by Jo Beverley
He shook his head. “I could pity Arthur.”
She was taken aback. “Really?”
He smiled. “No. He’s a very lucky young man.”
He set off in search of Deirdre and Dunstable, wondering just what Anna’s meddling had achieved.
He went into the hall and considered matters. He didn’t think Deirdre and Dunstable were likely to be carried away by passion. If she was amenable to being seduced into marriage, however, it wouldn’t do to let Dunstable get the jump on him.
The only innocent place for them to be was in the hall, and they were not there. A maid passed through with more lemonade for the dancers, but he did not inquire of her. Instead, he wandered, ears peeled.
He detected them at last in the morning room, with the door half-shut. Or half-open, thought Everdon, wondering if he should be optimistic or pessimistic. At the sound of his name, he did not hesitate to listen to their conversation.
“You can’t be jealous of Everdon,” Deirdre was saying. She sounded distressed.
“It seems to me to be entirely reasonable.” Dunstable’s voice was coldly accusatory. “He’s an earl, and wealthy, thus more of your station in life. And after the way you danced with him, I cannot think you indifferent.”
“It’s just that he dances so well.”
“Are you saying I do not? If our dance was less successful, it was because you had all the grace of a bag of sticks.”
Everdon’s hand fisted, but he controlled the urge to go in and knock the oaf out. That would not help Deirdre.
“I know that, Howard,” she said quietly. “But I care nothing for Everdon. I will not dance with him again.”
“Very well,” said Dunstable. Then his tone softened. “I am only thinking of you, Deirdre. If he’s pretending to care for you, it can only be for your dowry. A man like that wouldn’t really be interested in a dab like you, and he’d never stay faithful. Don’t forget he’s called Don Juan.”
“I don’t forget that, Howard.” Deirdre’s voice was scarcely more than a whisper.
Everdon wanted to horsewhip the insensitive cad, but he also wanted to throttle Deirdre for putting up with such treatment. She was spirited enough with him. What hold did Dunstable have over her? Love? He couldn’t believe love led to this kind of…slavery.
“There, there.” Everdon guessed that Dunstable had taken Deirdre in his arms, and he was even more tempted to interrupt, but he needed to understand what was going on here if he was to rescue her. “I’m sorry for upsetting you, but you know how important you are to me, Deirdre. I don’t know how I’d get by without you.”
She chuckled. “Nor do I, love. You’d be skin and bone in weeks.”
“Have you looked for a new housekeeper?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy…”
“Running around with Everdon.”
“I am supposed to be engaged to marry him, Howard,” Deirdre said apologetically. “But I am sorry. I’ll look into it tomorrow…”
Everdon gritted his teeth. Where was her backbone? Where was the woman who’d threatened to knock his block off?
“The sooner your engagement is over, the better. When will he arrange it?”
“He wants us all to visit Everdon Park. He says it will be easier to arrange there.”
“What? He’s trying to separate us.”
“Why would he do that, Howard? As you say, he has no real interest in me. Besides, he says he will invite you, too.”
There was a silence. “How strange.”
At the note in his rival’s voice, Everdon reminded himself that the man was no fool. He might well be lacking in social graces, and even in kindness, but when it came to putting two and two together, a mathematician would surely be able to make four.
Deirdre spoke softly, pleadingly. “He knows you are important to my happiness, darling, and he is a kind man in his own way. You will come, won’t you? I couldn’t bear to be weeks without you again.”
“I don’t see why it should take weeks,” Dunstable said peevishly. “All he has to do is to be found in a woman’s bed. He could drag one of those giggling chits out of the ballroom and get it done.”
“Howard! He’d never seduce an innocent. And besides, then he’d have to marry her, which would be no part of his plans.”
“Serve him right,” said Dunstable. “Oh, very well. But I will come, and I’ll keep an eye on him and you. You women are too foolish where such a man’s involved. I wouldn’t be surprised to find he’s decided to taste you before he lets you go, and you’d be fool enough to let him.”
