Emily Hendrickson (19 page)

“Do you know how to do the Diabolo, Felicia?” Lord Ives inquired. His manner was cool, almost indifferent. So ... the saucy teasing had no effect on him?

“Naturally. Adrian taught me ages ago. They are not something new, you know.”

Dru thought someone needed to take her down a peg or two.

“I shall teach Dru.” Lord Brentford spooned a helping of pudding onto his plate and began to eat with every evidence of enjoyment. He behaved as though he had all the time in the world. Well, considering the rain, perhaps he did.

Lydia and Belinda popped around the corner, followed by Gregory Vane and Harry Metcalf.

“Um, something smells delicious. How clever—this is like an indoor picnic.” Lydia beamed a smile on Harry, who gallantly offered her a plate, then pointed out the cheese he thought she might like.

Within a few minutes the group was chatting around the table.

“Adrian is going to teach Miss Herbert how to play Diabolo,” Lady Felicia said slyly. “Do any of you know how to balance that funny top?”

“Oh, that is the game with a cord that is strung to two sticks and you must throw that double-headed top into the air and catch it again.” Belinda gazed earnestly at the others. “My brother does it very well. Sad to say, I do not.”

The laugher was general and not the least unkind.

“If we had several of them, we could have a contest to see which couple does the best,” Mr. Vane suggested.

“It really isn’t difficult to learn,” Lord Brentford inserted. He placed his spoon in the empty dish. “Dru, if you are finished, help me sort out the various games in the cupboard. I feel certain we have
at least one somewhere, perhaps two.

“Dru? You persist in being so casual, Adrian.” Lady Felicia plainly thought she was the only one so entitled.

“I have decided we all may as well use Christian names while here. I know it is proper to be more formal, but it does become tedious.”

“Here, here,” Mr. Vane declared. “I agree. Belinda has a lovely sound, whereas Miss Oaks is forbidding. You are not at all forbidding, my dear girl.”

Dru watched Belinda blush and made a mental note to tell the girl that London beaux had a tendency to flirt and there was nothing to their teasing. She’d not wish the girl to suffer hurt while here. And Gregory Vane was a handsome fellow.

She walked down the hall with Lord Brentford— never mind he suggested they dispense with formality, she could not.

“In here, I believe.” Lord Brentford opened a door to a fair-sized room, outfitted with chairs and tables and others things to interest a young boy.

The room proved to be an ideal playroom for young people. While the nursery was on the upper floor where Nanny would reign supreme, this was a place where an older child might play and know there was supervision just around the corner. She watched Lord Brentford open a cupboard that overflowed with toys of all sorts.

“Goodness, you didn’t lack for something to amuse you.” She fingered wooden puzzles, a set of farm animals beautifully carved and painted, and in a neat box, she found a large collection of carefully packed soldiers.

“When one is alone, there needs to be ample toys for that amusement.” He spoke without rancor, merely stating a fact.

“I was blessed to be part of a large family, with four sisters and a brother. Did you miss that?” She paused in her hunting to look up at him.

“I’d like to have more than one child, if that is what you wish to know.” He gave her a curious look. “And you?”

“If possible, and if I do marry, I believe I should like several children. It seems more jolly for them, you see.”

“And I require an heir, which doesn’t always occur at the first try.” His tone was dry, and he glanced at Dru with an unholy gleam in his eyes.

Dru knew she blushed. Never had she engaged in such intimate sort of conversation with a gentleman, especially one she liked.

“I think I found them. I could swear that I had two sets somewhere around here.”

Grateful that the subject drastically changed, Dru took one set of sticks and the small double-headed top that went with them. He located and pulled out the other and carried it, nudging Dru ahead of him.

They strolled back to the breakfast room, pausing in the doorway to let the others know what had been found.

“We will be in the drawing room. The place is vast enough for two couples to try this.” Lord Brentford held up one of the peculiar-looking tops, then nudged Dru to proceed.

She placed her set on the sofa table, then turned to study the man at her side. Why he had determined to teach her this foolish game she didn’t know. She suspected it would not be as simple as he said.

