Lord Darlington's Darling

by Gayle Buck

  “Miss Fairchilde, you meddle in what does not at all concern you.” Lord Darlington’s voice was cold.

  Abby felt herself scorched by the rebuff. Stiffly, she said, “My pardon, my lord. I shall not speak of it again.” She turned at once to her dinner partner on the other side.

  Several minutes later Abby found her conversation with the gentleman to be at an end, for at last she could not think of anything else to say but the most complete inanities. She was almost ready to sink with the reflection that no one could ever say of her again that she was a tongue-tied, shy little miss, for she had run on like a fiddle.

  Abby avoided looking at Lord Darlington and sipped her wine.

  “Miss Fairchilde, I must beg your forgiveness.”

  The marquess’s voice was low, but she heard it nevertheless. Abby glanced quickly toward Lord Darlington and discovered that he was intently regarding her. She flushed. “I was at fault, my lord,” she said hurriedly, trying to cover her sudden confusion. The expression in his eyes was not at all cold or distant. She did not understand his lordship’s turnabout, but she was glad he no longer appeared so impossibly arrogant and angered.

  “We shall not debate, ma’am,” said Lord Darlington. A serious note in his voice replaced the teasing intimacy she had grown used to from him. “Miss Fairchilde, I am happy my sister may call upon your friendship. I am certain you are a steadying influence on one who is far too headstrong for her own good.”

  Abby shook her head quickly. She—a steadying influence? Hardly that, when she had allowed Lady Bethany to persuade her into this horrid game of message bearer. It was impossible, really! “I fear my influence, as you call it, is far less beneficial than you know,” she said unhappily.

  “Pray do not believe I hold you responsible for my sister, Miss Fairchilde, for I scarcely think you, or anyone else for that matter, is able to curb Lady Bethany’s worst starts,” said Lord Darlington with a hint of his usual amusement in his voice.

  Abby was so relieved by this sign of her return to his good graces that she smiled dazzlingly. “Thank you, my lord!”

  Lord Darlington stared at her for a second, then appeared to shake himself free of some abstraction. “I do not wish to belabor the point, especially when I would infinitely rather talk to you about anything else in the world, but I feel I must ask. What do you know of this affair of Lady Bethany’s?”

  Abby stared at Lord Darlington in consternation. “Know, my lord?” she repeated, and realized at once how stupid she sounded. She shook her head quickly. “I know little, my lord, except what Lady Bethany has confided to me.” It was a slight deviation from the truth, but nevertheless she guiltily kept to herself how she had assisted his sister in her clandestine dealings with Mr. Farnham. She had screwed up her courage to speak to Lord Darlington on Lady Bethany’s behalf and had suffered a major rebuff. She dared not confess to his lordship about the notes and messages for fear of losing his regard altogether. Yet she despised her own lack of character, for she had been given the perfect opening to make a clean breast of the whole. In some ways it would have been preferable that Lord Darlington express his astonished disgust rather than continue to harbor a secret from his lordship that must surely color her perception of their relationship.

  “I hope you will gently turn aside Lady Bethany’s confidences on this subject in future, Miss Fairchilde. My sister is greatly at fault to place you in the role of confidante in this regard,” said Lord Darlington.

  Abby managed to smile at him. She profoundly hoped that she would be able to put behind this uncomfortable business once and for all when Mr. Farnham called at tea tomorrow. “Of course, my lord. I assure you, I do understand. Pray believe me when I say I have not the slightest wish to interfere in your affairs.”

  “I trust this particular affair can be brought to a speedy and conclusive end,” said Lord Darlington, his tone devoid of amusement. He turned to politely reply to a query put to him by the lady on his other hand.

  Rather than being miffed that she had lost the marquess’s attention, Abby was somewhat relieved. She devoted herself to finishing the excellent course of lobster, though hardly tasting a bite of the rich dish. She could scarcely wait for dinner to be done, when she could gracefully take her leave of Lord Darlington and return to the ballroom.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Abby did not look forward to tea the following afternoon, since Mr. Farnham had pledged himself to call. It was rather an evil necessity to which she had resigned herself.

  Mrs. Crocker expressed herself astonished when Mr. Farnham’s card was sent up. “Gracious! Mr. Farnham becomes quite attentive.”

