Gayle Buck (8 page)

Victoria looked at him. She thought his contempt for his son was out of place under the circumstances. She did not bother to hide her disapprobation as she rose from her seat. “I will join Lady Hortense and Mrs. Lummington in preparing for their return.”

Sir Aubrey looked up at her, a thin smile on his lips. “I see that you disapprove of me, my lady, but I make no bones about whom I dislike. My son Evelyn is a damned puppy. He is not worth the salt in that shaker, my lady, and so you’ll find.”

“I know that you will excuse me. Sir Aubrey,” Victoria said quietly. She exited the dining room, followed by the gentleman’s snort of derision.

Chapter Eight

Victoria saw the housekeeper beginning to ascend the stairs and called to her. Mrs. Lummington paused, impatience and curiosity warring in her expression. Victoria quickly asked if Lady Hortense had already informed her of the crisis.

“Aye, we’ve heard of it. The crossing is a treacherous spot, but with m’lord Damion in charge they’ll make all right and tight,” said Mrs. Lummington. “Her ladyship is already gone upstairs to see that the beds are warmed properly and I’ve set Cook to making up hot toddies for the ladies when they come.”

“We may need more than warm beds and hot toddies, Mrs. Lummington,” said Victoria. “I overheard Master Evelyn express concern for his wife because she is in the family way.”

Mrs. Lummington blew out her cheeks thoughtfully. “I catch your meaning, my lady. I will see that a man is sent for the physician directly we know if he is needed.”

“You might as well send for the sawbones now, Mrs. Lummington.” The two women turned at Sir Aubrey’s harsh voice. He leaned on his cane in the dining-room doorway. “Think, woman. In this infernal weather it will take the man a good two hours at best to reach Chatworth.”

“Aye, Sir Aubrey. You may rely on me, sir. I will attend to the matter immediately,” said Mrs. Lummington, curtsying.

“See that you do,” said Sir Aubrey. When the housekeeper had left, he turned hard eyes on Victoria. “We’ve time on our hands, Lady Victoria. Indulge me in a rubber or two of whist. You do play, of course?”

At Victoria’s nod, he ordered tapers to be brought to the sitting room. While he was engaged in shuffling the cards, Lady Hortense came in with her embroidery basket and settled herself on the settee. “I can never resist bright light,” she said humorously as she began plying her needle.

Victoria laughed, and as she admired the brightly colored altar cloth Lady Hortense was working on, she said, “It is beautiful, ma’am. I myself am but a tolerable needlewoman and I envy those with more talented fingers.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Lady Hortense glanced over at her brother-in-law. “Aubrey, Mrs. Lummington informs me that dear Doro is in the family way. Why ever did you not tell me?”

“Evelyn does not confide in me, Hortense,” said Sir Aubrey harshly. “Come, Lady Victoria. I am done with the cards.” As Lady Hortense shook her head, Victoria took her place at the card table.

Nearly an hour passed while Sir Aubrey satisfied himself that Victoria was a worthy opponent. “You have played whist often, I see,” he commented finally, watching as Victoria expertly shuffled.

“Charles loved gaming and I thus gained more than a passing familiarity with the pasteboards,” said Victoria. “He was forever betting on something and won more often than not.”

Sir Aubrey smiled. “He became a hardened gamester, did he? I had always a taste for the gaming hells myself. Charles was a scapegrace, but I understood him. He was more like my own son than his cousin Evelyn could ever hope to be.” There was an old bitterness in his voice that Victoria was quick to detect. Beyond them, Lady Hortense firmly pressed her lips together, determined not to involve herself.

“I expect Master Evelyn will be grateful for your forethought in sending for the doctor. Sir Aubrey,” said Victoria.

Sir Aubrey cracked a laugh. “That’s rich, ‘pon my word! My son would as lief spit me on his sword than admit a drop of gratitude to me, my lady. He does not easily forget that he is descended from the wrong side of the blanket.”

“Now that is quite enough, Aubrey,” said Lady Hortense firmly. “You do not need to rake up the buried past.”

“Do I not? She should know about the family she is allied with.” Sir Aubrey threw an unreadable glance at Victoria from beneath half-hooded eyes. “I am the bastard of the St. Claire clan, Lady Victoria. Lord Damion’s father, the Viscount St. Claire, was my half-brother. The viscount’s mother was Lady Amelia. Mine was the blacksmith’s daughter.”

He stared at her fiercely and Victoria finally felt compelled to comment. “I did not know,” she said lamely.

