During the daytime, while the dowager conserved her strength, she still made sure Sonia was adequately chaperoned. Hugh and Blanche went along on every outing, with Sonia’s maid, her groom, Ian, and even the impossible mongrel. Lady Atterbury was further reassured when Warebourne brought his man, his nieces, and their new nursemaid. Miss Inwood was a responsible, respectable young miss sent by the children’s grandmother to replace the flirtatious Meg Bint. Lady Atterbury would have rested easier if the entire British blockade were along to play dogsberry for her granddaughter and that devilishly handsome lord, but what could happen on a jaunt to Richmond with so many in the party?
What could and did happen was that Ian, always one to appreciate a pretty face, took Miss Inwood and the children off to explore the maze. Hugh and Blanche strolled through the gardens lost in a discussion of military maneuvers, and Sonia’s maid, Maisie, was pleased to share her picnic blanket with the major’s man, Robb, behind a yew hedge and out of sight. For all intents and purposes, Darius and Sonia were alone on a wool throw, except for one large black dog who insisted on more than his fair share of the blanket. Fitz’s usurping sprawl naturally forced the blanket’s other two occupants into closer proximity. Neither Darius nor Sonia complained.
As anyone with a ha’penny’s worth of sense could have foreseen, Sonia was soon wrapped in Darius’s arms, half in his lap, half out of her gown, fully out of breath.
A kingdom may have been lost for a nail, but an ant crawling across Conover’s neck saved the day. “No,” he vowed, as he returned to his senses. “No.” He set Sonia away from him. “And fix your gown,” he ordered. “And your hair, and…and do something about your mouth. For pity’s sake, not that!” he groaned, when she ran her tongue over swollen lips. Sonia gurgled with laughter to see him drag his fingers through his own tumbled locks. She reached out to brush a curl off his forehead, but he firmly pushed her hand away. “None of that, minx, or I am lost. We’ll talk.”
Sonia thought he was just about the most enchanting sight she’d ever seen, spouting propriety and giving orders with his cravat all rumpled. She kissed his nose and quickly sat back. “Very well, sir. What shall we talk about?”
Darius leaned back on his elbows and smiled. “I spoke to some of the younger party members. They think I can make a difference in Parliament if I take my seat. There are crucial votes for military spending and such coming up.”
“Then you won’t mind being an earl?”
He looked around: blue skies, flowers, laughing children, and sweet Sonia instead of mud and muck and blood and horror. He laughed out loud. “If this is a taste of civilian life, I’m all for it! There are others in the army who can do my job just as well, and I think I can be of importance to the War Office here. Treatment of veterans, conditions for the enlisted men, just expediting supply deliveries. There is much work to do.”
“And you can help support the bills protecting climbing boys and limiting the hours for children in factories and mines.”
“Gads, Sonia, you expect a lot. I know nothing about such measures.”
“But I do,” she told him with perfect complacence.
“Very well, with your help I can certainly do more for climbing boys and child workers while in Parliament than I could while in Spain. And I have to see about Ware, too. I’ve been leaving everything to the stewards and estate managers, but I’ll have to make some decisions soon, although the devil knows how. I know even less about farming than I do about legislature.”
“But I know more. Especially if there are sheep. And Papa will be ecstatic to help; he’s worse than Lord Wolversham when it comes to new methods and improved production.”
“Will he like me, do you think?”
“Go grouse hunting with him once and he’ll adore you, for your aim alone. And if you admire his hounds, his sheep, and perhaps his new wife, Leah, he’ll welcome you with open arms. Mostly he’ll love you when he sees how happy you make me. You are happy, too, Darius, aren’t you? You truly don’t mind selling out?”
He had to squeeze her, just once for reassurance. “I doubt I’d make a good officer any longer, Sunny. My heart and mind would be back here with you and the girls.”
“And boys.”
He grinned. “Sons, too. What more could a fellow ask?” He leaned back again. “I must be the luckiest man alive! Look up. That’s how I feel, that I could reach up and touch the sky. No clouds, just sunshine. Sunny and me. There is nothing I cannot do, or be, thanks to you. Everything is perfect!”
“No, Darius. You are perfect.”