“I believe the best way to do this is for me to stand behind you. You can hold the sticks, but I can guide if necessary. There is a certain skill in doing this.”

Dru wondered if it was a trick of light that made his expression seem mischievous. She gave him a look that she was certain revealed her suspicions.

“Now, Dru, surely you would not imagine I would attempt anything improper with the door open and others about to join us at any moment?”

She hoped she didn’t blush. “Of course not. How silly of me to think you might do something improper merely because you have done so before.” She turned to face him only to be turned about so that her back was to him once again.

Then she discovered precisely what his lordship intended to do—all with the utmost respectability, of course. He literally wrapped his arms about her, drawing her against his lean form with shocking familiarity.

“Sir, I protest . . .” she began.

“Hush!” he said softly into her right ear. “Allow me this. Now, take the two sticks in your hands.”

Dru obeyed. If she leaned her head back, she would be nestled against his strong shoulder. She didn’t. But she wanted to—very much.

He placed his hands under her forearms. When she shot a look at him, he grinned. “Just to help you balance, dear girl.”

“I believe I told you before that I am not your dear girl, or dear anything, for that matter,” she snapped with quiet asperity.

“Mind me, now. The idea is to balance and spin that top, throw it into the air and catch it again.”

“Impossible,” Dru retorted with a laugh. “It cannot be done.”

“Watch. I can do it. You can as well.” He retrieved the sticks from her, tossed the top into the air, caught it on the cord, balancing it with a skill she knew at once had taken some time to achieve.

When he had demonstrated just how to do the game, he returned the sticks to her hands, then resumed his position behind her. Only this time, Dru would have sworn he stood just a trifle closer. She wouldn’t say a word. Let him tease all he pleased. She would not rise to his bait. Let him wrap his arms about her, enfold her in what amounted to an embrace. If it didn’t bother him, she wouldn’t let it bother her. But of course it did. Bother her, that is. And that is what he probably intended, the devious rascal.

“It looks impossible,” she murmured as she gave the top a determined look, then made an attempt. It was an ignominious failure.

“No, no. You must do it like this.” He wrapped himself even closer around her, guiding her arms to balance the sticks while tossing the top.

“It is no use,” she whispered, turning her head until she could catch his eye. “You, sir, are far, far too distracting.”

His slow smile should have warned her. It didn’t. He captured a kiss before she could think.

“I believe you intended to do that all along,” she mused.

“Well, you do tend to make it a mite difficult for a fellow to behave properly.”

Voices chattering in the hall and drawing closer sent Lord Brentford to a more respectable distance from Dru.

“Let an expert have a go at it, will you?” Lord Ives inquired with a bright gaze glancing from Dru to Lord Brentford.

He did not wait for a reply, which was just as well as Dru didn’t think she could have said a word.

“I do very well at this game,” Lady Felicia said, sounding smug and overly confident.

“Please, challenge Lord Ives to a contest. I do not think I am cut out to be an expert at Diabolo,” Dru said.

“Well, you can scarcely be an expert at everything, my dear,” Lord Brentford murmured scandalously in her ear.

Chapter Twelve

Adrian studied the beautiful young woman standing so close to him. Why had he ever thought it necessary to send her away? She had done wonders for his mother in her recovery from the illness she had suffered this past winter. He must have been all about in his head to even consider such a thing as having Drusilla Herbert go home. He was sure his mother would have his head if he sent her away. She had become very attached to the young woman. He studied Dru without seeming to—quite enjoying the sight.

Her cheeks were still slightly flushed from their recent proximity, a proximity that he had found utterly delightful. She was wary of him, and rightly so. She probably thought him mad, given his somewhat outrageous proposal in the little room where she had arranged flowers. Well, perhaps he was. Mad, that is. He was not himself—the coolheaded, aloof peer that Society matrons tried to snare for hopeful daughters. In London, he kept a discreet distance from the young women making their bows to Society.

“Miss Herbert, how did you fare in your first attempt at playing Diabolo?” Gregory Vane strolled up to examine the sticks and top Dru held in her hand.