“Howard!”
Everdon waited for the sound of a block being knocked off. When it didn’t come, he sighed and pushed open the door.
He coughed.
Dunstable and Deirdre sprang apart. Deirdre looked rather relieved, which didn’t surprise Everdon. He had not thought that kiss a masterly example of tenderness. Aggressive possession, more like.
“What the devil do you want?” asked Dunstable.
Everdon toyed with the notion of letting Dunstable pick a fight—he’d enjoy drawing his cork—but discarded it. Deirdre would see her hero as the victim. “People are wondering where Lady Deirdre is,” he said smoothly. “We don’t want to cause talk.”
Dunstable looked as if he would argue, but Deirdre laid a pleading hand on his arm. “Please, Howard.”
Everdon said, “Why don’t you go back, Dunstable? We’ll be along in a moment. If we all return together, it will look as if I’m shepherding back the erring sheep.”
Dunstable flashed him a cold look. “Don’t think you can play your games with Deirdre, my lord. I’ve warned her about you.”
“I’m sure Lady Deirdre is far too honest and intelligent to fall prey to such as I, Mr. Dunstable.”
“Intelligent? Good Lord, she’s a practical little thing, but she don’t even know algebra.”
Everdon almost began to feel sorry for the fool. “I don’t suppose you know bullion work from couching, Mr. Dunstable, or how to get rust stains out of linen.”
Dunstable stared at him blankly. “What the devil has that to do with anything? It’s my opinion you’re more than half-mad.” He flashed a look at Deirdre. “I’ll leave this room, but if I’m to be denied the only pleasure of the evening, I’m for home. I could not bear more of that inane company, and I want to get my thoughts down before they’re lost in a welter of feline fleas. Make sure you don’t stay here long with him.”
With this terse command, he stalked out of the room.
When they were alone, Deirdre made no move to obey Howard and rush back to the dancing. She looked away toward the empty fireplace, and Everdon suspected she was fighting tears. She was certainly distressed, and well aware that her beloved had not shown well. He wondered what made a woman endure a man like that for a moment, never mind a lifetime.
He took a thoughtful pinch of snuff, and asked, “Would you like some?”
She turned to face him. “What?” Her eyes were a little damp.
“Snuff,” he said, extending his mother-of-pearl box.
A bemused smile flickered on her face. “Ladies don’t take snuff these days.”
“Very wise. It’s a vile habit, and becomes compulsive in times of stress.” But he still extended the box to her.
She looked at the powder. “What do I do?”
“Take a little pinch, hold it in your nostril, and sniff.”
With an uncertain glance at him, she followed his instructions. She sniffed, then sneezed, then said, “Good heavens! Oh, my eyes are watering…” After a moment, she added, “I feel as if my head is expanding.”
He smiled and put the box away. “More space for rational thought, perhaps. We should go back in case your devoted admirer is hovering. I don’t want to duel him. It would probably be logarithmic tables at twenty paces and he’d beat me hollow.”
She chuckled and blew her nose, then grimaced at the brown stain on the handkerchief. “I don’t think
I shall take to snuff, my lord.”
“Can I not lead you into even a minor vice?” he asked, and gained an honest laugh.
“I fear not. I am destined for a life of sober industry.”
“Caring for Howard Dunstable.” He kept his tone very neutral.
“Yes,” she said, equally blandly. She came over to his side and looked up pleadingly. “He is brilliant. Now you’ve met him, you do see, don’t you?”
He placed her hand on his arm, and they turned to leave the room. “Oh yes, Deirdre. Now I’ve met him, I do indeed see.”
Everdon was summoned to his mother’s room before retiring. She was already in bed and he perched next to her.
“You cannot allow Deirdre to marry that man, Marco,” she said forthrightly.
“Is not that what I said when we discussed this last?”
“I had not met him then.”
“But, Madrecita, can you blame the man for not being interested in fleas?”
