Minor Indiscretions

by Barbara Metzger

  He dismissed the hopeful maidservants with a smile and a simple, “If you satisfy Mrs. Tolliver, I am satisfied.” For another of those smiles, Melody thought, the village girls would scrub the gates of hell if he asked. Mrs. Tolliver he introduced to his own major domo, who bowed ever so stiffly as he declared himself at her service. Mrs. Tolliver led the London staff away, happily murmuring, “At my service, why, I never!”

  Melody thought she saw the viscount wink in her direction and decided the rogue was showing off for her benefit. Still, she breathed more easily.

  Lord Coe turned to the boys and asked Harry if he would be kind enough to show the grooms around the stables and possibly help with Caesar. “The stallion gets restless in strange surroundings, and you seem to have a fine hand with him.” No words could have thrilled Harry more; Nanny had to call him back to bow to his lordship.

  “And Philip, my friend,” the viscount said, shaking hands with the solemn lad, “I have a favor to beg of you, also. I brought some books with me that Lady Ashton will not wish mixed up with her own. Dry stuff, history and science, mostly. I understand you are familiar with the Oaks’ library, so could I bother you to take charge of the collection, find a spot where they will be out of the way, or even make a list if you think it necessary? In truth, I cannot trust such a task to the footmen.”

  Pip did his best to stammer out that he would find the project an honor, not a chore. He gave up trying to express himself with manful dignity, when Lord Coe added: “Of course, if any of the volumes should be of any interest to you, feel free to make full use of them.” Pip grinned like the young boy he was and flew after a footman toting a heavy carton from the baggage carriage.

  Melody knew she was seeing a master in action when Corey bowed again over her mother’s hand. “Lady Ashton, how kind of you to meet me in person,” he said, still holding that hand, to Lady Jessamyn’s giddy delight. “And looking lovelier than ever. Why, if I hadn’t known Miss Melody was your daughter, I would have guessed— No, I shouldn’t keep you standing out here in the hot sun, when I know your constitution is delicate. How thoughtless of me, after you have been so gracious in permitting me the use of your home. May I impose further by begging the pleasure of calling this afternoon? You see, I intend to plead for your assistance in entertaining my guests. Of course,” he said, turning to Felice, “with Miss Bartleby nearby, I shall have to pry the gentlemen away to get in a day’s hunting. Enchanté, mademoiselle.” Felice’s hand was also saluted and also held longer than necessary, in Melody’s estimation.

  The viscount was instantly invited to take luncheon, tea, potluck supper while his own staff was getting settled in, anything the precious man desired.

  “No, no, I must not intrude. And you, my dear Lady Ashton, must husband your strength for the houseguests. Would tea put too much strain on you?”

  Would taking over Hercules’s seven labors? Melody believed her mother would move mountains in order to have charge of the guest lists. An unsteady Lady Ashton tottered back to the Dower House, reciting names of local families and mentally eliminating any with marriageable daughters. Felice hurried after, most likely planning another stunning outfit to wear for tea. Any more daring and Corey would be served a rare eyeful, along with his watercress sandwiches.

  Melody turned her attention back to the steps and Lord Coe’s greatest challenge: Nanny. How infuriating that he found it so easy! All the viscount had to do was pull a bright red ball out of his greatcoat pocket. “Here, I brought this for Ducky. Do you think he’ll like it?”

  Nanny actually had to blow her nose! “No one’s ever brought the tyke a gift.” She snuffled, hurrying off to give her favorite his treat, leaving Melody in the selfsame situation she had vowed to avoid. How did it happen that she was alone with a practiced rake, a hardened charmer? She looked around to see if he was calling the birds out of the trees next.

  Corey laughed, and the sound made her toes want to curl in her slippers, a not unusual reaction when he was close. “Don’t think you can sweet-talk me so handily—” she started to bluster in defense, but he stopped her with a finger against her lips.

  “Sh, kitten, I haven’t said a word. Don’t get your fur up, for I mean us to be friends.”

  “Friends?” she asked around the tingle in her lips. After what he’d last offered?

  He took his finger away, reluctantly, it seemed. “It’s possible, you know. You’ll see. Trust me.” Trust him? She could trust a puff adder more! But his own sister was coming, and a friend sounded like a gift from the gods right then, especially a friend who was strong and kind and could manage whole armies of eccentrics without losing that devil-sent smile. Melody nodded, but with reservations.