  Her friend Mrs. Scope, who sat beside her, was equally surprised. “Farnham! Why, Abby, surely you are not encouraging anything from that quarter.” She did not wait for Abby to do more than shake her head before she continued. “Melissa, have a care, for I have it on good authority that Mr. Farnham is a hardened gamester and is careless with his reputation, besides.”

  “You need not be anxious, Beatrice. I trust Abby is too levelheaded to throw over her chances for a mere hanger-on,” said Mrs. Crocker. “Really, it has been a much busier Season than I had ever anticipated, what with Mr. Farnham and Lord Darlington and Lord Fielding being my sister’s most persistent admirers!”

  Mrs. Scope bestowed an arch smile on Abby. “You are doing quite well for yourself, indeed!”

  As the gentleman was at that moment announced, the ladies left off further teasing of Abby to accept his greetings. Whatever else might be said of Mr. Farnham, Abby thought with grudging approval, no one could deny his excellent manners nor the grace of his bows.

  Mr. Farnham was quickly seated at his hostess’s invitation and began to regale the ladies with a nice blend of flatteries and scintillating on-dits. Abby sat quietly, listening, adding an appropriate word now and again. She was nervous, wondering how she was to contrive to get Mr. Farnham to herself for long enough to pass on Lady Bethany’s message, when the gentleman himself took a hand in the matter.

  Smiling at Abby, Mr. Farnham said, “I have a special offering for you, Miss Fairchilde, which I trust you will find to your liking. Recalling how much you appeared to enjoy the musicale last week, particularly the pianoforte piece, I cajoled the sheet music used that evening from our former hostess. I was persuaded you would not despise it!”

  “Oh, no!” said Abby, surprised by his thoughtfulness. “I mean to say, how kind of you, Mr. Farnham.” She accepted the folded music sheet, wondering exactly what the gentleman meant by going to such trouble on her account.

  “Indeed! It is a most considerate gesture,” said Mrs. Crocker in accents of surprise.

  “Unusual, to say the least,” said Mrs. Scope, pursing her lips speculatively as she glanced from Abby’s heightened color to Mr. Farnham’s suave expression.

  “I trust you will not deny me the pleasure of escorting Miss Fairchilde to the pianoforte, Mrs. Crocker?” asked Mr. Farnham with a glimpse of his beautiful smile.

  Mrs. Crocker blinked, apparently dazzled, and gestured gracefully with her fan toward the pianoforte at the opposite end of the room. “Of course not, sir!”

  Still smiling, Mr. Farnham escorted Abby away from the other two ladies and solicitously handed her onto the pianoforte’s stool. “Allow me to turn the music, Miss Fairchilde,” he said, plucking the sheets from her hands and placing them on the pianoforte.

  “I really couldn’t play, Mr. Farnham,” said Abby, at once struck by shyness.

  “Nevertheless, pray do so. It will enable us to enjoy a few moments of private conversation, which is the sole reason I have come today,” said Mr. Farnham.

  Abby stared upward at him for a second only, then bent her gaze on the music. She had no apprehension that her skill would be found wanting, but it was difficult for her to play before others, since she shrank from anything that caused her to be the focus of attention. However, when she threw a glance toward her sister and Mrs. Scope, it was to find them
engrossed in their own conversation and, whatever had been just said, afforded both ladies considerable amusement. Heartened, Abby felt surer of herself and her performance naturally improved.

  “Excellent, Miss Fairchilde! I had no notion you were so accomplished,” said Mr. Farnham.

  She glanced at him, not surprised to see the satirical look in his eyes. “That is not what you wish to say, is it, Mr. Farnham? Rather, you wish to demand of me what news I have from Lady Bethany,” said Abby, surprising herself by her own forthright statement.

  Mr. Farnham appeared equally surprised, but he swiftly chuckled. “You have hit it exactly, Miss Fairchilde. And since this is not an overly long piece, I trust you will enlighten me before much longer!”

  “It is quickly said, and must be as quickly believed, sir!” Abby drew in her breath, not looking at him. “Lady Bethany wished me to tell you that you must give her up. Not only that, but you must stay out of Lord Darlington’s way. It—it is dangerous for you to do otherwise.”

