by Amanda Scott
“Indeed.” Dambroke spoke quietly, but his expression was grim. Catheryn sighed. Clearly, the ride had blown away none of his ill humor. This would not be at all pleasant.
Dr. Keate hesitated, evidently expecting the earl to continue, then glanced at Catheryn. She was certain his eyes still twinkled. What an extraordinary man, she thought, smiling at him. Tiffany, made uneasy by the seeming levity, shot an apprehensive look at her brother; but if he was aware of anything other than his own desire to have the matter over and done with, Catheryn could see no sign of it. Keate set down his glass and pressed his fingers together.
“I cannot recall, my lord, that I have ever before been worsted by a ten-year-old.” He frowned, shaking his shaggy red head, and Catheryn suddenly doubted that he had been worsted by anyone. He spread fat fingers in an impatient gesture. “In a nutshell, my lord, the boy is incorrigible. I lose track of the times he’s been flogged.” Catheryn closed her eyes, flinching. “He’s been reprimanded, isolated, even sent to Coventry.”
She opened her eyes again. “What! I mean … well, I beg your pardon….” Encountering an ominous scowl from his lordship, she continued defiantly, “Well, why should they send him there, of all places?”
Dambroke’s face relaxed almost to a smile, and Dr. Keate allowed himself a dry chuckle. “I have confused you, Miss Westering; The term derives from the punishment supposedly visited upon Peeping Tom by the citizens of Coventry after Lady Godiva’s famous or, if you prefer, infamous ride there. They never spoke to him again after he alone defied the decision to allow her to ride unobserved. Here at Eton it means that the offender wears a yellow armband, and the other boys are not allowed to speak to him.”
“I see. How horrid!”
“Don’t hold with it myself. Prefer a good flogging!” Keate turned back to the earl. “The last time there was trouble—he picked a fist fight with a lad smaller than himself—I thrashed him myself and threatened to expel him if there were further such incidents. That was last week. Friday afternoon, he had another fight with the same lad. Left me no choice, my lord.”
Dambroke frowned deeply. “Has he been beaten?”
The headmaster shook his head. “Thought you might wish that privilege reserved for yourself. He’s been restricted to the Long Chamber on bread and water pending your arrival.” The steady gaze had not moved from the earl, but now it flickered to the riding crop in his lap. Catheryn, who had been watching both men, believed Keate would like to have said more but that he was finding the earl unresponsive. There was nothing to be read in Dambroke’s noble visage but irritation, anger, and perhaps embarrassment. She shifted her gaze back to the headmaster, willing him to look at her. In the silence that followed his last words, he began toying with his wine glass. Finally, lifting it to drink, he caught her puzzled look. When he set the glass down, he pulled the bell. The same boy answered. “Is young Dambroke here yet?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Send him in, please.”
The earl sat grimly regarding the carpet, his long legs stretched out before him, but Catheryn and Tiffany both turned to watch the culprit’s entrance. The study door had been left ajar, and a moment later the Honorable Edward Dambroke entered, shutting it gently behind him.
He was a sturdy child with light brown, tousled hair and a roses-and-cream complexion. Bits of white shirttail pouched out on either side under his short blue jacket, and both stockings below his breeches were twisted—one, in fact, looked in imminent peril of collapse. Catheryn hid a smile. This small person who had disrupted the halls of Eton and the earl’s day resembled nothing so much as a scruffy cherub.
Teddy looked quickly around the study. His vivid blue gaze flitted across Catheryn and Tiffany and came to rest upon his brother. Catheryn, watching closely, was amazed to see a spark of triumph in the boy’s eyes. A grin actually flickered across his face before he recollected himself and let his gaze slide to the carpet. Triumph changed to contrition so rapidly that she realized neither Tiffany nor Dambroke, who had swung his scowl toward the boy, had observed the former expression. She turned to find Keate’s eyes peering at her from under those outrageous brows. When she quietly lowered her reticule to the floor by her chair, one eyebrow rose and fell almost as though it waved approval. Keate turned to Teddy.
