Lord Darlington's Darling (3 page)

Mi
ss Abby Fairchilde finished arranging the pale
pink and yellow roses just as
her sister entered the sitting room. Abby turned, one blushing stem held
in her hand. “There you are, Melissa! I’m quite
proud of my arrangement. Do you not think it brightens
the room?”

“Very pretty, Abby,” said Mrs. Crocker with a
smile. “I have just come down from Mama’s front
parlor, where I set out that beautiful bowl of creams
and reds which you did earlier. I’m saddened to say
the roses were only briefly admired. Mama and our
aunt are deeply involved in a game of loo.”

Abby laughed, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. “Loo! Then we may be assured to hear nothing
more of them until dinner.”

Mrs. Crocker agreed, saying humorously, “I don’t
believe they even knew I had left them, even though
I kissed both before I did so.” She walked over to her sister, her skirt softly swishing across the carpet, and
plucked the rose away from Abby’s unresisting fingers.
“I do appreciate how you have made arrangements
for all of the rooms, Abby, but we mustn’t forget the
time. Lord Fielding is coming to tea this afternoon.”

Abby’s glance flew to the polished ormolu clock on
the mantel. She gasped in dismay. “Melissa! You should have told me
sooner. I look a positive fright. I’m wearing my oldest gown and I dripped water all over my skirt,
too!” She tried to smooth out her
faded muslin gown, but without effect.

Mrs. Crocker smiled and shook her head. She reached out and
tucked a stray curl behind her sister’s small ear. “You
never look a fright, Abby. At times, however, you
do
resemble a rather startled mouse.”

Abby accepted her sister’s fond observation. She
knew she was not a great
beauty. Her hair waved very prettily, but it was a nondescript mouse-brown; her eyes slanted upward in an interesting fashion, but
her mouth was too generous; and though she pos
sessed a neat figure, she had often wished to be more buxom. “I must go up and change. Lord Fielding may
be here at any moment. I shouldn’t like him to find
me in a wrinkled, wet gown.”

“No, indeed! One naturally wishes to appear at
one’s best when an admirer comes to call
.”

Abby blushed. A smile trembled on her lips.
“Pray don’t tease me, Melissa. Lord Fielding seems to
like me well enough, of course, but—“

“My dear, his lordship likes you well enough to faithfully call nearly every day,” said Mrs. Crocker.
“And why shouldn’t he? You are a sweet innocent
and you will make a beautiful bride.”

Abby felt fiery heat burn her face. She pressed
her small, elegant hands against her cheeks. “Oh, I do
wish you would not put me out of countenance!”

Her sister laughed at her, her shrewd brown eyes
holding a fond expression. “You are such a silly,
Abby. You came out last Season and even though
we had to take you home before
the end, I quite thought you were on the town
long enough to get over your ridiculous shyness.”

“I know I’m silly,” agreed Abby readily. “But I’m
not like you or August or dear Peter. I—I don’t know
how to talk in company. My tongue seems to become
glued to the roof of my mouth. And when people pay
me compliments, I just know they’re simply being kind. I am not a beauty, Melissa, and I have
very little else to recommend me.”

Mrs. Crocker reached out with both arms and
hugged her younger sister. “There! That ought to tell
you something. You have a good, tender heart, Abby,
and everyone who meets you can see that. You
haven’t an enemy in the world because you try to be
everyone’s friend.”

A tall youth bounded into the sitting room. He
looked like a brown stag with his unruly hair and long
limbs. “Hullo! Are you still messing with all those
roses, Abby? I say, that’s a vastly pretty arrangement.
One of your best, I should think.”

“Why, thank you, August,” said Abby, pleased. She
liked her brother tremendously. His carelessly tossed words were easy to accept because she knew August to be
as honest as bright sunshine.

“Where have you popped up from, August?” asked
Mrs. Crocker in a tolerant fashion.

“I’ve just come in for a few minutes. Wilson and
Bligh are waiting for me. We’ve come up with the best notion, Melissa! But I can’t stop to tell you about
it, for I have to go down to the kitchen to get a few
meat pies from Cook. I’m famished and so are the
fellows,” said August, already turning toward the
door. He turned back, the slightest frown on his face.
“I did want to mention something to you. Oh, I know
what it was! I just saw Lord Fielding coming up the
street. I thought you might want a little warning,
Abby.”

“Oh! Thank you, August! Indeed, I am very grate
ful to you!” exclaimed Abby, rushing past her brother toward the door. “I must run upstairs at once and change. Melissa, pray
give Lord Fielding my regards and . . . and—well,
you
will know just what to say!”

“Yes, my dear, I’ll know just what to say,” said Mrs.
Crocker on a laugh.

As Abby started up the front stairs, her brother
emerged from the sitting room and shouted up after
her, “You had better run faster than that, Abby. I
imagine his lordship is already coming up the steps!”

The front knocker sounded. The butler emerged
from the nether regions into the entry hall
.

A breathy shriek sounded from the landing. Abby clutched the banister as she looked down. “Oh,
August! Don’t allow him in yet. Wait until I’m out
of sight, I pray!”

