Lord Darlington's Darling

by Gayle Buck

  “My sister is fortunate in at least one of her admirers, then,” said Lord Darlington. It had become obvious to him some weeks previous that Miss Fairchilde’s brother had been dazzled by his sister. He was rewarded for his compliment by a startled, then grateful look from August. Gently he prodded, “What of the billet?”

  “Oh, that! Lady Bethany fairly snatched it from my hand and read it. Then she burst into tears and— and slapped me,” said August with a renewed sense of ill-usage and outrage.

  “I apologize on my sister’s behalf. You were hardly used, indeed,” said Lord Darlington. With his rare smile he said, “I trust you will not hold it against her.”

  August reassured the marquess quickly. “No, of course not! I only hope that I have not done anything wrong, my lord. As I said, I thought the fellow was an admirer. He told me he had promised a poem to Lady Bethany, but he was too bashful to approach her for himself. Well, I could understand that!”

  Lord Darlington smiled and shook his head. “I do not hold you responsible, August.” Nothing of his furious thoughts was reflected in his friendly manner. “However, I suspect you will think twice before allowing yourself to be cupid’s messenger in the future!”

  “I certainly shall!” exclaimed August. He finished off his brandy, and with regret set down the empty glass. “Well, I suppose I must be on my way.”

  “Need you run off quite yet?” Lord Darlington stood up, setting aside his untouched glass. “You see, Lady Darlington is putting it about that my sister has had the headache and was suffering so much that she quite unfairly made you to be her scapegoat. I would be in your debt if you could stay a little while longer and bruit it around to a few personages that Lady Bethany had earlier seemed not to be quite herself.”

  “Of course, my lord. And actually, I did think Lady Bethany was not as lively as she usually is,” said August, also standing.

  “Thank you, August,” said Lord Darlington, walking with the young gentleman to the library door. He held out his hand. “You shall find me to be a good friend for this favor.”

  August shook the marquess’s hand and pronounced himself gratified. Just before he stepped out, Lord Darlington stayed him for a second. “By the by, who was the blushing poet? Did you know him?”

  “I have met him here and there. It was a Mr. Farnham. He seems well enough received, and so I thought there was no harm in it,” said August, once more appearing to be thrown onto uncertain ground.

  “Indeed, I believe I have myself seen Mr. Farnham here and there,” remarked Lord Darlington indifferently. He smiled at August and gestured a footman forward. “James will keep safe your hat and cane, Mr. Fairchilde.”

  August relinquished his possessions willingly enough to the servant and ambled back into the ballroom.

  Lord Darlington spoke briefly to the attentive footman. “Pray inform her ladyship that I am going in search of Lady Bethany.”

  “Aye, my lord.” The footman cleared his throat. “I heard tell miss ran upstairs to her rooms, my lord.”

  “Indeed?” Lord Darlington cast a glance upward at the wide stairs. His mouth tightened. “I am obliged to you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Darlingtons’ soiree ended on a good, if not spectacular, note. After several minutes’ absence from the ballroom, Lord Darlington and his sister returned to the gathering. There was a great deal of speculation, both whispered and open, over what had really happened. It was already known that young August Fairchilde was in a forgiving mood, having gone so far as to infer he had teased the young lady when he had seen she did not feel quite the thing. The cachet was put on the evening when Lady Bethany went up to the youthful gentleman and, putting out her hand, said with her sweetest smile, “I am sorry! Can you forgive me for being so beastly? It was just the headache and all of the excitement.”

  August gallantly agreed he could forgive the young beauty, and capped it all by asking her for the honor of leading her out in the next set. Lady Bethany had appeared to hesitate for a breath only, but upon briefly meeting her brother’s expressionless eyes, she smiled and acquiesced.

  When Miss Fairchilde and her party gathered their wraps and took leave of their host and hostess, it was seen that Lady Bethany was once again in her usual lively spirits.

  Abby was naturally curious about what had caused Lady Bethany to so far forget herself that she had made a public spectacle at the Darlingtons’ own soiree. She could get little out of her brother, who negligently waved aside her questions, as well as those by the rest of his family, before going yawning up to bed.