“Well, Edward.” His tone was grave, the twinkle gone. “Are you quite ready to leave us?”
“Yes, Dr. Keate.” The boy spoke to the carpet.
“Look up when you speak, sir!” snapped Dambroke.
“Yes, sir.” Teddy drew himself up, squaring his shoulders. His lower lip trembled, but he moistened it and looked steadily at Keate. “My gear is in the carriage, sir.”
The headmaster stood, smiling faintly. “Fine, Edward. I’m sorry we didn’t deal better together.” He looked at the earl, who still sat at his ease. “I think perhaps your brother would like a private word with you before you leave.” Teddy seemed to stiffen even more.
“No!” Belatedly, Catheryn remembered her promise not to interfere, but Dambroke stood up, raising his hand.
“Enough, Cousin.” He turned to the headmaster with suave civility. “There is no need to take up more of your time, sir. Edward and I will discuss this further in London.” He nodded. “Thank you for your trouble. I’m sorry he was such a bother. Come, Edward. Ladies.”
Catheryn waited until they had nearly reached the carriage before making distracted noises about having left her reticule behind. Ignoring the earl’s annoyed offer to send the footman and Tiffany’s offer to accompany her, she hurried back to find Keate waiting for her. “Please be brief, sir. His lordship already thinks me meddlesome enough.”
He smiled. “He won’t appreciate advice from either of us at the moment, so I must leave matters to your judgment, Miss Westering. You seem perceptive. Saw it at once. In point of fact, I believe that young rattle contrived this whole affair. He outmaneuvered me, set me up. I threatened to expel him, thinking to end the nonsense. Instead, he cornered me into keeping my word.”
“You may be right, sir,” Catheryn agreed. “Dambroke will flay him for this, but Teddy actually looked almost smug.”
“Precisely. He won’t care for the beating. Boys don’t as a rule. But you tell that lordship of yours that when he sends the boy back, I say he’s to send him with his own tutor and to lodge him with one of the dames in town!”
“When he … but you said he isn’t to come back at all!”
The twinkle was back. “In a rage, my dear. I’ll come to my senses. When the boy apologizes for his sins, thereby notifying me that he’s ready to return, I shall probably have a change of heart. Don’t tell him right away. Just don’t let Dambroke pack that boy off to any other school. I like him!”
“No indeed, sir! Thank you! Now, I must fly or he will be upon us.” She left him, her opinion of him greatly changed, and rushed to the carriage, hoping the earl might not comment upon her long absence. She needn’t have worried. He had gone ahead to bespeak their luncheon.
As the carriage lurched forward, Tiffany reported that Dambroke had first said that Teddy was to have no lunch but that she had prevailed upon him to change his mind by reminding him the boy had been two days on bread and water. The Honorable Edward looked up from his seat in the front corner with an impish grin. “She said she would send a maidservant out with a basket. That’s when he relented!”
Catheryn laughed. “Well, I’m glad he changed his mind. You will need sustenance to carry you through this day.”
Teddy grimaced and leaned over to straighten his stocking. His voice was gruff. “I expect he’s pretty angry.”
“Of course he is, stoopid.” Tiffany smiled sympathetically. “But he will not eat you. Very likely, you are in for one of his scolds and will go supperless to bed. That’s what Catheryn meant about needing sustenance.”
Catheryn frowned at this interpretation of her words, but the boy’s head came up, hope gleaming in his eyes. “Really, Tiffy? Is that all?”
When his sister seemed about to compound the error, Catheryn spoke more sharply than she had intended.
“No, Teddy, it is not all!” Squelching Tiffany with a look, she continued, “Dambroke is displeased and rightly so, though I’ll say no more on that head, for Tiffany’s no doubt right about the scold. However,” she added with her customary frankness, “you must resign yourself to a thrashing as well. Dambroke has said so, and I doubt he makes idle threats.” The boy wilted, and Tiffany’s eyes reproached her, but Catheryn believed it would have been worse to allow him to think he would get off with only a scolding. “I’m sorry, Teddy, but you must not delude yourself.” Breaking into a rueful chuckle, she added, “And we’ve not even been properly introduced. I am your sort of cousin, Catheryn Westering, you know.”
