Barbara Metzger (10 page)

“My mother
will be delighted to have a young lady to look after again. She is forever complaining of being bored to flinders in Bath, especially since my sister moved to Richmond. Dorothy decided that, having attained her majority and come into her inheritance, she could put on her spinster caps and set up her own establishment.”

“You let her?”

He smiled. “You have not met my sister if you think I could have stopped her. The Richmond cottage is actually mine, although I seldom visit, so no one considers Dorothy an eccentric or a bluestocking. She does like to take in the occasional London play and visit the lending libraries, so she will not mind a visit to town, either. She refuses to attend the balls and breakfasts, considering them part of the Marriage Mart, which aggravates my mother to no end. They fare better apart.”

“Yet you invited both?”

“Merely in case one or the other was indisposed.”

“But you thought my being here without a chaperone was important enough to inconvenience both ladies?”

It was important enough that Ian was in a stew because neither one had yet reached his doorstep. Richmond was not that far away, and the messenger had left at dawn. “I think it is important to Mr. Wiggs.”

Athena did not answer, but poured out the tea, as collected as a countess in her silence.

Did that mean that she did not care for her reputation, or did not care for Mr. Wiggs? As he accepted his cup, Ian asked, “Forgive me if I am intruding, but would you be distressed if you lost the reverend’s regard? His, ah, calling requires extra attention to the conventions, I suppose.”

“I should not wish to be thought fast, of course, but I will not sacrifice my brother to such a silly scruple, no matter what Mr. Wiggs says. And I believe that his narrow views have more to do with his ambition than his vocation. A true man of God would never condemn a person on hearsay or appearances.”

“That was my impression also. And yet he is a close friend of the family.”

“And wishing to be closer. Yes, I do know his intentions. Do not worry that he might not actually, ah, come up to scratch. I believe that is how my older brother put it. Despite what my brother thinks, the loss of Mr. Wiggs would not place me entirely on the shelf, you know. I am not at my last prayers.”

Ian was. He was also curious. She had not told Wiggs about the missing uncle or the gunshot, and she had called him Wiggy in private. That did not betoken a fond regard, to Ian’s thinking. A marriage was supposed to be based on trust and respect, was it not? Not that he had thought much about marriage, of course. On the other hand, if the young woman was promised to someone else…

Athena was not sure if she would mind the loss of Wiggy or not. Despite her brave words, she had no other suitor in sight, and none on the horizon. The few assemblies she’d attended in Derby had yielded nothing but youths and widowers, a few aged roues, and the occasional pinch from a married man. When her uncle eventually arrived in London, he could not introduce her to eligible
partis,
only naval men, and she did not want an absent husband, or one so liable to leave her a young widow. Her sister-in-law, Veronica, had no connections in town, having alienated the other women making their come-outs during her four Seasons, including her own sisters. She would not bestir herself on Athena’s behalf, anyway, especially if Athena brought shame on the family name. That left Wiggy.

Athena wanted a husband and a family of her own. She wanted to be out from under Rensdale’s roof, but still be near enough to nurture her little brother.

Wiggs seemed ideal. Until one considered spending the rest of one’s life with the man.

She knew what Wiggs was planning. Her older brother had warned her. Actually Spartacus had congratulated her on finding such a suitable match, and without any effort or expense on his own part. Satisfied to see her suitably fixed, he would make no effort to find her another gentleman to wed.

Athena stared into her cup, as if trying to read the floating bits of tea leaves.

The earl interrupted her musings. “He is right, you know, that a decent gentleman would not offer marriage to a fallen woman, even if her fall from grace is only in the gossips’ eyes.”

“If he loved her, he would.”

“Ah, does Mr. Wiggs hold you in such high esteem, then? He seemed quite determined that you not lose your good name.”

“No, I doubt the man has any true affection for me. If I am ruined, I believe he would cast the first stone.”

“Then what do you wish to do? Shall I call for a carriage to return you to your uncle’s residence?”

“I will not leave my brother. I need to be here when he calls for me. He is better this morning, but I do not believe we have seen the last of the fevers, not at all. And the surgeon warned he is not to be moved.”

“Zeus, no. Bound to open up the wound and cause him untold pain.”

