Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind

by Heidi Ashworth

  Her face flushed a glorious rose, and she turned to face the door. “I will allow you time to … to … then you will leave.”

  He swallowed his laughter when he realized her mistake. “I would be most happy to oblige you, Miss Delacourt, but for one thing.”

  “What?” she demanded, whirling to face him again.

  “This is my room”

  “Your room?” Her gaze flew from the dark-paneled wainscot to the paintings of the hunt along the walls. When she saw the spare, masculine bed, the covers turned down and sporting a bloodred satin bed jacket, she gave a little shriek and dropped her gaze to the floor. “I do beg your pardon, sir.”

  “It does not signify. It is not difficult to lose one’s way in an unfamiliar house.”

  Curiously, her flush deepened and she clutched to her chest the book she gripped in her hands. Her agitation was palatable, and still she would not look at him. “I allow you have most likely been present at far more house parties than have I”

  “I expect I have, but never one where I was so rude to a fellow houseguest as I was to you earlier downstairs. I’m sure I don’t know what possessed me” And as long as he didn’t allow himself to think about it for half a minute, he was sure to never find out. “Will you forgive me?”

  “Yes, of course, if you can forgive me my shrewish outburst. You can’t imagine what went through my mind when I thought you had let yourself into my room.”

  Sir Anthony rather thought he could and carefully schooled his features not to betray his wry amusement. “I see you have found a book. Have you decided on a character to portray?”

  Her expression hardened a little. “No. I thought I would do some reading before I decide. Well”-she reached for the door handle-“I should be off. Good night.”

  “Of course. Allow me to see you to your room” He put on his bed jacket, and Ginny blushed. In adorable confusion, she cast about until she found the door handle, eager to leave, but he stayed her hand. “I shall just take a look into the hall to see if anyone is about” He peered around the door and spied Mrs. Barrington and Lucinda just emerging at the top of the stairs.

  “But Mama,” Lucinda was saying, “I think it monstrously unfair of you to force me when you know I haven’t had even one ball thrown in my honor…”

  Sir Anthony yanked his head inside and eased the door closed. He put his finger to his lips and whispered, “Lucinda and her mother. They should be gone soon.”

  She nodded and gazed up at him. Her eyes were larger than he had thought, fringed with impossibly long, dark lashes.

  “I trust you won’t tell Grandaunt Regina of this. She would have us wed in a hair’s breadth,” Ginny said.

  “Would she?” Sir Anthony heard the hard edge in his voice. He hadn’t forgotten his initial suspicions that Grandmama and Ginny were planning his wedding. But could the forthcoming, true-speaking Ginny be capable of such deceit? Her face was always so expressive of her feelings even when her words were not, and she had seemed most ill at ease with this situation from the beginning.

  “Indeed she would,” Ginny replied. “She may be eccentric, but she is terribly hard-nosed about certain proprieties. Rather like her grandson.”

  He gave her his most devastating smile, one he hadn’t occasion to use in quite some time, and briskly said, “It signifies not what Grandmama would do. The question is, would you?”

  “Would I what?”

  “Would you marry me?”

  The look of sheer astonishment that crossed Ginny’s face convinced Sir Anthony she had no part in a plot to make them tenants for life. She was too artless, even ingenuous. How could he have been so cruel as to imply that her tears earlier that evening had been affected?

  “Am I to take that as an offer for my hand in marriage?” she gasped.

  “What if it was?” Sir Anthony knew he shouldn’t tease her but found that he was enjoying such unguarded emotion, so rare among the lords and ladies of his set. He carried her hand to his lips. “Would it be a fate repugnant or one cherished?”

  Her hand began to tremble in his, and she clutched her book tighter to her chest with the other. “I am sure the Barringtons must have passed by. It should be quite safe for me to go to my room.”

  He knew she should return to her chamber, but he was filled with an inexplicable desire to learn how she felt about him now that he knew her face could not lie. “Ah, but Ginny, you have not yet answered my question.” He was surprised when she flicked her hand from his and her eyes flashed with anger.

