by Jo Beverley
“By the way,” he said, “if you don’t object, your brothers are going to come along, too. There is a prizefight scheduled between the famous Molineux and a man named Carter. Everdon Park has the blessed fortune to be within a three-hour drive of Twistleton Gap, and so has become a Promised Land.”
“No, of course I don’t mind,” said Deirdre, though she felt rather dazed. “Have you persuaded Father to come, too?”
“No. Do you want me to?”
She raised her brows. “I’m tempted to set you the task, merely to see you go down to defeat, my lord. Only the sacred duty to marry off his daughters ever drags him away from his land.”
He smiled and drained his cup. “But I would merely have to ask his advice on the management of my estates…”
And Deirdre had to accept that would do the trick.
He gathered up the plates and cups, and assembled them neatly on the tray. Deirdre was astonished that he was so willing and able to play the maid, and that he was willing to go with so little teasing accomplished. “Are you leaving, Everdon?”
“It was my intent. Do you not wish me to?” He invested the question with layers of sultry meaning.
“Yes, of course I do. I want to return to my work.”
“I could read to you as you sew. Byron? Mrs. Edgeworth? Wordsworth?”
She could not deny that the notion held some appeal. He had a lovely mellow voice, and the only thing she did not like about her work was the isolation. That was why she had loved her time with Lucetta, for they had been able to work and chat without interruption. Here at Missinger, however, Lady Harby took it for granted that Lady Everdon wanted to spend time with her, and Lucetta was too polite to disabuse her of the belief.
To encourage Everdon, however, would be perilous. “No, thank you, my lord. I just need peace and quiet to work.”
He picked up the tray. “I will arrange a suitable room for you at Everdon Park, then. Until later, my dear.”
He was gone. That had, all in all, been an unexceptionable visit. Why, then, did Deirdre feel as if it had pushed her world even more out of tilt?
The next day, as Deirdre dressed for the party, she reminded herself that she had always enjoyed these informal local affairs. They were quite different from the horrible London balls and soirées, for here she knew everyone, and most of her neighbors were delightful people. Even the few who were unpleasant, one had learned to put up with.
On this occasion, however, Deirdre found herself approaching it with anxiety.
Having been brought to the point, Lady Harby had gone all the way and invited Howard to dine. He would at last have the opportunity to win over her family, and if he could do that, Everdon would not have to put himself in an embarrassing situation.
In view of the importance of the event, Deirdre’s nerves were in a terrible state. It had to go perfectly.
Lady Harby had insisted that Deirdre wear one of her new gowns, and so Deirdre and Agatha had spent the best part of the day stripping a pink and purple dress down to simplicity. To her surprise, the gown looked very well when all the trimming was removed, for the cut and material were excellent. Deirdre had embroidered some flowers on the bodice to cover marks left by the trimming, and Agatha had fashioned a sash of an ivory shawl.
The effect was as attractive as possible.
Deirdre hoped Howard would be as presentable.
As Agatha dressed her hair and worked up a few curls with the iron, Deirdre was tempted to rush down to Foote’s Cottage to check that Howard was dressing appropriately, and that he had not forgotten the occasion entirely.
Everdon was also keyed up for the evening. Tonight he would meet his enemy. He chose a particularly fine embroidered waistcoat and a fawn cravat, wondering just what approach would be most effective.
“And how are you liking Missinger, Joseph?” he asked his valet.
“A very pleasant, well-run establishment, milord.”
“I would imagine the staff think highly of Lady Harby.”
“Indeed, though she does have her funny ways.”
“And what of Lady Deirdre? Is she well liked?” He had said nothing specifically to his valet about his marriage plans, but it didn’t take genius to work out why they were making this visit.
“Very well liked, milord.” The valet cleared his throat. “I gather the older girls were inclined to be a bit sharpish with the staff, and the young men are a little wild, but no one has any word to say against Lady Deirdre. Always most considerate of the staff, she is.”
