“Freddy, I see you made it." After prying Deborah's hand from his sleeve, Gabriel greeted his old school chum with a solid clap on his back and a genuine smile.
“Caldwell said you'd be here, Gab," the baron said, throwing Cecil a suspicious glance. "Thought you wanted to see me. Wouldn't have come otherwise."
“I am always glad to see you," Gabriel replied with feeling.
Miss Taber, quite forgotten in the introductions, tried to slip unobtrusively around the gentlemen, but Freddy, remembering his manners, coughed apologically into his hand. "Ah, don't believe you know Miss Taber. Related to Sylvia, you know."
“I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Taber earlier." Though Gabriel made a formal leg, his smile hinted at their earlier encounter, causing that young lady to blush prettily.
Sylvia Raines, obviously displeased at being left out of this little by-play, sauntered over to the little group. "Jane is my mother's ward and consented to keep me company on our journey," the lovely blonde said in a condescending voice.
Sylvia clearly meant to imply the young woman's status was little above a servant, but Gabriel would have none of it. The quiet little chit had kept his presence unknown, and he was grateful. Besides, Freddy's rounded features were drawing into a squint. “Then, I look forward to sharing her company as well."
To Gabriel, the evening seemed interminably long. The one bright spot was the few minutes he managed to spend with Jane Taber, thanking her for keeping his arrival secret. The young lady made light of his gratitude, and he noticed how her eyes kept darting to where Sylvia sat with his two cousins.
When the ladies retired and Cecil had also taken himself off somewhere, Gabriel commandeered a bottle of brandy from the sideboard and gestured for Freddy to follow him to the more intimate confines of his study.
Once ensconced in two comfortable wing-back chairs, each with a brandy in hand, Freddy turned his round, pale blue gaze on the Viscount. "Ain't good ton, not being on hand for your guests, Gab. Mean no insult," Freddy apologized solemnly. "Just thought you ought to know."
Gabriel smiled to himself. How like Freddy to try to look out for his reputation. "No, you're right, Freddy. But truth to tell, this house party wasn't my idea. Cecil put it together, more or less, then informed me after the fact."
“Never say so!" Freddy's moon-shaped features registered shock, appearing even rounder. "That’s poor ton, for sure."
“Yes, very poor," seconded Gabriel with a chuckle. "But the deed is done, so you and I might as well make the most of it."
“Noticed a lot of females around. Might do for you, if you’re on the hunt, but puts me on edge." Freddy shook his head sadly before taking a good sized gulp of his brandy.
In turn, Gabriel almost choked on his own brandy. "By Jove, Freddy, rid yourself of any such notion. I've no intention of getting caught in parson's mouse trap. I simply meant we could do some fishing and hunting, those kinds of sport."
“That's a relief, Gab. Feared for a moment you might be hanging out for a wife. Think Deborah and Sylvia think so too."
“Let them think what they like. I have a completely different agenda. The last thing I want is some dewy-eyed female making demands on my life."
“Lady Spivey’s coming with one of her nieces, you know?"
“That dowager's got a slew of eligible nieces. Heard the last one she tried to pop off was a real hoyden."
“Pretty chit, actually," commented Freddy, his brow creased from the exertion of recalling the girl. "But a romp. Hadn't gotten the Patronesses' permission to waltz. Someone spotted her at Lady Addington's do, out in the hall by herself, twirling all about. Got carried away by the music. Ended up knocking over a cabinet full of Lady Add's Chinese porcelain. Antiques, every last one of them. They all broke. 'Course, she offered to pay for them." Freddy gave his cousin a wise look, his chin pulled down on his chest. "Word was, Lady Spivey packed the chit off that next morning. Totally disgraced." His last words sounded almost like a death knell.
“Hardly sounds all that bad," commented Gabriel, amused even though he could sympathize with Lady Addington over loosing her valuable collection.
“Wasn't all the chit did," continued Freddy in that same morbid tone. "Galloped in Hyde Park. Told Harry Chesterfield at Drury Lane to shut his trap so she could hear that fellow Hamlet moan and groan on stage. Even insulted the Beau at Almack's, no less. Called him a pompous ass."
