“Not I,” protested Amelia cheerily, handing him her own gift. “I have chosen to aid and abet you in remaining a scamp!”
“Oh, no,” groaned Mr. Talbot, “tell me you did not.”
“D-Did not what, Tony?” Geordan asked, as he held the small gift in his hand.
“You must open it, Geordie, and see,” Amelia urged, the mirth in her emerald eyes catching fuel from Talbot’s tragedy-stricken expression.
“Oh!” gasped the earl, letting the box fall and clutching immediately at what had laid inside it. He knelt down before the pianoforte and studied the gift thoughtfully, then setting particular gears in motion, released it upon the Oriental carpet.
“Oh, dear!” cried the countess, jumping a bit as the present scurried toward her, which made everyone laugh again.
“It is n-not real, Mama,” the earl grinned lopsidedly. “It is mech-mech-anical. It is a mech-anical mouse!”
Tony caught his mother’s eyes with his own and, as if on signal, they both put a hand to their heads and groaned, an action which set the earl and his uncle both to applauding.
Lord and Lady Mapleton’s present took all three at the piano to unwrap and brought oh’s and ah’s from everyone in the room. “It is Mouse!” Geordan cried even before all the wrapping had ben removed. “It is M-Mouse!”
“Yes,” laughed Max, “that is exactly what my lovely wide said when she came running to me to ask to buy the thing. And it is nearly as heavy as Mouse, too!” The statue of a midnight black rearing stallion, nostrils flaring, eyes rolled back, sharp hooves flailing the air stood almost thee feet high, and the earl was intrigued by the detail in every inch of it.
Talbot, his eyes alight, turned the earl away from the statue and place another package in his hands. “That is from your Uncle James,” Miss Mapleton said, as he and Tony began to remove the wrappings carefully. The earl’s eyes grew wider than ever as a black leather bridle appeared. “It has s-silver rings,” he exclaimed in a hushed voice, “and a s-silver b-bit, and s-silver b-buckles. It is j-just like Donlevy’s!”
“Exactly like Donlevy’s,” nodded his mother, “though how you came to discover Brewer and get him to make it up for you after so many years I cannot guess, James,” she smiled.
“It was pure willpower,” James Farber grinned back at her. “Mine against his. But I have taken lessons from Geordan, and so I won, of course. There is a saddle as well, Geord,” he explained to the awestruck earl. “Martin has it hidden away in the tack room. Tomorrow we shall see if Mouse will wear the stuff.”
The auburn curls nodded in emphatic agreement.
“And now you must open the last package,” his uncle urged. “It is from your mama, you know.”
Mr. Talbot whistled when the contents of the box were revealed. “Now explain why I always get handkerchiefs, ma’am,” he said, with a life of an eyebrow in his mother’s direction.
“Oh, you do not, Tony!” exclaimed the countess with an equally teasing expression upon her face. “Besides, you know you are always in need of handkerchiefs, and Geordan has always been in need of those. Help him to put them on, if you please, for I have been longing to see him in them.”
With great tenderness, the earl lifted the set of silver spurs from their resting place and gave them to Tony. “Put your foot up on the piano bench, scoundrel,” Mr. Talbot ordered, and then set about to fix the spurs one at a time to that gentleman’s Hessians. They were gloriously constructed, with silver chains and engraved bars, and they jingled with every step, which pleased the earl no end. “They are f-famous, Mama,” he assured her, crossing the room to kiss her cheek. “And they are m-much better than t-tassels on my Hessians!”
“Yes, Geordan,” the countess agreed with a bit of mist before her eyes, “much better than any old tassels. And now, I think, since everything has been opened, Aunt Theckla has a present for you as well.”
“You d-do, Aunt J-Jeanie?” the earl asked, looking from his mother to the dowager.
“Indeed,” nodded that formidable old lady. “And all you must do to get it is to pull the bell in the corner.”
Geordan did so quite happily and in a few moments the drawing room door was opened and a smiling Simpson entered, followed by Parsons, Tyler, Molly and Mrs. Ware, all four of them carrying a side of a huge box, while Simpson held the door for them. They brought the unwrapped carton to the dowager and set it on the floor before her chair. “Come here, Geordan,” she commanded gently, “and tell me if you will have them.”