“As I would expect.” Everdon put the last touches to the arrangement of his neckcloth. “I gather Lady Deirdre has shown a certain interest in a young man. A Mr. Dunstable.” He stood so Joseph could ease on his perfectly fitting jacket and caught an uneasy expression on the valet’s face.
“I’m sure there’s nothing to it, milord.”
“But what is known of this man?”
Joseph smoothed the jacket, and brushed away a minute speck of fluff. “As to that, milord, he’s considered to be an odd fish. He’s a stranger, of course, and you know country people, but I gather he’s had trouble finding a housekeeper on account of his finicky ways.”
“Finicky?”
“I don’t know any particulars, milord.”
“Any other views? Any gossip?” Everdon kept the valet under surveillance in the mirror and saw the way his lips tightened.
“I don’t hold with thirdhand tales, milord, but as you have an interest, so to speak…it’s said he visits a lady called Tess Biggelow. A widow.”
Everdon turned. “And would this Tess perhaps be the local convenient?”
Joseph colored. “Yes, milord.”
Everdon shrugged. “It would be absurd of me to be holding my nose at that, wouldn’t it? You have the right of it, though. I have a particular interest in Lady Deirdre, so if you hear anything else that could have a bearing on the matter, I would appreciate your passing it on.”
He turned and surveyed himself, considering the suitability of the pearl pin in his neckcloth. “Perhaps the diamond, Joseph. The large one.”
Joseph brought the glittering pin, and Everdon fixed it carefully. A trifle gaudy for country wear, but…
No, it would not do. He changed it for the pearl.
At the door, he turned. “By the way, Joseph, Mr. Dunstable will be here tonight.”
Joseph stared at the door after his master had left, considering that news. Very strange. He’d learned that Lady Deirdre’s attachment to Mr. Dunstable was not approved by the family and that the young man was not received.
It was certainly true that the local people did not think much of him, but it was also true that village folk took time to warm to foreigners. He could be a worthy gentleman.
After all, though nothing was said directly in front of Joseph, it was clear the staff at Missinger had their doubts about the Earl of Everdon, too. They knew his reputation and couldn’t believe he meant to deal honestly with Lady Deirdre, whom even the fondest of them admitted to be fusby-faced.
Joseph, however, had listened to people who had known Lady Deirdre from the cradle, and decided she was just what the earl needed. He was also watching his master’s behavior, and was very hopeful, very hopeful indeed.
Tonight was the first time in years the earl had dithered about his appearance.
7
DEIRDRE WAS ALREADY in the drawing room with her family when Everdon entered. She was forcibly struck by how handsome he looked. She immediately prayed that Howard had taken some care over his dress so that he not be entirely outshone.
When Howard arrived—just after Sir Crosby and Lady Durham and their offspring, and just before the Misses Norbrooke—she breathed a sigh of relief. None of his clothes had come from a London tailor, but his dark pantaloons and jacket were unexceptionable; his hair had been trimmed, and brushed into a fashionable style; and his bow to her mother was perfect.
Deirdre saw her mother react to all this quite favorably. La
dy Harby always had a soft spot for a handsome man. Just possibly, tonight would solve all their problems.
Howard looked rather lost, though, poor lamb. Deirdre went to greet him and drew him over to talk to her father.
“Mathematician, eh,” said Lord Harby, who wasn’t in the best of moods. He never was when forced into purely social occasions and deprived of his agricultural reading. “What use is it, eh?”
Howard wasn’t thrown. “A clearer understanding of mathematical principles has proved useful in the past, my lord, and will in the future. Without geometry and trigonometry, most of our buildings would be impossible, and road building would still be a primitive art. The financial management of the nation demands a sophisticated knowledge of calculation, as does navigation and trade. Warfare would be hindered without the application of mathematics to artillery work.”
Lord Harby perked up. “D’you say so? What good is it in agriculture, eh?”