The boy visibly pulled himself together and held out a slightly grubby fist. “Yes, ma’am. Tiffany told me about you while we waited. I am pleased to meet you.”
Catheryn chuckled again, squeezing his hand. “Well, no one can call you rag-mannered. I believe we are going to be friends, Teddy.” He smiled shyly at her.
Luncheon at the charming inn Dambroke had selected was no cheerful affair. Even Catheryn, fond as she was of food, was glad when it was done. The earl paid the shot, saw them back into the carriage, and rode off, leaving them to follow at his coachman’s leisure. Somehow, the knowledge that he would be impatiently awaiting their arrival lowered their spirits even more, and they spoke little on the return journey.
When they entered the front hall, however, it was Lady Dambroke who greeted them, hurrying from the saloon with a rustle of skirts and arms outstretched. “Teddy, darling boy!” He started to run forward but stopped abruptly when the library doors snapped open. Hovering servants disappeared as if by magic.
“Edward!” The boy turned slowly toward Dambroke, who stood on the library threshold, holding the door with one hand, his riding whip with the other. “You will oblige me by stepping in here at once, young man. I have a deal to say to you.” He flicked the short whip against his leg, and Catheryn trembled, rooted to the floor. Teddy hesitated, his eyes fixed upon the whip. “Now!” Startled by the sharp command, young Edward straightened his shoulders and strode determinedly across the hall and into the library. Dambroke shut the doors.
Catheryn still seemed unable to move. All her faculties were concentrated on those doors and what was happening behind them. Tiffany and Lady Dambroke also seemed frozen in place. The walls were thick and they could hear nothing at first, but Dambroke’s voice soon rose. Catheryn could make out no more than an occasional word, but the tone was sufficient to inform her that Teddy was indeed receiving a thunderous scold. Silence fell again briefly before Teddy’s voice, upraised in pain, told her what was taking place. She closed her eyes. Another silence, then the sound of the door. She opened her eyes.
Lady Dambroke started forward, but a look from the earl stopped her in her tracks. Dambroke still held the riding crop, and Teddy, shirttails hanging, was rubbing his eyes with the back of his sleeve, trying unsuccessfully to stifle his sobs. The earl looked down at him. “Seek your room, Edward. I do not look to see your face before morning, when we shall discuss what is to be done with you.”
“Have you not done enough?” Tiffany asked bitterly.
“That will do, Tiffany. Go, Edward.”
The boy started dejectedly up the stairs, dragging his jacket, and Catheryn drew a long breath and turned to Lady Dambroke. “I wonder if we might have tea, Aunt Elizabeth. It has been a very long day.”
The countess looked at her gratefully, and the tension was broken. Tiffany gave a shaky laugh. “Trust Catheryn to think of food.”
Even Dambroke permitted himself a slight smile, though Catheryn made a point of not responding to it “It is a fine idea,” he said. He motioned to the butler, who had taken advantage of his august position to remain on the scene. “See to it, Paulson. The yellow drawing room.” When the butler had departed, he spoke further. “Edward is not to be coddled, Mama. I want him to understand the gravity of his offense. He is to be left to his own reflections until morning.”
“It seems rather harsh, Richard. After all, he is my son. And what about his dinner?”
“He is not like to starve overnight, ma’am.” His expression was grim, and his mother’s protests subsided. Satisfied, the earl retired to his library.
IX
ONCE THE LADIES SETTLED themselves and tea had been served, a silence fell. All three were thinking of Teddy, but none wished to discuss his misfortune. Finally, the countess roused herself to speech. “I had a visitor today, my dears. Your cousin, Mr. Caston, Catheryn. A nice young gentleman who thinks just as he ought, I’m sure.”
“Dear me,” Catheryn laughed. “Did he bore you to distraction, ma’am?”
“Don’t be impertinent. I must admit, however, that he seems to have seen a great deal of London in the past few days. And he uses such long words. He seemed to think it necessary, oddly enough, to apologize—several times and at great length—for your presence in this house.”
