His Heart's Delight (20 page)

“Oh yes.” She answered promptly. “All the
time.”

“That is a part of Lord Monksford I do not
know at all.” She must make an effort to see beyond his awful coats
and his thinning hair. Those elements were no more an obstacle to
his real self than the sergeant’s ruined clothes had been. She was
able to see beyond that facade, why was it so difficult with Lord
Monksford?

Oh dear,
she thought with a flash of
insight,
that is easy enough to answer.

“I am quite jealous of him, Joanna.” The
words were out of her mouth before she could hold them back.

“Lord Monksford?” Joanna was genuinely
astonished. “But why?”

“I have only just realized it, Jo, and I mean
to have no more of it. To be selfish is one thing, but to add
jealousy is to be vastly unbecoming.”

Joanna was clearly unconvinced and Christiana
leaned closer.

“You must see. Before you met him, I was the
keeper of all your confidences. It was you and I who discussed
whatever concerned you. Now, I have to learn to share those dearest
parts of you with someone else.”

“I am not sure Lord Monksford and I are at
that point, at least not yet, though I suppose close attachments
will change our lives in many more ways than we know.” All gaiety
was gone from her voice.

“Your melancholy is totally unjustified,
Joanna, dearest. You are my sister. Only you can be that.”
Christiana looked at the window, amazed at the start of tears in
her eyes. “You are the first and most important confidante I have.
Richard is a wonder in many ways but understanding my worries is
not one of them.”

Lord Morgan does,
she realized
suddenly.
Sometimes he understands my heart before I do. Perhaps
he is more worthy of Joanna’s jealousy than Richard will ever
be.

They were within two blocks of the house on
Green Street. Christiana recognized the park at Grosvenor Square
just before they turned onto North Audley.

They would be home shortly and there was one
more thing disturbing Christiana mightily. “Joanna, I must tell you
about the soldier I saw, but first you must be honest with me. You
did not tell Lord Monksford about our costumes for the masquerade,
did you?”

~ ~ ~

Despite the dozens of rooms that made up Hale
House, the dowager duchess used no more than four on a regular
basis. One such was a receiving room that she had converted into an
office. It was overfurnished and so stiflingly warm that the sun
god would have called for ice. Morgan stood as far from the fire as
he could and considered opening a window.

Only her family and close friends were
allowed here. This morning, he noted, one of each was present, the
two of them come to help with the musicale his grandmother was so
fixed on. He was the relative and Christiana Lambert could be
considered nothing less than a close friend.

In fact it was months since the dowager
duchess had introduced him to Christiana, but it seemed yesterday
and centuries ago at the same time. It was ages since he had
thought of her as nothing more than an amusing dance partner, but
only yesterday that he realized how much she truly meant to
him.

Sergeant Tidwell had brought home to him,
full force, exactly what he was willing to do in order to make her
happy. It was some consolation to his newfound feelings that she
had so appreciated his efforts. Not that this was love. No, not
even a shadow of it. Best not try to define it, simply enjoy the
way she had of making him feel an equal to any god on Olympus.

He watched Christiana now as she listened to
his grandmother, her lips pursed in concentration, which under
other circumstances might invite a kiss.

He turned away from them. He understood what
it was that his grandmother so valued in her much younger friend.
Christiana genuinely cared. She did not see his grandmother as
someone whose time had come and was almost gone. She truly listened
as she was listening now, answering even the most commonplace
conversation with thoughtfulness.

And not only with the people of the
ton.
So it was with everyone from Sally, her maid, to
Sergeant Tidwell. She noticed people and even better than that,
acknowledged them beyond a perfunctory courtesy.

He could tell by the way her brow was
furrowed that her conversation was not a happy one, though the
distress seemed to be all on his grandmother’s part.

As much as he loved his Grandmama, Morgan had
no desire to hear whatever it was. The gift of a generous ear was
his Sprite’s virtue and hers alone. Instead of joining them, he
walked toward the desk.

