Undesirable Liaison (25 page)

Lady
Langriville was inclined to argue the point, which allowed Florence
to sink out of the centre of attention. She felt foolish, and could
only chide herself for such carelessness. At least the commotion
had served to pull her back from a most unseemly distraction.

Unable to help
herself, she glanced at Jerome, wondering if his ardour had been
similarly dashed. She encountered a wry smile, and a look in the
brown eyes that held her momentarily in thrall. Then Belinda was
speaking to her, and she dragged her gaze away.

‘I can’t think
what you were about, Flo, to be gulping your wine in that silly
way. I mean, you never touch more than a sip in general.’

‘Have you never
been inattentive, and swallowed more than you intended?’ came from
Jerome on a snap. ‘Remember where you are and don’t embarrass your
sister.’

‘I didn’t
embarrass her,’ protested Belinda, setting down her fork. ‘I was
the one who helped her. I didn’t see you leap up to do it—and
you’re supposed to be a gentleman.’

Flo cut in
sharply. ‘Belinda, how dare you speak so rudely? Lord Langriville
is your host, as well as my employer. Apologise at once!’

‘Oh no, no,’
uttered the dowager on a distressful note. ‘You must not make her
mealy-mouthed. I so dislike it when young people are tongue-tied in
the presence of their elders. It is a good thing Belinda has no
inhibitions of that sort.’

‘You will allow
me to be the judge of that, ma’am,’ said Florence, curbing her
temper with difficulty. ‘As I have tried to point out to you,
Belinda needs to learn such manners as will befit her for a future
position—and not as a fashionable young madam.’

‘If she copies
your style, Miss Petrie, I dare say she may never learn them.’

Flo bit her
lips together on a furious retort. To her mingled pride and
chagrin, Bel spoke up for her.

‘Oh, pray don’t
say that, Lady Langriville. At least Flo does try to mind her
tongue.’

Jerome,
dismayed by the turn of the conversation, but unable, for the swift
flying blood in his veins, to think fast enough to intervene, found
himself the recipient of an engaging smile.

‘I do beg your
pardon, sir. I am perfectly rag-mannered, as Flo is forever telling
me. I didn’t mean to be rude.’

‘Of course you
did not,’ came soothingly from the dowager. ‘It is just that
natural exuberance of yours, which is, for my part, a joy.’

‘And is, for my
part,’ put in Jerome, ‘disgracefully pert. Be thankful you are not
my sister, or I should have no hesitation in dealing with you as
you deserve.’

The child made
a face, but did not appear to be discomfited in the slightest
degree. ‘You mean you would beat me, I expect.’ Mischief leaped
into the eyes that were like, yet so unlike, her sister’s. ‘How
glad I am I had no brothers, Lord Langriville. No, nor any father
either.’

‘Belinda, stop
it!’

Jerome’s
attention shifted to Florence. There was a taut look in her face,
and he thought she whitened. The vague suspicions that had plagued
him when he sought to discover Flo’s past reactivated. Was she yet
concealing something? What did she fear from the child’s artless
disclosure? Belinda was not so easily silenced, he discovered.

‘I was just
going to say how Mama was the soppiest creature and would never
trouble to reprimand me.’

‘But I do
trouble, Bel, and that is quite enough.’

Belinda smiled
and her hand went out across the table towards Florence. ‘Well, but
they can all see how it is, Flossie. You had to correct me, for
there wasn’t anyone else, was there?’ She beamed at them all. ‘And
Flo would never have dreamed of beating me, though she often says
she feels like doing so.’

‘I wonder why I
am not surprised,’ Jerome muttered.

Belinda
giggled, the snub nose wrinkling. ‘I know. I am sad trial to poor
Flo, but I can’t help it, I’m afraid. I’m just made that way.’

The dowager
pounced on this. ‘Exactly so. Which is just why I will not have you
unmade.’

Flo sighed.
‘You will spoil her, ma’am.’

‘No, she
won’t,’ averred Belinda, ‘for you know I do try to behave as you
would wish. Though it is nice not to be obliged to mind my tongue
at every moment, even for a little while.’

There was a
distinct plea in the child’s tone, but before Florence could
formulate a response suitable for present company, Lady Langriville
again put her oar in.

‘While you are
with me, my dear, you will do and say just what you like. And you,
Miss Petrie,’ turning to confront Flo, ‘can do nothing about
it.’