He reached out and touched her cheek. “If you believe I’m perfect, then I am.”
*
The Greeks had a word for this. They called it hubris.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Greeks did not think this hubris, this pride and self-confidence, was such a good idea. Then again, the Greeks didn’t think much of dogs, either.
There’s an old story—I know, not another dog story! What did you expect, Puss in Boots?—of Alcibiades, an Athenian statesman and soldier and regular rum touch, if you ask me. One day he went on a tear, rampaging through the city during his wild revels. Then he went out and bought a dog, the prettiest, most expensive greyhound he could buy, for suchamany drachmas. And he cut off the dog’s tail. For Spot’s sake, he did! When asked why, Alcibiades answered that he did it so the Athenians would remember that, rather than his earlier wanton destruction. They didn’t. In fact, aside from Plutarch and us dogs, no one remembers the tail at all. Nor, when they hear of Alcibiades, do they recall that he was a famous general or a student of Socrates’. No, what comes to mind first about Alcibiades is best expressed in the schoolboy’s taunt: Ace likes lace. The Greeks didn’t think much of women either. No wonder their civilization did not last!
Anyway, so much for pride. The Greeks believed that the gods took retribution on men who rose above their station. Things are not so personal anymore. Nowadays people just say, Don’t tempt fate, or Knock on wood. Would lifting my leg on a tree do as well?
The major should succeed at politics. I heard no overweening determination to reach the top of government positions, no burning desire to run the country. I agree with the Great Republican: Greed and ambition are not particularly desirable traits in those who hold office. The major had none of those tendencies. Maybe now I can relax.
*
“Your father, my dear, is a very elusive gentleman. Does he never answer his mail?”
Sonia’s cheeks pinkened to match her jaconet walking dress. Her grandmother’s sentiments had not been quite as delicately phrased.
“That Elvin Randolph should be strung up by his thumbs,” Her Grace declared. “Why, we’re the bobbing blocks of the ton. They’re all speculating he’s been without a woman so long since your mother died that he needs must make up for lost ground. Balderdash! I know all about his convenients in the village, and so I’ll tell anyone who asks. We will not even be able to have a fashionable announcement ball if that nodcock stays away much longer. Everyone will be off to Bath or their country properties, hang him.”
“He promised George to return for the baby’s christening next month, Grandmama, and you know I never wished for a big squeeze anyway.”
“Gammon. We’ve waited this long for Itchy Britches Elvin, we’ll not have any hole-in-corner affair. Do you hear me, miss? I finally got my butler sober.”
Sonia just nodded and smiled. She was going to let Lady Atterbury throw London’s grandest bash for the engagement because Her Grace’s heart was so set on it, and because the dowager had put up with so much already. Then, however, Sonia was going to have the wedding of her dreams. She’d be married in the Sheltonford chapel, with Vicar Gilcroft officiating, just as he’d officiated nearly every Sunday of her life. All her friends, neighbors, tenants, and staff would come to see her father give her away. Blanche could be maid of honor, and Fitz would wear a bow. Vicar Gilcroft simply had to let Fitz in the church, just this once, withou
t it being the annual blessing of the beasts; there’d have been no wedding, no meeting at all, without Fitz. Sonia also planned on three little flower girls strewing rose petals and orange blossoms. After the wedding they could all go to Ware for the summer instead of on an extended bridal journey. Sonia was anxious to start meeting her new tenants, helping to care for the lands.
Miss Randolph kept busy meantime, but not too busy for her old friends or her little friends. She and Fitz often met the Warebourne girls in Grosvenor Square after their visit with the admiral. Sonia made sure the girls took part in her other activities when possible, like excursions back to Richmond Park or events like an evening at Astley’s Amphitheater. She often accompanied the trio on simple outings to Hyde Park to feed the ducks. Fitz learned to leave them alone—the ducks and the bread.
One day Sonia arranged to keep the children company in the park while Darius kept an appointment with the War Office. He was working on getting Hugh transferred to his own cavalry regiment, where, he told Sonia, his former comrades would look after the lad. Hugh would not be made a fool or cannon fodder, and the colonel’s wife was sure to take Blanche under her wing if the war dragged on. Leaving Sonia with her servants and the girls, Darius promised his nieces ices at Gunther’s later; his eyes promised Sonia at least a stolen kiss or two when he returned to fetch them.