“Then Charles had less brains than I gave him credit for. He should have prepared you for the worst, my dear.” Sir Aubrey’s smile was a shade malicious. “By nature passions run deep in the March and St. Claire clans. Lord Robert’s will shall undoubtedly act as a catalyst of sorts. The title goes to the St. Claire family if Charles died without an heir. In that event, as his widow you will inherit what is undoubtedly a mere pittance. But 1 credit you with a sharp wit. I assume that a brat of suitable age will be brought forward at the appropriate time to confound us all.”

“Aubrey! How dare you treat that girl in such a base fashion,” exclaimed Lady Hortense, bright patches of color in her cheeks. She pulled at her thread which she had knotted in her agitation.

Sir Aubrey spared her a glance. “Pray recall that I am a bastard, my lady. I may be excused much that is base.”

Victoria regarded the old gentleman with mounting anger. She said coldly, “I consider your accusation a vile impertinence, sir!”

Sir Aubrey chuckled, delighted that he had been able to rouse her temper. “Aye, play your cards close, my dear. I have no objection. But we shall see if I am not right.”

Victoria was trembling. He sat opposite her with the ghost of a superior smile on his thin mouth. She wanted nothing better than to toss her glass of wine at his head, but she forced herself to concentrate on her cards instead. Carefully, deliberately, she laid down the pasteboards and looked across at him.

Sir Aubrey glanced at her revealed hand and his brows rose. “Well done, Lady Victoria. You have beat me all hollow.”

“Pray take care that you do not underestimate me again, Sir Aubrey,” said Victoria levelly.

Sir Aubrey’s look was sharp. “I wonder if I have not?”

“Oh bravo, my dear,” said Lady Hortense softly.

The sound of voices raised in the hall brought all three to their feet. “If I am not mistaken, the rescue party has returned,” said Sir Aubrey as he went to the sitting-room door. Victoria followed close behind him. Lady Hortense flung down her embroidery and clutched Victoria’s arm.

Lord Damion entered the hall carrying a woman in his arms. Her head was cradled against his broad shoulder and her heavy raven tresses, loose from their pins, cascaded over his sleeve. Lord Damion was giving terse instructions to the butler, who nodded his understanding.

Behind him stood his cousin. Evelyn protectively supported a drooping young woman whose face was deathly pale. His eyes were shadowed with worry and he snapped at no one in particular, “Where is Mrs. Lummington?”

Lord Damion turned to him. “I’ve had her sent for, Eve. She will come directly.”

Sir Aubrey advanced on them, leaning on his cane. “I perceive that the ladies are the worse for their experience.”

“Dorothea is having pains before her time, sir. Mrs. Giddings has but fainted,” said Lord Damion. There was a note of impatience in his voice as he glanced down at his fair burden.

The woman in his arms stirred and sighed. Slowly she opened her startlingly violet eyes. “Oh, my—my lord!’ she said in pretty confusion.

“Can you stand?” asked Lord Damion.

“I believe so,” she said, though there was a note of doubt in her voice. Lord Damion set her carefully on her feet. She swayed against him and he lent her the support of his arm.

Evelyn looked down at his wife’s utterly white face. “St Claire, we need a doctor.” There was tension in his voice. “Dorothea—”

“I had Chatworth sent for an hour or more ago,” said Sir Aubrey. “The manservant ought to return with him before much longer.”

Evelyn looked at his father frowningly, hardly seeing him. “Much obliged, sir.” His wife stifled a moan and turned her face into his sleeve. “Where the devil is Mrs. Lummington?” asked Evelyn angrily.

Victoria went to him. “Mrs. Lummington is undoubtedly preparing a room for your wife, who shall be more comfortable once she is settled in bed. Pray allow me to accompany you and Mrs. St. Claire upstairs now, sir. I am no stranger to childbearing women and I may be of assistance.” Evelyn nodded curtly and picked up his wife in his arms.

He and Victoria started up the stairs, closely followed by Lady Hortense. The housekeeper appeared on the landing as they reached it. “Master Evelyn, I’ve a bed ready for the mistress. Follow me straightaway, sir.”

As Evelyn obeyed, he asked, “Have you had any word on the physician, Mrs. Lummington?”

“I’m sorry, Master Evelyn.” Mrs. Lummington shook her head regretfully.

From below Sir Aubrey watched the small group’s swift progress. “Lady Victoria is no stranger to child-bearing, then?” he repeated softly, and smiled.