  Corey was satisfied, for now. He stepped back. “I brought all the children gifts, but the rest are packed up somewhere, except for the ball and this.” He pulled a tissue-wrapped parcel from another inside pocket. It was a small china-headed doll, all dressed in ruffled lace. “Harry helped me with suggestions the last time I was here. Do you think Margaret will like it? Should I have found something else?”

  The foolish man was actually unsure of himself! Why did he think little girls would be any harder to wrap round his finger than big ones? Melody had to laugh. Obviously, Lord Coe was more used to buying his gifts at jewelers rather than toy shops. “She will adore it, my lord. It is the perfect gift. Why don’t I go fetch Meggie now, so you can give it to her away from the others. Say a half hour for Nanny to make sure she is spotless?”

  *

  Lord Coe met them on the path midway between the Oaks and Dower House. Meggie was holding Melody’s hand, hiding behind her skirts. Melody tried to make introductions: “Lord Coe, this is Meggie. Meggie, please curtsy to your…your…”

  “Uncle,” the viscount supplied; that was as good a title as any. “Uncle Corey.” He knelt to the child’s level, one knee on the ground—another pair of trousers ruined. He could see the moppet had that same pale hair of all the Inscoe clan and his sister’s turquoise eyes. Below that, she was wrapped in a heavy wool scarf. He gestured to the wrap and asked, “May I?”

  Meggie nodded solemnly and stood still while he unwound the muffler. Then, “My God,” he said, “she’s beautiful!”

  “Of course she is,” Melody agreed, not adding that any child of his would have to be. He was offering the doll, and receiving fervent hugs and adoration in return. Corey’s eyes seemed suspiciously damp, and Melody knew there was a lump in her own throat.

  The viscount swung the child up in his arms and exclaimed, “Heavens, Miss Margaret, you and the doll together weigh less than a feather pillow! Why, we’ll just have to fatten you up, won’t we, so you don’t fly away in the next heavy breeze.”

  “Oh, Uncle Corey.” Meggie laughed. “I can’t fly away!”

  Corey held the child close and told her, “No, my precious, I’ll never let you get so far away again.”

  Lord Coe was in love. Irredeemably and unquestionably smitten, and by a skinny six-year-old with silky hair and a gap-toothed grin. All his plans would have to be rearranged, and now he couldn’t wait for his sister to get to Copley-Whitmore so they could discuss the alternatives. There was no way this little fairy child was being sent off to Cornwall.

  Melody’s opinions were changing, too. How could she deny him the child, or deny Meggie such love? If his lordship proved at all trustworthy, Miss Ashton would have to relent. Then again, if his lordship proved at all trustworthy, she would eat her bonnet.

  *

  Father Christmas could not have received a warmer welcome at Dower House that afternoon than Viscount Coe and his carpetbag. His lordship presented Lady Ashton with the latest London fashion journals, Byron’s newest volume, and a box of candied violets.

  “These are just tokens of my appreciation for all of the trouble you have gone through on my behalf, and the assistance you have so kindly offered,” Corey told Lady Jessamyn. He also permitted her to gush on about her plans for his house part
y, without committing himself to any. “There are still ten days before anyone arrives, ma’am. I should like to consult my sister’s wishes before I send out invitations.”

  He turned to Felice and bowed from the waist. “But if we do have an impromptu dance party, or attend the assembly at Hazelton, I beg you will save me a dance, Miss Bartleby. I am asking now, of course, to get a jump on my friends and to avoid the crush of all the local beaux. Perhaps you would honor me by carrying my small gift.” Felice’s present was a silk and bamboo Oriental-style fan, with a not-quite-naughty picture of satyrs and nymphs at picnic on one side. Felice practiced attitudes with the fan—coy maiden, blasé lady, sultry houri—until Nanny told her to put the fool thing down, she was creating a draft on the tea.

  Nanny would not ordinarily have been at tea, but Lord Coe had asked that the children be brought down. “Even Ducky and those savage little twins?” Lady Ashton was as astounded as if he’d asked her to dine with Hottentots or headhunters. Either might be preferable, for all she knew.