  “You are being impertinent, sir! I do not answer impertinent questions, nor do I consider the intentions of a man who has deemed me worthy of his notice for a mere two days to be motivated by any finer feeling.”

  Sir Anthony was taken aback. He had expected her to laugh, lecture him on his faults, let him down gently, or, though it was a stretch, fall into his arms in blissful adoration. Instead, she had given him a scathing set-down while betraying precious few clues as to how she might answer in more ideal circumstances. And just when he thought he had the key to her thoughts.

  What a fool he must seem to her. For a moment he had made himself vulnerable, and with growing wonder he realized how very much it hurt. He gazed down into her face, her eyes sparkling with anger, her cheeks flushed, and felt a tide of emotion too precipitate to define. Finding he could look at nothing but her lips, he put a hand on her waist to draw her close and another to the back of her head to prevent her escape. The anticipation he felt had nothing to do with the silk of her hair where it trailed along his hand or the supple curves of her waist and back. No, all he wanted from this kiss was to know how she truly felt. He had never known a kiss to lie.

  Suddenly there was a loud thunk. His already erratic heartbeat jumped to new heights until he remembered the book Ginny had been holding and was now hastily retrieving from the floor.

  He stepped back and took a few deep breaths. How did he let the situation get so out of control? He must make an attempt at normalcy. “I recall that you planned to do a little reading before bed, Miss Delacourt. Don’t let me keep you”

  Ginny stood up, her eyes full of angry tears. “No, I shan’t let you keep me, and if you think I would let you have me, you are like all the other men I have known, to my regret.”

  Sir Anthony felt that familiar imperturbability come over him, almost unbidden.

  “I am most sorry if I have offended you. I haven’t the faintest idea why I would do such a thing.”

  Ginny’s eyes blazed with fury. “Perhaps this will help you remember,” she said. Then she hurled the book at him.

  He wasn’t sure when Ginny actually left. He thought he heard the door slam, but it was difficult to tell with all the ringing in his head. The chit certainly had good aim. This time she had caught him without the protection of headgear, and there would be a good-size bruise on his forehead come morning.

  He bent for the book and all the blood rushed to his head. He swore, long and competently. At least he knew what book she had chosen. The Taming of the Shrew wasn’t exactly what he would have selected as a sleep tonic, but it was better than some. Not that he would need aid in seeking Morpheus tonight. He was exhausted from reining in every emotion known to man in one short evening.

  He finished undressing and climbed into bed. It felt wondrously good to close his eyes and rest his aching head on a soft pillow. If only he could banish the memory of Ginny’s tear-filled eyes from his mind, he could get the rest he longed for. He willed her from his head, from the house, and finally to Hades, but to no avail. She would not go.

  He groaned and rolled over. Why couldn’t he conjure up the image of Ginny throwing that book at him? Certainly it would not inspire the tender feelings raised by the memory of how she had felt in his arms. For a moment he had felt he could be happy holding her that way forever.

  He rubbed the painful lump growing on his forehead. He had come to his senses just in time. Could he have actually come close to kissing her? T�
��was appalling. For some reason, when around her, he found it most difficult to adopt the mask of indifference that had been his longtime number one defense.

  He would have to steer a wide path around her until he regained control of himself. The house was rather small and company thin, but still it should not be too difficult a task since Ginny was furious with him and no doubt would avoid him as much as possible. In the meantime, he would have to find a way to get to sleep. With a curse, he jumped out of bed, dressed, and slipped outside.

  The night was soft and balmy, with a high moon, perfect for a little night riding. What sheer relief it would be to ride fast and furious through the countryside, far away from the house and everyone in it. He made his way to the stables. It was pitch black inside, and he wondered how he would find the stable boy until he tripped over him where he had made his bed in the straw.

  “Owww, eee! Wot’s yer lay, there?” the stable boy cried.

  “Nothing nefarious, I assure you,” Sir Anthony replied. If he were bent on villainy, he would have had no need to leave the house. “Just find me a light and you’ll see you have nothing to fear.”

