Lord Darlington's Darling

by Gayle Buck

  “Abby met Lady Darlington and her daughter at the milliner’s shop earlier today. I shall explain it all later,” said Mrs. Crocker quickly as the curtain below began rising,

  “Lady Darlington and her daughter were all that was gracious,” said Mrs. Fairchilde.

  “For myself, I liked that young buck,” commented Mrs. Paddington decisively.

  As Abby turned back to the stage, a smile tugged at her lips. She decided that she liked that young buck, too.

  Chapter Seven

  Lady Darlington and her daughter paid a social visit the following day. Her ladyship apologized for not calling on the Crockers and Miss Fairchilde earlier. Mrs. Crocker graciously received them. Several minutes passed in pleasant exchange, during which Lady Darlington showed herself very friendly toward Abby.

  August came into the sitting room in order to inform his sisters of his intention to join friends over dinner, and he stayed several minutes to converse gracefully with Lady Darlington and her daughter. It was seen by his admiring glance in Lady Bethany’s direction that he was quite taken with her. He parted reluctantly, but with the promise that he would strengthen his acquaintance with the Darlingtons.

  “Such a delightful, lively young man,” remarked Lady Darlington with approval.

  “Yes, August manages to keep us all on our toes,” said Mrs. Crocker, smiling.

  “I liked him excessively,” said Lady Bethany with a giggle.

  Abby beamed at her, pleased that her newly acquired friend liked her sibling. “He is quite one of my favorite persons, even if he is my brother.”

  Before taking her leave, Lady Darlington issued an invitation for the Crockers and dear Miss Fairchilde and her brother to attend a soiree that she was holding for Lady Bethany. “And of course, Mrs. Fairchilde and Mrs. Paddington.”

  Mrs. Crocker cast a swift glance at her sister’s eager expression and civilly accepted. “I do not know whether my mother or aunt will accompany us. My mother is invalidish and she and my aunt generally prefer to remain at home.”

  “Then if that is so, they will be missed,” said Lady Darlington with a smile.

  When the Darlingtons had left, Mrs. Crocker said thoughtfully, “Well, I must say you have made quite a favorable impression on Lady Darlington and her daughter, Abby.”

  “I certainly don’t know why,” said Abby. She looked inquiringly at her sister. “They both seem extremely affable and well-bred, so there cannot be the least objection, can there?”

  “No, of course not. Though, I don’t know what Peter will say about spending an evening as Lord Darlington’s guest,” said Mrs. Crocker with the hint of a smile.

  “Does Peter dislike Lord Darlington so very much?” asked Abby, her gaze averted as she smoothed a crease in her skirt.

  “Oh, well, we hardly know his lordship. It is just his coldness of manner and his taste for dandyism which have given Peter, and myself, a disinclination for his lordship’s company,” said Mrs. Crocker with a small laugh. “However, that need not throw up a barrier against an acquaintance with Lady Darlington and Lady Bethany. There are any number of personages in society that we may not particularly like, Abby, but I am certain we shall treat all with proper civility.”

  “Of course,” murmured Abby, feeling a lifting of her spirits. She did not know why, but the anticipation she felt for the Darlington soiree was much keener than for any of their other social commitments. She supposed it was because of how pleasant she had found all of the Darlingtons to be, including the marquess. For her part, she admired his nicety of dress. His was not a grossly overstated style, such as the padded and perfumed and ornamented practitioners of the true dandy set; yet the marquess did not exemplify the Corinthian set, either, with their severe lack of ornamentation or color.

  The week went swiftly, filled as it was with several social engagements. Abby met Lady Darlington and Lady Bethany on different occasions, and while Lady Darlington treated her with a flattering distinction, Lady Bethany quickly established herself as Abby’s bosom bow. Abby became the younger woman’s confidante and she came to enjoy the role, since it was the first time anyone had ever asked her opinion or accepted her thoughts as important.

  As they walked arm in arm one afternoon in the park, Lady Bethany cast a swift glance behind her to see that their chaperoning maids had dropped back out of earshot. In a confiding voice she said, “Dearest Abby! You will never guess what has transpired!”