The earl’s wistful sigh on looking inside the carton brought all the rest of the party to stare down into the box. Inside, two black-and-white puppies stared curiously up at them. “They are from Tracy’s pack,” the dowager explained. “The male is one of Folly’s and the bitch is by Tremelo out of Piety.”
“Gad!” Lord Bristol sighed with a certain amount of envy. “They come from Quorn country. Folly was bred out of the Belvoir pack and Tremelo and Piety out of Cottesmore.”
“Indeed,” Lord Mapleton smiled, reaching down into the box and plucking one of the pups from it. With a very real gentleness, he placed the puppy into Geordan’s arms.
“They are h-hunting d-dogs?” the earl asked, petting a contented animal snuggled against his chest.
“I should say so!” exclaimed Miss Pamela Clinton. “Bred from some of the finest fox hunters in England!”
Lord Mapleton frowned slightly at her words, then reached down and transferred the other puppy into Geordan’s arms as well.
“Tracy says I am to explain,” began the dowager with a nod to Max, “that they are only fox hunters if they are trained to be, my dear, and that he does not expect to see these two ever in the field if you decide to accept them. They will chase things in the woods, of course, when they are older, but they will not do more than frighten some of the animals and most likely make friends with others, if you are careful to show them how. They are very smart,” she added, “and will learn to mind you quickly.”
“Mama?” the earl asked, looking from the puppies in his arms to the countess’s face.
“You have never had a dog,” the countess replied quietly. “Do you think you would like to have one, Geordie?”
“Y-Yes.”
“You did not honestly think he would say no, did you, Mama?” Talbot grinned, reaching out to pat one of the furry heads. “Even if they were foxhounds?”
“No,” the countess grinned in return, “I really did not. Geord will find them something far better to do than hunt foxes, I am sure.”
“And I will t-take very good c-care of them, Aunt J-Jeanie, I p-promise,” the earl stuttered with some relief.
“And will they sleep in your room with you?” the dowager asked, mischief in her eyes. “And ride in Tony’s curricle?”
“Oh, y-yes,” Geordan assured her.
“Oh, no,” Tony’s voice followed immediately. “Not in my curricle, Aunt Theckla, I promise you!”
“We shall see, Anthony,” laughed that lady gleefully. “You will, perhaps, be forced to begin a new fashion!”
Having declared that come morning Miss Thackett’s painting would be hung in his chambers right next to his grandfather’s portrait, and that Mouse must see the statue of himself before it was given a place of prominence in his cave, the earl, refusing to divest himself of top hat, cane or spurs proceeded to wear himself and his guests down to mere frazzles. Grown ladies and gentlemen spent the rest of the evening crawling about on the drawing room floor corralling puppies, chasing a mechanical mouse, and teaching the earl to play hazard with his dice. “I thought they might help him to understand more about numbers,” Northampton whispered in Amelia’s ear at one point. “He has a terrible time with numbers, you know, but he likes games.”
By the time tea arrived at half-past ten, everyone was willing to sit quietly and enjoy it, except the earl, who, with two rambunctious puppies at his heels, declined having any at all and set out for the stables to check on Mouse. “There will be t
rouble,” Tony sighed, setting his tea down upon the side table and rising. “Mouse will be frightened to death of those puppies. I had better catch up with him.”
“No,” Amelia said. “Do not. Geordie is quite capable of controlling Mouse, and besides, he will not let the puppies annoy that brute. I would not be surprised if he did not lock them into the tack room with Martin as puppy-nurse.”
“No,” chuckled Tony, sitting back down, “I would not be surprised to see that myself. You are right, Amelia. I spend a good deal too much time worrying about Geordie. The thing of it is, I cannot forget how helpless he was for such a long while, and how little he could be trusted to look after himself. He loves that mouse, you know, though why you should think to buy it for him! He will plague the life out of Uncle James with it.”
“No, will he?”
“Yes. Sooner or later he will want to see what makes it run, and Uncle James will be required to help him dissect and then reassemble the thing. And he will be begged to do so twenty or thirty times until Geord has caught onto how it was built.”