  But Ducky was content to sit in the corner and roll his ball back and forth between his spread legs, and the twins were soon fixed in another corner, jabbering away over their gifts. Corey had reached into his satchel and pulled out two big floppy rag-doll babies with painted faces and two packets of ribbons. He handed Dora the doll that was wrapped in a pink blanket, with a pink dress, pink booties and a pink bonnet; with Melody’s help, he tied pink ribbons in Dora’s hair. Laura received blue ribbons and the other doll, all in blue. “There now,” Corey beamed, looking at the others for congratulations, “now we can tell them apart.”

  It did not take ten minutes before each twin wore one blue ribbon and one pink, and each doll wore half the other’s clothes. Pip and Harry were in whoops until Nanny clucked at them; they returned their attention to their biscuits and to the viscount’s wondrous bag. Corey shrugged good-naturedly and vowed to try again, even if he had to tattoo the little heathens. He found another strawberry tart and popped it into Meggie’s mouth, where she and her doll sat on his knee. (Yes, they were a fresh pair of trousers, and yes, there was strawberry jam already on them. No matter, Bates had already given notice. Twice.) Finally taking pity on the boys, Lord Coe pulled out his gifts to Harry.

  “I know you said you’d be content if I just let you care for Caesar and hang out around the stable. After lessons and chores, of course,” Corey added for Melody’s benefit. “But I used to love this book as a lad, and I was as horse mad as you, I’ll wager. It’s all about knights and their chargers.” Although he thanked his lordship politely, Harry wasn’t quite as keen on that gift as on the other, a genuine leather jockey cap, which he declared bang up to the mark, the best gift he’d ever received, and wasn’t Lord Coe the most capital of good fellows, Miss Mel? Melody was thinking somewhat along the lines of Greeks bearing gifts, but out loud she agreed with Harry’s enthusiastic praise.

  Corey held a leather box out to Pip. “P-please, my lord. Harry said you b-brought all those b-books from London just for me. I c-cannot thank you enough n-now, so I c-cannot accept any more g-gifts.”

  “Well, Philip, that’s a fine way to repay someone’s generosity, denying him a promising chess partner.” Corey opened the leather case and regretfully fingered the carved ivory pieces. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider?”

  Pip looked to Melody, who smiled her encouragement. “I suppose I might, sir. B-but only as a favor, you know.” They all laughed, Pip, too.

  Still smiling, Lord Coe said, “Harry, I thought you were a better conspirator! I hope you didn’t tell anyone about the last gift.” Melody held her breath while Corey gently lifted Meggie down and, standing, brought the tapestry bag over—to Nanny! Inside were four hanks of the softest angora yarn dyed a lovely green color. “Harry thought you could use a new workbag, Nanny, but I hope you can make something pretty with the wool.” Only Nanny saw his wink or got a good enough look at the yarn’s color to see it was the exact shade of Melody’s eyes.

  Tea was over; the gifts were all parceled out. “But Uncle Corey, didn’t you bring a present for Miss Mel?” Miss Ashton could have throttled Meggie as almost all eyes turned to her. Mama was reading one of the journals and hadn’t paid attention to anyone else’s gift after hers, and Ducky had fallen asleep. The twins offered to share their dolls with Melody, the boys were embarrassed, and Felice snickered.

  Her face aflame, Melody started to reprimand the child for her rudeness, but Lord Coe interrupted: “No, Meggie is quite right. It would have been unforgivable on my part to forget the indomitable Miss Melody, as if I could. To my sorrow, her gift was too big to fit in the bag.”

  And that was a relief to Melody, who feared for a moment that the unpredictable man was going to pull a jeweler’s box from his pocket and shame her in front of the children with a courtesan’s gift. Now she would have to wonder for another day what he could possibly get for her that was too large for his bag of tricks. It was a surprise, he said, that she would have to go into the woods with him the next morning to find. If he was planning anything untoward, wouldn’t he just be the one surprised, for Melody swore to bring Nanny and Meggie and Harry and Pip and…

  Chapter Seventeen

  Advance guards were dispatched. Melody sent the twins ahead along the path. Corey was delighted to see them each carrying a baby doll wrapped in its blanket, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember which twin had pink and which had blue, not that he could rely on their keeping the designated colors anyway. He held his finger to his lips and shook his head, so the twins skipped back to Melody all giggly that they knew a secret, and she did not. Melody wasn’t surprised that her scouts’ loyalties had been so easily subverted and did not even think of sending Meggie to spy. That chit was firmly in his lordship’s pocket, dancing ahead with a basket of sticky buns to offer him as a midmorning treat.

