Lord Darlington's Darling (21 page)

The Crocker party left the musicale.
Mrs. Fairchilde and Mrs. Paddington declared
themselves to be too weary to attend another full-
blown function that evening. They were agreed that a
light supper at home, followed by a backgammon
match, suited them better, so Mr. Crocker saw them
into a hackney that would set them down at the town
house. Then he handed Mrs. Crocker and Abby up
into their own carriage, and they set off for Lady Mal
colm’s dinner party.

The morning
dawned bright and clear, a perfect day
for driving, Abby thought happily. She could scarcely con
tain herself until Lord Darlington’s arrival, but when
his card was sent up she managed to appear cool
enough as she went downstairs.

Lord Darlington smiled as he took her hand. He
carried her fingers to his lips. “That is a most fetching
bonnet,” he said.

“Thank you, my lord,” said Abby, blushing a little
as he escorted her out of the front door and handed
her up into his phaeton.

Lord Darlington leaped up onto the seat beside her, took up the reins, and nodded to the groom to let the horses go. As the phaeton started away from the curb,
the groom jumped onto the back.

“It is a glorious morning, is it not?” declared Abby, her spirits high.

“Quite,” said Lord Darlington, throwing a grin at
her. He looked absurdly youthful, the usual sternness
that characterized his expression gone. “I am glad you
and Lady Bethany have made things up between you,” he
said. “My sister was moped beyond what either my
mother or I could bear. But since last night she has
been as merry as though she hadn’t a care in the
world.”

“I, too, was moped,” admitted Abby. “I care dearly
for Lady Bethany, and I don’t wish anything to ever come
between us.”

“She won’t dislike having you as sister-in-law,” re
marked Lord Darlington.

“My lord!” said Abby, throwing a glance backward
toward the groom.

Lord Darlington laughed. “Rest easy, Abby. Hinson
is as close as a crab where I am concerned. He’ll not tout around what isn’t his business, until I give him
leave. By the by, when shall I let the world know? I’d
like to insert an announcement of our betrothal as
soon as I may. Have you informed your sister and
brother-in-law how well my suit is prospering with
you?”

Abby was covered with confusion by his warm ad
dress, while she felt also a frisson of dismay. “Why, I
haven’t said anything to the purpose to Melissa or
Peter. I have only said that your suit is acceptable
to me.”

Lord Darlington was silent a moment, while the
slightest of frowns creased his dark gold brows. “I fear I don’t
understand. I thought the matter fairly well settled
between us.”

“Oh, it is!” said Abby hastily. ‘‘It is just that—what with one thing and another—you see, Lord Fielding
offered for me and—”

Lord Darlington slewed his head around. “Fielding
offered?”

“Y-yes,” faltered Abby. She was dismayed by the
hardness of the expression in his eyes. “I refused
him, of course. But he did not quite believe me, I
think. After what his lordship said last night at the
musicale, I gathered that he is still wishing to wed
me.”

“I hope you have made the matter perfectly plain
to his lordship,” said Lord Darlington, clipping his
words.

“I could not very well say anything at the musicale,” said Abby, uncertainly eyeing his angered expression. “I tried to hint him away, of course, but he interrupted me and—”

“It does not appear to me that you have tried very
hard, ma’am,” said Lord Darlington tightly.

Abby stared at him, her mouth dropping  open
slightly at the injustice of his reaction. “But I have! I
don’t wish to wound his lordship, however, and I—”

Lord Darlington gave a short laugh. “Wound him,
you say! What of my feelings, ma’am? Are they nothing to you? Do you care nothing of how I feel to
know you are dangling Lord Fielding on your string
even as you are entertaining my suit?”

“Of course I care!” exclaimed Abby, distressed. She was bowled out by his misrepresentation of her position. “You are being unreasonable and nonsensical.”

“Am I!” exclaimed Lord Darlington. “I have of
fered my heart to you, ma’am, and I thought my feel
ings were reciprocated. Now I am not so certain!”

“Oh, pray, pray do not let us quarrel!” begged Abby,
beginning to quake inside as she always did whenever
there was unpleasantness. Her heart hammered. She felt almost ill. She couldn’t believe how such a delightful outing could have turned so quickly to misunderstanding and strife.

“No, we shall not quarrel,” said Lord Darlington
icily. He turned the phaeton around and swiftly guided
it back in the direction of the town house.

Silence reigned for several moments. Abby threw
more than one glance at the marquess’s unyielding pro
file. Her hands twisted in her laps. “Sylvan, pray do
not be angry with me,” she said in a small voice. “I
cannot bear it. I really cannot bear another’s dis
pleasure.”

“I am sorry for you then, ma’am,” said Lord Dar
lington shortly. He pulled up the horses and turned
to her. His eyes were hard, and there was a set look
about his mouth. “I do not wish to let my horses cool.
Hinson will set you down.”

Abby stared helplessly at his uncompromising expression. She wanted to say something to make every
thing right, but she couldn’t think of anything to the
purpose. In the end she had no other choice than to
accept the groom’s assistance out of the phaeton.

Lord Darlington did not wait to see her enter the
door of the town house, but immediately set his team
in motion. The groom made a regretful bow to Abby,
then leaped onto the back of the phaeton.

Abby turned and wearily trod up the steps and en
tered the town house. The morning that had begun
in so glorious a fashion now seemed dreary beyond
compare. She felt the tears threatening to explode from the tightness in
her chest, and she hurried upstairs to the refuge of
her bedroom before she disgraced herself in front of
the servants.

