by Irene Estep
"Miss Huntington. You are lovelier than ever, if indeed, that is possible." Drake lifted her fingers and enjoyed the feel of them against his lips a moment too long, he realized, when the stout lady harrumphed loudly. Although the woman towered over Claresta, he had not even noticed her move across the room to stand at the younger lady’s side.
When the woman made another disapproving sound, Claresta said, "Lord Norwood, may I present my aunt, Lady Westhaven."
He took the lady’s hand, extending her the same courtesy as he had Claresta, if with less enthusiasm. He remembered the night of Claresta’s diner party, the cousin had burst in to announce Lady Westhaven was unwell and calling for her niece. "From your glow of good health, it is plain to see you have recovered fully from your illness."
Reggie made a gurgling sound as he choked on his claret.
Claresta waited until Reggie caught his breath. "You met my cousin, I believe, the night you dined at Gilbert House."
Lord Westhaven wore a puckish saffron waistcoat and stripped small clothes in an indiscernible greenish shade. Drake had never seen neckwear knotted with such tight perfection. The pink shirt collars surrounding Westhaven’s cheeks gave his eyes an exceptionally florid glow. Or perhaps the high points had poked him in the eyeballs one too many times.
Westhaven’s handshake was briefly condescending and languid. Drake thought it impossible for him to become inured of the dandy’s nauseating apparel and boorish manners. Nonetheless, the gentleman was Claresta’s relative so Drake addressed him, if not sincerely, at least, politely. "Delighted you and your mother were able to accompany Miss Huntington on her visit."
"Well," Reggie coughed again. "She could not travel into the country without a chaperone, now could she? ‘Tis a good thing, too, I say, what with all manner of whoevers and whatnots welcome at table. Demmed rustic behavior, if you ask me."
"Reggie, your language," Lady Westhaven chided laughingly. "Do not allow an affront to let you forget your manners, dear."
"Sorry, Mother."
"It is Lord Norwood who deserves your apology, Reggie. Also, Mr. Rutherford."
Drake was surprised at the intensity in Claresta’s voice. He saw a gleam of amusement in Mr. Rutherford’s eyes and said, "What say you, Rutherford? Should we call the young man out for slander?"
Lord Westhaven’s ruddy face paled, and he drew back several paces.
At the same time, Claresta guided her swooning aunt to the couch, and the dowager fanned the lady vigorously with her hand.
For once, Reggie ignored his mother’s affectations of weakness, deciding he must make amends to Lord Norwood or he may be subjected to pistols at dawn. He never was a very good shot.
"I-I say, sir. I-I may have spoken out of turn, but I assure you no offense was intended. In your country the customs must be quite, er, different." He laughed uneasily and shrugged his padded shoulders. "As they say, when in Rome . . ."
"I say, Westhaven, don’t act the jackanapes. ‘Tis only the gentleman’s jest, what? Lord Norwood 'twould not be calling out his future in--"
"You remember, Mr. Thurmond, of course," Claresta intervened before her babbling solicitor said more than he should.
Douglas, who was helping to serve this evening, came in and announced dinner. Quite relieved for the interruption, Reggie rubbed his hands together and bellowed, "‘Tis blood--er, about time. I’m famished. Come, Mother, a good meal shall improve your delicate condition."
The meal was not good, but Lady Westhaven bore up admirably considering the outcome of the repast. The pea soup was thicker than molasses, the potatoes were burned on the underside, and the roast beef, shriveled and dry, defied her utensils.
Lady Westhaven sipped greedily at the port to wash down the overdone food and for once held her tongue. She feared any objections she made could be taken up by her son and cause their oversensitive host to take offense again. Reggie was not a commendable shot, by any means.
Years ago, Cedric had often lamented this fact to his wife when he’d taken his son out on a hunt. Until now, Lady Westhaven considered such matters of little importance.
