Springtime Pleasures (21 page)

“Miss Stanton,” Chanderley said next to her, his voice deliciously stern.

With a smile, Charlie looked up.

“I am to remind you that you promised my sister to turn the pages for her at the fortepiano.”

“That I did,” she agreed complacently, and rose from the sofa. “It was such a pleasure to talk to you, Mrs Burnell, and I do hope you will one day tell me more about your travels.” She took the gloved hand that was held out to her. “And we don’t need to be so helpless, you know,” she added softly. “That is what Miss Pinkerton taught us.”

~*~

Griff was acutely aware that his aunt watched Charlie with eagle eyes as she made her way to Izzie. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the tightness there.

Abruptly, the Crocodile’s head swivelled around. “Why are you still standing there in this stupid fashion, Chanderley?” She poked her fan between his ribs. “Come and sit down. I detest having to crane my neck when I talk to people.”

“Yes, aunt,” Griff muttered, wincing, and gingerly sat down on the place Charlie had vacated mere moments ago.

Heck, his aunt was lethal with that damned fan! He still sported a few bruises from his encounters with that dratted thing at the Tollham ball. And the people she had invited! He was on good terms with the Holland House set, but if Lady Lymfort ever found out that her daughter had attended a party at which Lady Holland had been present, there would be hell to pay!

Aunt Burnell had meanwhile turned her attention back on the two girls. Charlie was talking earnestly to Izzie, while she was wheeling her to the fortepiano. Once there, she took the music album Izzie had been clutching all evening and set it on the stand.

“Ah,” Aunt Burnell said, and smiled one of her toothy crocodile smiles. “I have specifically desired Isabella to play for us this evening.”

Griff smiled grimly. So
that
was the reason Izzie had been so nervous! How typical of the Crocodile! She so enjoyed making other people squirm. “If you did, ma’am, it was a cruel thing to do,” he gritted out. “You knew that as your godchild, my sister would feel obliged to comply with your wishes even though she is most uncomfortable in the company of strangers.”

His aunt threw him a glittering glance. “You wish to cosset her because she sits in that chair? She is not a china doll, Chanderley, but a girl of flesh and blood. Look—” She inclined her head towards the fortepiano. “—Isabella is neither swooning nor wilting like a hothouse flower.”

Charlie had positioned herself next to the instrument so she could easily read the music and turn the pages. She gave Izzie an encouraging nod.

Griff could only see his sister from the back, but he clearly perceived her hands trembling as she raised them to the keyboard. The sight made him want to spring up and stride across the room to wrench her away from the instrument.

His aunt put her hand on his arm and gripped it with surprising strength. “Don’t be such a dunderhead, Chanderley,” she said crisply. “A short performance is not going to harm Isabella. She will do splendidly; you will see.” In an undertone, she added, “I do hope she finds the fortepiano to her liking. I have been assured it is a very nice instrument.”

Surprised, Griff looked at her. Did she mean to say that she had bought it specifically for his sister? Well, surely she couldn’t have, could she? Not Aunt Burnell, who seemed to find fault with everything and everybody!

And then Izzie began to play.

Trilling, jubilant music flowed from the piano, and around the room the conversations died down.

“See?” Aunt Burnell said quietly, satisfaction ringing in her voice. “Your sister is strong enough.” A smile played around her mouth. “And she has chosen a very staunch supporter, too.”

They watched as Izzie played and Charlie, at the slightest sign from her, dutifully turned the pages.

When the last note had died away, the room erupted into applause. Izzie half-turned in her chair, blushing, but smiling, and the look on her face…

Griff inhaled sharply.

Charlie beamed at him and Aunt Burnell, before Izzie tugged at her hand and the two of them got into a whispered discussion.

“A very peculiar young woman, Miss Stanton,” his aunt remarked. “Isabella seems to be much taken with her. Where did she meet the girl?”

“She befriended her at the ball Mrs Featheringham gave a few weeks ago,” Griff answered, his eyes still trained on the two girls,
particularly
on the tall, slender one.

As he watched, Charlie straightened, pushing her spectacles up her nose.

Was it only a mere few weeks ago that he had first met her?

“Ahh,” the ever-observant Crocodile murmured. “I see Isabella is not the only one who is much taken with Miss Stanton.”