Sonia and the children had a wonderful time, training Fitz to be a circus horse, like the performers at Astley’s. They’d brought a hoop along to play with, and taught Fitz—and Baby—to jump through.
Genessa said she was practicing for teaching her new pony, when they returned to Ware for the summer. Benice thought she’d make her kitten a lace tutu, for her to wear when she rode the pony or Fitz.
“I think we shall have to ask the cat, my dear,” Sonia told her, “and the pony.”
Gen tried to wrest the stuffed dog from Baby’s hands, to ride atop Fitz with a hair ribbon as reins. Bettina protested, loudly, so the new nanny, Miss Inwood, sent the older girls off a ways with the hoop, while she held the toddler and the toy on her lap. Bettina was not reconciled.
“Here,” Sonia volunteered. “Give me Tiny, Miss Inwood. I haven’t had a coze yet today with Mimi.”
Sonia looked up from the baby’s prattle a few moments later when the older girls stopped their chatter and gathered closer to her skirts. Sonia raised her head and looked around to see what had caught the children’s attention, Preston and Rosellen Conover promenading toward them. Sonia stood, still holding Tina, and curtsied. “Come, children, make your bows to your cousins.”
Benice made a stiff curtsy and whispered, “Lady Conare, my lord.” Gen made the slightest bobble, and the baby threw herself back into Sonia’s arms.
“Still as unmannerly as ever, I see,” Lord Conare derided, taking out his quizzing glass.
Bettina hid her face in Sonia’s shoulder. Sonia almost wished for a big shoulder to lean on herself. Instead she spoke brightly: “We’ve been having a lovely day, haven’t we, girls? Do you want to show your cousins what you’ve been teaching Fitz?” Tina clung harder, Gen shook her head no. Even Benice, who could usually be counted on to do the pretty, scuffed her toe in the ground.
“My dear Miss Randolph,” Conare drawled, “as sweetly charming as I recall. And foolish. What makes you think we’d possibly enjoy seeing children and dogs frolic about? Why aren’t the brats in the classroom anyway? Surely they could be learning something other than how to become common performers.”
Miss Inwood was starting to bristle at the slur to her charges and her competence. Sonia intervened. “Why, Miss Inwood has done amazingly well in no time at all. Genessa knows her letters and numbers, don’t you, precious? And Benice is halfway through an exquisite sampler. I’d be surprised if she does not become a notable needlewoman, with such patience and dexterity.” Sonia chuckled. “Much more than I ever had as a child. They have come along so well, in fact, that we declared this perfect spring day a holiday.”
Sonia’s effort won a shy smile from Benice, but a sneer from Conare. “I had assumed my nieces were not learning to be sheepherders.” He raised his quizzing glass from the now-quaking Benice and fastened his enlarged eyeball on Sonia. “And ‘we’? I have not heard any interesting announcement. Perhaps I missed something to account for your inexplicable interference in my young cousins’ education.”
Rosellen snickered. “And as for patience, the on dit is that you and Warebourne have none. Be careful, my dear, for nothing is so hard to hook as a fish that’s already stolen the bait.”
Sonia looked worriedly to the children while Conare added in that affectedly slow voice of his: “I am not sure Milo’s children need to learn quite that much of the world at their tender ages.”
Miss Inwood put her arms on the older girls’ shoulders, and Ian took a step closer to his mistress. Sonia counted to ten before she started to wrap her tongue around a few choice words to blister the supercilious pair’s ears. Before she began, however, Fitz ran through his new paces. He jumped through the hoop, which was held loosely in Gen’s hands. The hoop got away, rolling across the damp grass, onto the dirt path, and over Lord Conare’s shiny Hessians. Preston jumped back, sending the hoop in Rosellen’s direction, where it left a muddy ring right across the hemline flounce of her sheer peach-colored muslin.
“Why, you little brat!” she screeched at Gen. “You did that on purpose. I’ve a good mind to—”
No one found out what, because Rosellen was positively not in mind to confront the large growling dog that stood between her and her intended victim. Rosellen grabbed Preston’s sleeve and demanded he escort her home immediately, before anyone noticed her begrimed skirts.