“I am unfamiliar with the subject, my lord, but I am sure any number of calculations are necessary to plan crops and feeding patterns for cattle. It is quite possible that mathematical principles would enable better prediction of future production…”
Deirdre slipped away to help welcome more guests, ashamed of the fact that she was surprised that Howard could defend his discipline so well. He would have her father on his side in no time. Lord Harby always appreciated a man who knew his stuff, and one who could apply his science to agriculture was a sure winner. After all, her father had no particular attachment to Everdon. She hadn’t seen them cozied up discussing silage and drainage.
Instead, Everdon, she noted, was showing his true colors as a social butterfly, and was surrounded by a crowd of guests. As the stranger in their midst, he was naturally of prime interest, and most knew of his reputation. The young women were visibly fascinated. If they were looking for the wicked Don Juan of Spanish literature, however, they would be disappointed. Everdon was behaving impeccably.
Deirdre well knew that if in the future any of these worthies should meet someone who made a disparaging remark about Don Juan, they would retort, “All a load of nonsense. Met the fellow at Missinger and found him a very tolerable sort. Thinks just as he ought on all subjects.”
How confusing he could be.
Deirdre’s sister, Eunice, Lady Ostry, had come to the event with her husband. She, of course, was a typical Stowe—tall, handsome, and with lush blond hair. She, too, clearly admired Everdon. Deirdre saw them flirting, but it must have been in an unexceptionable manner, for her husband was standing by and didn’t seem to mind.
On the other hand, Deirdre had always thought Lord Ostry a rather dim-witted man for all that he was a handsome six foot with a commanding air. One of the first things to appeal to Deirdre about Howard had been the power of his intellect.
Seeing Everdon raise Eunice’s hand for a significant kiss, and her sister preen and blush, Deirdre had the alarming thought that the earl might choose Eunice with whom to create a scandal. That certainly would throw the fat in the fire. Didn’t he realize Ostry was just the sort of blockhead who’d call him out?
She took three steps in their direction, intent on preventing disaster. Then she remembered that Everdon was going to stage the affair at his own home, and that he would be far too wise in these matters to risk disaster. She diverted her steps toward the Misses Norbrooke, two delightful old ladies.
She didn’t know why she had developed this tendency to protect Don Juan; a more fruitless occupation was hard to imagine.
She was to go in to dinner on Everdon’s arm—her mother insisted on it—and so he came to her as the meal was announced.
“Your swain has your father entranced,” he remarked. “Is it possible that I will not have to exert myself?”
“I was wondering the same thing. But there is still Mother to consider. Father will rule her if he feels strongly enough, but he has to feel very strongly for it to be worth his while.”
“I rather thought she mellowed a little toward Dunstable, so the cause may not be entirely lost. He’s remarkably good-looking, by the way. I thought he’d be hunched and bespectacled.”
Deirdre warmed to him. “He is, isn’t he? Not that I let such things count with me…”
“Clearly. I’m even better-looking.”
Deirdre looked up, prepared to argue, but decided it would be both foolish and ill founded. Simply on the basis of looks, Everdon could beat Howard all hollow.
As Everdon seated her, she said, “Howard will not take sufficient exercise or fresh air. I do try to encourage him.”
Everdon took the seat beside her. “My dear Deirdre, don’t carry his entire life on your shoulders. His course is his own, and the consequences also.”
“But surely we should care for those we love. Am I to watch him harm himself and do nothing?”
A strange shadow passed over Everdon’s face. “Perhaps not. But there is a limit to what we can do.”
Then the green soup was being served and they could address their food.
The meal progressed smoothly, though Deirdre noted that Howard was improperly silent. He had been seated between the two Misses Norbrooke, which was doubtless a deliberate maneuver of her mother’s, as he could have little in common with them. Even so, he should be exerting himself. Everdon was managing to converse with Lady Durham, a rather silly and mean-spirited lady who could find something to carp at in everything.
Deirdre sighed. Howard was doubtless lost in calculations, poor lamb. If she were closer, she’d try to kick his shins.
