Julia London (24 page)

“You look positively
regal
,” she exclaimed.

Pleased, Abbey held up two small diamond earrings. “What do you think? I have a necklace to match.”

With her head cocked to one side in serious consideration, Sarah slowly shook her head. “I think the amethyst earrings would be better.”

Abbey flushed. She had not worn the earrings since she had uncovered her father’s treachery; the sight of the glistening gems only reminded her of it. “I don’t care for them, really. I think the diamonds,” she said with a nod, and attached them to her lobes.

“Don’t care for them? Why, they are
lovely!
You seemed to like them before; I never saw you without—”

“Really, Sarah, I don’t. Would you like them?” she offered impetuously. Sarah’s eyes grew wide as Abbey dug into a small box on her vanity and thrust the earrings at Sarah. The maid shook her head slowly as her eyes riveted on the earrings.

“I couldn’t, milady, I just couldn’t. They are beautiful!” she breathed.

Abbey pressed the earrings into Sarah’s hand. “I want you to have them,” she insisted.

Sarah gaped at the earrings. “I just
couldn’t
,” she mumbled weakly as she donned them. Her astonishment turned to a wide grin as she viewed herself in the looking glass. Impulsively Sarah whirled and hugged Abbey. “Oh, milady, this is the finest gift I’ve ever received!”

The Havershams had already arrived, unfashionably early, and were sitting with Sam in the gold drawing room just off the main foyer. When Michael entered, Lady Haversham
jumped to her feet and promptly fell into a deep curtsey—so deep that Lord Haversham had to help her up.

“Good evening, Lord Darfield! What a tremendous pleasure it is to be invited to your beautiful home!” Cora Haversham gushed. When Michael bowed over her hand, he thought the woman might positively swoon on him. Beside her, the rotund William Haversham adjusted his monocle and bowed.

“It’s been quite some time since we have had the pleasure of visiting with you, Lord Darfield. Been socked away here, have you?” he asked.

Michael clasped his hand in greeting. “I’d hardly call it socked away, Lord Haversham. I have been at sea,” he answered blandly, and accepted his usual sherry from Jones.

“Lord Haversham was just telling me about a rather remarkable game of darts he witnessed in Pemberheath,” Sam remarked from near the window as Michael strolled to the mantel.

“Indeed? I don’t suppose the game involved Lady Darfield?” he asked dryly.

“Indeed it did, sir! She’s rather skilled in the sport, surprisingly so! She could have easily won the match, but I think she threw it in favor of the seaman Lindsay, who was quite flustered with his inability to best her,” Haversham said, then slurped at his whiskey.

Lady Haversham added, “Those men were rather
insistent
she play a rematch with them, so much so that I was rather uneasy, wasn’t I, William? But Lady Darfield was
very
composed. She remarked that she had learned long ago that when one is in Rome, one must do as the Romans, and agreed to their challenge. I truly thought I would be ill with fear, for they were very rough-looking men, if you take my meaning. Fortunately, they seemed so awed with her ability that they could only stand and gape, isn’t that so, William?”

Lord Haversham’s ears had turned bright red. He looked sheepishly at Michael. “I was never afraid for her safety, my lord. It was all rather innocent,” he insisted, then cleared his throat and glared at his wife.

“I know why they challenged her,” Sam said nonchalantly.
“The night she arrived in England, the same lads threatened her if she did not play. She was quite feisty, really, and bargained with them. Said if she hit the king’s eye, they would leave her alone. I thought I was going to have to do battle with the lot of them, but she stepped up and threw a perfect dart. You have never heard such silence fill a room so quickly.” He chuckled.

“You were
there
?” Abbey gasped from the doorway. Michael momentarily forgot his desire to wring Sam’s neck for allowing her to be threatened. Framed in the doorway, Abbey was a vision of grace and beauty. She looked like an angel, a very
provocative
angel in that gown, and unconsciously, his hand fisted in his pocket as he held his desire in check. God, but she never failed to strike a chord in him.

Sam was chuckling as he came to his feet. “I was behind you all the while, Lady Darfield, ready to come to your aid if needed. You seemed to be handling the situation so easily that I confess I wanted to see if you could do it.”

“You might have at least introduced yourself,” she said, grumbling.

Michael, having sauntered forward to greet her, slipped an arm around her waist, pressed a soft kiss to her temple, and surreptitiously breathed from the subtle cloud of lilac scent surrounding her.

