“Lucinda’s parents seem to think there is reason to be alarmed. Surely he was in her room! How else would she have the pin? Lucinda may be a half-wit but she wouldn’t steal it simply to return it. There is no sense in that”
Sir Anthony dismissed her comments with a wave of his hand. “There are a variety of ways it might have occurred. He could have unknowingly wandered into her room during Hunt the Slipper and dropped it, or better yet, it could have become tangled in her clothes when they were in the hallway”
“You see! There is reason for her parents to be alarmed. I would not wish my daughter to be embracing a man in a dark hall.”
“Does that go for you, as well, or only your daughters? You’re not bound to have many with that prudish attitude!”
“There are other ways to come about daughters, Sir Anthony. Proper ways.”
Sir Anthony frowned. “And there are other ways to acquire a stickpin. We could try dancing.”
“What does dancing have to do with anything?”
“Why, only that it allows close enough proximity to entangle a gentleman’s stickpin in a lady’s gown without precipitating an engagement.”
Ginny considered. She supposed it was within the realms of possibility. “If we could prove how easily it could be done, Lucinda and Lord Avery would not fall under such suspicion.”
“Done.” Sir Anthony held out his hands. “You hum. A waltz, I think.”
Ginny felt her heart begin to quicken in her breast. The gallery they had now entered was large enough for a couple to waltz in, though it hardly seemed proper.
“Come, come, Ginny. I promise, children cannot be produced through waltzing.”
Ginny felt heat wash over her entire body. No one had ever discussed such intimate things with her. Despite her embarrassment she wanted to waltz with him. She wanted to feel his arms around her, wanted to hear him say her name again. But if she did he would feel the pounding of her heart.
She found she could not look at him and glanced down. “You aren’t wearing a stickpin. Perhaps tonight.” That would be safe enough with everyone present. “I daresay the Barringtons will not object. It would give us young people something to do”
“Very well. I shall be sure to wear one to dinner.”
She felt her composure returning and dared to look at him. “Why? What reason could you possibly have for helping clear up this mess for Lucinda and Lord Avery?”
“Anything to make you happy, Miss Delacourt. Your servant, as always,” he said with a sketch of a bow.
Ginny swallowed to ease her tightening throat. As usual, the dratted man was just being polite! She changed tack. “And if your theory is not so easily proven?”
Sir Anthony stroked his chin. “There are always the servants. Perhaps we could convince the Barringtons that one of them took it, then suffered pangs of guilt. It would be easy to drop it in Lucinda’s room and hope for the best”
“Would you truly allow one of the servants to stand accused of something he or she has not done?” She saw that he opened his mouth to respond, but she charged ahead with a new accusation. “Which reminds me, why did you not speak up about the door? I think I am right in suspecting it was you who left it unlocked.”
He inclined his head. “Yes. I went for a ride again last night.”
“Under the circumstances I think it best if you inform the Barringtons”
“I almost spoke, but then Miss Barrington entered the room and made my confession wholly unnecessary.”
“Still, it would ease their minds and perhaps save Mrs. Crandall a scolding.”
Sir Anthony clenched his jaw and swept his gaze to the floor. “I would rather not.”
“I think, sir, you have something to hide.” Ginny was greatly agitated by his lack of response. “I think I should leave.”
“Have I given you such a disgust of me then, Miss Delacourt?”
“Yes” Ginny wished she could recall the word, but it slipped out before she could stop it. “Unless, of course, you tell me what it is you so desperately wish no one to know.”
He cocked his head. “I will if you tell me why you had tears in your eyes during Lord Avery’s nauseating recitation.”
“Why, I thought it a charming poem.” The fact that her tears were the result of holding back her laughter was one she did not wish Sir Anthony to know. Poor Lord Avery deserved better. “I was … deeply touched” And so she had been, in a ridiculous sort of way.
Sir Anthony stepped closer and tilted her chin. “I do not think you are telling the truth, Miss Delacourt.”
“What you mean to say is that you hope I am not telling the truth.”
“Did I say that?”
