Miss Darcy Falls in Love (20 page)

“Thank you, Miss Darcy. Uttered by you, those words are dear, even if I deem them too generous.”

“Not generous enough in my estimation. After your education at the Conservatoire, I shall not possess the vocabulary to adequately praise your compositions. I, like others, will merely be blessed to listen and bravely attempt to play.”

“Please, do not—”

“I see you wrote a part for the violin into this one,” she interrupted, glancing upward then and across the narrow expanse of wood separating them. “Apparently, some of Lord Caxton’s instructions penetrated.”

“I may not be able to competently play the violin, or any stringed instrument for that matter, I confess, but I do know how to write music for them.” He bent over the piano to peer at the indicated sheet, his face a foot away from hers. “Biblical references to harp and lyre necessitated the inclusion of stringed music despite my amateur status.”

“You gravitated toward the piano as I have, I surmise. I can play the harp with moderate proficiency, however, thanks to Lady Matlock, and have done fairly well with the cello, thanks to Colonel Fitzwilliam. My brother tried to interest me in the violin, and I can manage basic chords but never took the time to practice.”

“Similar to my story, Miss Darcy. I fear I resisted the urging of my instructors and tutors thus my incompetence is of long standing.”

Georgiana nodded, once again staring intently into his eyes. Sebastian was still leaning over the piano surface and returned the frank stare. “So the baron was not your first instructor in the violin?”

“I was an incompetent before the baron got his hands upon me. He tried his best, but I fear it was useless.” The reminder of Lord Caxton was not a welcome one under the current circumstances, making Sebastian’s smile wan.

“How long have you known him?”

Sebastian straightened, managing to somehow keep his expression impassive. “Only for a few years. We met at Oxford.”

“Were you personal friends with many of your teachers?”

“No. Lord Caxton and I were never intimates either. He is quite a bit older than I am, and teachers did not generally socialize with the students. But we both have a penchant for cards and moderate gaming, often meeting at the university gaming halls. I am not a huge gambler, Miss Darcy. I pray you do not get that impression.”

She did not seem perturbed, nodding calmly and bringing the conversation back to Caxton, much to Sebastian’s annoyance. “And Lord Caxton? Is he what you would consider a huge gambler?”

“No, I cannot say he ever was,” he answered truthfully. “He is wise in that regard. For both of us, it was a casual pastime, the spirits and cigars as appealing as the game.”

“Yes, I can imagine. Or rather I know that is what gentlemen claim. It is a mysterious amusement, ladies only allowed to spin conjectures as to what truly takes place behind the closed polished wood doors.”

“I would reveal the truth, Miss Darcy, even to the point of facing being blackballed as a traitor to my sex, but trust me, it is not nearly as exciting as your wild fantasies. Best to leave the mystery intact. I will tell you that I win my games most of the time.”

“Then I am surprised the baron invited you! Perhaps he does not mind losing money?”

“I think he sees it as a challenge to supplant me,” Sebastian replied, wondering if she sensed the double meaning.

“Well, good luck tonight then. May the best man prevail.”

“Indeed. Let us hope the battle fairly fought with the outcome as fate designs,” he stressed, not referring to a game of cards.

“Try not to leave him destitute or homeless,” she teased.

“I am not that fine a player. Besides, each gentleman there has wealth to spare. Their estates should be safe.”

“Have you ever been to Lord Caxton’s estate in Suffolk?”

“No, I have not.”

“My brother has been to Suffolk, to the Duke of Grafton’s estate, which is near the baron’s properties I understand. Perhaps I should have paid more heed to what Fitzwilliam said about the region or paid more attention to my geography lessons. Lord Caxton said his land is beautiful and a half day from the sea. I do adore the sea. Suffolk is a huge distance from Pemberley, but London is reasonably close. Lord Caxton expresses how he misses his home, and I know he is weary of living elsewhere while a steward manages for him. He plans to end his teaching and traveling abroad, desiring to settle in Suffolk and begin a family.”

She stopped her aimless rambling abruptly, refocusing on Sebastian and then reddening and averting her eyes. Sebastian stood rigid, his entire body screaming to run from the room rather than listen to her musings about Lord Caxton!