His head whipped around.

Aunt Burnell observed him with smug satisfaction. “I quite like your Miss Stanton, if you must know.”

At this surprising announcement, Griff nearly fell of the sofa. Surely he must have misheard!

Yet in a way, it made sense that the Crocodile liked Charlie—after all, both women were misfits of sorts in London society.

“Miss Stanton’s vibrant nature is very good for your sister,” she continued, “and for you, too, Chanderley.”

Snorting, Griff shook his head and looked back to the fortepiano.

That his aunt actually
liked
Charlie was ultimately not very heartening, for, in Griff’s experience, the earl and his sister never saw eye to eye in anything. Indeed, he had often suspected that she delighted in provoking Lord Lymfort at every turn. The earl certainly disapproved of her travels, and in the past had frequently pointed out to her how shocked her late husband would be at her behaviour.

These days, Aunt Burnell never stayed in Town long, but seemed to prefer to travel to goodness knew where. In contrast to her, Griff didn’t have the luxury of escaping abroad.

If he thought this an option…

No, he needed the earl and the countess’s approval. The awareness how much he needed their approval burnt like acid in his stomach. He had done enough to make them miserable. Upon his honour, he could not disappoint them again.

But, oh…

His eyes were drawn to Charlie. Long, loose-limbed Charlie with her sweet, understated figure, and the ugly glasses, and the oh-so kissable mouth. Charlie, who had brought sunshine into his life, whose mad scrapes had made him angry and had made him laugh and had made him feel so alive…

Dear, sweet Charlie, who had given him back the sister he had deemed lost forever.

His heart clenched.

At the fortepiano, the two girls seemed to have finally come to a decision.
Izzie leafed through the album, nodded at Charlie, who had again taken up her position next to the instrument. Charlie rolled her eyes at Izzie, but, unperturbed, his sister started to play—a song, this time.

And it was Charlie’s clear voice which filled the room.

“O waly, waly up the bank,

And waly, waly, down the brae,

And waly, waly, yon burn-side,

Where I and my Love wont to gae.”

Isabella joined her for the chorus, and their voices rose and mingled.

“O waly, waly, love is bonnie

A little time when it is new;

But it grows auld, an waxed cauld,

And fades away like morning dew.”

“A most peculiar young woman, indeed,” Aunt Burnell said.

~*~

The Rt Hon the Earl of Lymfort to Mrs John Edward Burnell, by special messenger

Dear sister,

I trust that this letter finds you well. It has come to my attention that you have decided to stay in London for the remaining Season. Moreover, I have been told that by your own account, you visited foreign, barbarous places that are not commonly considered suitable for a lady of your standing. I therefore deem it necessary to remind you—yet again—of what you owe the name and honour of this family, lest you forget your station in life as you were so often wont to do in the past.

Lymfort

Chapter 12

in which our hero comes to a decision

Early the next morning, Griff went to see his cousin, whom he found at breakfast, wearing a green silk banyan with yellow and pink flowers over a rosy pink waistcoat.

“Good Lord, Boo,” Griff exclaimed in lieu of greeting. “What are you wearing? Have you decided to join the company of Macaronis?”

Boo looked up from his slice of toast and raised his brows. “I felt flamboyant this morning.” He waved to the butler hovering behind Griff. “Crowling, bring a cup and a plate for Lord Chanderley.—Now, do tell, what brings you here at this hour, Griff, old boy?”

Too agitated to sit, Griff walked up and down the small breakfast parlour. “I need your advice, Boo. I have struggled—goodness knows how much I have struggled!”

His cousin watched him, a piece of toast frozen halfway to his mouth.

“I
know
she would be most unsuitable for a viscountess, but—”

“Ah,” Boo interrupted. “So we are talking about Miss Stanton.” He put the piece of toast in his mouth and chewed.

Griff shot him an irritated look. “Damn well, we are talking about Miss Stanton!” He stopped as Crowling came back with the cup, the plate, and cutlery.

Griff scowled at the butler while he set everything on the table, and turned to Boo, “Would there be anything else, sir?”

“No, nothing. Thank you, Crowling.” Boo waited until the butler had left them again, then turned to Griff. “So?”