  There was a shuffling and scraping as the boy found his lantern and lighted it. Swinging the lantern high, he peered up at Sir Anthony, taking in his well-cut clothes and cloudy expression. “You must be one of them swells staying up at the house”

  Sir Anthony sketched a bow, allowing a fraction of a smile to play about his lips. “Indeed I am, and I am in need of your services this night. Do you have a mount for me, one with a bit of a kick in his gallop?”

  The stable boy led Sir Anthony down the row of stalls to the end. “This here’s Challenger.” The stable boy threw Sir Anthony an assessing glance. “You should be able to pull it off, though I’ve yet to see anyone do it.”

  “The very thing. Keep him primed for me each night and your lips tightly sealed and there will be something in it for you at the end of my stay here”

  The boy’s eyes grew round, eradicating every last trace of his former wariness. “Gor blimey, guv. I’ll be waiting for you every night, jus’ see if I ain’t. And mum’s the word” Then he opened the door and led Challenger out of his stall and into the night air.

  Sir Anthony stepped up to the dark bay and wondered if he had taken leave of his senses. Challenger seemed much larger upon close inspection and definitely dangerous. How the petite stable boy managed to saddle the brute was anybody’s guess, but he did so with calm efficiency.

  Sir Anthony regarded the rolling eyes and tossing mane and knew a qualm. He glanced back at the house and found his bedchamber window. Maybe he had exerted himself enough for one night. His gaze slipped to the opposite side of the house to a window much like his own, only he fancied someone stood looking out.

  An image of Ginny, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushed, filled his mind. He felt as if he had been hit in the chest and the wind knocked clean out of him. With a ragged breath, he filled his lungs and launched himself into the saddle.

  Bucking about in rage, Challenger turned into a snorting, rearing, crazy-eyed piece of horseflesh. Laughing outright, Sir Anthony gave the horse his head. If he were fortunate, Challenger would give him the ride of his life, leaving him with little strength for anything.

  From her bedchamber window Ginny watched Sir Anthony streak away from sight. At least she felt fairly sure it was him. She had heard his chamber door open and his firm, steady tread down the hall earlier. She had not heard him return.

  Upon leaving Sir Anthony’s room she had found her own with ridiculous ease. How she had ever managed to take a wrong turn in the first place was unclear. She was mortified, angry, and hurt. Surely she had invited Sir Anthony’s improper advances with her own folly. She couldn’t expect him to believe she had come to his room in error.

  How he must have laughed when she left, thinking her an inexperienced, foolish little wanton. She turned away from the window and sat on the edge of her bed. Well, she wouldn’t let that thought interfere with her having a good night’s sleep. No indeed. If anything, it would be the feel of his strong arm around her waist and his warm breath fanning her cheek that kept her head turning on her pillow all the weary night long.

  Come morning, Maren drew the curtains. A shaft of yellow light filled the room, flooding Ginny’s rosestrewn counterpane. She had dreamed that she was not herself, in a place she had never been before. Now she remembered. Rose Arbor.

  “Glory, I must have fallen asleep” Ginny stretched and sat up against the rose-embroidered pillows.

  Maren shot her a startled look. “If you don’t mind my saying so, miss, I daresay you fell asleep some time ago”

  Ginny laughed. “And precisely how did you come by that bit of information, pray tell?”

  “Beggin’ your pardon, miss, but you spoke so in your sleep after such a long bout of tocsin’ and turnin’ that I couldn’t help but worry about you.”

  “I spoke in my sleep? I don’t know that I have ever done so in the past.” Ginny took the cup of steaming chocolate Maren handed her and sipped meditatively. “What did I say?”

  Maren, warming up to her new mistress with each hour spent in her service, was bold enough to sit on the edge of Ginny’s bed. “You spent a deal of time saying hows you’re not Kate or some such thing.”

  Ginny choked on her chocolate. So that was where she had been all night, in Petruchio’s country house. Only the master of this house was a dark, blue-eyed devil who had no business laughing in her dreams.