“Sounds like a paragon of trouble," laughed Gabriel even as a fleeting image of his wood sprite came to mind. "By the bye, what's Chesterfield up to these days?"
“Told me he'd be here. Begged him to when I heard Lady Raines was coming."
For some time, the gentlemen continued along this vein, catching up on news of old friends before calling it a night. Once in his room, Gabriel reflected how, throughout the evening, he'd been distracted with a vision of the saucy young lady with the countenance of a wood nymph, a heart-shaped face framed with wild, honey-colored tresses. Though the young woman had come close to unmanning him for life, he couldn't help chuckling over the whole incredible incident.
One troubling thought remained, however. She never said who had been chasing her, or why. He’d seen her cut her eyes to the horses before making that wild dash across the drive, a foolhardy act, to say the least. So why had she been willing to risk life and limb, cutting in front of his high stepping team?
Well, there was only one way he was likely to get an answer. Early tomorrow morning he would pay a visit to Pendleton Grange.
###
“Now, where be ye off to, Missy?"
Cook's strident voice didn't slow Emily down as she made tracks for the back door.
“Miss Emily!" called the heavy set matron from the kitchen door.
But Emily had already vanished, ducking low, racing around hedges, then sprinting across the open park for the woods. She skipped along the path until the trees were dense enough to completely hide her from the stable boy whom Cook was sure to send to look for her.
It was almost a ritual. On those rare occasions when Cook won, she forced Emily to accept the chaperone of one of the footmen or stable boys, knowing full well no other human being could keep up with the antics of the young lady. More often than not, however, Emily managed to duck out before Cook could snag her. She'd long since quit using the front door since the butler became wise and kept the blasted thing locked, bolted, and barred. He did the same with the library door leading outside, though she'd managed a few times to slip past his guard on those days he was busy in the kitchen or wine cellars.
As the sun's rays filtered though the leafy canopy, Emily snatched the broad brimmed hat off her head and raised her face to receive its warmth. She pictured Grace, her abigail, screeching over the new freckles that would pop out while slabbing cucumber cream across the sloped bridge of Emily's nose.
Reluctantly, Emily plopped the bonnet on her head, then set out for Lindemann Hall. She intended to extend a formal apology to the Viscount for yesterday's deplorable behavior. It was Grace who related the news gleamed from the servants' grapevine that had alerted her to the identity of the gentleman she’d accosted. The story was that Viscount Lindemann had belatedly arrived yesterday at the Hall looking as if he were fresh from the battlefield. Well, she'd be extremely contrite and hope the gentleman was the forgiving sort. After all, she’d promised her aunt to mend her ways.
It was early yet, but it would be better to make her appearance well before any of the house guests were astir. She didn't think the two conspirators in the woods had gotten a look at her, but it was better not to take the chance. That was another thing--the Viscount had to be warned about the possible danger facing him.
She reached for the ring threaded through the brass knocker of a lion’s snout on the heavy, carved oak door. In a few moments, it was opened by the Lindemann’s formidable butler.
“Good morning, Miss Pendleton," boomed Pickering’s deep resonant voice.
Emily knew that Pickerin
g, like the rest of the locals, was all too familiar with her antics. She'd been roaming the neighborhood with her brothers ever since her father died several years ago, leaving her older brother Tom, who was eighteen at the time, in charge of Nick and herself. And while she had missed the two boys when they left for school and university, she was aware of the tenants' sighs of relief. Left to her own resources, Emily soon learned that the Pendleton staff, despairing over the young miss's penchant for falling into scrapes, sent out pleas to watch out for the orphaned child.
Emily suspected Pickering saw her presence upon the front stoop of Lindemann Hall as an ominous foreboding with the Viscount now home and the house full of guests.
“Is there something I may do for you, Miss?" Pickering peered down his long nose at her.
“Yes, actually," Emily answered, flashing the staid butler a dazzling smile. “I am here to pay a call on Viscount Lindemann.”