“So I have no choice, do I? With your permission, of course, I have to stay, and hope your family arrives in time to redeem my reputation. If not, I suppose I shall have one less choice in the future.”

Everyone was entitled to choices—except Ian, who had given up his rights when he shot into those blasted trees. Now he vowed that Miss Renslow would have her options, Wiggy or whatever she wished. “You shall have your chaperone, I swear.”

As Athena was finishing her tea and preparing to rejoin her brother, a caller walked into the morning room, unannounced as was his custom as an old friend of the family.

“Ah, Carswell,” Ian said, “let me make you known to Miss Athena Renslow, who is sister to the young gentleman we assisted yesterday. Miss Renslow, I should like you to meet my friend, the Honorable Kenton Carswell.”

Athena made a perfect curtsy. “If you helped bring my brother to Maddox House, you have my utmost appreciation, sir.” She held out her hand.

Carswell was too stunned to take it. “This is the little sister you went to fetch?”

Athena blushed. Ian could feel the tips of his ears grow warm. “Miss Renslow is small in stature, not in age or dignity.”

Carswell had his quizzing glass out and was inspecting the young woman.

“Please forgive my friend his affectations. He is truly the best of good fellows, under the guise of a coxcomb.” Under cover of leading Carswell into the room, Ian put his hand around the slighter man’s shoulder and squeezed, hard. He whispered in his ear, “Nineteen.” Carswell dropped his quizzing glass, and said, “Gads.”

“Precisely. Now make your leg to the young lady.”

Carswell did, with all his polished elegance. “Forgive me, Miss Renslow, I was overcome by your age—ah, attractiveness. My friend did not see fit to mention that he hosted an angel at his table, or I would have arrived for breakfast. What need for food, though, when a man could feast on such a lovely sight? But how goes the young man? Your brother is a game one, Marden told me yesterday. Pluck to the backbone.”

Athena blushed with pleasure. Mr. Carswell’s nonsensical compliments meant little, but praise of her brother was music to her ears. She liked Lord Marden’s friend already, despite his airs. Not that she had the least intention of becoming enamored of the handsome newcomer. Why, with his expensive apparel and suave manners, he was as above her touch as…as an earl. Shorter than the earl and slender, he was the elegant epitome of a fine London gentleman. With his neckcloth tied so intricately and so high, he could barely turn his head, yet he wore the fashion of the time with style and grace. He also wore a warm smile, which Athena appreciated more than his perfectly combed blond hair and refined features. He seemed to be forever smiling, half at the world, and half at himself.

“Thank you for asking, sir. My brother seems to be recovering. The doctors warn that it is far too soon to be certain, but I am optimistic. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I shall return to Troy’s side and leave you to your conversation.”

Both men bowed. When she left, Ian firmly shut the door behind her. He sank into his chair while Carswell reached for a decanter on the sideboard.

“Don’t say anything. I have already endured a lecture from a jumped-up psalm-spouter.”

“Nineteen?”

“I told you not to say anything, dash it!”

“Good grief, man, what are you going to do?”

“I have already sent for my mother and sister.”

Carswell exhaled in relief. “That’s all right and tight, then. Uh, what psalm-spouter?”

“The young lady’s suitor, it appears, although he’d suit an old crow better.” Ian proceeded to tell his friend about Wiggy, and Carswell related the latest news about town, which, happily, did not mention the Renslows, Lord Marden, or duels. Lord Paige’s disappearance was mentioned in passing, but only when one of the patrons at White’s recalled a gambling debt he would now never recover.

The two friends were about to discuss Ian’s plans for the day, which included checking into the whereabouts of that missing groom, calling on the Admiralty for an expected arrival date for Captain Beecham’s ship, and hanging himself if his mother did not arrive in time.

They were laughing, albeit Ian’s merriment was forced, when the butler, Hull, entered the room. “The young gentleman is asking for your lordship,” he intoned. “As soon as possible.”

Ian was on his feet in a second. “Good grief, where is Attie? Should I send for the surgeon?”

“Miss Renslow is out walking the dog, I believe. And I do not consider a call from the surgeon necessary, or I would have sent for him previously.”