“Of course not. You wouldn’t. You don’t care to reveal anything you feel.” Ginny could hear her voice growing louder, almost shrill, but it didn’t signify. “In fact, I begin to doubt you have feelings. You, Sir Anthony, are a man without feelings, emotions, or passions!”
Ginny only caught a glimpse of Sir Anthony’s face, white with anger, before he jerked her into his arms and kissed her with searing hot lips. Under his demanding mouth she gasped in protest, but it only afforded him further opportunity to batter her defenses. She felt as if her body was melting into his despite her best efforts to remain rigid and inaccessible.
Sir Anthony chose the moment her breath came in shuddering gasps and her knees buckled beneath her to suddenly release her. Then he stepped back and regarded her with an expression of cool indifference. “You were saying?”
Sit Anthony could not believe what he had done. With growing alarm he watched Ginny run out of the room and out of his life. Surely she would have nothing to do with him after the way he had treated her.
What had caused such madness? The blood that had been boiling in his veins since Avery had read that cursed poem took only a moment to bubble over into uncontrollable passion. What did it mean? He couldn’t possibly be in love with that opinionated, headstrong, loose-tongued girl! It defied contemplation. Ah, but he had caused her pain, and it was as if the knife was buried in his own heart. With a groan he balled his fists together and pressed them to his forehead.
He willed calm to his pounding heart and strolled to the window at the end of the gallery. He must beg her forgiveness at the first opportunity. Even if she did her best to elude him for the rest of the day, she would have to afford him a moment after dinner. After all, she had promised him a dance.
The balance of the day was one of torment for Sir Anthony. He was unable to catch even a glimpse of Ginny, something he found more irritating than surprising. Where she could be hiding was a mystery. He knew she wasn’t with Lucinda, who had closeted herself in her room ever since her engagement to Avery over the eggs and kippers. Mrs. Barrington sailed between him and Lucinda’s locked door every half hour, hoping to soothe ruffled feathers.
“Lord Avery,” she cooed for the twelfth time. “Won’t you go and try to talk some sense into the girl?”
Avery, pale and drawn, turned tragic eyes on his hostess. “It is all too clear she does not wish to be my wife. I have offered for her, under duress I might add, and she has accepted. That she is unhappy about it is a matter beyond my control”
“Don’t be silly, my lord. Sir Anthony, pray tell him! All she needs is a few words of romance”
“Perhaps, Mrs. Barrington,” Sir Anthony replied, “your daughter is in need of some time to reflect. There will be opportunity enough for romance this evening, am I right, Avery?” He inflicted Avery with a hard stare, and Avery gave a nearly imperceptible nod in return.
“There, you see, Mrs. Barrington, all shall be well. I can see it now, a little champagne to announce the joyous event, some music to stir the blood, maybe some dancing…”
“Dancing! Just the thing! I shall go straight up to my poor darling and have her try on her ball gowns. She has been so downcast, having missed her coming-out, you know.” Mrs. Barrington sailed out of the room at full clip.
“My
thanks, Crenshaw,” Avery mumbled. “I thought I’d never be rid of the old warship.”
Sir Anthony winced. He certainly didn’t envy Avery his future mother-in-law. The afternoon dragged on in similar fashion until, with much relief, Sir Anthony escaped to his room to dress for dinner, mercifully far from Avery’s morbid natterings. Faith, the man had gone on all day every bit as white and dense as a wall. He would never ensure Lucinda’s interest that way.
Sir Anthony caught his reflection in the mirror and scowled. Only three days into this dratted quarantine and everything had gone wrong. His hopes for an amusing time for the remaining week had been dashed, he had made mice feet of his vow to avoid his Grandmama’s choice of bride for him at all costs, and now his blasted neckcloth chose to be recalcitrant. How could he dance with Ginny under the pretense of passing along his stickpin if he couldn’t get the misbegotten thing tied in the first place?
When had everything begun to go wrong? He wanted to say it was all that Avery chap’s fault, but none of this, not one of the misfortunes that had befallen him these past few days would have occurred if Miss Ginerva Delacourt had decided to remain in her room one fateful morning.