  “Then, you must tell me,” said Abby warmly.

  “Do you recall my telling you about a particular admirer of mine?” asked Lady Bethany.

  “Vividly! I gathered he was an Adonis and a veritable god among lesser mortals,” said Abby teasingly.

  Lady Bethany laughed as a tinge of color rose in her face. “I suppose I must have sounded very silly to you.”

  Abby pressed her hand. “Not at all! I perceive nothing wrong in falling in love with someone whom you admire.”

  “Oh, I am so glad you agree! The thing is, Abby, he has followed me to London!” said Lady Bethany on a breathy laugh. Her eyes sparkled with a particularly radiant light.

  “That is news, indeed!” exclaimed Abby. With a smile she said, “I will be most curious to be introduced to this gentleman whose name you have never revealed.”

  “I am certain you will meet him everywhere!” said Lady Bethany airily. She slid a speculative glance at her companion. “However, I shan’t introduce you to him, Abby. You see, Sylvan does not approve of his adoration for me.”

  Abby shot her a startled, dismayed look. “I am sorry, Bethany! It—it must make it very awkward for you.”

  “Oh, yes,” agreed Lady Bethany, with a lowering of her countenance. “It is of all things the most unfair! If Sylvan had the least bit of human feeling, he would understand how I feel.”

  “Perhaps Lord Darlington considers your admirer to be unworthy of you,” suggested Abby tentatively.

  “Of course he does! That is just it!” exclaimed Lady Bethany, beaming her approval of her companion’s quick wit. “I knew you would understand, Abby! Sylvan dragged me up to London simply to separate us. But now my darling has followed me. Does not that prove his devotion to me? So I must and I shall see him!”

  “Shouldn’t you abide by your brother’s wishes? I am positive his lordship has only your best interests at heart,” said Abby with a twinge of unease. She felt wholly inadequate at preaching wisdom to the headstrong beauty pacing beside her.

  “Pooh! Nonsense! Sylvan cares only that I make a brilliant match. He cares nothing for my heart!” said Lady Bethany dramatically. Tears stood on the ends of her lashes. “I am totally distraught, Abby! It is cruel—oh, so cruel!—to keep us apart like this!”

  Abby’s compassion was stirred. Though she could not imagine that Lord Darlington was quite the ogre Lady Bethany had painted him, her friend’s distress yet moved her. “I am so sorry, Bethany. If there was anything that I could do—”

  “Oh, Abby!” Lady Bethany stopped short in the path, turning toward her enthusiastically. “There is something you can do!”

  Abby was taken aback, and immediately disclaimed. “I am sorry, Bethany! I could not possibly speak to Lord Darlington on your behalf. I am not on such intimate terms with him that I—”

  “Oh, I know that! Sylvan would not listen to you even if you were to speak to him,” said Lady Bethany, waving aside Abby’s objection. She saw that the maids were coming close, and she urged Abby to walk again. Leaning close to Abby’s ear, she said conspiratorially, “I was hoping you could give my admirer a message for me.”

  Now Abby stopped short, pulling away, a shocked expression on her face. “Lady Bethany! Of course I couldn’t do such a thing!”

  Lady Bethany tugged at her arm and drew her down the path again. “Don’t stop walking, Abby! We will certainly be overheard.”

  Abby obediently continued their stroll, but all of her pleasure in it was dashed. All of her thoughts were on the outrageous suggestion thrown out
by her friend. “Really, Bethany, I don’t know how you could ask such a thing of me.”

  “All I wish to do is to write a small note. I just want to tell Rich—to tell my admirer that he must keep his distance because Sylvan dislikes the notion of his suit so,” said Lady Bethany, swallowing a sob. She looked pleadingly at Abby. “Do you not see, Abby? It is so unjust of Sylvan! My brother won’t even allow me to tell him that I must not think of him. He must believe I am the biggest beast in nature for acting so coldly toward him, when we were used to be such good friends!”

  “Oh!” Abby wasn’t certain that she quite understood. However, Lady Bethany seemed sincerely distressed, and she did understand that. All too often her own preferences had been overrun by stronger personalities than her own. The reflection that Lady Bethany was not particularly weak-willed occurred to her, but her sensitivity brushed aside logic. All of her sympathies had been aroused. “Oh, dear! I quite see how oppressed and unhappy you must feel.”