“What?”
He described what had occurred in the morning room. “Now, you tell me, what makes Deirdre put up with the man?”
Lucetta sighed. “Oh dear. It is hard to explain, but it happens. I think it is perhaps that once a woman commits herself, it is hard for her to abandon someone.”
“Not in my experience,” he said bleakly.
She covered his hand. “Genie was an unusual woman, dear. Deirdre is nothing like her.”
“I know that. So how do I make her prove unfaithful to the man she has pledged to love forever?”
Lucetta frowned over it. “I am not sure. The best course, if it is possible, might be to make him reject her.”
Everdon shook his head. “That would hurt her terribly. I want her to knock his block off.”
“What?”
“Never mind. There must be some other way.”
“Then try to find it. But if she believes he loves and needs her, she will stay with him despite his petty cruelties.”
“It makes no sense.”
Lucetta smiled sadly. “It does, in a way, to a woman. And think of it another way, Marco. Would you forgive her for a cruelty? And would you expect her to forgive you? Where should it stop?”
Everdon wandered off to his own room, thoughtfully contemplating the fact that some of the qualities he most admired about Deirdre Stowe—her fidelity and determination—were what bound her to a man who did not appreciate her at all. If the only way to free her was to destroy those qualities, could he do it?
Should he do it?
He supposed he could in some way let her know that her Howard used a whore, but if that ruled out marriage, he was a dead duck.
He poured and drained a large glass of brandy, plagued by the fact that for the first time in his adult life, he was at a loss as to how to handle a woman. Even if he made Deirdre fall passionately in love with him, there was no guarantee that she’d abandon Howard; nor, as his mother pointed out, would he want it any other way.
He valued fidelity above all things.
8
THEY TRAVELED to Everdon Park in two coaches and two curricles. Henry, Rip, Everdon, and Howard shared the curricles, though Howard did not drive. Lady Harby, the dowager, and Deirdre traveled in one chariot; the personal servants traveled in and on the other. A number of Everdon’s servants attended on horseback to smooth their way.
The journey took two days, but under Everdon’s organization, it was without incident. The best horses were always brought out at a stage—previously selected by his men. Their stopping places were always prepared for them; and the Bear in Reading, where they spent the night, was virtually overhauled for their comfort. Feather pillows and Persian rugs had been sent from Everdon Park, along with a special firm mattress for the dowager, for she found a soft one bothered her hip.
The meal was superb, though whether that was extraordinary or not, Deirdre had no way of knowing.
After the meal Lady Harby and the dowager took seats in the garden to chat in the evening sun, while Henry and Rip sauntered off to explore the delights of the town.
Deirdre was inclined to join the older ladies, but she was not at all sure she should leave Howard alone with Everdon.
Howard had as usual been abstracted throughout the meal. Now he suddenly addressed a maid who was clearing the last of the meal. “Is Sonning Eye near here, girl?”
“Aye, sir. It’s but a mile north.”
Howard turned to Deirdre and Everdon. “Quentin Briarly lives there. I’d very much like to meet him. He wrote an interesting paper on the Leibniz-Newton controversy. I think I’ll walk out there.”
“Excellent idea,” said Everdon genially. “And these long nights, you won’t have to hurry back.”
“True.”
To Deirdre’s astonishment, Howard set off without apparent concern that he was leaving his future wife to the tender mercies of a rake—a rake of whom he had been jealous quite recently.
Deirdre definitely decided she wanted to join the older ladies, and rose to do so. Everdon caught her hand, staying her. “Do you really want to sit again, after sitting all day? Why not come for a walk with me.”
Deirdre hesitated. She was strongly tempted, but by the chance to stretch her legs, not the company.
Everdon met her eyes. “I give you my word, Deirdre. No kisses, no flirtation, nothing to disturb you at all.”
“Are you capable of it, my lord?” she asked with an edge, for even then his thumb was making tiny circles on the back of her hand. She allowed herself to be persuaded, however, and they set out to stroll about the town.