‘Oh yes, she
can.’

Jerome spoke in
a tone that brooked no argument, bringing his mother’s head
whipping round, apprehension spreading across her face.

‘Where Belinda
is concerned, ma’am, Miss Petrie is the only arbiter. Neither you
nor I have any jurisdiction over the girl, and I will not suffer
the elder sister to be set aside in favour of the younger. Do I
make myself plain?’

There was a
tense silence, even Belinda’s tongue subdued by the current of
anger audible in Jerome’s voice. Florence’s chest hollowed out.
Gratified that he championed her, she was yet mortified he should
speak so roughly to his mother.

‘Lord
Langriville, keep your temper, I pray you.’ His head turned, and
she saw reproach in his eyes. She could not help a slight smile
flitting across her lips. He ought to know she did not mean to
cross him in public. ‘Lady Langriville’s intentions are good, I
believe.’

‘I am not
concerned with her intentions,’ he retorted, but in a more moderate
tone.

The dowager
spoke up at last, in the bewildered tone she used whenever she
found herself in difficulties.

‘But you know
how melancholy I have been, Jerome. How can you be so unkind? It is
as if a light has been turned on in my life. Would you deprive me
of it now?’

‘But I will not
be here forever, ma’am,’ said Belinda in a scared sort of voice. ‘I
mean, it is all very well at this moment, but…’

‘Yes, my dear,
but while you are here, I should like it if you will be with me as
often as you can.’

Belinda shot a
look at her sister, and Florence gave her a reassuring smile. ‘As
long as you are here, Bel—however long that might be—’ with an
inescapable glance at Jerome ‘—you will naturally do all you can to
make Lady Langriville’s life as pleasant as possible.’

A surprised
look was cast at her by the dowager. ‘I never thought to hear you
take my part, Miss Petrie. I am gratified.’

Thankful to
have gained a truce, Flo said no more. Belinda, for a wonder,
followed her lead, helping herself from the platter of artichoke
pie proffered by the butler. Silence reigned for a time, for Lady
Langriville sat looking triumphant, and Jerome retired into his
wine glass, waving aside the pie. Unable to keep her attention off
him, Flo felt her tension rebuilding.

Only when her
ladyship felt it incumbent on her to resume her instruction of
Belinda’s table manners, as she addressed a finely moulded
blancmange, did a smattering of talk break out between the two.

‘There, that is
very well done, my dear,’ came in a tone of praise from the
dowager, as Belinda achieved success in using only a fork as she
began to consume her portion of the sugary confection.

‘I still don’t
see why a spoon would not serve as well,’ she complained.

‘Dear child,
you must take my word. Nothing can more surely damn you for a
rustic than to be using the wrong utensil.’

Belinda
laughed. ‘Well, I am a rustic. And I should think Flo won’t wish me
to be fancying myself as anything more grand than that.’

Before Florence
could respond, the dowager’s eyes lit as she turned unexpectedly to
her companion.

‘I have been
thinking over what you said, Miss Petrie. And it has occurred to me
there is a way for Bel to remain longer than you plan for. Perhaps
she need not take a post at all.’

‘I am afraid
she must, for—’

Lady
Langriville rode over her. ‘No, but just think. What if Jerome were
to sponsor Belinda? Or if I were to adopt her, which I should
dearly love to do, for—’

‘No, ma’am,’
cut in Flo desperately. ‘No, either scheme would be wholly
ineligible. Pray don’t put any such idea into her head.’

‘But I cannot
conceive why—’

‘It is not to
be thought of.’

Instinctively,
Florence sought help from Jerome, throwing him an agonized glance.
To her relief, he did not fail her, though she recognised a
resurgence of suspicion in his eyes and the heavy frown.

‘That will do,
ma’am. You are distressing Miss Petrie. And it would be better any
such discussion should not include Belinda.’

‘Why in the
world not?’ piped up the object of the dowager’s interest. ‘I mean,
if it’s about me, I should think I ought to hear it.’

‘Certainly, if
you are prepared to hear your character torn to shreds. As for
sponsoring a chit of your ilk, my child, I must beg you to hold me
excused. Nothing would induce me to do so.’

To Flo’s
relief, Belinda took this in good part, laughing so heartily that
the dowager joined in, and the atmosphere lightened. Seizing the
advantage, Florence rose from her chair.