  Lady Bethany nodded, her mouth drooping in contemplation of her blighted life. “It is very hard to bear, I assure you! When I meet my admirer’s reproachful glances, it is all I can do not to burst into tears and rush into his arms! But that would never do!”

  “No, it would not!” said Abby in strong agreement.

  “Now can you see how I have been driven to ask this favor of you, Abby? Will you not give my note to him, for my sake?” asked Lady Bethany.

  Abby felt herself wavering. She was reluctant to agree, for it all smacked of the clandestine, but she was not proof against Lady Bethany’s pleading gaze. Sighing, she nodded. “I trust I am not making a mistake.”

  Lady Bethany shrieked and threw her arms around her. “Thank you, my dearest of friends! I shall never ask another thing of you, I promise! Oh, Abby, how happy you have made me!”

  Abby laughed as she threw a glance backward at their chaperones. She realized it was not only their maids who were looking curiously at them, but that they were being given a few stares from passersby as well. “This is all very well, Lady Bethany, but everyone is looking at us.”

  Lady Bethany tucked her gloved hand back into Abby’s arm, “I don’t care. I am so very happy. I shall write the note for you to give him this very evening. It will be the easiest thing in the world, I am persuaded, because it will be the biggest squeeze at Lady Tarleton’s.”

  “But I won’t know who he is,” said Abby, at once attacked by panic. She felt like she was about to step off of a precipice, and she didn’t know how deep it was.

  “Never mind! I shall point him out to you beforehand. You are sure to be introduced to him, if you haven’t already made his acquaintance, for Rich—he is received everywhere,” said Lady Bethany breezily.

  “Then, I haven’t the least notion why your brother should object to this gentleman’s gallantry,” said Abby with uncharacteristic tartness.

  “It has me in quite a puzzle, too,” agreed Lady Bethany.

  With mutual agreement, the two friends turned and retraced their steps to their individual carriages. Lady Bethany assured Abby that she would take care of that small matter as soon as she returned home. Abby smiled and agreed, still having mixed feelings over the whole matter.

  Upon her return to the town house, her worried thoughts were given a new direction. Mrs. Crocker asked her into the sitting room, and when Abby went in, she gestured grandly at the posies residing on the occasional table. “What think you of that, Abby! Two posies delivered for you this afternoon! One is from Lord Fielding, naturally. The other is from Lord Darlington, of all people!”

  Abby turned to the occasional table to hide her warming face from her sister. “My word! Two posies!” she said inadequately, reaching for the cards. She picked up the one from Lord Darlington and swiftly read it. A smile lit her face. “How kind his lordship is!” she exclaimed.

  Mrs. Crocker had gone to the mirror to check her hair and she did not see which of the posies her sister had picked up. “Yes, I thought so, too. Lord Fielding is always such a gentleman,” she said. “You must wear one of the posies with your gown this evening, Abby.”

  “Of course,” murmured Abby as she hurriedly picked up Lord Fielding’s offering. She scanned the short, flowery note with scant interest. “I shall take them upstairs with me now, as I was just going up to take off my hat.”

  “We will be leaving for Lady Tarleton’s function a little later than I had originally planned,” said Mrs. Crocker, turning away from the mirror. “And we shan’t have August’s company as I had hoped, either, as he informed me that he is committed elsewhere.”

  Abby, at the door with the posies in her hands, looked back inquiringly. She had already known about her brother’s engagement, as he had confided to her at breakfast that he would rather jump into the Thames than attend a full-dress ball. “Oh, has something cropped up with Peter?”

  “He sent word from his club that he will be detained perhaps an hour,” said Mrs. Crocker with a smile and small shrug.

  “I don’t mind arriving a bit later,” said Abby, suddenly recalling Lady Bethany’s plan for her to spirit a note to the unknown admirer. “In fact, I wouldn’t mind remaining at home this evening if you and Peter would prefer it.”