With slow deliberation, Pickering narrowed his beady eyes and scanned the stoop behind Emily before he asked, "Has your maid gone around to the kitchen?"
“Er, no," said Emily, quick to assess the butler's hesitation and mentally chastising herself for not anticipating it. A young, reputable lady of Quality did not make house calls to a bachelor's establishment alone or without the proper chaperone. She'd just have to worm her way in, as it was imperative that she beg his lordship's forgiveness as well as his silence. She'd never live it down if word got out about how she'd waylaid the Viscount on his own land. "It is concerning a simple matter, Pickering, and will only take a moment. In fact, you can keep the drawing room door wide open."
“Begging you pardon, Miss Pendleton, but it is early yet. I do not believe his lordship is up. Perhaps you could return later--with your maid." He began to close the door, obviously considering the matter concluded.
“But you do not understand, Pickering," protested Emily, mentally debating whether to risk a possible broken foot if the majordomo were to close the enormous door on her walking boot.
“Who's there?" Viscount Lindemann called out while coming up behind the butler.
Pickering narrowed his brows into a frown. "Miss Pendleton from the Grange, my lord." Still the starchy butler held the door half closed against the pressure of Emily's hand as she pushed to open it. "I was explaining to the young miss that, due to the early hour, Miss Pendleton might wish to return later with her maid in attendance."
When Gabriel had come down the stairs, he’d caught a glimpse of the wood nymph at his front door. Suddenly, his day seemed brighter. Smiling, he watched as his butler and the young woman became involved in some sort of tussle. Not that he was the least bit surprised. As far as an absence of a chaperone for Miss Pendleton, that also did not come unexpected and could be easily handled. “Has the lady broken her fast?"
With rigid correctness, Pickering swung the door wide, again looking down his nose at Emily. Emily stood poised, waiting for Pickering to pose the question while unsuccessfully trying to hide a smug expression even as her eyes twinkled with victory.
Gabriel had to stifle a laugh, completely entertained by the sparring scene. The chit was thoroughly enjoying herself and at Pickering's expense. That worthy looked as if he could strangle the girl before he laboriously cleared his throat.
“His lordship wishes to know if you've broken your fast, Miss?"
“You may inform his lordship that I have not," came Emily's demur reply.
Gabriel chuckled appreciatively at the young woman's audacity. Deciding the opponents were unevenly matched, he took pity on his suffering butler's sensibilities and stepped forward.
“Miss Pendleton, we meet again." He was delighted by the blush that burned her creamy countenance and drew her arm through his to lead her to the dining room.
Through lowered lashes, Emily glanced up at him and was encouraged by his smile. Wanting to get over the rough ground as quickly as possible, she said in a soft voice that she hoped only the Viscount could hear, "I owe you an apology for what happened yesterday, my lord. At the time, I did not know who you were."
“But you do now," he countered. "I don't recall introducing myself.”
“Nor did you," she replied with a gamine smile. "I garnered that information through the servants' grapevine."
“I see,” he said leading her to a long table covered in white damask and set with china bearing the Lindemann crest, crystal goblets, and sterling silverware. “Having known who I was, would that have changed the outcome of our meeting?”
“Oh, yes, for I certainly would not have swung that three limb at you,” she replied.
“Just so,” he croaked, before seeing her seated and then going to the sideboard piled with covered dishes. Quizzing her on her tastes, he filled two plates and carried them to the table. As he placed one in front of her, he asked without preamble, "Tell me, Miss Pendleton, who was chasing you through the woods yesterday?" If he thought to catch her off guard, he soon learned otherwise.
“Actually, my lord, that is the real reason why I am here," she answered. "There were two men. I had overheard them talking."
“So you said yesterday, yet I saw no one." He kept his tone skeptical.
“I don't suppose you did," she replied with a proud smile. “I am fleet of foot."
“Ah, yes, that I remember. But precisely, why were these two men chasing you?"
“That is just it," she said, putting down her fork and scooting to the edge of her chair. "I overheard them plotting your murder. Oh, dear, are you all right?”
