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Authors: Gayle Buck

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BOOK: Love for Lucinda
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Miss Blythe raised her brows as she digested this pronouncement, but Miss Mays accepted it at its face value. “How wonderful! I know that you will be much less anxious now, my lady,” she said happily.

“I will be even less so when my cousin is finally on his way,” said Lucinda.

“Oh, it will not be long now, now that Mr. Stassart is getting out of bed,” said Miss Mays, speaking from the well of her extensive nursing experience. “It is when a person stays overlong in bed that he begins to lose much of his strength. Mr. Stassart is young, besides. He will be able to go home very soon.”

“I know that you are right, Agnes. In point of fact, I was just encouraging my cousin to that effect,” said Lucinda with a small laugh.

Miss Mays beamed at her. “There! We are all comfortable again. Are we not, my lady?”

“Yes, Agnes, we are all comfortable again,” agreed Lucinda. She rose from the bed. “I shall have your maid sent in to undress you for bed. It is very late.”

“Oh, pray do not waken her. I told her that I would do for myself tonight,” said Miss Mays, wringing her hands.

Lucinda eyed that telltale gesture. She said hastily, “It will be just as you say, my dear. Now I really must say good night, for my own dresser will be wondering what has become of me.”

“You must not keep her waiting on my account,” agreed Miss Mays. She saw that Miss Blythe was also leaving, and she trailed them to the door. When Lucinda and Miss Blythe had exited, she offered another shy smile to them. “Good night.”

“Good night, Agnes,” said Lucinda.

The door shut softly. Lucinda turned her head to look at her companion. “How much I admire you, Tibby. I do not think that I could have borne to put up with a number of such charges, as you have done over the years.”

Miss Blythe chuckled. “They have not all been so difficult to handle, my dear. Indeed, I can recall one who was a veritable treat to be around. She was always my favorite pupil.”

Lucinda reached out her hand quickly, her eyes misting. “Oh, Tibby! Must you make me cry in the small hours of the morning?”

“Go to bed, my dear,” said Miss Blythe gently.

Lucinda glanced over at Mr. Stassart’s door, and her unaccustomed sentimentalism evaporated. “Oh, I shall. But first I must relay a few orders concerning my cousin, Ferdie,” she said.

“Whatever do you mean?” asked Miss Blythe curiously.

“Only that my cousin is to be assured of every consideration in the breakfast room,” said Lucinda blandly. They had traversed the hall and, having reached her own door, she parted from Miss Blythe with a quiet good night.

The next morning when Lucinda went down to the breakfast room, she found her cousin sprawled sulkily in a chair. “Good morning, Ferdie,” she said cheerfully.

He glared at her. “Much you know about it. I was dragged from my bed and positively thrust into my clothing by those churlish bullies of yours. Look at me! My cravat is permanently creased; there are wrinkles in my coat and waistcoat. These are not the son of garments that I am used to, by the by! You promised to replace my coat, cousin! This is hardly fair return!”

“If you are so discontented with my efforts on your behalf, Ferdie, I suggest that you return to your own lodgings and get your man to attend to you properly,” said Lucinda.

As she had known he would, her cousin quit his complaints and subsided into low grumbling.

Miss Blythe and Miss Mays soon joined them at the breakfast table.

Miss Blythe nodded to Mr. Stassart. “I am glad to see that you are recovering, Mr. Stassart.”

Mr. Stassart made a bow. “It was inevitable, Miss Blythe. One would not dare to malinger in this house,” he said, somewhat bitterly.

Miss Blythe raised her brows a little. “Indeed!”

The company was served and the servants left. Near the conclusion of breakfast, Church came in and bent to say something quietly in Lady Mays’s ear. Lucinda looked up quickly. “I shall come at once.”

“Is there something untoward, my dear?” asked Miss Blythe.

“Not at all. Lord Mays has come to call,” said Lucinda, rising from the table.

“What! Surely you are not going to receive his lordship without benefit of chaperone,” said Ferdie maliciously.

Lucinda looked at him. “Lord Mays is a gentleman and a friend, sir. I have complete confidence in him.”

“As do I,” said Miss Blythe coldly, staring down Mr. Stassart’s pretensions.

Ferdie shrugged, and then wished that he had not. Bad temperedly, he snapped, “I wonder that you would expose yourself to gossip, cousin. But I am aware that you think nothing of my opinion. I am merely your father’s heir and will one day be head of the family. So who am I to cavil at my cousin’s careless conduct? Just do not come moaning to me when word gets about that you receive gentlemen without the advantage of a chaperone!”

