by Joan Vincent
“So you fled to your country home prepared to spend the rest of your life wallowing in self-pity.”
“But a certain young miss wouldn’t have it that way.” A smile came despite his dour emotions. “It is you I should have wed,” he said half seriously.
Audacia straightened stiffly in the chair. “I have never heard such nonsense. Why wed someone who does not love you when you can have another who does?”
Rising, Geoffrey bowed, preparing to take leave.
“Lady Lucille loves you very much,” Audacia told him calmly.
“That has been very well hidden from me,” the squire protested. “One moment she is smiling at me and the next I could be in Warwick for all the attention I get. And Warwickshire is exactly where I intend to be.”
“But Geoffrey.” Audacia laid a hand on his arm to stay him. “Have you not thought that she may be in as much doubt regarding the direction of your affections? What is she to think when you suddenly return after years of absence? Have you spoken to her of your attachment?”
“How can I when she pales at the very mention of the arm? I —you have accepted it, but she still regards me as only part a man. No, Audacia—”
“Then you must make her accept it. Show her what little effect it has had.”
“If she would consent to wed me, it would be from pity.” Geoffrey voiced the hindering fear at last. “I could not abide knowing she forced herself to look upon me, to touch me and not—” He turned from her.
Tears came to Audacia’s eyes at the pain she saw. Her resolve tightened. “I know she loves you, Geoffrey. You should not toss aside happiness so foolishly. Give her a chance. Give yourself a chance. Remain a few weeks more, please?”
“There will only be more hurt.”
“That is what you said when first we met and I told you that you could do most things that men do. I was not willing to pity you then, nor now.” She toughened her tone. “Perhaps your love is not strong enough for the test?”
A wry smile came to the squire’s lips. “I have never understood how you manage to make things look probable.”
“Obstinacy was a word you used in the past,” she said and smiled in return.
“Three weeks more—that is all,” he conceded.
“But you must act the suitor,” Audacia prompted. “Remove any doubt from Lady Lucille’s mind as to your intentions if—” she winked, “they be honourable.”
“Questions do begin to enter my mind,” said the squire and tilted his head at the eager figure before him. “With all this talk of what I must do what is it you shall do?”
Audacia laughed nervously. “I shall extol your virtues to the lady.”
“About Roland,” Geoffrey persisted, beginning to enjoy himself.
“Other than wondering at Lady Lucille’s charming ways after being afflicted with Lord Greydon’s wilful, pigheaded, pretentious behaviour, I think not of the gentleman.” Audacia folded her arms, a stubborn glint in her eyes.
“How unfortunate,” the squire noted innocently. “I had thought you charmed him mightily.”
* * * *
“Are you certain you would rather come with us?” Sir Aderly asked Audacia after Lady Darby’s startled look at the suggestion that she ride in his hired coach to the Saltouns’ ball.
“With my father and brother to escort me, I lack nothing,” she replied.
“We have had so little time together,” she added, turning to the viscountess, “and surely you welcome a few moments alone with Mr. Darby since Lord Darby is unable to attend?”
“Patrick will be so disappointed,” Lady Darby said pointedly, “but he will understand your wish to attend with your father.
“Daniel, do you know what could be delaying his arrival?” she asked the younger Aderly.
“No. No,” Audacia’s brother answered apprehensively. “Could we not depart now, Father?” he asked.
Sir Aderly tempered a frown at his son’s rudeness and bowed to Lady Darby. “You will forgive Daniel’s impatience, my lady,” he apologized. “The young,” he added with an explanatory lift of his brow.
“Oh, yes,” Lady Darby sighed. “I am so fortunate in my Patrick. Do not hesitate on my part. We shall follow directly,” she added lightly.
“Fill Patrick’s name in on your dance card, Audacia,” the viscountess admonished. “He would be crushed if you do not.”
Curtsying lightly, Audacia murmured noncommittally as she walked past her. Her card would be entirely filled before Mr. Darby arrived.
Once in the coach, Sir Aderly began a rapid questioning of Daniel’s opinion of London in this, his first opportunity to visit with his son. When Daniel displayed little enthusiasm and more lack of knowledge, he paused.
Sensing trouble, Audacia began a stream of lively chatter. She imparted the more humorous incidents Helene had involved her in or had subjected the family to during her visit.
Her father continued to study Daniel, who stared at his hands, which clenched and unclenched. Receiving no reaction from either, Audacia fell silent.
Then Daniel blurted angrily, “There is no reason I should not enjoy my stay here. Why should I be required to visit those stuffy acquaintances of yours and speak of laws and machinery and . . .”
“What nonsense has young Darby been filling you with?” Sir Maurice asked sharply. “It was understood your studies were not to be laid aside entirely while here, but broadened by men of experience. You are not yourself, my son. What has altered you so?”
“How would you know if I have changed?” the young man flung back. “With your head forever with your machines.”
“Daniel,” Audacia exclaimed.
“And who are you to speak?” he threw heatedly at her, “treating Mr. Darby so callously. Why you are little better than a teasing—”
“I’ll not have you speak to your sister thus,” Sir Aderly cut him off. “Tomorrow you are to come to my rooms. We shall discuss what has wrought such an ill change in your mien.”
Daniel stared belligerently for a moment, then dropped his gaze. When the coach slowed because of the crush of vehicles approaching to attend the ball, he jumped from it and ran into the crowd of beggars, vendors, and sight-seeking commoners.
“Father, should you not go after him?” Audacia asked. “This is so unlike him. He must be ill.”