  The next day, as soon as Abby could persuade her sister to accompany her, she paid a social call on Lady Darlington and Lady Bethany, ostensibly to thank them for a pleasant evening.

  However, Abby and Lady Bethany soon removed themselves to the far end of the room to the window seat, where they could hold private conversation. “Lady Bethany, whatever got into you yesterday evening? I could not believe it when I heard what happened. And August will tell us nothing,” said Abby quietly.

  “Oh, did you not see? Everyone else seemed to do so!” said Lady Bethany bitterly. “It was so stupid! August gave me a note that so unnerved me that I didn’t stop to think.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks in remembrance. She shuddered. “It doesn’t bear thinking about! I was so afraid I had ruined everything for Mama and myself and Sylvan, too! When I realized how badly I acted, I dared not return. But Sylvan made me splash my face and go back downstairs and it all ended just as he promised. Everyone was very kind and forgiving.”

  “You are fortunate to have such a kind brother,” said Abby forthrightly.

  Lady Bethany grimaced, dropping her hands. “I don’t know about that! He means to scold me today, I just know it!”

  “Haven’t you seen Lord Darlington since last night?” asked Abby, diverted from her concern over her friend’s welfare.

  Lady Bethany shook her head. “No, Sylvan goes out riding early in the morning before Mama and I rise. I do not look forward to speaking to him, I can tell you. Mama has already raked me down.”

  “It was extremely bad of you,” remarked Abby, wondering at such passions living in her friend’s breast. For herself, it was beyond her imagination that she could ever stage such a scene. She lacked the necessary force of character and also Lady Bethany’s high-strung personality.

  “You needn’t reproach me as well!’’ exclaimed Lady Bethany with a slight pout. “I know it was very bad, but if you only knew—! Abby, the note was from Richard. That is what overset me.”

  Abby looked at her in dismay. “I thought you had made it plain to Mr. Farnham that he must not think of you!”

  “And so I did! At least, I thought I did. 1 wrote him that he must wait for my majority so that we may be wed.” Lady Bethany’s eyes filled suddenly. “Oh, Abby! He threatened to give me over for another! He wrote that I did not care for him in the least, and he was in such flat despair he would rather wed anyone else in the world than one who was giving him such—such pain!”

  There was such a pronounced anguish in Lady Bethany’s expression that Abby was afraid the two older ladies at the other end of the room would notice. She placed her arm around her friend’s shoulder and gave her a little shake. “You mustn’t cry, Bethany! Don’t let Lady Darlington or my sister see your face, or you will be undone!”

  Lady Bethany gave a broken laugh and dashed her hands across her eyes. “My practical Abby! Do you never let your emotions run away with you?”

  Abby recalled vividly how much she had liked being kissed in the moonlight, and she blushed. “On occasion, I fear. But we are talking about you, Bethany. Perhaps it is all for the best. Mr. Farnham is distraught now. It is only to be expected. But I am certain he will come about, so you mustn’t be anxious over a few wild words penned in haste.”

  “Do you mean he will forget me?” asked Lady Bethany, her voice colored by indignation as a flush made its way into her face.

  “Of course
not! How could he?” said Abby hastily. “However, isn’t this all for the best, Bethany? You had to stop sneaking about, you know you did!”

  Lady Bethany sighed, her burst of anger seeping away. “Yes, of course. You are right. It would have been infinitely worse if Sylvan, or Mama for that matter, knew more than they already do about me and Richard.” She pressed her friend’s fingers. “Thank you, Abby, for being a true friend. I could not have borne any of it except for you!”

  Abby reassured the other young woman of her continued friendship, and Lady Bethany, apparently in much better spirits, begged her to accompany her on a shopping expedition later in the day. Abby agreed to it, only warning that her sister’s plans for her might not include such an outing.

  “Let us ask dear Mrs. Crocker now,” said Lady Bethany, at once bouncing up. Abby laughed and followed, willing to add her words of persuasion should they be needed. However, neither Lady Darlington nor Mrs. Crocker could recall anything of extreme importance that would stand in the way of a pleasure outing.