“And who will put word about, Ferdie? You?” asked Lucinda quietly. She saw that it had been a home shot, and her lips curled in a contemptuous smile. “Pray do not think that I am unaware of your machinations, Ferdie.” She swept toward the door, her head held high.

“I have been slandered, most viciously and unfairly! What do you mean by it, Lucinda? I say, I demand an answer,” exclaimed Ferdie.

“Mr. Stassart, should you be putting yourself into such a passion? It is quite unhealthy for you,” said Miss Mays diffidently.

Ferdie stared at her, his mouth hanging open. He was astonished. This mouse of a female had actually dared to remonstrate with him. His rather hard blue eyes suddenly narrowed. “Miss Mays—”

“Why do you not go practice on the pianoforte, my dear? I shall walk with you to the music room since I am headed toward the library,” interposed Miss Blythe, smoothly derailing whatever blistering remark that Mr. Stassart had meant to deliver.

“Oh, but what of poor Mr. Stassart?” asked Miss Mays.

“I am certain that it will do Mr. Stassart a great deal of good to have a few moments alone in which to collect himself,” said Miss Blythe bitingly. Rising from the table, she firmly took Miss Mays in hand and steered her out of the breakfast room.

 

Chapter Twenty-three

 

The butler opened the drawing room door, and Lucinda swiftly entered. Her expression lit up at sight of the gentleman standing in front of the mantel. “Wilfred! I am so glad to see you.”

The butler quietly closed the door, privately determining that there would be no interruptions to this particular interview.

Lord Mays turned at Lucinda’s entrance and instantly went to her, catching hold of the hands that she held out to him. “Lucinda! I came as swiftly as I could to tell you. I have just this moment returned to town.”

“Yes, I can see that you have,” said Lucinda, having already taken note of his attire. His lordship was wearing a driving coat, a few extra whip points thrust through the top buttonhole, and there was a rakish windblown look about the ruddiness of his complexion and hair. She drew him over to the settee. “Tell me at once what has happened.”

Lord Mays sat down, apologizing for his dirt. Lucinda assured him that it did not matter in the least, but urged him to go on with his story.

“I was able to run those idiots, Lord Levine and Mr. Pepperidge, to ground at last. They had left the cockfight and gone on to a mutual acquaintance’s hunting box for a rare night of it.”

“Oh, dear! How unfortunate!” exclaimed Lucinda. “They were not completely incapacitated, I hope?”

Lord Mays snorted his disgust. “Disguised to the gills, I assure you! I thought that Lord Levine would heave his freight all over the floor of my curricle any number of times. But I stopped to hold his head, and that seemed to steady things a bit. He was still a bit wobbly when I let him off at his lodgings, but at least he was upright. There was no doing anything with Pepperidge at all.”

“Then you brought Lord Levine back with you? And he will take Ferdie in with him?” asked Lucinda. At his lordship’s nod and grin, she threw her arms about him. “Oh, Wilfred, thank you! You have no notion how happy I am to hear it.”

Lord Mays had instinctively put his arms around her, returning her embrace. There came an arrested expression into his gold-brown eyes as he looked down into her smiling face. “I was glad to be of service to you, Lucinda.” He cleared his throat. “Lucinda, I...”

Lucinda felt of a sudden unaccountably breathless. She straightened away from his lordship, very aware that he seemed slow in releasing her. She said quickly, brightly, “Such good news, my lord! Ferdie has been such a nuisance, you have no notion. I shall be glad to be able to show him the door.”

“Has the fellow shown his impertinence, Lucinda? I shall know how to deal with that,” said Lord Mays, rising with a purposeful light in his eyes. His fists were bunched suggestively.

Lucinda also rose, catching at his lordship’s sleeve. “Pray do not, Wilfred! It is not at all what you think. Actually, I suppose it is, though Agnes was involved and not me. Last night I discovered her in his bedroom, playing cribbage, if you please! She had not the least notion what a compromising position she had placed herself in, of course! But Ferdie most certainly did. The only excuse he tendered was that he had been so utterly bored that he could not turn away her offer to entertain him.”