“But your Uncle James will not mind so very much, will he?”
“Oh no, only on days when he has something of importance to attend to, and then he will push the job off onto Tyler.”
“Not onto you?”
“No, Geordan has already pronounced me hopeless when it comes to things mechanical. I have not the least understanding of machinery. Even Tyler is much better at it than I. Tell me truthfully, Miss Mapleton, when you knew her in Weybridge, was Miss Lydia quite so obliging and quick-witted.”
“Geordie did not mean to open any of the packages, did he?”
“No—it would have required a great deal of persuasion, and even then, he would not have been happy about it. Still, I cannot believe how she knew exactly what to say—about saving the wrappings and it not being an idiotic thing to like the wrappings as much as the presents. I might have expected such ready words from you, but I certainly did not expect them from that quarter.”
The countess, too, was busy discussing the young lady from Wybridge, who was drinking her tea and nibbling at a tart, all unaware of being the topic of anyone’s conversation. “I cannot understand, James,” Cecily said quietly, “how such a hoity-toity miss should become so thoughtful and patient, and not in the least put off by Geord’s dragging her through the mud and all over the countryside. I was certain she would wish him at Jericho within ten minutes of arriving at Westerley.”
“You were wrong, my dear,” grinned James. “Sometimes, Cecily, even you are wrong. Come now, confess it.”
“Well, perhaps,” the countess mused. “We shall see what tomorrow brings, shall we not?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
WHAT the next day brought was a fine drizzle and a nippy breeze that decided even those who had elected to ride into the village for the Sunday service to change their minds and remain indoors. They wandered down to breakfast one and two at a time, serving themselves from the sideboard that awaited them. Lord Mapleton, who entered the breakfast room at a quarter past ten, found only the earl there ahead of him. “Morning, Geordie,” he smiled. “Not a very good day for riding, is it?”
“N-Not very. D-Did you wish to r-ride?”
“Yes, for a bit. But I shall survive.” His plate well-filled, Mapleton poured himself a mug of ale and took a seat across from the earl. “So, what have you done with the puppies? I rather expected to find them eating breakfast with you.”
“N-No, they have already eaten, and S-Simpson has t-taken them out for a w-walk.”
“Simpson? I cannot believe it. Certainly that is not to become one of his duties?”
“N-No,” Geordan said. “S-Simpson only t-took them because he s-said I might n-not. He s-said Mama would n-not wish me to contact an infla-inflammation of the lungs.” The earl’s eyes sparkled into Max’s with silent mirth. “He was j-just being s-stiff-rumped. I am n-not frightened of a b-bit of rain. B-But since he would n-not come off it, I s-sent him instead. I c-can do that, you know, b-because I am the earl.”
“Indeed,” Max chuckled, taking a bite of kidney. “Do you like being an earl yet?”
“N-No. I will never be any g-good at it. If Tony d-did not help me, I should be ser-seriously in the s-suds. Max? D-Do you think Tony l-loves Amelia yet?”
“I don’t know, Geord. What do you think?”
“I think he is g-good way to m-making her an offer. B-But I c-cannot tell if she w-will accept.”
Lord Mapleton grinned and took a swallow of ale. “It is very hard to predict whether a lady will accept or not, Geord. I know she did not like him very much at first, and now she is very often in his company. That must give us some hope.” The entrance of Lady Mapleton and Pamela Clinton into the breakfast room brought an immediate end to that conversation and began another.
On a rainy day Westerley’s library provided a bountiful means of escape. The billiard room, as well, proved attractive, and for those who felt the dullness extremely, the countess ravaged the cupboards and produced a well-worn game of hare and hounds, spillikins, jackstraws and a number of decks of cards. Lydia Clinton spent a good deal of time at the pianoforte in the drawing room with the earl beside her and taught him to play a very simple melody all on his own. Miss Mapleton and Miss Sonnesby thumped Talbot and David Mapleton in a game of billiards, and then went on to thump them at whist as well. Miss Pamela Clinton and Lord Bristol found they shared a unique interest in architecture and together poured over volumes of the subject. The dowager, with twinkling eyes, settled herself in a corner of the morning room and held a very lengthy conversation with Northampont, which kept him in stitches and her bright and droll for over an hour. No matter where one turned that Sunday, there seemed to be someone or something interesting. No one wished to return to the solitude of his or her room. Indeed, it took Talbot almost two hours to catch Lord Mapleton alone in the study, where Max had gone to blow a cloud in peace and quiet.