  “Are you all right, miss? You look kind of queer, like.” Maren felt the pot on the stand by Ginny’s bed. “The water t’ain’t too hot, is it?”

  “No, Maren, it’s perfect. Please see to it that my blue dimity gown is put out” She wanted to be sure she looked as young and fresh as springtime. She’d much rather comparisons be drawn between her and the new day than with Petruchio’s jaded bride.

  Ginny entered the breakfast room just as Sir Anthony was regaling its occupants with some anecdote or other, one most likely something having to do with last night if the guilt in his eyes when they met hers was any indication. It was difficult to determine the case, however, as he snapped his mouth shut upon her arrival.

  Indeed, Lord Avery, the squire, and his wife glanced apprehensively at her when she greeted them. All except for Lucinda, who, chin in her hands and eyes sparkling, was staring at Sir Anthony with a devastated look in her eyes. “Do go on, Thur Anthony,” she cooed. “Your story is ever so funny!”

  Ginny added her own protestations. “Oh, yes, do finish your story. It would seem that it was vastly amusing. Wouldn’t you say so, Lord Avery?” But it was Sir Anthony she stole a glance at from the corner of her eye. She was gratified by the deep flush that suffused his face from his collar right up to the nasty bruise on his forehead.

  “Oh, yes, vastly amusing,” Lord Avery echoed. “But pray, how are you this morning, Miss Delacourt? The last we saw of you, you were in flight like the Goddess Daphne ere she was turned into a tree”

  It was a comparison Ginny had not anticipated, though it was more favorable than the others she had endured of late. Unfortunately, it defied response. Taking a deep breath, she turned again to Sir Anthony. “Pray, sir, do not refrain from your tale on my account. I shall just go to the sideboard and fill my plate”

  “Wonderful idea,” the squire announced. “The morning is a wonderful time, yes, a wonderful time to breakfast. Always have maintained it was so, haven’t I, wife?”

  “Yes, dear,” that good woman replied. Ginny had it as a fact that Mrs. Barrington rarely took breakfast before noon. However, it seemed the presence of two eligible bachelors did wonders for her appetite. Funny, it served the opposite function for Ginny.

  She returned to the table with very little more on her plate than when she took it from the sideboard, an occurrence that prompted Sir Anthony to part lips and make utterance for the first time since Ginny entered the room.

  “Why, Miss Delacourt, ma
y I persuade you to have a coddled egg or two with that slice of toast? You will need more sustenance than that will afford if you plan to make a habit of sitting up half the night reading.”

  “For your information, Sir Anthony, I did not do any reading last night. I choose to spend my nocturnal hours sleeping.” At least when she was able. “I believe I heard you wandering about last night in the hall, however.” And on the stairs, right out the front door to the stables.

  Sir Anthony had the grace to look a trifle discomfited. “Yes, I had an intolerable headache and thought I would go down to the library to find something to read as well”

  As this communication sent the entire company into whoops, Ginny felt it best to forsake her breakfast. She didn’t really want it after having been so mortified. It was clear Sir Anthony had been humiliating her with the tale of how she had come to be in his room, the story no doubt riddled with liberal commentary on her manners, morals, and jolly good aim.

  She retired to one of the trio of small sitting rooms, all of which were decorated in shades of rose. The mauve room was nearest at hand and most convenient to shedding the hot tears that scalded her eyes. Whatever else this quarantine brought after all that she had endured, she felt quite certain she would leave with a hearty distaste for pink.

  “I believe I owe you an apology, Miss Delacourt” Sir Anthony stood framed in the doorway, his entire being evidence of his agitation. Even his usual carefully arranged expression betrayed a modicum of concern. She thought she could almost see it in his eyes.

  “What you owe me is an explanation, sir. Whether or not an apology should be in order thereafter is yet to be determined.”

  He entered the room. “May I sit?”

  Ginny swept her skirts from the brocade sofa and inched to the farthest edge. “Please.”

  Sir Anthony regarded the acres of distance between Ginny and the proffered seat and moved with great purpose to a delicate side chair. Placing it directly across from her, he sat. “There, that is much better.”