“Good heavens! I’m very sorry, Aunt Elizabeth!”
“Well, you should not be. I’m happy to have you here.”
“Yes, indeed, Catheryn,” Tiffany agreed. “You make it seem more cheerful than ever it was before. You won’t let him take you away, will you?”
“No, not if you truly don’t mind my imposing upon your generosity, Aunt Elizabeth.” That lady shook her head, smiling. “Well, I didn’t mean to apologize for being here, anyway,” Catheryn went on. “Only for subjecting you to such a call from Edmund. I forgot all about him, or I should have realized he would call today. I’m still out of charity with him, however, so it’s as well I didn’t have to see him.”
“As to that, my dear, you will. He dines with us.”
“How could you invite him, Mama, when you must have known Catheryn would dislike it!” But Tiffany’s eyes and Catheryn’s, too, began to twinkle as the countess explained.
“I could do nothing else. The man seemed riveted to the sofa! Fortunately, I chanced to recall that we are promised to Lady Heathcote tonight, so when he began to prose on about Lord Elgin’s Greek marbles, I simply interrupted in the most unmannerly way and invited him to dine and lend us his escort. Naturally, he had to return to his hotel to change.”
“Lady Heathcote’s ball!” Tiffany leaped to her feet. “Catheryn, how could we forget! It’s nearly four o’clock, and here we sit in all our dirt.”
Catheryn grinned but rose obediently from her seat. “We have plenty of time, Tiff. But, Aunt Elizabeth, won’t Lady Heathcote object if we bring an uninvited guest to her ball?”
“Dear Catheryn, don’t be absurd,” the countess replied calmly. “Her parties are always such crushes that she could not possibly remember the names of everyone on her invitation list. Don’t bother your head about it.”
Relieved, Catheryn went away with Tiffany to prepare for the evening ahead. As she luxuriated in a perfumed bath, it occurred to her that it would be better to meet Edmund in a social setting where they would be forced to be polite to one another. Then her thoughts turned to Teddy’s predicament. She spent much of the late afternoon pondering ways of turning the rather uncomfortable situation to his favor, but the only thought in her mind when she went downstairs to join the family was the hope that the countess would not place Edmund next to her at dinner.
She need not have worried, for it became clear the instant she entered the drawing room that dinner was not to be a mere family affair. Upwards of twenty people were gathered there, including the entire Stanthorpe ménage, Lord Thomas Colby with the Ladies Prudence and Chastity, and Lady Easton with her husband. There were two strange gentlemen as well. One was a tall, fresh-faced young man with Tom Varling and clearly a friend of his. The other was just as clearly a man of the world. Dressed neatly in black evening dress and boasting none of the fashionable seals or fobs, he was precise to a pin with an air of simple elegance.
Tiffany approached, laughing. “Welcome, Catheryn. Was it not too bad of Mama not to warn us of her party? She says she never realized she had invited so many, just cast an invitation here and there, and here they all are. Luckily, she did remember to tell Paulson each time she added a name, so he and Jean-Pierre at least are prepared. I didn’t even know the Beau was back in town. He has been down at Oatlands with the Duke of York, you know.”
“The Beau?”
“Mr. Brummell. But you’ve not met him yet, have you?”
“No, I’ve not had that pleasure.” She thought she should have realized the identity of the dandy in black sooner. Beau Brummell had certainly been described to her often enough. Someone had once told her his grandfather had been a valet; nevertheless, his background was perfectly respectable, for his father had been private secretary to Lord North, the Tory Prime Minister, and Brummell had attended both Eton and Oxford. She judged him to be a few years older than Dambroke and, despite the tales she had heard, thought he did not look odd at all. His nose had a disdainful tilt to it, but his smile was charming, and he had an aura of breeding that was not outmatched by anyone in the elegant company. Tiffany took her arm and drew her toward the group where everyone was laughing at some remark he had made. When the noise died away, she introduced him.
“Oh, Catheryn,” laughed Maggie, “Mr. Brummell has just been telling us that he went to Berry Brothers this afternoon to be weighed!”