“So?” Griff pushed his hand through his hair, taking up prowling through the room once more. “I know what you have said. I know that my parents will be horrified, but,
dammit
, Boo! If you had
seen
her last night! You
know
what she has done for my sister—bringing the old Izzie back to life!”

Boo scratched the side of his nose. “Well, yes, I know that. Though I suspect my aunt and uncle won’t be much impressed by that.”

Griff swore, then asked, “Do you think there is a way, any way, to gain their consent? To trick them into believing Miss Stanton would make a suitable viscountess?” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Boo, I have to… I cannot imagine another woman…” He swore again, gripped the back of his neck. “I cannot live without her, Boo.”

His cousin’s brows rose nearly to his hairline.

With a groan, Griff dropped his head back and unseeingly stared at the ceiling. “Don’t think I wouldn’t be aware of her faults.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “I know her behaviour is shocking at times. She is exasperating, and—lud! these spectacles! They’re ugly as sin! But dammit, Boo—” He looked back at his cousin. “—when I’m with her, I feel truly alive. She makes me do things… shocking things, and I have absolutely no bloody control when I’m around her. Did you know that at the Tollham ball, if we hadn’t met Ed the Snake, I would have taken her to the library, and—honour be damned—I would have taken her innocence? Lud, I’m a cad!” He turned his back to the breakfast table.

There was a short silence, then Boo said drily, “That’s not affection, old boy, that’s lust. You are out of your head with lust. When was the last time you bedded a woman?”

Griff whirled around. “Don’t make a bloody joke of this, Boo!” he snapped, irritated beyond belief. Lust? If only it were mere lust—he was old enough, experienced enough to deal with that. But this… this heart-wrenching thing he felt for Charlie? It grabbed him by the throat, shook him like a dog in for the kill, cut off the air to breathe.

Yes, he lusted after her, too, hungered for her body, and given the opportunity, he
would
have taken her in the library at Tollham House.

But it was more than that. Intellectually, he knew that she was no beauty, yet a look from those green eyes made him go weak at the knees.

Her vibrancy enthralled him. To him, she was a beacon of joy in the darkness.

He could not—would not give her up.

There
had
to be a way.

Boo held up his hands. “There is no need to take
my
head off.
I
am not the problem here.”

Griff took a deep breath, and decided it would be worth spilling his guts to Boo, for if there was anybody who could help him, it was his cousin. “I love her,” he said rawly. “I love her beyond reason. I would lay down my life for her.”

“Dearie me,” Boo said, but it was more from surprise than flippancy. He cleared his throat. “That does sound more than lust.” He eyed Griff speculatively. “Have you thought of escaping to Gretna Green with her and damn the consequences?”

Griff closed his eyes. “You know that this would be impossible. I have a duty to perform to my family. In all honour I could not subject the earl and the countess to another scandal.” He opened his eyes, shook his head. “As much as I love Miss Stanton, I cannot throw away my honour like that.”

“Fair enough,” Boo said crisply. “But you would consider
tricking
your parents less dishonourable?”

Griff groaned. “I don’t know. It is the damndest thing. I thought… If they would countenance the marriage… I could whisk her away, and stay in the country with her, far away from London, so the earl and the countess would never hear of whatever scrape she would get into.”

“That sounds like an impressive plan indeed.” Boo’s voice was faintly sarcastic. “Very gothic. Perhaps you will find a nice, ruined abbey to go with that particular fantasy of yours.”

“I know it’s a harebrained scheme, dammit! But I am desperate, Boo. I don’t know what to do! I need to convince the earl and the countess that Carlotta would make a good, respectable wife—and I need to do it fast. Bloody Ed knows about the painting, that nude of Carlotta’s mother. I need to make my move before he makes mischief.”

Boo’s chair scraped across the floor as he stood. “Phew. I’m exceedingly glad that my family manages to turn everything into high drama. It saves one the money of going to the theatre.” He shook his head at Griff. “Don’t make such a face,” he said in a more serious tone. “Of course I will help you. What did you think?”

~*~

That afternoon, Griff was admitted into his father’s study, dressed to within an inch of his life. Lord Lymfort was studying the latest issue of
The Gentleman’s Magazine
, and barely lifted his eyes when his son entered.