  “The devil! So Darlington takes a hand!” It was not a lover-like exclamation, but angered.

  Abby raised her eyes, just as her fingers faltered on the keys. His expression was closed, but there was a glitter in his eyes. Her heart speeded a little, for she was not used to such a look of suppressed rage. “Mr. Farnham—

  “No, no, Miss Fairchilde! You must keep playing! I must think for a moment!” he said harshly.

  Abby did as she was bid, politely requesting the gentleman to turn the sheet for her when it became time to do so. Mr. Farnham heeded her request without a word, his brows creased and the expression in his eyes intent.

  “I am coming to the end, Mr. Farnham,” said Abby finally.

  He looked down quickly. “Quite! Between us we have done marvelously, don’t you agree? Pray convey to Lady Bethany that I remain her devoted servant!” He straightened from his leaning posture against the pianoforte and offered his hand.

  Abby accepted his aid in rising, but said quickly, breathlessly, “Think of me no longer in the role of messenger, sir!”

  Mr. Farnham glanced down swiftly at her as he escorted her leisurely back to join the other ladies. “Jumping ship, are you? Just as well, perhaps.” As he approached them, he drew on a winning smile. “Indeed, Miss Fairchilde! I could not be more pleased by your appreciation of my humble gift.”

  Abby murmured something, but it was doubtful the gentleman was attending, for he began taking his leave. Abby offered no more than a civil nod and the slightest of smiles as Mr. Farnham left.

  “Well!” There was a wealth of meaning in Mrs. Scope’s tone as she glanced at Abby, raising her brows. “It appears that gentleman is quite smitten with you!”

  “Not with me!” said Abby swiftly, her thoughts tumbling over what Mr. Farnham had said and, more importantly, what he had not said.

  “Whatever do you mean, Abby?” asked Mrs. Crocker curiously.

  Abby pulled herself up short. She shook her head with a semblance of ease. “Why, only that I should hope not! I do not care for Mr. Farnham in the least.”

  “You are a sensible miss,” said Mrs. Scope approvingly. “I would not have been at all surprised if your head had been turned just a bit by such striking attention. A thousand pities that he is completely ineligible. Such an air! Such a smile!”

  “I doubt such things carry much weight with my sister, Beatrice,” said Mrs. Crocker, not without pride. “My sister is much too obliging to forget where her duty lies! I am certain I may rely upon your discretion, my dear, so that I may tell you in perfect confidence we live in hourly expectation of accepting an offer from Lord Fielding!”

  Abby flushed, thoroughly embarrassed and for once feeling incensed. “Really, Melissa!”

  “You see how she colors up whenever I mention it, so not another word shall 1 say,” said Mrs. Crocker.

  Chuckling, Mrs. Scope rose and started to pull on her gloves. “It has been a thoroughly pleasant visit, Melissa, but I really must be going. Abby, I wish you well!”

  Several minutes passed while the two ladies chatted as they slowly exited the drawing room. Abby did not go with them, but remained behind, her reflections not very happy.

  When Mrs. Crocker returned from accompanying her friend to the front door, she remarked, “I have always liked Beatrice. She feels just as she ought on any number of things.”

  Abby had been waiting for her sister. She had come to sort of a decision, and she hurried into speech before her courage completely deserted her. “Melissa, pray do not broadcast it about that I might receive an offer from Lord Fielding, or indeed, anyone else! I do not wish to give rise to gossip.”

  “What is behind this start, Abby?” asked Mrs. Crocker, perfectly astonished. “As for gossip, Beatrice would never—”

  Abby shook her head. “You don’t perfectly understand, Melissa! I may not accept an offer from Lord Fielding even if he were to be so obliging!”

  Mrs. Crocker frowned, the expression in her brown eyes disquieted. “Why, Abby! Of course you shall accept his lordship! Why, it is an understood thing!”

  “Not by me,” said Abby, beginning to tremble. She was surprised that she had been able to say as much, for she had never gone cross-grain of her sister before.

  “Abby, this is mere megrims! I am persuaded once you have reflected upon all you have said, you will feel very silly, indeed,” said Mrs. Crocker, dealing patient common sense. “My dear, you have nothing to fear of Lord Fielding. I judge that he will make you an admirable husband! My fondest wish is for you to be happy. Now, if you would but stop leading on poor Lord Fielding, we may all be comfortable.”