What was the world coming to? A plebeian sitting down table from her. Her son ignoring her discomfort as he engrossed himself in listening to a war tale by Mr. Thurmond. Lady Norwood conversing with the steward as if he were a member of the family. And Lady Westhaven also noticed her niece kept casting moonling glances toward Lord Norwood with as covert an intent as a demirep at a Cyprian’s ball. That, above half, was the worst. Her niece making a cake of herself over a Colonial, of all things.
She attempted to draw Claresta away from her disgusting regard of the earl and give Rutherford the cut at the same time by directing the conversation toward subjects the bailiff would know nothing about. She prattled on about London’s current fashion and gossiped about the royal family, but occasionally the low bred man would interject some inane question that had little to do with Lady Westhaven’s expertise, and she felt nonplused to answer. Such was the question he put to her when she began a knowledgeable account of the funereal proceedings for the princess who’d tragically died in childbirth the past year.
"What sort of garb did they dress Princess Charlotte’s babe in for the burying?"
"Really, Mr. Rutherford," she responded icily. "Such morbid things should not be discussed at the dinner table."
"Excuse me, your ladyship. Didn’ know ‘twas okay to speak on the mourning garments worn by the royal family and not that worn by the deceased princess and her poor dead babe."
Lady Westhaven fanned her face. Talk of such tragic losses always affected her equipoise.
"Nasty business, people dying, what?" interjected Thurmond, and he entered into a debate with Westhaven about which was worse, civil deaths of slow, preparatory mourning or the inescapable casualties one stumbled across during the heat of battle.
Rutherford returned to his discussion of Norwood tenants with his host after apologizing to Lady Westhaven. But the lady made a grab for her goblet and downed the remainder of her port when Thurmond began to describe an injured man who’d begged his fellow officers to finish him off before the damned rebels got a hold of him.
While Lady Westhaven was motioning for Douglas to refill her wineglass, the dowager leaned to her right and whispered an apology to Claresta for the bad fare and explained that Coggins choleric sensibilities to last minute guests often showed up in his cooking. Claresta recalled Mrs. Williams’ voicing a similar concern of this earlier and told the dowager that, as no one had complained, she should not worry.
Bored with her aunt’s opinions about the latest fashion news, and not wishing to hear Thurmond pontificate on the dreadful events during the Colonial war, she turned to converse with the bailiff and Drake.
"Have you lived at Norwood for many years, Mr. Rutherford?"
"All my life, Miss. And I should have sorely missed it had I been made to leave."
"Whoever could make you leave if you did not want to?"
He exchanged a look with Drake and his lordship spoke. "People without means or influence are often forced to do things they do not want to do, Miss Huntington. How fortunate you are if you have never been made to do something you did not wish."
"Oh, but I have. When I was five my mother disallowed me to have a ginger cake. I was forced to wait several hours before Cook could sneak one into my room," she said, being deliberately facetious.
The earl laughed at her jest, but Claresta wondered what he’d say if she told him of the mandate in her father’s will which would force her to take a husband against her wishes. He would know of it soon enough, she decided, but this was not the time or place to bring it up. "Did I hear you say you’d be riding tomorrow morning? I wonder if I might join you?"
"I’m terribly sorry, but there’s business I must attend while out that cannot be delayed," Drake said regretfully.
"Oh, I see. Another time."
The look of disappointment on Claresta’s face almost made Drake
relent. She would be a lovely companion to take along on his visit to Haverton Hall. But before he called on Chelsworth, he must take care of the situation with Conyers, and he would not subject her to the sort of ugly scene that may come about from his dealings with the man.
"The day after, I am to visit some of the tenants. It will make for quite a long day, but if you don’t mind that, I would be honored to have your company." Drake hoped she would accept, for he really did look forward to having the lady all to himself for a change.
"Not at all, sir. We could take a lunch basket and make a day of it."
"A picnic. What a splendid idea, Miss Huntington," the dowager said, having overheard the conversation. "I shall tell Coggins to prepare food for the two of you."
Lady Westhaven poked Reggie in the arm. "Reggie has been dying to take the air, haven’t you, dear?"
"You know I cannot abide the sun for long, Mother, it ruins my complexion."