  Upon returning to the town house, Abby and Mrs. Crocker were informed by August that Lord Fielding had left his calling card. “His lordship looked fairly blue that you were out, Abby,” said August cheerfully. He waved at his sisters as he swung past them on the stairs. “I shall be out until late with Wilson and Bligh, so don’t wait supper on me.”

  Mrs. Crocker at once led the way into the drawing room and retrieved the calling card from the silver salver. Holding the gilt-edged memento between her fingers, she regretfully shook her head. “His lordship did not pen a note, Abby. How annoying! I do wish we had been here to receive his lordship. Peter has told me that Lord Fielding is hinting strongly at wishing to speak alone with you, Abby. Has his lordship indicated anything to you, my dear?”

  Abby at once felt a fluttery feeling of panic. “Oh! I am certain Peter exaggerates the matter, Melissa. Lord Fielding seems much the same as always.”

  Mrs. Crocker regarded her thoughtfully for a long moment. “It has seemed to me lately that you have not been as amenable to Lord Fielding’s company as you once were, Abby. Am I making something of nothing? For if I am, pray tell me!”

  Abby was silent for a long moment. She was almost shaking inside as she turned over in her head just what she would like to say to her sister, for she thought she knew well enough how it would be received. She tempered her answer. “I—I fear that I do not know my own heart as well as I thought I did, Melissa.”

  Mrs. Crocker sighed as she replaced Lord Fielding’s calling card on the salver. “Abby, dear Abby! You know that Peter and I have only your best interests at heart. We both spoke to you about it, that Lord Fielding is just the gentleman for you. You were not adverse to accepting his addresses, as I recall.”

  Abby clasped and unclasped her hands in nervous tension. “No, of course not! I mean, I wasn’t then. It is just that lately, when I am with Lord Fielding, I don’t feel as ... comfortable as I once did.”

  “Have you taken Lord Fielding in aversion, then?”

  “No, of course I haven’t!” exclaimed Abby, appalled that her sister could take her meaning in such error.

  Mrs. Crocker looked at her for a long, long moment. “Abby, I have excused your lukewarm reception toward Lord Fielding on the grounds of your natural reticence and your desire to evoke a bit of jealousy in him by bestowing your smiles on others. However, I am surprised that things have come to such a pass as this!”

  Abby turned away, unable to bear the disappointment and disapproval in her sister’s words and expression. She clasped her hands tightly together. “I am sorry, Melissa! I shall try to do better, I promise you.”

  “My dear!”

  Abby felt her sister’s hands drop gently to her shoulders. All of her bottled emotions burst, and she turned into her sister’s embrace. “Oh, Melissa, why is it so hard? Why don’t I ever know what to do?”

  Mrs. Crocker made a soothing sound and brushed a strand of curling hair out of her sister’s face. “You are being such a goose, Abby. Of course you know what to do. You have every bit of integrity and understanding you will ever need to form your own best decision.” She tenderly set her sister back from her and looked down into Abby’s tear-streaked face. “Now, you mustn’t cry and make such a to-do over it. Promise me that you won’t.”

  Abby gave a wavering, grateful smile. She fumbled her handkerchief out of her pocket and mopped her eyes. “You are so kind to me, Melissa. Why ever do you put up with me?”

  “I love you, of course. And so do Peter and August and Mama and Aunt, too!”

  Abby gave a watery laugh and blew her nose. It was such a relief to know her sister was as supportive of her as ever. Just as her spirits were lifting, Mrs. Crocker said, “I suggest you search your heart most carefully, Abby, so that you don’t disappoint Lord Fielding.”

  Unaware how her words had made Abby’s heart plummet to her toes, Mrs. Crocker smiled and began chatting brightly about what that evening held in store for them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When Lord Darlington returned from his ride and had changed out of his riding clothes to appropriate morning attire of frock coat and pantaloons, he requested his sister’s presence in the library. It was all of a quarter hour before Lady Bethany ventured to knock and come in. He raised his eyes from the correspondence in his hand, his expression frowning. His expression did not alter upon seeing his sister slip into the room.

  “You wish to see me, Sylvan?” asked Lady Bethany. She was smiling but her brother was quick to note the wary look in her eyes.

  Lord Darlington gestured for her to seat herself in one of the wing chairs in front of his desk. As she did so, he leaned back in his tall chair and regarded her thoughtfully. “I trust you are fully recovered from last night?”

