Lord Darlington's Darling (13 page)

The situation made Abby feel strangely pressured,
yet not unpleasantly exhilarated. It was heady stuff to
be the center of male attention. She, who was surely
one of those least expected to attract anyone of great
worth or standing, was being snarled over like a con
tested bone. Abby finally had an inkling of what Lady Bethany’s life was like. She found she did not dislike it as much as she had thought she would.

T
he soiree at Darlington House was a perfect
squeeze. Lady Darlington proudly looked over the
crowded ballroom, her expression one of gratification.
Lord Darlington had been observing his mother and
said with a smile, “Are you pleased, ma’am?”

“Imminently so, my dear! The evening is already a
crowning success. Why, I don’t believe there is anyone
worth mentioning who has not come,” said Lady Dar
lington, her eyes bright. “And I could not be better pleased with Bethany, who is in great looks tonight,
don’t you agree?” She nodded toward her daughter,
who was being twirled about the dance floor by a dapper young gentleman and was plainly enjoying herself.

“Just so, ma’am.” Lord Darlington glanced in his
sister’s direction. He frowned slightly. “Isn’t that the
fellow who wrote that atrocious poem in honor of her
eyes? ‘Iridescent gems of fire,’ indeed! I never heard
anything so ridiculous in my life!”

Lady Darlington laughed. “Yes, indeed, Cedric
Barthlew. It
was
very bad, wasn’t it? However, Bethany
adored it, just as would have any other young
miss.”

“I know one who is too levelheaded to put much
stock in such tripe,” said Lord Darlington, his eyes
moving to another couple on the floor.

Lady Darlington followed her son’s gaze. “You are speaking of Miss Fairchilde? My dear, how little you
know of a woman’s heart! Poetry and moonlit gardens
work magic, Sylvan.” With a knowing smile, Lady Dar
lington moved away to perform her duties as hostess.

Lord Darlington looked after his mother, his frown
deepening as he reflected upon Lady Darlington’s
parting observation. He turned his gaze back to Miss
Fairchilde’s graceful figure. While it was true that Miss
Fairchilde did not appear to expect accolades as her
due, it could not be denied that she seemed to like
being paid compliments. She colored up deliciously
whenever he sought to flatter her. Perhaps there was
some truth in his mother’s observation.

“Poetry and moonlit gardens,” murmured Lord
Darlington. He began a leisurely progress in the direc
tion where he knew Miss Fairchilde would come off
the dance floor. He spoke to this guest and that, un
hurriedly making his way toward his goal.

The music ended, and the couples began leaving the
dance floor. Just as Miss Fairchilde and her partner
came off of the floor, Lord Darlington met them.

“Miss Fairchilde! Sir, your servant.” Lord Darlington
smiled and exchanged a few civilities, before saying,
“Miss Fairchilde, I beg the honor of your company in
making a turn about the room.”

“Oh! Of course, my lord,” said Abby.

Lord Darlington bore her off in a civilized manner. He
observed that the ballroom was rather warm, and sug
gested perhaps a breath of fresh air would not come amiss.

“Indeed, it would be very welcome, my lord!” said
Abby with a trusting expression in her eyes as she
glanced fleetingly into his face.

Lord Darlington politely ushered her through one
of the doors onto the moonlit veranda. A light breeze
rustled through the scented rosebushes below. As he
shut the door behind them, he said, “I trust it will not be too chilly for you, Miss Fairchilde.”

“Oh, no! It is a particularly fine evening, I think,”
said Abby. She walked over to the stone balustrade
and lightly placed her hands on it as she looked out
over the whitewashed formal gardens. “Aren’t the
roses lovely in the moonlight? They seem gilded by
silver,” she exclaimed softly.

Lord Darlington never glanced at the gardens. His gaze
was riveted on her delicate profile and the fairy moon
light tangled in her hair and the lines of her gown. “Yes,
it is quite, quite lovely,” he said, clearing his throat.

She turned her head, about to speak, then caught
his stare. The words seemed to die away, while her eyes widened to dark pools.

Lord Darlington closed the distance between them.
He reached out to frame her face gently with his hand.
His thumb caressed her cheek. “I must have a poet’s
soul, if not the verse, for you have slain me with but
one glance,” he said quietly.

Her hand stole up to cover his, and she did not look
away. Her voice was a mere breath. “Have I? How is
it possible?”

“Do you not believe me?” Holding her eyes with his own, Lord Darlington lowered his head and kissed her.
His mouth clung to her soft, half-parted lips for a sweet, suspended moment. Then he forced himself to step back
from her, to give her room to run away if she wished.
But she did not. She held out her hand toward him, as
though in appeal. He carefully clasped it and drew it to
his chest, flattening her palm against his shirtfront. “My
heart beats solely for you,” he whispered.

“I can scarce believe it,” she responded with wonder.

“I do not think you are indifferent to me,” he
said hopefully.

She shook her head with a wavering smile. “No-
no, I am not!” She touched her lips with the fingertips
of her other hand. “I must be very wicked, indeed,
for encouraging you so.”

Lord Darlington drew in a breath. His instinct was
to catch her up into his arms. His pulses were pound
ing, but he carefully contained his emotions. It was no
object of his to frighten her with a premature declara
tion or strong show of passion. His voice was unnaturally husky. “I had hoped for encouragement, Miss
Fairchilde. I did not know where I stood. Now I have
a new hope—that you will look upon me favorably.”