"Balderdash, young man. Sunshine is good for the skin, what? Toughens it, you know." Thurmond thumped his flabby chest as if he were a hardy example.
If Claresta could have reached her solicitor’s shins under the table she would have kicked him solidly. Didn’t he know she was trying to find an opportunity to get Drake alone so she could make her proposal? "My cousin surely knows his own mind about what is best for himself."
"But, I was thinking of what is best for you, Claresta," Lady Westhaven said disapprovingly. "It would be quite abominable of us to allow you to ride around the countryside without a chaperone."
Mr. Rutherford grunted, and Lady Westhaven gave him a nervous glance before she turned to get confirmation from her son. "Is that not so, Reginald?"
"Really, Aunt Ester," Claresta said. "There is no need for Reggie to put himself out. Douglas will act as my groom."
Lady Westhaven tut-tutted and shook her head. "'Tis not quite the same, my dear, when you are in the company of an unattached gentleman."
"I quite agree, Lady Westhaven."
Claresta was disappointed with Drake’s cooperative statement, but took heart when he added, "Lord Westhaven is welcome to join us, but I fear the curricle will hold only two. Of course, we could mount him on Cantankerous, I suppose."
"Egads," Reggie cried.
"’Tis hard to believe that old nag is still living." Mr. Rutherford chuckled. "Why she must be nigh on twenty years old. Still takes a dulcet bit, I suppose."
"Cantankerous is as she has always been," the dowager answered. "Percy took the filly from an ale vendor fifteen years ago when he discovered the fellow beating the poor green animal unmercifully. Paid the scoundrel a lofty sum, too. I fear Percy got the worst of the deal."
Moisture gathered in Lady Norwood’s eyes. Claresta reached over and touched the dowager’s hand, and the lady smiled wistfully.
Reginald, much relieved that Cantankerous, instead of being a rowdy young stud was an aged mare, decided his mother was right. He should keep an eye on Claresta and prevent her from making a ninny of herself. She was bound to offer her ridiculous proposition to Lord Norwood once she got him alone. "No harm in taking a little air, I suppose."
After the gentlemen finished their port, Mr. Rutherford declined the invitation to join the ladies in the drawing room.
Drake was beginning to despair of ever getting Claresta to himself. Finally when Lady Westhaven began to abuse the pianoforte and their ears with an unidentifiable piece, Claresta wandered over to one of a pair of wing chairs near the back of the room. He quickly snagged the other chair for himself.
"It is plain to see you did not take music lessons from your aunt." He’d leaned closer so the others could not overhear and caught her delicious lavender scent. He felt a little off center and wondered if it were the aftereffects of his recent illness.
She held her fan in front of her mouth, but he could see a dancing gleam in her eyes. Behind the decorative camouflage, she said, "No, indeed. My father provided me with nothing less than the finest music teacher available, but I fear I was a poor student at the onset. At five, I much preferred chasing the half dozen abandoned kittens we’d just taken in."
"Six kittens. You must have had very indulgent father to allow you to keep that many for your own."
"I used to think so," she said with a sad expression.
"Ah. I suppose a father must draw the line somewhere. What instance occasioned you to face the realities of life?"
"I think," she said hesitating for a moment. Then she turned her shimmering gaze on him and finished, "I believe it was when I discovered my father was very ill, and I realized he would never get well again."
What a bungler he was, Drake thought. In another moment he’d have the lady crying in public. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up sad memories."
"It seems such a long time ago," she said and gave him a brave smiled. "But tell me, sir. What of you? Was there a particular instance when you were first enlightened with the burdens of maturity?"
"Let me see," he said. He rubbed his long fingers across his chin and pretended to think deeply for a moment. "It must have been that one particular Sunday morning right after I turned twelve. I was sitting at the back of the church--my favorite spot since it was easier to make an early escape, should the need arise. I was listening intently to Reverend Johnson expostulate on the sins of the flesh. I guess Mary Sue Jenkins was as inspired as I for she suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me down between the pews. Then she horse buzzed me right on the lips. I found it to be a very enlightening moment to say the least."