Into the awkward silence, the striking of the longcase clock was jarring. They both jerked violently, Sebastian recovering first to latch on to the interruption to blurt a hasty good-bye.

Chapter Thirteen

Two Nocturnes

Sebastian was determined to have a pleasant evening gambling and socializing with gentlemen of his class in a richly appointed establishment boasting the finest cigars and liquors. He was also determined to ascertain the level of commitment between the baron and Miss Darcy. Men tended to gossip and blather as freely as women, especially when loosened with alcohol.

He wanted to despise the older man for pursuing Miss Darcy, but he was too honest an individual to falsely direct his anger toward the baron. As evidenced by his opinion and feelings, she was in every way perfect and worthy of being sought after and fallen in love with. The greater mystery is why none had tried before! Or maybe they had and Miss Darcy had not returned the interest. Whatever the case, he could not fault her for developing affection for Lord Caxton.

The truth is he thought very highly of Lord Caxton. He came from a good family with impeccable breeding and abundant wealth. Sebastian knew him to be an honorable gentleman who would make any woman a fine husband.

No, the brunt of his anger was directed at himself. If only he had not been so selfish, so blinded to his budding sentiments, and so resolute that their relationship was one of friendship only.

“If only I had listened to de Marcov,” he grumbled.

“Sir?”

He jumped slightly at the question from his valet, grimacing. “Sorry, Hendricks. I am daydreaming.” The valet continued with the cravat-tying project as if nothing was amiss.

Sebastian again drifted off, barely aware when Hendricks finished the task and helped him into his jacket. He did not know how he would go about it, but it was time to discover the depth of attachment between Lord Caxton and Miss Darcy. He respected the baron, but he refused to lie down and let the woman he had fallen in love with slip through his fingers without a fight!

His prime desire was to see her happy, so ultimately he would bow to her choice. Nevertheless, he cringed from the idea of watching her waltz off with another man, even if her love was firmly placed therein, and knew he would not be able to bear it.

He shook off the disturbing images and forced the anxiety aside.
There
is
time, I am sure of it.

“Time for what, sir?”

Sebastian jumped at Hendricks’s query to what he thought had been an internal musing. “Uh, time for me to have a bit of fun and win some money. Shall I place a wager or two for you?”

“Not this time, Mr. Butler. My purse is only fat enough to roll the dice with my peers, which I will be doing as soon as I clean up here.”

“Then I shall be on my way. Best of luck to you.”

“You as well, sir. Go forth and grab on to what you want.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed at the retreating back of his manservant, sure there was an odd glint in the man’s eye during that last statement.
Figures, cheeky scamp.
But it did put a smile on his face, and with a freer heart, a steady resolve, and a thick pocketbook, he left.

La Palu was swank and located in the heart of bustling Paris cabarets, taverns, and private clubs catering to the younger crowd of genteel gentlemen from all cultures inhabiting Paris. At La Palu, the atmosphere was excessively masculine, and the typical entertainments of cards, billiards, and darts were enhanced by abundant flows of wine, liquors, and Italian coffee. Laughter was rampant, coarse conversation abounded, smoke swirled in a thick cloud between the polished rafters, and the constant clink of coins and shuffling cards filled in the background.

It was a difficult place to remain glum, unless losing large quantities of cash at the games, and since the fates did seem to be on Sebastian’s side as far as poker was concerned, he was in a surprisingly fine frame of mind. The growing stack of chips on the table space in front of him was indicative of his luck.

He sat with five other men, including a jovial Lord Caxton, sipped a glass of fine red Bordeaux slowly, so as to keep a level head, and concentrated on the serious business of gaming. Of course, serious or not, the men did engage in a fair amount of raillery.

“Duc de Montmoron has a new mistress.” So spoke the Vicomte d’Érard.

“Another one? He is tired of Madame Legard already?”

“He is now with the actress, Mademoiselle Cérise Maigny.”

“Ah, understandable.”

Lord Caxton shook his head, tossing another chip onto the middle pile. “That man’s love affairs could easily be the plot to one of Mademoiselle Cérise’s plays.”