He noticed that the invitation cards were
already made out with date and time, awaiting only the addition of
the guests’ names. Had Grandmama already made all the decisions?
Then why did she need them?

At that moment the intense conversation
between the ladies ended. The duchess settled in her chair a few
feet away from the table, right next to the well-lit fireplace.
“You sit there, Miss Lambert.” She pointed to a chair near the
stack of invitation cards and envelopes. “Morgan, you sit on the
other side.”

He hesitated. Did she actually expect them to
handwrite the invitations? “Perhaps I should go to the music room
and see if the pianoforte needs tuning.”

The duchess waved away the attempt. “We have
to move it anyway. I’ll have the tuner out once it is placed
properly. But we cannot determine where to put it until we know the
exact number we can expect. Now sit down!”

Christiana turned her head slightly toward
Morgan and with expressive eyes wide urged his cooperation.

Rapping her cane on the floor, his
grandmother called the meeting to order. “We are agreed that this
will be held on Monday, not too late in the evening.”

He and Christiana both glanced at the
prepared invitations and nodded.

“Now, you two will tell me whom to invite.”
The dowager duchess looked expectantly at them.

“I did bring a list of the people I know who
truly do enjoy music.” Christiana was almost apologetic as she
pulled a paper from her reticule.

Very good,
Morgan thought.
I have
not given the guest list a minute’s thought.

She read the names aloud and Morgan watched
as his grandmama’s smile grew. “Excellent, my dear Miss Lambert. A
very nice mix of young people balanced with some of more mature
years. But I do believe that we have room for almost twice that
number.”

She turned and cast a penetrating eye on him.
“Morgan? Whom would you add to this group?”

He tossed out all the names he could think
of, including young Peter Wilton and Rhys, who was almost certainly
unavailable. He wished he had taken a moment to write down the
names, but when he glanced at Christiana he saw that she was busily
adding them to her list.

“Hmmm,” was all his grandmother said,
obviously not as pleased with his choices as she was with “dear
Miss Lambert’s.”

“Your gaming connections are showing, my boy.
Not Druson or Powers. They have passed beyond eligible: too many
losses and too many fights. But the others will do.”

It made for a large group for a musicale, but
small enough for comfort if they were indeed to be situated in the
ballroom. He stood and bowed to his grandmother.

“Sit down!” She spoke in a huff and Morgan
hurried to obey.

He caught Christiana’s worried expression. As
he sat down he whispered, “Smile, Sprite, and pretend this is fun.
Do you have any idea what I have done to irritate her?”

“Eh? What did you say, Morgan?”

Christiana looked directly at Morgan but
answered the dowager duchess. “He said that he did not realize the
planning was so complicated.”

He touched her hand in appreciation and
turned to give his grandmother his full attention.

“Just so, it is complicated,” the dowager
duchess agreed. “And success is in the details. The whole purpose
of this exercise is to give you some idea of what it will be like
to run your own household.”

Morgan looked at Christiana. Neither one of
them was smiling now. Was that what this visit was about?
Matchmaking?

She rapped her cane on the floor again.
“Listen to me, and stop looking as though marriage had not occurred
to both of you. I have arranged for Monsieur Delacorte to play the
pianoforte and his wife will sing.”

That piece of news did distract Christiana
and she brought her hands together in the lightest clap. “Oh, but
how perfect! They are the most sought-after performers this
Season.”

“I still have some influence.”

Was the dowager’d pleased smile satisfaction
at her enduring authority or Christiana’s pleasure?

“Now, I want the two of you to list your
favorite foods, and any ideas that you may have for decorations.
Then I can review them and see if they are acceptable.”

Christiana nodded and took up a pen. Morgan
did as well and they both began writing. Morgan stopped to watch
Christiana. Where was her smile? She was taking this too seriously.
Finally, he asked sotto voce, “Why are we not simply telling
her?”