There. He had tied it. His valet, whom he was rarely without under ordinary circumstances, would never let him out the door with such a contraption under his chin, but no matter. Next, the stickpin. Sir Anthony perused the contents of Avery’s borrowed jewel box until he found just what he was looking for. If the two-carat emerald-cut black ruby couldn’t find its way into a ladies’ gown, no stickpin could hope to do better.
Sir Anthony surveyed the results. He looked rather like a man who had been swallowed by a billowing white fish, its one staring eye turned black in its head. Sir Anthony shuddered. Gad, he looked nervous as a deb and about as attractive. He consigned the mirror to eternal hellfire and made his way to the drawing room.
Ginny was already seated when he walked through the door. She was wearing a delightful green confection with a white lace overdress. She must have forgotten how angry she was with him earlier, for she turned to him the moment he entered the room. Devil take it, she was beautiful!
“Ah, here he is at last, at last.” The squire rose to his feet and offered his arm to Mrs. Barrington, resplendent in gold silk. “I believe we may now go in to dinner. Cook rang the bell this past quarter hour.” He cast Sir Anthony a deprecating glance.
He hastened to offer Ginny his arm and take their place at the end of the line.
“Squire Barrington seems a trifle put out by your tardiness,” she said in a cool voice.
“Yes, well, one must be understanding in cases such as the squire’s.” Sir Anthony leaned down to whisper in her ear. “The man is so thin he no doubt hasn’t enough fat to live off of between meals.” He thought he saw the beginnings of a smile, but it disappeared.
“You are horrible.”
“Yes, and I need to speak with you about that”
Ginny looked at him in surprise. “Do you? It seems you are always wishing a private word with me over some matter or another. Whatever you wish to say you can say here.”
Sir Anthony looked around the dining room they had just entered and ran a mental finger along his collar. She wasn’t going to make this any easier for him but it was imperative he apologize to her. When the footman pulled out Ginny’s chair, Sir Anthony whisked a napkin to the floor. As he bent to retrieve it, he had just enough time to whisper in her ear, “My apologies.”
If only the footman had not been so fastidious in his duty their heads would not have met with such a resounding thump that Ginny’s reply was lost to him. To make matters worse, the cursed footman beat Sir Anthony to his objective, presenting the napkin to her with a flourish.
“Thank you” The wide smile she gave him was one usually reserved for butlers and the like, not the neverto-be-acknowledged lowly footman. It made Sir Anthony’s blood boil. Blindly he groped for his chair, but the footman once again was there before him.
“Look here, boy,” Sir Anthony hissed, “I can pull out my own chair, thank you.” He sat and glanced at the expressions of shock and unease on the faces around him. “What? What is it?” Was it his cravat? Did he have smut on his nose? Merciful Zeus! He should have stayed upstairs.
Ginny, seated next to him, said in a low voice, “I believe they are not accustomed to Sir Anthony, the man of passions and emotions.”
“Is that so? In that case, I shall do my best to reform”
“La, sir, after only one day?” She gave him a saucy grin. “I was just coming to terms with the reformation of this morning.”
Sir Anthony felt himself consumed with guilt. Now she was casting out lures and all because of his act of corruption. He leaned to whisper in her ear. “The last time I saw you, Miss Delacourt, you were more than a little angry. I find I cannot blame you. It will never happen again.”
“Won’t it?”
Was that a note of regret he heard in her voice? He scanned her face for further signs, but her attention was diverted by Mrs. Barrington.
“Our Lucinda and Lord Avery have a very interesting announcement to make after dinner. To honor the occasion, there will be champagne and dancing in the drawing room.”
Lord Avery stared at the wall in moody silence, and Lucinda twisted her hands in her lap.
“How lovely,” Ginny said. “I was hoping there might be dancing.”
“May I take that as a compliment, Miss Delacourt?” Sir Anthony whispered.
“No, you may not. I only wish to dance with you to save those two from their misery. Look at them!”
Sir Anthony regarded her intently. “Do you consider impending marriage a misery?”