“Cousin Rosellen is a wicked, wicked witch,” Gen declared when the pair was out of sight. Sonia did not bother rebuking her. Shaken, she hugged the baby with one hand and smoothed back the dog’s bristled ruff with the other. Benice’s lip trembled, and Ian and Maisie looked ready to charge after the disappearing couple, so Sonia gathered her composure and said, “Well, we shan’t let unpleasant people ruin our pleasant day, relatives or no. I believe I have just the thing in my reticule, a wonderful story of knights and ladies and dragons.” She straightened the baby’s dark curls, which reminded her of Darius’s. “And a lot of pictures. Here, Miss Inwood, you take Tina and I’ll find the book.”
When Sonia handed over the child, however, Maisie Holbrook exclaimed, “Oh, miss, your silk spencer is all wet. The babe must have drooled all over it.”
“Oh dear, I cannot go to Gunther’s looking like I’d been under a spigot, and I promised the children a story. I know. Maisie, please return to Atterbury House and fetch my blue spencer. It will match the trim on my gown equally as well as this damp one.”
“Of course, Miss Randolph. I’ll just hop out of the park and hire a hackney at the gate. I’ll be back before the cat can lick her ear.”
“Fustian, Ian and the coach are sitting right there doing nothing. He’ll drive you.”
“Pardon, ma’am, but we couldn’t both go off and leave you alone here.”
“Nonsense, Maisie. I will not be alone with three children, a nurse, and a dog. Besides, you’ll make better time if you don’t have to walk to the park gate. At any rate, no one can protect me from insults, which is the worst one can expect in Hyde Park in the afternoon.”
An unwanted and unexpected proposal was worse.
Ansel Berke had his driver halt the coach near Sonia’s bench. He strolled closer while Sonia was reading the picture book. Fitz sniffed stiff-legged at the baron, who swatted at the dog with his walking stick. Fitz growled and went to investigate the crested, closed carriage.
“A word with you, my dear?” the baron oozed, striking a pose before her bench.
Sonia had not seen Berke for the last sennight or so. He looked more pasty-faced, less polished somehow. His clothes were all the stare, just a trifle awry, as if he’d dressed in haste. Sonia could not judge the condition of his gun hand,
not with his gloves on. Injured or not, the baron was not her choice of companion. Even his heavy cologne nagged at the back of her throat. “I am sorry, my lord, but as you can see, I am occupied right now. Perhaps if you call at Lady Atterbury’s in the morning—”
“No, no, just a moment of your time,” he urged, rudely pulling the book out of Sonia’s hands and thrusting it at Miss Inwood. “The nanny can read. Do come, just a step, my dear.”
Sonia did not want the children or Miss Inwood to hear anything else not meant for innocent ears, so she did get up. She walked a few paces away, not toward his carriage, but back along the carriage path, still in sight of Miss Inwood and the girls.
“Do hurry, Lord Berke. I am expecting Dar—Lord Warebourne shortly.” She said nothing else, but the baron’s color rose.
“Ah yes, Warebourne. That is precisely what I wished to speak of, my dear Miss Randolph. Word has reached my ears that there is a possible understanding—”
“Lord Berke, please do not say another word.”
“I must! Please believe I have your interests at heart. You cannot know that scoundrel. Why, my own sister—”
“My lord, I insist you cease this conversation at once. I can only find it distressing and distasteful.” She turned back to the children, only to find the baron in her way, on his knees.
“I beg you, my dear, marry me instead. I’d make a far, far better husband. No unsavory past, no sniveling dependents, and I have always been one of your staunchest admirers. You must admit my regard is long-standing.”
“I…I am honored by your offer, my lord. However, I am already committed to Lord Warebourne, in my heart if not in the record books.”
Berke got up and brushed at his knees, frowning. “And I cannot convince you to change your mind, albeit the dastard will play you false?”
“No, my lord. If Darius Conover should walk past right now”—Sonia only wished—“with a demirep on one arm and your sister Rosellen on the other, I would not marry you.”
A Loyal Companion Page 17