“Because she might not remember and almost
certainly will not hear everything we have to say.” She gave her
own version of his grandmother’s exasperated huff and went on. “You
do understand that without our help an entertainment such as this
would be completely beyond her. She does so wish to be a part of
the Season and not just an onlooker.”

No, of course he had not realized that.

“Please stop complaining, my lord. Her Grace
is not asking too much. It is only a few hours.”

“As you wish, Sprite. But I do have other
commitments.”

“Commitments that are more important than me
and your grandmother?” The distress in her voice was all tease.

He grinned at her. “Never more important than
you.”

“Or your grandmother,” she prompted
coyly.

He leaned a bit closer. “You know, I see
something new in you.”

“Really?” She sounded pleased. And
interested.

“You no longer blush.” He sat back and
thought. Not since that afternoon at Schomberg House and that was
days ago.

She laughed and leaned back in her chair.
“You are as charming as ever, my lord, but I do hope I have learned
something this Season, even if it is only how to handle extravagant
compliments. Besides, we are friends now and that places your
compliments in an entirely different light.”

She thought these months in Town had changed
her? Not completely; her Town bronze was only a veneer. Her smile
was still so genuine. It reached her eyes and invited him closer
than he had ever been to a woman. Did she have any idea of the
effect she had on him? No, clearly not, or she would, indeed, be
blushing. The only person who would approve of this was his
grandmother.

He turned toward his grandmama, expecting to
find her watching with measured interest, but found her eyes were
closed and that she was close to sound asleep.

Following his gaze, Christiana rose. Taking a
shawl from a nearby chair, she draped it gently over the dowager
duchess, careful not to disturb her rest, then walked silently back
to her seat.

She continued their conversation in the same
near whisper, but his flirt had gone into hiding again.
Oh, come
back and play,
he thought, and then heard what she was saying.
“Your grandmother did not sleep last night and is upset with all
Braedons. She has had a serious disappointment.”

“I was wondering what had taken your smile.
Was that what you were talking about earlier?”

She nodded with apology.

He grimaced. “Something I did?”

“Oh no, my lord. You are above all her
favorite. I am sure of that.”

“As much as I care for Grandmama, I find that
‘favorite’ is a dubious honor, one which I believe my brother Rhys
holds with singular distinction.”

“Certainly she makes all her grandchildren
feel treasured.”

He laughed. “We are not still five years old
and I do believe you are avoiding the subject.”

“Not at all.” Christiana spoke with such
indignation that he bowed an apology. Whether she had been trying
to avoid the subject or not, she gave it her attention now, folding
her hands demurely in front of her, glancing at the dowager duchess
as if for permission to speak.

“Last week Her Grace wrote to your brother,
suggesting he attempt a reconciliation between your sister and your
father. Yesterday evening she received a letter from the viscount.
He refused to consider it and gave no explanation.”

Morgan closed his eyes and groaned. “I can
imagine James’s letter. Most likely one word. ‘No.’”

“I think it was couched in a phrase or two of
concern.”

“But no regret, no explanation. It should not
have come as a surprise to her. While our father is alive James
will follow his direction, even if the marquis is too ill to watch
over his shoulder.”

Christiana spoke on a sigh. “She knows that
now and she worries that this may be her last chance to effect a
reunion given the precarious state of the marquis’s health.”

He nodded, not knowing what else to say.
Christiana was tactful enough to return her attention to the party
planning and leave him with his thoughts. He watched her bent head
and felt a wrench of guilt that concern for his family was the
reason that the sunshine was gone from her day.

A few moments later she looked up from her
sober list-writing. “Do you think it would be a good idea if Her
Grace invited some of the young ladies to perform?”

He considered it a moment. What did he know?
But he owed her some help. She was the one doing all the work while
he had all the pleasure of watching her. Even earnest she was all
charm. The light from the window—he stopped himself. Ye gods, he
was in danger of waxing poetic about the way the light encircled
her hair. He cleared his throat and dispelled the poetry. “There
are certainly several young ladies whose play is creditable. But
they must play before the Delacortes or they will suffer by
comparison.”