  “I am, thank you,” said Lady Bethany formally. She gave all the appearance of one who was trying quite hard to appear at ease.

  Lord Darlington said nothing for a moment, looking at her from under narrowed eyelids. He was well-aware of her hidden discomfiture, and it was not his intent to alleviate it. He wanted to put her off balance, for what he had to say to his sister had to make a lasting impression. Finally he sat forward, resting his elbows on the desktop. “Bethany, something has come to my attention which has me in a grave puzzle. Perhaps you may hazard a guess at what it is?”

  “Why, no I—I am sure that I could not,” said Lady Bethany, her gaze more wary than ever.

  Lord Darlington smiled slightly. “I shall let that go for the moment. We shall come back to it presently. Pray tell me—what was in the note August Fairchilde passed to you which so upset you as to cause you to completely forget yourself?”

  Lady Bethany gave a start, and her widening eyes expressed her astonishment. “Sylvan! However did you know? No one saw it! No one!”

  “On the contrary,” said Lord Darlington with finality. He did not elaborate, but moved smoothly to the main point. “I have it on good authority it was a note from Mr. Richard Farnham. Pray do not conceive that you can persuade me that it was otherwise, for I shall not believe you.”

  Color had surged into Lady Bethany’s face, and her eyes flashed angrily. Defiance sounded in her voice. “I shan’t try! Yes, it was a note from Richard! There! I have admitted it! Is that all?”

  “Not quite, Lady Bethany,” said Lord Darlington deliberately. He had the satisfaction of seeing a spurt of fear in her expression. No one knew better than himself of his sister’s headstrong personality. If he did not handle this interview just right, he could drive Lady Bethany straight into the arms of her undesirable suitor. Her swift temper and obstinate nature often led her into unthinking actions or words, for which she was invariably sorry for afterward. He hoped to preserve his sister from experiencing remorse in this instance. He sat back in his chair once more, nonchalantly twirling the beribboned fob that hung from his waist.

  Lady Bethany’s eyes were at first drawn to the movement of his fingers, but irresistibly her
gaze soon rose to meet his own. She flushed suddenly.

  Lord Darlington let the fob drop. He sighed in a weary fashion. “Must I drag it out of you, Bethany?”

  She dropped her head, apparently finding the pleating of her skirt of supreme interest. “I am sure I do not know what you mean.”

  He smashed his palms down on the desk, making his sister jump in her chair. “Must we play at cat and mouse?” he demanded harshly. He stood up and came around the desk corner.

  Lady Bethany stiffened, obviously prepared to defy his anger.

  Lord Darlington took hold of one of her reluctant hands, folding it into both of his. In a carefully controlled voice, he said, “Bethany, I hold you in the highest affection.”

  Tears started to her eyes. “Oh, Sylvan!” She looked away from him, pulling her hand free. “Pray do not!”

  “Do you wish me to berate you instead?” he asked with a touch of grim humor.

  “Oh, much!” exclaimed Lady Bethany, glancing around at her brother quickly. Her eyes were still damp, but there was the hint of a smile in them.

  Lord Darlington sighed. He sat down on the desk edge. “Since you will not allow me to spare you, then I cannot. Bethany, I suspect you have seen Mr. Farnham on several occasions.”

  “What is there in that, pray?” asked Lady Bethany, deliberately obtuse. “I am sure that Mr. Farnham is received everywhere. His movements cannot be of the least interest to anyone!”

  “Ordinarily, I would not care. However, the gentleman intrudes upon my interests. In short, Bethany, I will not have you seeing him or communicating with him, except be it under the eyes of our mother or myself. Is that quite understood?” asked Lord Darlington.

  Lady Bethany leaped up, her eyes blazing once again. “You cannot force me to give him up! You cannot!”

  “I can and I will.” Lord Darlington stood, facing his sister and bringing all of his formidable will to bear. “I told you once before, Bethany, how things were. I meant every word. You will not cast yourself away on this paltry fellow. And should you choose to defy me—” His voice turned silken. “Why, then, you will leave me no alternative but to ... remove Mr. Farnham.”