“I have always liked you, my lord,” said Abby
shyly.

He raised her hand to his lips to press a lingering
kiss onto her fingers. Smiling, he said, “Thank you,
Miss Fairchilde. You have no notion how much I ap
preciate your . . . kindness.”

One of the doors leading onto the veranda was
pushed wide, and another couple came outside. They
were laughing together and were so caught up in their
own lighthearted conversation that they did not perceive Lord Darlington and Miss Fairchilde on the op
posite end.

Reluctantly, Lord Darlington decided it best not to
remain too long outside with Miss Fairchilde, and he offered his elbow to his fair companion. “Shall we go
back inside, Miss Fairchilde?” She nodded and ac
cepted his escort, returning with him into the bail-
room. He handed her into the care of her chaperone,
Mrs. Crocker, before making the excuse of leaving
them to attend his duties as host.

Lord Darlington walked away, smiling to himself.
His reflections were pleasant as he dwelled on the
little interlude on the veranda. His mother had been
so very right. A night splashed with moonlight helped
a man’s course no end.

Even the sight of his arch-rival, Lord Fielding, lead
ing out Miss Fairchilde in the next set did not have
the power to create anxiety in his breast. Now that
Lord Darlington knew Miss Fairchilde had feelings for
him, he felt he had more than an even chance to fix
his interest with her. As long as no engagement was
announced between Lord Fielding and Miss Fair
childe, Lord Darlington was confident he could beat
out his worthy lordship. However, since Lord Fielding
was still the undisputed favorite with the Crockers, it was not going to be all smooth sailing.

Lord Darling
ton had a suspicion that Miss Fairchilde’s relations
might well encourage her to accept Lord Fielding over
himself. If he was to make a strong showing, he must
make the most of his time, which from this moment he fully intended to do. He was going to take his
mother’s advice completely to heart and launch a full-
scale courtship of Miss Fairchilde.

His reflections were brought to a rude halt at the
shocking sight of his sister slapping August Fair
childe’s face and rushing off the dance floor in floods
of tears. Lord Darlington stepped forward quickly, his
protective instincts at once aroused, along with anger
at his sister for making such a scene.

Lady Darlington caught his arm. “For heaven’s
sake, do something, Sylvan!” she exclaimed in a tense whisper. “Everyone is staring! Oh, I could wring Bethany
’s neck for this!”

“As could I, ma’am,” said Lord Darlington grimly.
He did not allow the smile to drop from his face. “Do
put it about that Bethany has had the headache all
evening, but we did not wish to cancel on our guests
at such short notice. I will deal with our outraged
friend and my sister!”

Lady Darlington nodded and turned away, at once
exclaiming with a slightly raised voice, “Poor child!
You must overlook Lady Bethany’s crotchets, for it arises out of a sick headache. She had complained earlier today, but we felt we could not disappoint our guests
at such short notice.”

Lady Darlington was already circled by several la
dies and a few gentlemen who uttered sympathetically
and began to assure her ladyship that they under
stood perfectly.

Lord Darlington turned away, his expression slightly
cynical. He doubted very much that any of those who
had observed his sister’s action would actually believe
the tale, but it argued well for Lady Bethany’s reputation
that they seemed willing to pretend to do so. Now his concern was to accost the young gentleman who had suffered such a public humiliation at his sister’s hands.
Already August Fairchilde was making his way toward
the front entrance. Lord Darlington felt it imperative
that they try to repair the damage before August Fairchilde left, and with his exit give rise to just such a
scandal as the marquess wished to avoid.

Lord Darlington intercepted the younger gentleman
just as he was gathering his hat and cane. August’s
face was white and his mouth tight-lipped. He af
forded the marquess a bare bow in acknowledgment of
Lord Darlington’s hail.

Lord Darlington clasped the young gentleman’s
shoulder with a friendly, strong hold. “I had hoped to
speak with you privately before you left, August.”

August’s expression was stiff. “There is no need,
my lord. Indeed, I was just this moment leaving.”

“Give me five minutes, sir, on your honor,” said
Lord Darlington, adding quietly, “Or I shall wait upon you in the morning. My sister and insults to her honor
are of grave importance to me.”

“My lord! It was no such thing, I assure you,” said
August, at once defensive.

“Then, you can have no objection to a few words,
sir,” said Lord Darlington, his strong fingers still on
the taller gentleman’s shoulder as he gestured with the
other hand to a closed door in the solarium. “Pray
come into my library. The footman will bring us each
a glass of brandy.” He flicked a glance at the manser
vant who had handed over the gentleman’s cane and gloves, and the footman bowed, exiting on the errand.

August hesitated but nodded agreement. “Very
well, my lord.”

Lord Darlington ushered his guest into the library.
He left the door open, keeping up an indifferent run
of pleasantries until the footman returned with a de
canter and two glasses. “Thank you, James. That will
be all.”

The footman shut the door quietly as he exited.
Lord Darlington unconcernedly poured out brandy
while August warily regarded him. As Lord Darling
ton offered one of the brandies, he said with his dis
arming smile, “I am not an ogre, you know.”

August flushed as he took the glass. “Indeed, I
never thought so, my lord.”

Lord Darlington sat down on the edge of his desk,
gently swinging his toe. “Pray tell me, what happened
with my sister a few moments ago? You may be perfectly candid with me, for I am very familiar with her
high spirits.”