven’t got a few dreams of your own—and I’d wager some of them are woven about Sedge. When I think of the hours I’ve spent listening to you gush over him ...”

“I never!” Sally’s voice rose to a squeak. “Well, perhaps just a little, the year of my come-out. You must admit there’s a great deal to gush over. It has been pointed out by more than one interested observer that he looks as though he just stepped off a Greek vase, with those masses of careless golden waves and the cheekbones of an Eastern prince. And his eyes! If ladies wrote odes to gentlemen, those smoky blue eyes would come in for their share of overblown verse. Then when one comes to his ...”

“Yes, very well,” interrupted Charlie with some asperity. “I’m willing to concede he’s a pattern card of masculine beauty. And he’s a nice fellow, too. So, how about it? Would you like to marry him?”

A feeling of unreality gripped Sally, and she clasped her hands in her lap. What was one to say when one’s oldest and dearest friend suddenly started babbling wild impossibilities? She reached to lay her hand on his arm.

“Charlie,” she began firmly. “Listen to me. I am not a—a toy soldier to march at your bidding. Neither is Lord Walford. He may be a prince among men, but I prefer to choose my own life mate. As does Lord Walford, I’m sure.”

“That’s just the point. You haven’t chosen your own mate, and the way you’re going on you never will.”

“I see. Just what, precisely, do you mean, ‘the way I’m going on’?” Sally’s voice remained calm, but Charlie had no difficulty recognizing the ominous edge that had crept into it.

“Now, don’t fly up into the boughs. I only mean—well, you’re not a beauty like Elizabeth, but you’re a taking little thing.”

“Why, thank you, Charlie,” she interposed, the edge having taken on the property of a honed blade. “And I’m sure my sister would thank you as well if she were here.”

“You’re purposely being difficult,” exclaimed Charlie in exasperation. “All right, you’re more than taking. You’re very attractive, or at least you would be if you took the slightest interest in your appearance.” Ignoring Sally’s menacing growl, he continued hastily. “Well, look at you. You have—nice hair. I know brown ain’t a very fashionable color, but yours is more of a chestnut. You’ve got masses of it, and in the sunlight it has those reddish, glinty lights, but”—he reached to curl a tendril around his finger from where it had escaped its confinement—”you keep it stuffed up under a dreadful cap half the time, as though you were somebody’s elderly aunt. And your eyes are big and brown, sort of like the heart of a pansy—except when you get angry and look at a fellow all squiggly-eyed. You ought not to squint, you know. It don’t become you. No—wait,” he added hastily, as Sally’s hands clenched into balls. “I merely meant that when you are all togged out and your hair done up, you’re a”—he drew a long breath—”a lovely young woman. And that being the case,” he continued, beginning to perspire, “any gentleman would be proud to have you on his arm.”

At this, Sally relaxed suddenly and began to laugh.

“Oh, Charlie, you are so absurd. “I am not on the catch for a husband, you know. I am much too busy keeping the Berners family afloat. You know how things have been for us since Papa died. He did not leave us very plump in the pocket, and Mama hasn’t the knack of household management. Why do you think I toil away out here”—she flung out an arm, gesturing to the plants that surrounded her in damp profusion—”raising the most luxuriant flowers, herbs, and medicinal plants in the county? Because people pay me for them! If we are to manage a respectable season for Elizabeth, and Chloe after that, and still have anything for William when he’s old enough to ...”

“That’s what I mean,” interrupted Charlie impatiently. “You go around carrying the weight of—who’s that other Greek fellow?”

“Uh, I don’t—Sisyphus, perhaps?”

“I don’t know either, but the point is, you would be well-advised to quit worrying about your bird-witted sisters and think about yourself.”

“Elizabeth and Chloe are not...”

“There’s no arguing that Elizabeth is a diamond of the first water, I will admit.”

“That’s why it’s so important that she have a really splendid debut. With Mama’s connections, she would surely be granted vouchers for Almack’s, and there’s no reason why she shouldn’t make a splendid parti.”

“And that, I suppose, is how you plan to repair the family fortunes, by matching Elizabeth up with some doddering duke?”