“He certainly is never bored,” Mr. Allison said lasciviously. “Something you can comprehend, yes, Caxton?”

“Now be careful, Allison,” Monsieur de Lignac interjected. “Rumor has it that the good baron is smitten.”

“Is this true?” d’Érard asked, brows disappearing into his hairline.

“Do not look so amazed, d’Érard. Love does happen, even to the best of us,” de Lignac replied.

Allison snorted. “Not everyone, let us pray. I would sooner chew glass.”

“Love is it? How extraordinary! Who is the fortunate woman?”

“Unfortunate, you mean to say, d’Érard,” Allison grumbled. “Butler, are you going to call, raise, or stare at your cards for another hour?”

“Fold, actually.” Sebastian laid the cards down, pressing his palms onto the tabletop to still the trembling. He dared not lift his gaze to Lord Caxton’s face, but every nerve tingled with anticipation, awaiting his response to the jibes.

“The lady’s name is Miss Georgiana Darcy, and it is I who am the fortunate one.”

“Darcy? As in Darcy of Pemberley?” Mr. O’Byrne asked, the baron answering affirmative. “My father knows him. And I was so blessed to dance, twice, with Miss Darcy at Almack’s! She is quite beautiful and has a dowry of over thirty thousand pounds, so the rumor goes.”

“Ha! I knew there had to be a sound reason for the carefree bachelor to proffer sudden declarations of love! Well done, Baron, well done.”

Caxton trained a severe glare on Mr. Allison. “I shall excuse those remarks, Allison, as we are friends of long standing. However, rest assured my interest in Miss Darcy is honorable.”

“Of course it is, Caxton,” Lignac added his glare to the baron’s, Allison merely shrugging and tossing in another chip.

“Nonetheless, it does inspire stronger feelings of affection if the lady in question is worthy, you must agree with that Caxton?” d’Érard asked with a smile.

Caxton nodded curtly.

Mr. O’Byrne spoke next. “I was not aware Miss Darcy was in Paris. Or is your arrangement dating from when you were in London, Baron?”

“I owe my present happiness to Butler here.” He smiled gratefully toward Sebastian, who was intently stacking his chips into orderly rows. “He is a Darcy, indirectly as it were, and introduced me to his kinswoman on a day that shall be remembered as one of the best in my life.”

“So, one of those whirlwind romances, eh, Caxton? Love at first sight and all that?” Lignac asked, ignoring Allison’s mock retch.

Caxton laughed, pitching a number of chips into the large pot and laying his cards onto the table. “Straight flush, queen high, gentlemen. Beat that!”

The groans reverberated around the table, the slap of cards falling in disgust muffled by Caxton’s gloating chuckles and sweeping of the pot.

“Unfair,” d’Érard grumbled. “The baron wins the hand of cards and the fair maiden.”

Lignac laughed and patted d’Érard’s shoulder. “Cheer up, old friend. We married men can make him suffer by inventing endless horror stories of the dreariness of matrimony!”

“No false inventing necessary if you ask me,” Allison said.

“We did not ask you,” Lignac countered, grinning. “So, when is the wedding, Caxton? How long do we have to try to save you?” He winked at Allison, who grunted.

“I doubt if I would tell you, all considered. But the truth is that we have not reached a permanent arrangement as yet.”

Sebastian’s head jerked up at that and he cringed at the sight of the baron’s elated face. But Caxton was organizing his winnings and did not notice.

“Yet?” O’Byrne asked.

“In time, my boy, in time.” Caxton grinned at the youngest member of their group, Mr. O’Byrne, barely twenty and on his first adventure beyond England. “But I am supremely confident.”

“Oh, do tell! This promises to be provocative.”

“Again, I shall excuse your crassness, Allison, but please understand that this is the future Baroness Caxton we are discussing. And Miss Darcy is a great lady. As such, she deserves the utmost respect. This is why I have asked her permission to court her formally, if her brother approves, once I have returned to London.”

“And she agreed?”