“Darts not once but twice, madam?” he murmured.

She smiled sheepishly. “It really was not of my choosing
either
time.”

“Oh, my dear, how
lovely
you look this evening!” Lady Haversham gushed from across the room.

“You are very kind, Lady Haversham,” Abbey said with a demure nod.

“An exquisite creature, wouldn’t you agree, my lord? When do you intend to launch her? The entire
ton
will be all agog, I can promise you that,” she said authoritatively. Michael did not doubt that for a moment, but not for the reasons Lady Haversham thought. He ignored her question and instead asked Abbey what she would like to drink.

She frowned and tapped a finger against her full lips. “Have you Madeira wine?”

Michael could not suppress his smile. “I believe there is some in the wine cellar,” he said, and nodded to a footman.

“Lord Darfield, you cannot intend to leave this darling creature locked away at Blessing Park, surely!” Lady Haversham persisted.

Michael reluctantly forced his gaze to his guests. “In due time, milady. I confess we have not planned too far ahead.”

“Leave him be, Cora. They are newly married,” Lord Haversham said gruffly.

“Well, I do not mean to
pry
, William, but even you have remarked that Lady Darfield is just too lovely to be kept hidden away at Blessing Park.” Lady Haversham sniffed.

Abbey’s cheeks pinkened with self-conscious embarrassment.

“I daresay Lord Darfield prefers to have her all to himself,” Sam interjected, and Lord Haversham nodded in such violent agreement that his monocle popped from his eye. He leveled a second glare at his wife.

“Lady Haversham, in honor of your great interest in the East, we are serving an Egyptian supper this evening,” Abbey said, artfully turning the subject.

Lady Haversham gleefully clasped her hands. “Oh, how perfectly
marvelous
!”

“Pray tell, what exactly might one expect of an Egyptian supper?” Lord Haversham asked eagerly. He was, Abbey had discovered, a man who favored his stomach over all other fundamental pleasures in life.

Abbey smiled up at her husband, causing his chest to tighten. “You must wait and see,” she told her rotund guest. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise!”

But Lady Haversham unwittingly spoiled the evening for Abbey. It began right after the first course of lentil soup, which the entire dining party proclaimed a huge success. When the chick-pea pâté and eggplant dishes were served and Madeira wine was poured for all, Lady Haversham remarked,
“It’s a pity you could not have joined Lady Darfield in Cairo, my lord.”

“I beg you pardon?” Michael asked politely.

“Oh, you know, when Lady Darfield was in Cairo, you wanted to join her there, but you were, of course, engaged on the peninsula,” she remarked as she took more of the pâté. From across the table, Abbey saw Michael’s face darken, and her heart sank. She was such a stupid little chit for having told the Havershams every little thing in those first two weeks!

“Do you know, Lady Haversham,” she said nervously, shaking her head to the chick-pea pâté, “that I rode a dromedary in Egypt? There is a certain amount of skill to riding one, too. You must be slightly behind the hump, you know, or the beast is quite contrary.”

“A dromedary, truly?” Lady Haversham squealed with delight.

“A dromedary?” Michael echoed in disbelief at exactly the same time. Abbey smiled tremulously.

“I suppose I thought one would situate
between
the humps,” Lady Haversham added.

“A dromedary has only one hump,” Lord Haversham offered.

“How could you possibly know that, William? I daresay you’ve never seen a dromedary in your life!” the older woman blustered, then pivoted in her seat to face Abbey. “How does one mount a dromedary, Lady Darfield?”

With a furtive glance at Michael, Abbey proceeded to explain the art of riding a camel, leaving out the more indelicate details, such as how to avoid being spit upon by the beasts. Lady Haversham was enthralled, Sam listened attentively, and Lord Haversham was blissfully unaware of anything other than the food on his plate. Abbey thought Michael was staring a little too intently at his food.

“You learned so many things in Egypt, dear girl,” Lady Haversham said after a sip of wine. “I suppose you know your wife is fluent in foreign languages, Lord Darfield? I’m not speaking of French, either,” she said to Michael, waving her hand dismissively at the notion. Abbey leaned over her
plate and pressed her finger and thumb on the bridge of her nose.

“Tell him what you did just the other day,” she prodded. Abbey winced. Things had been going well the last few days, and the last thing she wanted was for Michael to think she was some sort of bluestocking.