Lord Damion ushered Mrs. Giddings to a chair against the wainscoting. She sank onto it and smiled gratefully at him. Her fingers pressed his forearm briefly. “Thank you, my lord,” she said huskily.

Lord Damion bowed and gently extricated himself from her grasp. “The honor was mine, madame. I have asked for a woman to attend you.” He turned to a waiting footman and handed his beaver to him before he began unbuttoning his greatcoat.

“What happened, Damion?” asked Sir Aubrey.

Lord Damion glanced at him as he divested himself of the soaked greatcoat. “It was much as Evelyn said. In addition, some of the stones seem to have washed out of the low place and made it twice as treacherous. The hole was large enough to catch one of the front carriage wheels so that it came perilously close to overturning. As it was, the carriage was nearly lying on its side with the ladies trapped inside. The water was rising, but we were able to remove the ladies to safety before we attempted to pull the carriage out of the current.”

“It was much too horrible for words!” exclaimed Mrs. Giddings, not liking to be overlooked. She had stripped off her soft kid gloves and now pressed them to her lips as though remembering a nightmare. “I could see the water rushing by the carnage window. Dorothea had hysterics and the horses were giving the most bloodcurdling screams—”

‘What of the horses, Damion?” interjected Sir Aubrey. He bowed in apology to Mrs. Giddings for interrupting her, but her beautifully molded mouth still tightened in irritation.

“The team was in remarkably good condition for all that they had tangled in the traces and had to be cut free. The leader has a bruised fetlock, but that was the worst injury,” said Lord Damion. “I give Evelyn’s driver credit for keeping his head despite his very real fear and calming them as best he could.”

Sir Aubrey nodded. “The mark of a good man, that.”

“A good man! The idiot should be horsewhipped for his stupidity. Anyone with eyes could see that the water was too high,” said Mrs. Giddings. She signaled imperiously for a footman to take her sodden cloak. The gentlemen exchanged a long look.

Accompanied by a housemaid, Victoria descended the stairs. As she reached the bottom step, Lord Damion immediately went to her. “How did you leave Mrs. St. Claire, ma’am?”

“She is resting comfortably for the moment, my lord. Lady Hortense is staying beside her for a time.” Victoria looked up at him searchingly. “I assume that the doctor has not yet arrived?” Lord Damion shook his head, frowning.

Sir Aubrey tapped his cane loudly on the tiles. “Out with it, my girl. Will Dorothea drop that whelp before her time?

“I am no midwife, sir. I shall simply rest easier with a physician’s opinion,” said Victoria.

“Damnation!” exclaimed Sir Aubrey, reading evasion into her reply.

“Doro is hardier than she appears,” said Mrs. Giddings, engaged in coiling her heavy dark hair over a slim shoulder.

Sir Aubrey glanced at her with acute dislike. When he spoke his tone was deceptively contrite. “Forgive me, Margaret. I have passed over your own appalling experience. Your sensibilities must be aggravated beyond bearing.”

“To be sure, my nerves are sadly overwrought,” said Margaret, her violet eyes sliding in soft appeal to Lord Damion.

“Then I must certainly accept your excuses and bid you good night, my dear,” said Sir Aubrey briefly. He indicated the maid standing quietly behind Victoria. “This young woman will show you to your room.”

Margaret stared at him agape. She recovered quickly and said, “I fear I am yet too shaky to negotiate the stairs alone, Sir Aubrey. Perhaps if I had assistance—” Her eyes again sought Lord Damion and her smile beckoned.

“Of course, madame. I know that William will ably assist you,” said Lord Damion unfeelingly. He had never cared to be manipulated by a woman. He beckoned toward one of the footmen.

“That will not be necessary,” said Margaret, much annoyed. She flounced to the stairs and tossed her gloves at Victoria, who instinctively caught them. “Here, girl, you may carry these.”

Victoria’s brows rose in astonishment. The maid gently took the kid gloves from her, curtsying, and hurried after Margaret Giddings, who was already ascending the stairs.

Margaret met Evelyn St. Claire coming down but she swept past him without a word. He turned around on the step to watch her, then continued his descent. “What has gotten into Margaret now?” he asked cheerfully. Sir Aubrey snorted in disgust and Evelyn laughed.

Lord Damion had observed two footmen carrying serving trays into the sitting room and suggested that they quit the hall. “For I ordered a cold collation earlier and I for one could do with a sandwich,” said Lord Damion, offering his arm to Victoria. She accepted his escort, amused by the unusual warmth of his gaze. Sir Aubrey and Evelyn followed them into the sitting room.