  Corey stood in the clearing, sunlight on his pale hair, his coat slung over a tree branch, and his white shirt open at the neck. Melody caught her breath, reminded of her first sight of him in Barstow’s inn yard when she thought he looked like a sculpted god. The crooked smile he wore today was all too human and all too manly for her suddenly racing heartbeat. In his hands, when her eyes got past the broad shoulders and the tanned vee of his chest, was her gift: a lightweight, twin-barrel, nearly recoilless, modern rifle, with embossed silver plates on the stock. A lady’s hunting weapon, and all for her! To think that the last gift Miss Ashton had received was Mingleforth’s Rules of Polite Decorum—and she had hit Lord Coe with it! Tears came to Melody’s eyes, and she fumbled for her handkerchief.

  “Well, I am glad to see that at least Harry and the twins liked my gifts,” Corey teased to give her time to recover. Harry was wearing his cap and had likely slept in it, and the twins were clutching their baby dolls. They were, at any rate, until one of the dolls started to squeal and kick, demanding to be set down. First one and then the other piglet ran off, bonnets and all, the twins, Harry, and Angie in chase behind. Melody’s troops were deserting her, and so was her willpower to resist Corey’s enchantments.

  “If this is some kind of bribe, my lord,” she began, only to be brought up short by his laughing denial.

  “What a suspicious lady you are, Miss Ashton. Didn’t I tell you to trust me? The gun is only a gift, to show my appreciation for all you’ve done, and to atone for whatever aggravation or distress I may have caused you. I thought all women liked gifts.” Melody glanced quickly to Meggie and Pip; they were happily setting up the painted cloth target Lord Coe had also brought. “But it is much too costly. I cannot accept—”

  “Now you are sounding like Philip. Don’t be a peahen, Angel, I bought it for my own self-defense. Can’t have you blundering around so close to the Oaks with that unwieldy antique you were trying to use. I thought I could show you how to shoot.”

  He thought he might give her pointers, did he? Melody walked over to the round target. “Come away, children, Lord Coe is going to teach me h
ow to use the gun.” Philip cleared his throat, and Meggie started to say, “But, Uncle Corey—” until Melody clapped her hand over the child’s mouth.

  Corey demonstrated how to load the rifle, speaking simply enough for Meggie’s understanding, then paced off a short distance. No need to tax her skill, he said, just hitting the target would be enough for starters.

  “Oh dear, yes,” Melody agreed, trying to recall even half of Felice’s affectations. Perhaps she could develop the other girl’s knack of looking up at a man and batting her eyelashes. No, Melody was too tall. Instead she stood limply, permitting the viscount to position her hands properly on the rifle. Then he stood behind her, his arms around hers, holding the gun up. Oh dear, indeed! What had she gotten herself into?

  Her back was against his chest, her cheek was brushed by the thin fabric of his shirt sleeve, her fingers were wrapped in his, and she was enveloped in the fresh lemon and spice scent of him. Melody never noticed that the viscount’s voice was a trifle ragged as he tried to remember the instructions for aiming a rifle. Instead, she noticed how his words rumbled in his chest and how his breath ruffled the hair near her ear, so close to his mouth. Why, if she turned slightly…

  “And squeeze back slowly on the trigger like…so.”

  The gun’s boom brought Melody back to earth, that and the need to make sure her knees were still supporting her when the viscount withdrew his arms to check the target.

  “We’ll have to work on your aim, I’m afraid, if you can miss at this distance.”

  Aim? Had she been aiming? Melody smiled sweetly and wondered if she could try the next shot by herself, to get a better feel for the weapon, she said. The rifle was so light she overcompensated, and her shot hit the outer ring, which his lordship thought was just wonderful. He winked at Pip, who almost choked.

  Melody fumbled the reloading, and then asked Meggie if she could spare two of the sticky buns.