Some time later Abby sat up from where she had flung herself across the bed, and groped for a handkerchief
to dry her eyes. It had done her good to have a hearty
cry, Abby decided, for she was left empty of feeling.
She had gone all numb inside. She went over to the
washbasin, splashed her hot face, and dried herself
with a towel.

Sniffing dolefully, she crossed to the cheval glass to take stock of her reflection. The tragic look in her eyes made her mouth droop. Her nose was pink. Her hair was a mess, natu
rally, after her bout of self-pity. She ruthlessly
pulled a brush through her gleaming light brown curls.
Her maid would have been outraged had she seen
how carelessly Abby treated her appearance.

A knock on the bedroom door, followed by a mes
sage that Lady Bethany had called and waited for
her downstairs, filled Abby with instant dismay. There
was no one she less wished to see than Lord Darling
ton’s sister, unless it was the marquess himself.

Abby was on the point of sending down her excuses
by the maid, but thought better of it. She was not such
a coward that she could not face her friend, surely.
“Pray tell Lady Bethany that I shall be down directly,” she said quietly.

“Yes, miss.”

Abby smoothed the wrinkles out of her crumpled
carriage dress, wishing she had already changed into a gown more appropriate to receiving callers so Lady Bethany would not readily see that something had gone awry.
However, it could not be helped. She only wanted to get it
over with.

Abby hurried downstairs to the drawing
room.
She stopped uncertainly just inside the door, discon
certed at sight of the drooping posture of her guest.

She had never seen Lady Bethany Hart in any but the best of spirits. Unsure what had put her friend
into obviously unhappy straits she wasn’t certain what
her reception would be. It immediately popped into
her head that Lord Darlington had confided his disap
pointment in her to his sister.

Abby went slowly into the room, closing the door
softly behind her. Such was the preoccupation of her
visitor that she had to make her presence known.
“Lady Bethany?”

Lady Bethany turned quickly. Her expression was strained
and her smile lacked spontaneity. She nervously
played with the strings of her reticule. “I know I have
come early, Abby. Thank you for seeing me. I wasn’t
sure that you would, you see, and—” Tears welled up
into her eyes.

At once Abby was made certain Lord Darlington
must have told his sister about their quarrel earlier that morning. What it had to do with Lady Bethany, she
was at a loss to understand, and she was angered by
his lordship’s insensitivity. Forgetting her own troubles
in an instant, she rushed over to Lady Bethany, taking her
in a swift hug. “Oh, Lady Bethany, but I am glad you came!
Pray, come sit down.”

Lady Bethany was unresisting as Abby pressed her onto
the settee. Abby sat down beside her caller. She
couldn’t help noticing how strained and pale Lady Bethany
appeared. Though nothing could entirely mask Lady Bethany
’s beauty, it was considerably dimmed. Abby was
distressed. “Oh, pray, pray don’t regard it so! It—it
was simply a stupid misunderstanding, you know!”

Lady Bethany stared uncomprehendingly at her before
shaking her head. “Misunderstanding?”

Abby realized that she had been wrong. Lady Bethany
knew nothing about what had passed between her
and Lord Darlington. She eyed her friend, feeling the
awful certainty that something was terribly wrong.
“Bethany, what have you been doing to yourself?”
she blurted.

For the first time, a natural expression flitted across
Lady Bethany’s face as she laughed. “It is so good to be
with you, Abby. Indeed, I am so very sorry for quar
reling with you. I was horrid!”

“We settled all that last night at the musicale,” said
Abby, smiling warmly at her friend. “Never mind! I
shan’t ever refer to it again if you don’t.”

“Oh, no! That is, I hoped you would say that,” said
Lady Bethany. She paused a moment as though to gather
her thoughts. Then she turned with an almost pathetic
look in her eyes. “Abby, I must talk to someone. I
knew you wouldn’t breathe a word, even to my mother.
I’m in trouble, Abby.”

Abby wondered what kind of trouble Lady Bethany could
possibly have gotten into between the time they had
seen one another at the musicale and that morning.
“But what is it? How can I help?” she asked. A suspicion came quickly to mind. She threw up her hand
defensively. “If it is a message to bear to Mr. Farn
ham, I won’t take it.”

“If it were so simple,” sighed Lady Bethany. Her lips
began to tremble. “You will think me the stupidest
wretch alive, Abby, but I was completely taken in! I
didn’t know—I didn’t realize. Oh, it is a nightmare!”
She dropped her face into her hands and began to
weep.

Abby was appalled. She wrapped her arms around
the other young woman and rocked her, making
soothing sounds. She felt completely inadequate. She
threw an agitated glance toward the door, almost wish
ing that her sister or her mother might come in. Her thoughts were in a whirl, for she couldn’t fathom what
should have brought Lady Bethany to such a pass.

Lady Bethany stiffened and drew away, swiping her eyes dry with her gloved fingers. “I mustn’t cry. Your sister
or someone else may come in at any moment.”

“Bethany, what has so distressed you? Pray tell me!
I promise you, I shall help you in any way I can,”
said Abby.

Lady Bethany gave a small hiccupping laugh. A slightly
hysterical note came into her voice. “No one can help
me! I am completely undone. In fact, I don’t know
why I came here.” She was rising as she was still
speaking and fumbling for her reticule.