It was not a particularly remarkable town, and being on the Bath road, the High Street was very busy. They soon turned away from the thoroughfare to take a path that ran beside the River Kennet.
There it was more peaceful, more suitable for a summer evening stroll. Ducks paddled and bobbed in the river, and feeding fish made little circles in the glassy smoothness. Insects buzzed among wildflowers, and birds chirped and sang in the heavy trees.
They walked in companionable silence for a while, then Everdon said, “You need insects.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He gestured to drift of wild phlox, busily worked by bees. “Your wildflowers need insects on them.”
She focused and saw that he was correct. Whoever saw wildflowers without insects about somewhere? She cast him a teasing look. “Greenfly, perhaps?”
He didn’t rise to the bait. “If it pleases the artist in you.”
“It’s your cloth.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Deirdre looked back, studying the scene. She soon saw that in addition to the fat bees with the full yellow leg-sacks, there were smaller ones—or perhaps they were wasps. There were also ladybirds, and some little flies with bronze iridescent wings.
“Now, how would I get that effect?” she wondered, and crouched down to study them closer. She disturbed a grass-hopper, and it leapt, bright green, out of her way.
“Poke your nose any closer,” said Everdon in amusement, “and one of those bees will think you’re a blossom and mine you for nectar.”
She laughed, and let him help her to her feet. “Not very likely.”
He steadied her with hands on her shoulders. “Very likely indeed. I’d like to mine you for nectar. May I break my word?”
The look in his eyes made Deirdre want to say yes, but she shook her head.
“Shame.” He sighed and let her go. “I must beware in future of foolish promises.” He tucked her hand back in his arm, and they strolled on.
To cover the moment, Deirdre said, “You’re right about the insects. I must look for a book on them, for I cannot collect them.”
“Yes, you can. One nets them, then pins them into a box to be studied at leisure.”
She shuddered. “I couldn’t do that.”
“Consider that a blood sport, do you?”
She met his eyes. “Tease as you will, Lord Everdon, but if I can’t swat wasps
, I certainly couldn’t stick a pin through a ladybird.”
“I suppose not. I believe we have a collection of insects at home. Work of an uncle of mine. You could have that, if your stomach is up to it.”
Her smile was rueful. “Is it very foolish? I confess I wouldn’t mind if the pinning is long since done.”
“I enjoy pork, but I leave the slaughtering to others.”
They turned to retrace their steps, but halted to watch a kingfisher dive in a flash of blue, then emerge triumphant with a fish flapping desperately in its beak.
“It’s a cruel world, isn’t it?” said Deirdre.
“So there’s no reason to look for extra trouble.”
Deirdre took a deep breath and faced him. “Does that refer to Howard?”
Everdon was very serious. “Yes. He won’t make you happy, Deirdre.”
“You must allow me to be the judge of that.”
“I cannot do anything else, but I’m laying my cards on the table. I don’t think he’s the right man for you, and I hope you will come to see it. Then you will marry me.”
Deirdre wished he weren’t doing this. This stroll had been a halcyon time, but now he was scarring it. “If I came to see it as you wish, I still would have other options than marriage to you.”
“Am I so objectionable?” She could swear she saw hurt in his face. Don Juan, hurt by her? Surely not. All the same, she felt compelled to kindly honesty.
She looked away and softly said, “No, you are not objectionable, Everdon.”
“So if you decided not to marry Dunstable, you would marry me?”
It was an honest question and deserved an honest answer. Deirdre stood in thoughtful silence, looking over the river to the meadow beyond, trying to imagine marriage to this man.
“I might,” she admitted. Then she turned and added more firmly, “But don’t think you can play tricks on me. I intend to marry Howard, so the question will not arise. You may as well set about choosing another bride immediately. After all, it can make little difference to you.”
“Can it not? But I do want to marry you, Deirdre.”