“Of course not,” replied Sally indignantly. “We would never force her to marry where her heart is not engaged. Only, as Mama always says, ‘It’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor one.’ ’’

“Precisely,” declared Charlie, a note of triumph in his voice. “Which brings me back to my original point. Why not marry Lord Walford and solve your financial problems in one fell swoop?”

Again, Sally simply stared at him. She had never known him to be so tenacious—or so buffle-headed.

“Charlie, my dear idiot. Even if I were to acquiesce to this ludicrous scheme, just what makes you think that Lord Walford will suddenly glance down from his Olympian plateau and pluck squiggly-eyed little me from the crowd of female admirers at his feet?”

“Ah,” said Charlie, a pleased expression crossing his mobile features. “There is where you have the advantage, my dear, for you have me to advise you!”

Sally’s derriere descended onto the bench with an audible thump. “Charlie,” she began shakily, “what in God’s green world are you talking about?”

Charlie sat beside her, once more clasping her hands in his. “Don’t you see? Why do you think none of the females his mother’s been hurling at him have never caught Sedge’s attention?”

“I don’t know,” she replied slowly. “I always assumed he hadn’t met the right lady. Or perhaps he isn’t interested in—although, I understand he has been seen with the occasional ladybird.”

“Never mind about that, my girl,” Charlie said with asperity. “But, you’re right. He hasn’t been presented to the woman he’d like to spend the rest of his life with—simply because his, er, requirements are a little more unusual than most.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“That is, Sedge doesn’t care for ordinary pastimes— dancing and gambling and hunting and that sort of thing. He’s of a serious turn of mind. His pursuits are—well, some might call them eccentric.”

“Ye-es, I’ve heard that.”

“And I,” Charlie concluded triumphantly, “know just what they are. I’m one of his closest friends, and I know precisely what he wants in a woman. I know his favorite topics of conversation, I know what he likes to do on rainy days, I know just how he likes a woman to behave. Under my instruction, you’ll have him falling for you like a felled tree in no time.”

“Charlie!” Sally could hardly speak for the indignation that boiled within her. “That is the most callous— the coldest, most unfeeling—to say nothing of the deceit! How could you?”

“Welt, perhaps it is a little callous, and yes, there’s no question there’s some deceit involved, but think of the outcome! Your mama is perfectly right about falling in love with a rich man. I think you’re half in love with him already, and you’d make him a good wife, wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you rather see him married to you than some other scheming harpy? That is,” he amended hastily, “it isn’t as though I’m asking you to learn Chinese. I just want to instruct you in Sedge’s interests. That’s all it would take. I know it.”

“That’s all it would take,” she replied disdainfully. “Do you really expect me to turn myself into something I’m not in order to snare an unsuspecting gentleman? Lord Walford doesn’t deserve such treatment, Charlie. Can’t you see that? Besides, don’t you think he would find it somewhat unsettling when, not long after the ceremony, he discovers that the dutiful bride he thought would enter into all his hobbies, actually has little or no interest in blowing up sheds?”

“I don’t expect you to turn into something you’re not,” Charlie said with great dignity. “Nor do I expect you to take up the study of explosives. I merely believe that if you, er, looked into some of the things that interest Sedge, you’d find them of interest to you, as well. You’ve always been something of a bluestocking, after all.”

“Am I?” she responded, her eyes glittering dangerously.

“Lord, Sally, don’t take a fellow up so. I only mean that you and Sedge already share many of the same interests. Probably.”

She frowned, then turned abruptly.

“How long do you think it would take to learn all my lord’s likes and dislikes?” she asked.

“Sally! You’ll do it?”

She put up a hand to stay Charlie from sweeping her into an exuberant embrace. “I have not said so, my lad. I would first know what his likes and dislikes are.”

“I shall tell you all, my little bird. The first thing we must do is lure him into the vicinity. Propinquity, you know, is a wonderful thing. Fortunately, it happens that he prefers dark women over fair, so we are well on the road already. We can get in some spade-work right away, and I should think that within a month or two, you should have learned enough to capture his interest.”

“A month or two? What will we be doing in all that time? You and I, that is?”