“Don’t be a goose! They are unhappy because of the circumstances surrounding their engagement. I daresay Lucinda had visions of a tumultuous London season chock full of offers of marriage from every eligible bachelor in the land! After which nothing but a most spectacularly romantic, and need I say dramatic, proposal on the part of Lord Avery would have done. Clearly, he does not understand the cause for her unhappiness. He is taking it so personally, poor dear.”
“Well, you can’t hope to help matters in that gown”
“I beg your pardon!”
“What I mean to say is, how am I to drop this stickpin down your gown with all that lace? It’s practically got its hands around your throat.”
“That is precisely the reason I wore it. I have no desire to spend the evening with a lump like that swimming about somewhere in my decolletage. Besides, you aren’t to drop it on me! Somehow I am to attach it. I thought lace a much better prospect than satin in that pursuit.”
Sir Anthony felt his mood lighten. “I daresay this stickpin will look a sight better on you than it does on me”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Ginny mused. “I feel sure I couldn’t carry off a third eye nearly so well.”
Ginny knew that last barb was too cruel, but really he deserved to be set down a peg or two. She was no serving girl to be so ruthlessly kissed! On the other hand, she had goaded him into the outpouring of emotion that had resulted in that heady kiss, had been goading him to unleash his emotions since they had set out for Dunsmere. So why did she feel so miserable?
The tinkling of glasses filled the room while the squire led Lord Avery and Lucinda to the front. “I propose a toast to Lord Avery and my daughter, Lucinda, on the happy event of their engagement” The squire raised his champagne in the air and quaffed it in a gulp.
Ginny noticed Sir Anthony hesitated to drink his until the happy couple did the same. To her chagrin Lucinda set her glass on the mantel, untouched, while Lord Avery held his stiffly in front of him as if it were a bouquet of flowers.
Mrs. Barrington’s strident voice rushed in to fill the silence. “Dancing! We must have music. Squire, why don’t you play so the young people can dance?”
She rustled over to Lucinda and Lord Avery, who stood side by side, as lively as two parasols propped in the corner. Taking each by
the elbow, she said, “You two happy lovebirds should dance with each other first” Somehow she managed to get the pair facing each other, then their arms fashioned in waltzing form.
The squire smiled his content and began to play.
“No doubt you know how to waltz, Miss Delacourt?” Sir Anthony said.
“Actually, I was tolerably good at it. That is one of the things I enjoyed during my time in London.”
Sir Anthony held out his arms. “Shall we then?”
Ginny was surprised by her own willingness to be close to Sir Anthony. Indeed, the prospect of being held in his arms sent a positive shiver of delight down her spine. He looked so very handsome in his dark evening suit in spite of that hideous cravat. It looked as if he had tied it with his thumbs. And that stickpin!
It took only a moment for her to realize the futility of their plan. Sir Anthony was a good head taller than she and his stickpin was almost level with her eyes. How in the world was she to catch it on her gown? Several possible courses of action occurred to her, but her cheeks grew hot to think of them.
“You’re blushing, Miss Delacourt.” He smiled down at her. “Was it something I said?”
A gasp of laughter escaped her. “Now you are teasing me. You haven’t said a thing and you know it.” She couldn’t seem to resist smiling into his eyes.
“You are right. I haven’t.” He returned her smile, and it seemed as if he were seeing into her soul. “Forgive me. I was otherwise preoccupied.”
“Doing what?” Ginny asked, a little breathlessly.
“Why, drinking in your beauty, minx.”
“Oh,” Ginny said and looked down, feeling herself grow warm all over. Then she glanced over at Lucinda and Lord Avery, their steps dragging and their heads turned at right angles to their bodies. How sad they looked. She must do something to help them.
“Sir Anthony, I have been considering our options.”
Sir Anthony looked a bit startled. “Have you? Aren’t you being a bit precipitate?”
“I don’t see how. Careful planning is always called for in these matters. Now, I have thought and thought but I cannot think how it can be done. I think it would be best if you were to get down on your knees and pretend you are looking for something.”
Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind Page 11