“It was nothing, really,” she said, hoping Lady Haversham would take her hint and cease her prattle.

“Nothing indeed! I have a lovely book given to me by my good friend Clara Whitesworth. She obtained it in Egypt, and the front of it is inscribed with what I called chicken scratch. Didn’t it look like chicken scratch, William?”

“Like chicken scratch,” Lord Haversham agreed without lifting his head from his eggplant sautéed in ginger sauce.

“I handed it to your wife for her opinion, and she laughed and said, ‘Oh, no, Lady Haversham, this says “God willing, may you be blessed with long life,” ’ “then she returned it to me as if that were the simplest thing in the world to decipher!”

Abbey felt Michael’s gaze on her and blushed. “I had a lot of free time in Egypt,” she muttered apologetically.

“Well, of course she did. She was waiting to marry you!” Lady Haversham declared happily.

Abbey wanted to die, right there in her chair at the end of the table. In all her angst for the supper party, she had never once given any consideration to what Lady Haversham might say. Aunt Nan was right—she was an open book. A silly, childish, prattling, open book.

“Then the dancing! Oh, how perfectly
unique
their dancing is! Lady Darfield was gracious enough to demonstrate and even game enough to instruct us on the art!”

“Rather invigorating,” Lord Haversham added.

Abbey slumped against her chair in absolute mortification. Sam grinned broadly, clearly enjoying the conversation and Abbey’s discomfiture.

“I am learning there is no end to my wife’s special talents,” Michael said graciously, then lifted his unreadable gaze to hers. She briefly considered walking out onto the balcony
and hurling herself to the gardens below. Judging by Sam’s grin, her discomfort was evident to everyone in the room.

“Food, dancing, foreign languages,” Sam remarked gleefully. “Is there anything
else
you learned in Egypt?” he asked.

“How to cheat at cards,” Michael said blandly. Abbey closed her eyes and moaned.

“How
delightful
! You really must show me!” Lady Haversham exclaimed as a servant placed a plate of steaming rice and specially seasoned, minced meat in front of her.

“Yes, Lady Darfield has learned a variety of skills most men only dream of knowing. Violin in Rome, cheating in Egypt, billiards in Brussels, birthing calves in Virginia. I don’t suppose you had opportunity to fight the Indians, as well?” Michael asked before he tasted the dish.

“Really, Lord Darfield, I think you are making fun. Of course she didn’t fight Indians!” Lady Haversham scolded him.

“It was cattle rustlers, was it not, Lady Darfield?” Lord Haversham asked. Sam howled with laughter at that, and from across the table, one of Michael’s brows lifted high above the other. Abbey picked up her crystal wineglass and downed her Madeira, wishing she had planned a two-course meal instead of eight.

She was grateful at the conclusion of the dinner when Michael suggested that she and Lady Haversham withdraw while the men enjoyed a cigar and some port. In the drawing room, Abbey screwed up enough courage to suggest quietly to Lady Haversham that her life had not been so remarkable and that Michael was probably growing weary of hearing about it.

“You may be right, dear. After all, he has lived a rather extraordinary life himself,” she agreed. Abbey knew a moment of panic upon hearing that, but told herself her elderly neighbor was referring to the numerous rumors that circulated about Michael. The tragic death of his mother, his sister’s dishonor, his father’s loathsome gambling and drinking. But Michael had risen above it all to amass a fortune and a good reputation. Lady Haversham had told her that repeatedly.

When the men arrived in the drawing room, Lady Haversham was seated on a mound of floor pillows with a pastry in one hand.

“Lord Darfield, we were just discussing your own unusual life,” she said.

“My life?” he asked, a bored expression on his face.

Abbey nervously cleared her throat. “I am sure, Lady Haversham, that everyone here is familiar with Michael’s life,” she suggested in a voice that was a little too pleading.

“Oh, Lady Darfield, you misunderstand me! Of
course
I know those ugly rumors are false! It’s amazing the lengths some will go to defame another, isn’t it? No, I was referring to his renowned generosity.”

“Ah yes, terribly generous,” Lord Haversham echoed as he plopped into an overstuffed chair and folded his pudgy hands across his belly. Michael looked inquiringly at Abbey. She shrugged helplessly, turned her back to them, and moved toward the expanse of silk-draped windows.