  “Oh!” Abby was so vexed that she was nearly speechless. She dashed past her sister and escaped upstairs, leaving Mrs. Crocker looking after her in considerable astonishment.

  It was not to be thought that Abby regarded the evening’s obligations with pleasure. She was certain to see Lady Bethany at the function, and she knew well enough how that damsel would tax her about Mr. Farnham, once she knew the gentleman had paid her a call. And so it was.

  Abby sighed as she tried to respond with patience to her friend’s demand for further enlightenment. “Bethany, I have told you several times already what Mr. Farnham said when I relayed your message to him.”

  “He remains my devoted servant,” said Lady Bethany, nodding. Her expression was anxious. “But what does it really mean, Abby? Did he quite understand? Oh, what shall I do? I must talk to him—make certain he understands what Sylvan said. Abby, you must contrive to get him alone and—”

  Abby shook her head. “I am sorry, Lady Bethany! But I cannot!”

  Lady Bethany sighed. “Abby, it is the simplest thing. Just let him know in passing that you wish to speak privately and—”

  “You do not understand, Bethany. I will not play the role you have assigned me any longer,” said Abby. Her heart was beating quicker than usual, and she dreaded how her friend would react. Nevertheless, she felt that she had utterly gone her length in helping the star-crossed lovers.

  Nonplussed, Lady Bethany stared at her. “You cannot be so mean as to deny me now! Not when I am in such a quake! Why, it is so heartless!”

  Abby clasped and unclasped her hands in nervous apprehension. “1 know that you feel it to be so. But you have not considered my feelings, Bethany. I am quite sick whenever I reflect how I have aided you to indulge in this desperate flirtation.”

  Lady Bethany gasped, her face pinking with outrage. “Flirtation! How dare you! How dare you speak so cheaply of what I hold so dear!”

  “I beg your pardon! But you must see, it is not fair to me,” pleaded Abby. She was desperate to make her friend understand, but quailed involuntarily before the flare in Lady Bethany’s narrowed eyes. “Bethany—!”

  Lady Bethany made a quick gesture. “No! I think enough has been said. Your feelings! So selfish! I have been greatly mistaken in you, Miss Fairchilde!” She swept away, every line of her carriage denoting furious anger.


  Abby was crushed. She knew as well as she stood there that she had lost a friendship, and all for the charm of a snake’s smile!

  It did not go long unnoted that there was a rift between Lady Bethany and Miss Fairchilde. Lady Bethany avoided her former bosom bow, while Miss Fairchilde cast several unhappy glances after the beauty.

  Mr. Crocker, standing up with his sister-in-law, kindly recommended that she not make such a spectacle of herself. “I have no doubt at all, and nor does anyone else, that you have enjoyed a hideous row with Lady Bethany.”

  Abby’s eyes flew to his face. “Is it so obvious, Peter?”

  “How could it be otherwise, when she is giving you the cold shoulder whenever she may and you look much like a whipped dog?” he asked.

  “Oh, dear!”

  “Never mind, Abby! I dare say you shall both have forgotten all about it by the morning, and you will be friends again,” said Mr. Crocker comfortably.

  Abby felt tears start to her eyes. She shook her head quickly. “No, not friends!” She looked up at her brother-in-law beseechingly. “Peter, I wish to go home! May I please go home? I feel so horrid!”

  He was startled. “Of course, my dear. We shall inform Melissa at once.” With that, he led her off of the dance floor. There was a hurried consultation, during which Abby was adamant, before the Crocker party took leave of their host and hostess.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Abby woke heavy-eyed and despondent. To all of her relations’ well-meaning questions, she had returned evasive answers. At last they had left her alone, Mr. Crocker expressing his belief again that these things happened occasionally and it would all even out eventually.

  Abby took scant comfort in her brother-in-law’s optimism. Strange, how much her friendship with Lady Bethany Hart had meant to her. No matter how uncomfortable she had become with her despised role of messenger between Lady Bethany and Mr. Farnham, she had nevertheless learned to revel in the younger woman’s untrammeled personality. Now the day stretched before her without the added zest that Lady Bethany had always brought with her.