“Quite, quite. I am not accusing you of dereliction of duty, man.” Ian was already out the door and headed for the stairs. “Come on,” the earl called to Carswell, “I might need help bathing him.”

Carswell looked at his silk waistcoat with the delicate forget-me-nots embroidered on it, and his pale blue coat.
“Bathe,
did you say?” But he followed in the earl’s footsteps, taking the marble stairs two at a time.

When they reached the boy’s room, Troy’s cheeks were flushed and his turquoise eyes had a glassy shine to them, but he did not seem hot to Ian’s admittedly inexperienced touch. The maid put down her mending and curtsied to the two gentlemen, smiled and left. She would not have smiled if the boy was in peril, Ian told himself. She would have been rushing after Miss Renslow, yelling for assistance.

“I am sorry, my lord,” Troy said when he noted that Lord Marden was out of breath. “I did not mean to worry you, but Attie will be back in a minute, and I needed to speak with you.”

Ian let his shoulders sag in relief. Then he stepped aside to introduce Carswell.

“You were at the d—”

“The shooting match,” Carswell put in. “Duels are illegal, you know.”

“Of course,” Troy said, proud to be part of this manly pretense. Then he forgot. “But that loose screw did shoot early.”

“Yes, I saw him, too. It might be better for everyone if you forgot that, though.”

Ian could not approve of asking the boy to lie. He would speak to Troy privately, when he was a bit stronger. Meanwhile, Carswell was going on: “I am delighted to see you in better curl than the last time, sir. You gave us all a scare.”

“Me, too,” Troy admitted. “But Lord Marden knew just what to do. That’s why I had to speak to you while Attie is away, my lord.” He glanced uncomfortably at the other gentleman.

“I’ll station myself out in the hall, shall I, and whistle if she comes back too soon,” Carswell offered.

Troy nodded gratefully, and Ian advised his friend to duck into the next room if he heard the scrabble of claws, if Carswell valued his boots.

“What, you are housing a vicious beast as well as a virgin?” Carswell quipped on his way out. Neither Ian nor Troy found his jest funny.

“That’s what I wanted to talk about, my lord. You see, my sister has given up a great deal for me. Why, she could have had a London Season a few years ago. One of her friends invited Attie to join her for her come-out, but Attie refused, on account of me. She might have been married and had babies by now. I wouldn’t want her to go far away, but I don’t think she ought to stay on at my brother’s house either. It’s not right, having the two women under one roof.”

Ian remembered the rows between his mother and his sister. “No, it is not.”

“And Wiggy wants to marry her, I know. He wouldn’t be my first choice. Or tenth, if it came to that, but…”

“But the choice should be hers, correct?”

“I knew you would understand. You won’t let her be ruined, will you?”

“Never.”

The boy was not entirely convinced. “I know I asked you to look after my sister, my lord, and please do not think I am ungrateful. But maybe I asked too much?”

“I do not think that is too much to ask of any gentleman. I admire you for your care of her, in your own distress. You are a good brother, Renslow, and will make an honorable man.”

Troy’s fair cheeks grew red at the praise. “Well, it is nicer here than at our uncle’s house, but if Attie’s reputation is going to be hurt, and Wiggy backs out, and our brother hears of it—”

“Your sister’s reputation will not be hurt. She will have a respectable chaperone at her side by dinnertime, I swear to you.”

*

The problem was—well, one of the problems was—that Ian did not have a respectable chaperone to uphold the niceties of polite behavior, having neither mother nor sister on hand. He vowed he would disown both of them on the instant and declare himself an orphan without siblings.

His butler was waiting when Ian and Carswell returned below and repaired to the library. The messengers had returned, Hull reported, with winded horses but no ladies. The countess was indisposed with an ague in Bath. Lady Dorothy was away from her Richmond home inspecting cotton mills for a treatise she was preparing on child labor.

“My own sister cares more for those nameless children than she does for me!” Ian stormed as his friend poured them drinks. Of course, he had been the one to interest her in the issue of reform, and he did use her valuable research in his efforts in Parliament, but why the devil did she have to be out crusading now, when he needed her? As for his mother, she was always suffering from some ailment, especially when asked to forego her twice weekly card nights.