“She was speechless in her joy, and that is all I shall say on this subject at this juncture. I deem this topic exhausted, gentlemen, in honor of my lady’s reputation and modesty. Now, Butler, are you ever going to stop shuffling the deck and deal?”

The remainder of the night was torture. Sebastian’s luck failed him utterly, probably not because of the abandonment of any angel of fortune but rather due to severe distraction on his part. Dramatic performance had never been his forte, but bluffing skills proved to serve him beyond poker, as no one noted his inattention. Of course, alcohol may have played some part in that as well, the players in high spirits and unconcerned with one sullen member. Whatever the case, he was suddenly eager to end the gaming and revelry, longing for the refuge of his dark bedchamber where he could crumble in private. He fervently prayed Lord Caxton would be too tired or caught up in silent musings to talk, but his luck continued to fail him.

“Butler, I never have properly thanked you for introducing me to Miss Darcy. I suppose it was sheer coincidence that we encountered each other that day at the Conservatoire, but I feel I owe you a debt of gratitude nonetheless.”

“You owe me nothing,” Sebastian mumbled, staring out the windows into the moonlit cobblestones and wishing the sky was overcast, so he could not see the shine of happiness visible on the older man’s countenance.

“She is a remarkable woman. Nearly flawless she is, if one can presumptuously assert that claim upon another human being. I am quite besotted and find I have lost all flavor for Paris. My heart now yearns for home so we can publicly proclaim our mutual affection. Pity you shall be otherwise occupied by the time we exchange our vows, Butler, since your acquaintance with the lady led to our paths crossing.”

Sebastian nodded once and remained silent. Truly he could think of nothing to say, even if his throat had not been dry and constricted beyond the ability to vocalize.
God, why is this carriage moving so slowly?

“I am also induced to thank serendipity for preventing her heart for falling for you or vice versa,” Lord Caxton continued. His gravelly chuckle rang oddly churlish instead of humorous. “Nevertheless, who am I to question fate? Obviously you were meant to be the friendly conduit and nothing more. You are young, my friend, so do not lose heart. Someday you too shall know the delight of a lover’s touch, her smile upon your face, the scent of her skin, the feel of her breath, her kiss—”

“You have kissed her?” Sebastian cried in genuine shock, his eyes wide and murderous when he jerked his gaze to Caxton. A rush of rage blended with a surge of nausea, the struggle to keep both under control immense.

“Not as yet. I am a gentleman above all. But once we declare our intent, and I am able to speak to Mr. Darcy, I shall ask for the honor, have no doubt. And it will be wonderful!”

Sebastian was utterly speechless. How visible the stunned expression on his face or shimmering pain in his eyes from where he sat in the shadows he could not know. Caxton did not comment on what he saw, but his eyes never left Sebastian as he rhapsodized over the fair Georgiana Darcy. He stressed her returned attachment and affection, recounted conversations, and eloquently described the sparkle in her eyes and glorious smiles as they danced. The final blow was a detailed summary of how she agreed to his courtship request.

Sebastian’s heart and mind were numb long before the journey to his townhouse was over. Monosyllabic grunts and vague nods were the best he could do, while praying fervently for the trip to speed up and for the strength not to strangle the enamored baron. If once or twice a note of falsity entered the stream or a gleam of warning was directed his way, Sebastian was too distraught to grasp on to it.

Then, as he threw open the carriage door without waiting for the footman and prepared to dive head first onto the street if necessary to escape the torture chamber, Lord Caxton leaned forward and clasped onto his wrist. He brought his face near Sebastian’s, eyes black and harsh in the pale light, and said in a heavy voice, “Have no worries regarding Miss Darcy, Butler. I know she is your
friend
so it will comfort you to know that I adore her and promise to protect her with all of my strength for as long as I live.
No
one
shall be allowed to harm her or take her from me. I promise you that, Butler.”

***

“Amanda, may I ask a question?”

Mrs. Annesley halted her reading and lowered the novel to her lap. Miss Georgiana had not been listening to the tale of mystery anyway. For the past half hour Mrs. Annesley had been observing from the corner of her eye, noting how Miss Georgiana stared sightlessly into the mirror and brushed the same section of long hair over and over.