Claresta laughed aloud. It was like music to Drake’s ears. The only music filling the room, he realized, when he looked up and saw everyone staring at them. Drake immediately set about thumping Claresta on the back. "Must have got something caught in her throat."
She quickly lowered her head and lifted the fan in front of her face. He thumped her a bit harder, causing her next pealing laugh to come out as a choking sound.
* * *
After Claresta and her relatives retired for the evening, Drake and Lady Norwood met briefly in the library. The dowager was too excited to sleep and felt more vibrant than she had in an age, in spite of her aching joints.
"I cannot tell you how good it is to have a gentleman at Norwood again, sir. If all goes well . . ." such as a betrothal to the wealthy Miss Huntington, but she’d leave that orchestration up to the young lady. By all indications this evening in the drawing room the gel was doing a fine job of it, too. ". . . things will be as they were before my dear Percy—
"Dear me!" Lady Norwood suddenly realized how angry Denton would be with her. She and Drake had discussed the possibility of a change of guards, so to speak, before Rutherford arrived that morning. She had just not thought out the consequences of following through on such a decision. "Denton will be cross as a cat when he finds out you discharged Conyers."
"I don’t think there is much to be concerned about, my lady. But certainly we should not bandy the news about until I’ve dealt with the man," Drake cautioned.
"You’re right. He’ll be beside himself when you give him his dismissal, that is to say, if he’s not too cup-shot to know your meaning. But, if his wits are about him, I daresay, he’ll hop the first mail coach leaving King’s Lynn for London to report your temerity to Denton."
"Denton may not like it, but there is little he will be able do to reverse things."
"That may very well be, but I’m sure he’ll do his utmost to bully me on the subject."
Drake stiffened. "Not unless he wishes to wear his nose on the wrong side of his head."
The dowager laughed. She was very pleased that the earl was ready to defend her to such an extent. Miss Huntington would never find such a fine bargain in another choice for husband. "I cannot see Denton allowing things to come to that. He has a stout heart for intimidating little old ladies, but when it comes to fisticuffs with a gentleman of greater stature, I’m almost certain he’ll cry craven. And, as you say, what can he do?"
&n
bsp; "Not much."
"Exactly." She felt much braver now that she knew the earl would back her at all cost. "As you pointed out, until you gain proof of your identity and file it with the magistrate, I have every right to make decisions. A fact Denton has been deliberately negligent in explaining to me. Well, enough on the subject. I really do like your Miss Huntington. She is a true lady, is she not?"
"Yes, I believe she conducts herself with the utmost decorum." Remembering Claresta’s tumble into his room, Drake knew that was a bit of an exaggeration. But, she had treated Mr. Rutherford kindly at dinner, speaking to him respectfully when none of the others would. Besides honesty and respectability, kindness was the sort of thing Drake most admired in a woman.
Lady Norwood cleared her throat and rose to leave. "Hmmm. Well, it’s way past my bedtime."
"There is one thing I’ve been curious about," Drake said. "When we spoke of Miss Huntington in London, I believe you told me you were not personally acquainted with the lady. You must have had plenty of opportunity to make her acquaintance while residing in Town. How is it you waited to invite her to the country to pay you a visit?"
"That is a puzzle, isn’t it?" Upon that cryptic note Lady Norwood turned and left the room.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Three more days would pass before Claresta had the full pleasure of Drake Lockwood’s company, for he spent long hours away from Norwood Manor.
The dowager assured her the gentleman was deeply involved in estate business and not deliberately avoiding his guests. He wanted to petition for enclosure during the next session of the House of Commons, and he was required to spend a great deal of time trying to convince one of the area’s major landowners to sign the petition. The man seemed especially stubborn about the matter. She did not say which neighbor he was having difficulty with.
Claresta tried to occupy her time during his absences, but she found herself continually reviewing the contract Thurmond brought her. Everything looked in order, but she must come up with the name of a trustee and soon.