“Sorry, Tony,” Max smiled from the wing-backed chair. “I cannot possibly resist the urge a moment longer. My pipe has been calling to me for nearly two days now.”
“I am aware of the urge, sir,” Talbot confessed, fetching his own pipe from the mantel and filling the bowl carefully.
“Sir? I am a sir? What have I done? I attempted to talk Aunt Theckla out of the puppies, I assure you. But my heart wasn’t in it. One look at them, and I knew they were meant for Geordie.”
“He loves them,” Tony grinned. “They slept in his room last night and had him up to take them out at least five times. They will fast become the most spoiled hounds in all of England. There is something else I wished to speak with you about, Max.”
“Oh, good, I am Max again. That gives me hope. What is it, Tony? Something of importance by the look of you.”
“Well, yes, it is. It is of extreme importance.”
“What is it then?”
Talbot paced the room, at last coming to a halt before the wing chair. I do not quite know how to go about it, sir.”
“Oh, dash it! I am sir again? Come out with it, Tony. I assure you I will not bite.”
“Well, it is about, about your daughter Amelia.”
“Aha,” Max grinned. “What about her?”
“U would like your permission to pay my addresses to her.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yes, why?”
“Well, well because I think I am in love with her, sir.”
“You think you are in love with her?”
“Well, no,” sighed Tony, dropping down into the chair beside Mapleton’s. “I am positive that I am in love with her, but, but I haven’t the vaguest idea whether she has any interest in me. I am not always the most likeable person, you know.”
“No,” agreed Max, with a sigh. “And you are a bit of a beetle-head when it comes to women. Rutlidge told me so.”
“Geordan?”
“Yes, that Rutlidge. You would be interested to know, I exp
ect, that you have had my permission to address Amy for any number of months and that I am well-aware that you are capable of supporting her in good style and are not likely to rake about behind her back. A very solid, forthright gentleman from a good family, I have been told, and not likely to quibble over any reasonable marriage settlement.”
Tony’s eyes, as wide as ever they had been in his life, fastened on Max’s face. “But I have not said a word to you…”
“No, Geordan did it for you. And quite nicely, too. May not think himself to be much of an earl, but he definitely showed his true colours in that bit of bargaining. I should hate to buy a horse from him. He is irresistible, you know. Gets anything he wants when he sets his mind to it. And he had definitely set his mind upon getting Amelia for you.”
“The devil you say!” Tony exclaimed. “Of all the high-handed little wretches…”
“No, no, no, do not get up on your high ropes, Talbot. After all, not one of us, including yourself, ever gave a thought to an arrangement between you and Amelia. You did not even know of each other. If Geordan had not thought it a likely match, you probably would never have met. I see now, of course, that our efforts were worthwhile, but at the time I had my doubts. Geordan, however, was quite willing to lay his blunt on the line once he had heard all I could tell him about Amy.”
Mr. Talbot, whose mind was spinning, blinked as if to rearrange the vision he was seeing. “You mean Geordie asked you to bring Amelia and me together?”
“Oh yes, and asked Northampton and Bristol to aid him as well. He did not, however, recruit my sons. That was my idea.”
“Well, I never!” Tony shouted, pounding a fist against the chair arm and rising. “I shall strangle the brat!”
“No,” Max laughed, standing as well and emptying his pipe into the grate. “You’ll do nothing of the kind. He’s a charming rogue, Tony, and he loves you dearly. You will either pay your addresses to my daughter or not, but you will not strangle Rutlidge for interceding for you. He did not, you know, go to Amelia and beg her to consider you, which he might well have done immediately after they first rode together. He was very calm and circumspect about the matter… for a gentleman who has a slow-witted brother he wishes to see happy.”
Amelia's Intrigue (Regency Idyll Book 1) Page 30