‘I think that
will do for a baptism into the adult world, Bel. Come, it is high
time you were in bed.’

‘Oh, very
well.’ Belinda set aside her napkin and got up. ‘I dare say Lord
Langriville has had enough of me for one evening.’

‘I should think
a truer word has never passed your lips,’ said his lordship.

Florence
ushered her giggling sister from the room before any further havoc
could be wrought. Too much had been said, and she dreaded a
resumption of the subject. Lord knew what maggot had got into Lady
Langriville’s head! In any event, she recalled with a drop in
spirits, they would both be gone from here before Flo was obliged
to explain the impossibility of either scheme. Poor Bel, who had no
notion of the truth, would escape having her head turned by an
elderly lady’s whim.

To her secret
relief, her sister had nothing to say on that particular subject,
but she chattered without cessation as she was inexorably drawn to
her chamber and assisted to make ready for bed. The food, the wine
and Jerome’s wit all came in for their share of praise, and Flo was
obliged again to explain away her choking fit.

Only when she
was being tucked up did Belinda fall silent, looking at Florence in
a tentative way, as if she had something to say but was in doubt of
its reception.

Flo smiled.
‘You may as well speak out, Bel, for I know you are bursting.’

Belinda
grinned. ‘I am, as it happens. But I’m not sure if you’ll mind
hearing it.’

‘I have no
doubt I shall mind excessively, but I know you too well to suppose
you capable of keeping your mouth shut.’

Her sister made
a face, but she sat up in the bed, her eyes suddenly alight.

‘I think Lord
Langriville likes you.’

Flo’s heart
skipped a beat and then became flurried. She sought a neutral
response.

‘I suppose he
must, or he would not have given me a post.’

‘No, I mean he
really
likes you.’

Having produced
this bombshell, Belinda sat back, evidently awaiting her amazement.
Florence could not feign it, for a stupid sort of hope was
festering in her heart. She ordered herself to end the conversation
now, but her unruly tongue betrayed her.

‘What makes you
say that?’

‘It’s the way
he looked at you. It’s plain as day, didn’t you notice? No, I
suppose you were too busy arguing with Lady Langriville. I noticed
it, though. It was a shock, because I hadn’t expected anything of
the sort. I mean, you’re prettier than me, I know, but you’re just
a companion and you will wear that horrid cap and—’

‘I am sure you
are mistaken,’ Flo interrupted, her throat dry.

‘I’m not,
Flossie, I promise you. His eyes went all dark and sort of burning.
At first I thought he was cross, but then I saw it again—and he
wasn’t angry that time, and he looked right at you. Oh, Flo, what
if his lordship has a
tendre
for you! Wouldn’t it be the
most romantic thing in the world?’

A sick feeling
settled in Florence’s stomach, and she felt her throat thickening.
A
tendre
? How little the child knew! Praying her voice would
not sound hoarse, she battled for a nonchalance she was far from
feeling.

‘Now you are
being nonsensical. Do you forget Lord Langriville has recently been
widowed?’

‘Yes, but his
wife left him years and years ago,’ argued Belinda, ‘so that’s
neither here nor there. I know it was so, because one of the maids
told me.’ She then looked conscious, throwing a hand to her mouth.
‘Oh dear, I should not have said that.’

With relief,
Flo took refuge in seizing upon this side issue. ‘No, you certainly
should not. How many times am I to tell you not to gossip with the
servants? You are a dreadful child, Bel.’

‘I’m not a
child! I’m nearly sixteen, and if I was properly a lady, I would be
almost out.’

‘If you were
any sort of a lady, you wouldn’t be consorting with the maids.’

‘Poppycock! I’d
have a maid of my own and she’d be bound to tell me everything that
was being said below stairs.’

Florence got up
off the bed. ‘Go to sleep, you horrid girl! I don’t know what is to
be done with you.’

A pink tongue
poked out at her. ‘Too late to send me to bed without supper. Oh, I
know, Flossie. You may marry Lord Langriville, and then I will be
his sister and
he
may decide what to do with me.’

‘Yes,’ snapped
Flo, suppressing the flutter set up by this idiotic notion, ‘and
you heard from his own lips just what he would do, so you’d best
forget that nonsense and be thankful there is not the smallest
chance of such a thing.’