*** Chapter 2 ***
Emily jumped up out of her seat, ran around to the head of the table, and began pounding the Viscount on his back. A piece of bacon seemed to have lodged in his throat.
It was several minutes before Gabriel was capable of speaking again. "Did you say you were caught eavesdropping on someone plotting to kill me?"
“I was not precisely eavesdropping," Emily clarified defensively.
“Never mind that," snapped the Viscount, suddenly wondering if he were seated beside a Bedlamite. “Who were these men?"
“I do not know, although it appeared from the way one of them spoke and the way he was dressed that he was a gentleman. Probably one of your guests," she concluded on a dramatic note.
So it hadn't merely been chance that those two ruffians were lurking outside his club on St. James Street the other night. Though it was late, the moon was bright and Gab had decided to walk home when the two suddenly set upon him. Fortunately, he’d heard them coming. When he turned to face them, he saw the glint of a knife in the larger man’s hand and called the man on it. And by chance, the watch, who was nearby on the corner, overheard the commotion and came running. His attacker did some fancy backpedaling before hightailing it.
All the while, Cecil was conveniently tucked away in the country, hosting a house full of guests--whom Cecil had invited to Gabriel's home.
Still, despite the confirmation of his worst fear, it would do little good to show his hand too soon. If the pigeon flew the coop, his cousin would have the chance to attack him at another time, another place, when Gabriel might not be so lucky.
No, Gabriel decided, he'd be smarter to let Cecil play out his game here at Lindemann Park. But there still remained one element he had little to no control over—the inquisitive Miss Emily Pendleton.
He'd have to dispel her fears and try to keep her quiet.
“That's ludicrous," he said in an abrupt, clipped tone. "These people are my relatives, my friends. Besides, your accusations are unfounded, and I take exception to them."
“You may think your family and friends wish you well, but then, so did Julius Caesar. Just look how Brutus, his best friend, betrayed him," Emily replied, not a bit taken aback by his gruff defense. “If you were to look at the facts--"
“Let's not," he cut her off just as the door opened. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd say nothing of your silly imaginings to anyone else."
“Gabriel, my lord," Sylvia called out while clos
ely eying Emily. One look at Emily's outmoded gown and wayward locks and the blond beauty ignored her completely. "I am glad I caught you. It is such a lovely morning for a ride, and I hoped you could accompany me."
Gabriel noticed how Emily seemed to take Sylvia's rude dismissal in stride but suspected it was because Emily was more miffed over his refusal to take her seriously than being snubbed by Sylvia. He, however, was put off with Sylvia’s rudeness.
“Miss Raines, allow me to introduce Miss Pendleton," he began as the pretty blonde glided across the room to stand next to his chair. Dressed in a dark blue habit with silver piping, Gabriel acknowledged Sylvia looked stunning yet found Miss Pendleton's serviceable cherry hued attire more refreshing and pleasing to his eye.
“I can be ready when you are," Sylvia said to Gabriel, again ignoring Emily after the introductions were made.
“Oh, I was about to leave," Emily piped up, pushing back from the table. "They will be looking for me at the Grange."
“The Grange?" inquired Sylvia, all innocence.
“Yes, Pendleton Grange, just over the ridge to the northeast. It is a lovely Elizabethan manor house."
“Lovely," echoed Sylvia, letting her blue eyes roam the palatial proportions of the Park's dining room.
But Emily was used to Sylvia's kind. Rather than take offense, she quickly said goodbye and was out the door before the Viscount could stop her.
Weaving her way through the woods toward her lovely manor house, Emily wondered why the Viscount had been so quick to denounce her warning. When she'd hinted that the killer was one of his guests, he'd hesitated in answering. True, it had been a mere moment. But it was a tell-tale one. He knew or suspected the truth in what she'd related. Well, she'd keep her eyes open and even tell Lindemann's gamekeeper to keep his peepers pealed for any strange or suspicious characters roaming about.
It really was too bad the Viscount was going to be such a nodcock over this. She decided she liked him and would hate to see anything untoward happen.
The Hopeless Hoyden Page 2