“I shan’t let him in at all. I’m for the kitchen,” said
August loudly. He thrust out his hand, catching the
butler’s attention. With a quick gesture of his chin
toward the stairs, he said, “Wait a moment, Tarley.”

The butler followed the young man’s glance and
the slightest of smiles touched his face. “Of course,
sir.” Slowing his steps, he marched in a stately
manner toward the front door.

Mrs. Crocker had come to the sitting room door. S
he poked a finger into her young brother’s arm. August flinched. “Ow, Melissa!”

Mrs. Crocker paid him no heed.
“If Lord Fielding overheard one word of your
shouting, August, I shall have your head.”

“Even if he did, he’ll never say so,” said August cheerfully. He added, “I don’t know why you encourage
him so, Melissa. I don’t care for him above half.”

“His lordship is a perfect gentleman. He has been
very attentive toward Abby,” said Mrs. Crocker with
dignity.

“A regular slowtop and caught up in admiration of
his station, is what
I
think,” said August unrepentantly before
bounding off in the direction of the kitchen.

Upstairs in her small bedroom, Abby scrambled out of
her old gown and thrust her hand into the wardrobe,
pulling out whatever she first touched. It was one of
the new dimity day gowns that her sister had pro
vided and was very becoming to her. Abby didn’t
think of that, however, as she pulled the gown over her head
and tried to button up the back with trembling fin
gers. She hated to be late or enter a room by
herself. The knowledge that Lord Fielding was already
in the townhouse was enough to throw her into a famil
iar fluster.

The bedroom door opened and her maid came in.
“Miss! You should have rung. When I heard his
lordship had called, I rushed up directly to help you.”

“Thank
you, Maisie,” exclaimed Abby, relin
quishing her struggle to the maid’s competent fingers.
“I don’t think I could have managed properly by
myself.”

Abby obediently
stood still or turned as her maid requested. Bodice buttoned, skirt and sleeves twitched into place, a brush applied hastily to her hair – when the
maid had finished, Abby looked in the mirror for a brief
second. As far as she could see, she looked as usual.
“I’ll do, I suppose,” she remarked.

“You look very nice, miss,” said the maid firmly.

Abby gave a polite smile and a small shake of the
head before she started back downstairs.

At the closed door of the sitting room, she hesi
tated. She could hear the murmur of voices. Her sister
and Lord Fielding were conversing. She felt awkward about interrupting them. Taking a steadying breath,
Abby opened the door and hovered on the threshold. She saw the tea tray had al
ready been brought in, but that tea had not yet been
served. No doubt her sister had informed their guest that
Abby would shortly be joining them.

Abby was hoping her sister would notice her,
thereby smoothing her late entrance, but Lord Fiel
ding chanced to glance around and was the first to see her. A
t once he rose to his feet. “Miss Fairchilde! Forgive me,
I did not immediately see you.”

Since it was obvious
she had committed a
faux pas
by throwing her caller into the wrong, Abby was embarrassed. With a
shamefaced expression, she entered the room. “No! No, it was entirely
my fault, my lord. I should have made myself known
at once.”

“So you should have,” agreed Mrs. Crocker quietly but
with a slightly impatient glance.

Abby felt even worse. Melissa was so
rarely out of charity with her. Her sister and
brother-in-law, Peter Crocker, had already been
so good to her. They had gone to the trouble of spon
soring her come-out last Season and she had repaid them by becoming ill before the Season had ended.
They had not said a single reproving word, but instead
had brought her back to London for a second Season.
The least she could do, thought Abby, was to behave
as a proper miss should. Upon the dismal reflection,
Abby summoned up what she hoped was a bright
smile and held out her hand to Lord Fielding. “I’m
most happy to see you, my lord. Your visits are always
welcome to us.”

“I shall treasure the friendliness of your greeting,”
said Lord Fielding, bowing slightly and carrying her
fingers to his lips in a courtly gesture.

Abby felt a blush climb into her face. She
glanced quickly at her sister over Lord Fielding’s head
and saw that Melissa was smiling. With a sense of
relief, Abby realized she had actually done some
thing right.

Lord Fielding straightened, smiling down at her. He
was a tall man, rather rangy in build. Abby
always felt dwarfed by his lordship’s presence, a feeling that
was as much due to his obvious self-assurance as it was to his superior height
. However, Lord Fielding had never treated her with
anything less than respect and she was grateful for
his circumspect behavior. Except for the steady stream of compliments with which Lord Fielding continually plied her with, she
had no fears of ever being put out of countenance
by him.

“Abby, I was just telling Lord Fielding how we are
looking forward to this evening,” said Mrs. Crocker.

“This evening?” Abby covered her blank thoughts
by sinking down on the settee beside her sister and
making a timid gesture toward a chair opposite them.
“Pray be seated, my lord. You mustn’t stand about on
my account, you know.”

Lord Fielding took the chair she had indicated. He smiled at her. “I
appreciate your kindness, Miss Fairchilde. It is one of
those qualities that one likes best about you.”

Abby smiled politely and murmured so low that
even she couldn’t hear what she had said. It was just
as well, for she didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t
have sounded completely idiotic. With desperation,
she turned to her sister. “You were saying, Melissa?”