Then she saw Miss Georgianna Norbrooke turn and start a purposeful conversation with Howard, and was grateful to the old lady. Even if Howard contributed little, it made him less conspicuous.
From her left, Everdon said, “I am sure he can manage a simple dinner without your focused gaze, Lady Deirdre.” It had the edge of a rebuke, and Deirdre colored, aware that her behavior was almost as gauche as Howard’s.
“He gets lost in his thoughts, that’s all.” She faced Everdon and summoned her social skills. “Did you have a good day’s angling, my lord?”
“It was too hot for much, but it’s always pleasant to pass time near the water.”
She glanced at him, and his eyes trapped hers in an awareness of that magical interlude by the stream. Then, in a disastrous lull in the conversation, she heard Howard say, “Will you please stop chattering at me?”
She looked over to see Miss Georgianna turn away, red from the neck up. After a horrified hush, everyone plunged into talk to cover the moment, but Howard was left completely in peace.
Deirdre knew her face was as red as poor Miss Georgianna’s. She wanted to hide under the table. A hand firmly covered hers. “You are not responsible for what he does,” said Everdon.
“But…” Then she collected herself. “But I encouraged him to come tonight when I know he doesn’t like chatter, and much prefers to be alone with his thoughts.”
She risked another look at Howard. He seemed oblivious of any problem.
“Forgive me for mentioning it,” said Everdon, “but doesn’t his love of isolation make him a poor candidate for marriage?”
“For some, perhaps. I, however, am very quiet also, and generally much prefer to be left alone with my needlework.” Deirdre addressed herself resolutely to her pork, praying that she wouldn’t cry, and wishing this whole horrible evening were over.
As the time approached for the ladies to leave the table, Deirdre began to worry about what would happen to Howard. She was unsure what gentlemen did when left alone, other than drink more wine and take snuff.
Everyone was most fond of the Misses Norbrooke.
Could it possibly come to a duel?
She leaned sideways toward Everdon and whispered, “Look after him, please.”
His brows rose. “Wouldn’t you rather I killed a dragon or two, my fair maiden?”
She just looked an appeal at him, and he shrugged. “I don’t know if anyone will say anythi
ng, but I suspect he’s pretty impervious to words. I’ll make sure no one draws his cork.” He took her hand under the cover of the table, and his thumb stroked her sensitive skin. Sensitive skin? She’d never thought of her small, capable hands as sensitive.
She looked at him warily, wondering what price he was going to exact for his assistance.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll take care of everything.”
In some way it seemed to encompass more than the matter of Howard’s rudeness.
Then her mother rose, and Deirdre had to abandon Howard to his fate.
In the drawing room over tea, everyone fussed over Miss Georgianna, but the cause of the problem was not mentioned, or the reason for Howard being there. Deirdre, however, felt as if she wore a sign around her neck declaring her to be an accomplice to the crime.
Like Saint Peter, she would probably have denied any connection if challenged.
She went to sit safely by Lucetta, but the dowager’s attention was soon claimed by another guest. Then forthright Mrs. Treese, Anna’s mother, took the seat on the other side of Deirdre.
“That Everdon seems a fine man,” she said. “Can depend on a man like that to do the right thing.”
“Do you think so?” said Deirdre, longing to raise his reputation as Don Juan. She could not do it, however, when sitting beside his mother.
In any case, she had to accept that Mrs. Treese was right. One could depend on Lord Everdon.
“Any gel would be lucky to get a man like that,” said Mrs. Treese. Having made her point, she went on to discuss her younger son’s military career now Napoleon was safely on Elba.
When Mrs. Treese left her side, Deirdre’s sister took her place. “What a fool you are, Dee,” Eunice said frankly. “I hear you’re shilly-shallying over snapping up Everdon. I wish I’d had the chance.”
“I’m not shilly-shallying at all,” said Deirdre. “I’m definitely not going to marry him.”
Eunice raised her finely curved brows. “Are you that much of an idiot? You’d give up the Earl of Everdon for that horrible scholar?”