Lord Mays had listened to her explanation with a fixed expression. It seemed to calm him somewhat. At the end, he said frankly, “The fellow is an out-and-out bounder, Lucinda. My advice is to send him this very instant to Lord Levine’s before he can get up to any further mischief. There is no knowing what he might take into his head next. The fat would be in the fire if he should try to compromise you, or Agnes, of course, and some starched-up lady come to call and chanced upon such a scene. There is no knowing what kind of talk is already running through the servants about poor Agnes.”

“You are right, of course. Very well. I shall do so at once,” said Lucinda. She started toward the door. “I left Ferdie in the breakfast room, but he is undoubtedly gone from there. I shall ask Church if he has seen him.”

Mr. Stassart had indeed left the breakfast room. He had repaired to the billiards room to idly roll a few of the balls to and fro, but it was poor sport and he soon abandoned it. He sauntered out of the door in search of better entertainment. He was heartily weary of his own company, and he had never known a duller household in his life. There was not a game of chance to be had. The opportunity to play cribbage with Miss Mays for a penny a point had been mildly amusing, as an adult might play at a child’s game for a time and find it diverting, but the thought of indulging in such tame stuff again made him shudder.

He heard the sound of music, like a rippling stream. Ferdie followed the sound. He pushed open the door to the music room and stepped inside.

Miss Mays was sitting at the pianoforte. Her fingers flew, her body swayed, with the passion of the music that she was bringing forth.

Ferdie was astonished. He could not believe that this passionate flame, this fervent muse, was the same colorless Miss Mays. The beauty of her playing held him spellbound for several minutes. It gradually occurred to him to wonder whether the ardor that she displayed at the keyboard could be unlocked through other means.

Ferdie sauntered across the carpet. Stepping up close behind Miss Mays, he bent to touch a light kiss under her ear. Miss Mays started violently, her fingers striking a monstrous discordancy. The top of her head cracked sharp against Ferdie’s chin. He reared back, biting back a curse.

Miss Mays jumped to her feet and whirled. The pianoforte was close behind her, and she leaned against it. She stared at Mr. Stassart, her eyes dilated. Then her expression changed. “Oh! Mr. Stassart, are you hurt? I did not in the least mean harm to you.”

Ferdie gingerly fingered his chin. “I believe that I shall live, Miss Mays. But I do urge you to not to leap up in just that dangerous way. One might take a real hurt from such a blow.”

Miss Mays straightened, instantly sympathetic. Stretching out her hand to him, she said, “I am so very sorry! Does it pain you terribly? Shall I run to get a cold compress for you?”

Ferdie captured her hand with his and carried her fingers to his lips. “I require nothing, dear lady, but the honor of basking in the warm echoes of your music. You are an extraordinary musician, Miss Mays. Extraordinary! Such passion, such ardor, such delicate power! I stand in worshipful awe. I am entirely at your command.” As he had spoken, he had managed to slide his good arm about her trim waist. With his body, he pinned her against the pianoforte.

Miss Mays had put up her hands between them, and she pushed ineffectively against his chest. “Sir! Mr. Stassart, you must let me go!” There was agitation in her voice and on her face.

Ferdie leaned over her, bringing his face closer to hers. “My dear, dear Miss Mays,” he murmured. He sought her lips, but she turned her head swiftly. She was a squirming, trim little package pressed against him. Ferdie tightened his arm around her and bent her over the pianoforte, determined to have his way. “A kiss, sweet, dear Miss Mays,” he panted.

“No! Oh, no!” cried the distressed lady, beating at him with her palms and twisting her head away. In the struggle a vase on the top of the pianoforte was knocked over onto the floor with a loud crash. The vase disintegrated into a thousand pieces.

The door of the music room was thrust open, and Lord Mays stood on the threshold. In a bare second, he had taken stock of the situation, and he leaped across the room.

Grabbing Mr. Stassart by the shoulder, he whirled the other man around. He threw a punishing right into Stassart’s jaw.

Mr. Stassart went down. He yelped from shock and hurt. Dazed, he attempted to rise from where he had sprawled onto the carpet. But then he chanced to look up and saw the grim set of Lord Mays’s expression. This was swiftly followed by the distinct impression of that gentleman’s still bunched fists. Ferdie deemed it prudent to remain where he was. He fell back, groaning.

Miss Mays, who had been cringing against the pianoforte, now flew across the space between herself and Mr. Stassart. She threw herself down beside Mr. Stassart’s inert body. “Oh, you are hurt!”

BOOK: Love for Lucinda
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