  “You are such an accommodating dear,” said Mrs. Crocker fondly. She shook her head. “No, I shan’t deny you such a treat, Abby! We shall await Peter’s escort and then we shall go.”

  Abby nodded and left to go upstairs and begin her toilette for the evening. She glanced down at the posies in her hand, but her eyes did not see the one with Lord Fielding’s card attached to it. She hoped she would see Lord Darlington at Lady Tarleton’s function so that she could thank him for his thoughtful gesture.

  Chapter Eight

  When Abby went downstairs, gowned and coifed, the posy from Lord Darlington was pinned to the lace slip over her satin gown. In company with her sister and brother-in-law, she made her way through the receiving line into the ballroom. She looked everywhere for Lord Darlington, but did not immediately see him in all of the crowd of guests.

  Lord Fielding came up to greet the Crackers and Abby. His blue gaze went at once to the posy pinned to Abby’s dress, then lifted to her face. “Miss Fairchilde, what means this?” he asked without preamble.

  Abby looked at him, surprised by his stiff tone. She was not used to his lordship treating her with anything less than the most extreme courtesy. “Why, I don’t know what you mean, my lord.”

  “You do not wear my roses,” said Lord Fielding in a lower voice.

  Abby flushed, but she did not falter in meeting his eyes. For once she found the courage to stand up against another person’s disapproval. After all, she had wanted to wear Lord Darlington’s white snowdrops instead. “No, my lord, I do not,” she said steadily.

  Lord Fielding stared down at her. His expression was rocklike and his whole manner was offended. “I do not know how to take this rebuff, Miss Fairchilde. I thought we had a fair understanding. I assumed that—well, it must be obvious what I assumed!”

  “I—I am sorry, my lord. It was not my intention to hurt you,” said Abby, dismayed by the strength of his reaction. She did not like how it made her feel to be seated while he loomed over her with such a disapproving air.

  “Miss Fairchilde, I believe this is our dance.” drawled a familiar voice at her elbow.

  Abby turned in her chair and greeted Lord Darlington’s appearance with instant relief. “Yes! Indeed, my lord, it is.” Rising at once, she went off with Lord Darlington with the feeling that she was escaping. She thought she could feel Lord Fielding’s gaze boring into the small of her back, and she shivered.

  As they formed up in the set, Lord Darlington said quietly, “Are you all right, Miss Fairchilde? Should you prefer to sit out the set?”

  “Oh, no, no! I am perfectly fine now, I assure you,” said Abby swiftly.

  Lord Darlington thoughtfully regarded her before glancing in the direction from which they had come. Lord Fielding w
as still standing where he had been left and there was a heavy frown on his face. Lord Darlington drew his own conclusions. He turned back to his partner, to say softly, “You are wearing my offering tonight.”

  “Yes,” said Abby simply, meeting his gaze with all the boldness her shy character would allow.

  “I am honored,” said Lord Darlington.

  The music carried them apart in the country-dance, but each time they came together, it was as though they were the only two on the floor. When the set was over, Lord Darlington offered his arm to her and Abby did not hesitate. They promenaded slowly about the dance floor and into the refreshment room, all the while conversing quietly. It was a good half hour before Lord Darlington returned Abby to her seat, but she felt as though it had been but a second or two.

  Lord Darlington bowed over her hand, promising to call on her on the morrow, and walked away.

  Abby was brought back down out of her happy haze by a sharp tug on her arm. She turned to discover her sister frowning at her. Abby blinked at the anger in her sister’s eyes. “Why, whatever is the matter, Melissa? What has overset you so?”

  “Can you ask? Lord Fielding has divulged the whole. Abby, how could you? You are practically affianced to his lordship. What possible motive could you have for refusing to wear his posy tonight?” asked Mrs. Crocker in a lowered voice. She did not wait for an answer, but continued, “It took all my powers of persuasion to bring his lordship around to a better frame of mind. Even Peter has had to take a hand in the matter by taking Lord Fielding off to the card room to divert his thoughts with a hand or two of whist. He was very much offended, I can tell you!”

  “I wasn’t aware that I am constrained to accept only offerings from Lord Fielding,” said Abby defensively. “He is not my betrothed, after all.”