She glanced at Adrian before replying. What thoughts were racing through her mind? He would have liked to know what was behind the delicate blush that crept over her lovely skin.

“I fear I do not have a good sense of balance. I could not seem to capture the top on the cord just right. That dratted top just kept falling to the floor.” Her frustration rang clear in her voice.

“May I help you?” Vane requested, totally ignoring the narrow-eyed look from Adrian that promised retribution if he encroached on what Adrian considered his.

Apparently she was not averse to a bit of light flirtation with Vane, for she gave him one of her glorious smiles and handed him the sticks. He promptly returned them to her, then stood behind her, precisely as Adrian had done minutes ago. Adrian wondered what Vane hoped to achieve that Adrian had not.

He smoldered while Vane wrapped his arms about Dru, giving her hints on how best to toss the top into the air with a good chance of having it land on the cord.

“Move in anticipation of the top, then keep it balanced,” he instructed, showing her how to more or less chase the top so when it fell, it would be where she wanted. “Watch it carefully.”

Lady Felicia grabbed the other set of sticks and the top that went with them. Within minutes she had the top soaring into the air, then landing on the cord with the precise balance needed to keep it in place.

“Miss Herbert, this is how it is properly done. What a pity you had such a poor teacher!” She bestowed a dagger-sharp glare at Adrian, and he concealed a smile behind a hastily raised hand.

If her words indicated she had lost interest in Adrian as a husband, he could only be pleased. Had he wooed her in London, he might never have observed her temper. There was something to be said for a house party! Not to mention the competition of another beautiful young woman. Yet he was aware of all that was due Lady Felicia’s station. And as a guest in his house, he must of necessity be polite and see she was agreeably entertained. He began to suspect she played a deep game. He hadn’t been blind to her behavior with Ives.

Shifting his gaze back to where Dru took instructions from Vane, Adrian firmed his lips lest he say something best left unsaid. He did not wish to tip his hand before the others. It would be nice to woo his Drusilla in privacy rather than the bright inspection of the house party.

“I think I understand now, sir. How clever you are.” Dru lightly tossed the top in the air, then managed to catch it on the cord, achieving a balance that kept it in place. She crowed with delight as again and again the top landed on the cord.

Lydia begged to try the game while Belinda laughingly refused, pointing out that her brothers had given up trying to teach her the intricacies of Diabolo.

“It is truly beyond me. I am all admiration for Lady Felicia’s skill.” Belinda smiled shyly. “It is easy to see how it is called the devil on two sticks. I do not think I have enough patience. I certainly cannot balance!”

Lady Felicia preened, then somehow missed the top when it next came down. She rather ungraciously handed the sticks to Lydia. “Well, it is not difficult. But not everyone has the necessary deftness. Keep your eyes on the top. Move the sticks so the cord will be where it is needed in order to catch the top when it comes down.”

Dru watched, then handed her sticks to Belinda. “I think you should try again. Brothers are perhaps the worst teachers—they have so little patience.” She spoke with the authority of one whose brother had tried her patience more than once.

Gregory Vane apparently was not averse to helping the pretty Belinda. He shifted his attentions to her, wrapping his arms about the blushing girl with a teasing smile.

“Your teacher has transferred his care to Miss Oaks. You do not mind?” Adrian asked Dru with a casualness he did not feel.

“Not in the least. Why should I? He is a charming gentleman and quite able to manage his affairs as he sees fit.”

“Are you so certain of his admiration?” Adrian said in what amounted to a snarl. He berated himself for allowing his pique to show.

“Not in the least. If you’ll excuse me, I would see how your mother does. Recall I am not here as a guest and able to please myself. My purpose here is to comfort your mother, see that she does not become overly tired, and assist in entertaining her. She has vastly improved with the company to amuse her.”

“Especially Lord Osman,” Adrian muttered.

“Indeed, and you ought to thank your stars that he is so attentive to her every wish. What woman would not enjoy the attentions of such a gentleman.” Dru regarded him as though he was an alien species of plant.

“But she is my mother,” he grumbled, quite unable to comprehend why the affair bothered him so.