“The night air will cool his temper.” Worry lines eased on the baronet’s face and he chuckled.
“Father?” Audacia asked at this strange reaction.
“I should have guessed what is upsetting your brother. Daniel probably fears that I shall learn that he spent an evening imbibing too freely and enjoying other libertine pleasures. I will assure him my youth is not entirely forgotten. But we have arrived. Do not concern yourself overly much about him—pangs of manhood,” Sir Maurice assured his daughter.
Audacia nodded, but doubt lingered. What had Darby told him that he accused her of untoward actions? The matter would have to be discussed later. This eve she hoped to advance the squire’s cause.
* * * *
Audacia glanced about the ballroom and spied Lady Lucille’s royal green gown. Having just directed Geoffrey to the gardens, she was eager to complete her strategy. “Lady Lucille,” she said joining her.
“Lucille, as we agreed,” her ladyship corrected with a smile. “And thank you for sending me these hair ribbons. I forgot to mention how delighted I was with them when we arrived. It is the perfect shade for my gown. So kind of you.”
“I knew they would match the moment I saw them at the Emporium.”
“I am thankful I showed you this gown when you called with the viscountess.” She laid her gloved hand on Audacia’s arm. “It has been a long time since I have had the pleasure of a coz such as we had that morn.”
“I am hopeful we shall prove good friends,” Audacia said, thinking of how much she would enjoy Lucille’s company if she and the squire wed.
“Then we must, for I feel the same,” her ladyshi
p squeezed her hand. “But I interrupted you. What was it you wished?”
“Oh, yes. I discovered the most unusual statue at the far end of the gardens. Won’t you come and look at it? I am certain you shall be able to tell me what it is.”
“Of course. It will be a pleasure to escape the heat of this crush.”
“I must speak with my father for just a moment. Do go ahead. I shall join you.”
Lord Greydon halted at Audacia’s side. “Was that my sister who just went outdoors?”
“Why, no,” she lied. “Lady Lucille has retired to the upper floor to refresh herself.”
“Have you seen Geoff?”
“In the card rooms, I believe. He was being plagued by matrons wishing to dance with him.”
“Geoff would never go to the card rooms to avoid them. I think I shall check the gardens,” Greydon told her doubtfully.
“I assure you neither one is there,” she repeated, biting her tongue to keep from speaking her true thoughts about his interference.
A suspicious glint came to the earl’s eyes as he studied her. “We are being unusually pleasant this eve,” he noted warily.
“And ‘we’ are being unusually meddlesome.”
“I was incorrect, excuse me,” Roland inclined his head. “You are your usual disagreeable self.”
“Which says little for your priggish charm,” Audacia tossed back with a smile.
“But a dissembler I am not.”
“You accuse me, my lord?”
“Let us walk. We attract more attention than is to my liking.” He nodded at those beginning to glance at them.
“In the gardens, my lord? I was cautioned against venturing forth unchaperoned. But he who warned me knows I take little heed of his words,” she added, seeing he was determined to enter the gardens either with or without her. “I am told there is a fountain in the centre,” she said. “Could you lead me there,” Audacia stalled for time thinking how fortunate she had been in directing Geoffrey and Lady Lucille to a different area.
Greydon proffered his arm. “I wonder that you dare,” he quoted her words archly.
Meeting his eyes as she laid a hand upon his arm, Audacia’s heart skipped a beat. “If only” echoed through her mind.
Silence escorted them till they halted before the softly spraying fountain. A golden half-moon hung in the sky overhead and soft strains of a waltz drifted through the neatly trimmed shrubs. A profusion of spring flowers scented the air.
Greydon broke the spell of enchantment that hung over them as they walked slowly forward. “What have you been about this eve?” he asked softly. Gazing down at her profile Roland found he was barely able to restrain himself from reaching out to brush back a black wisp that had gone astray and curled softly against her cheek.
“About?” Her gentle tone matched his, and then a warning pushed its way into her thoughts. “What do you mean, my lord?” she asked guilelessly, halting.
“My sister has done you no harm. Why do you wish to cause her pain?”
Shock washed the affection from Audacia’s features. “I would do nothing to harm Lady Lucille,” she protested.
“Then it is Geoffrey you wish to punish?” Greydon asked, with greater condemnation.
“Speak plainly, my lord,” she demanded.
“It has been clear all evening that you were doing your utmost to throw Lucille and Geoffrey together.”
“And achieving it seldom because of your interference,” Audacia returned sharply. “I can add ‘dolt’ to the list of your qualities, my lord,” she said taking an angry step closer.
Greydon moved back, halted just in front of the prickly hedge marking the path. “And I ‘malicious’ to yours. Lucille has suffered enough because of her feelings for Geoff. But then you know that.”
“She does love him.” Audacia clapped her hands in delight.
“And it speaks little but ill of you that you should toss him in her path at every step. And all when you shall wed him,” Roland bit out.
Her joyous expression froze. Slowly she lowered her hands to her side. “You believe me to be toying with Geoffrey’s affections?”
“Never more heartless a wench have I seen.”
“Words fail me, my lord,” Audacia answered slowly. “You truly believe this of me?”
His damning look answered her.
Anger and pain flared. “You—you contemptible fool!” she cried out and gave him a mighty push.
Totally off guard, Roland fell backward into the spiny hedge. He heard something strangely like a sob as the bush’s thorns added to his anguish.
Chapter 19
The hackney halted before Lord Mandel’s residence. The driver waited patiently for the disagreement within the vehicle to end.
“We should wait for you,” Miss Bea objected.
“I should like to come in,” Helene put in.
“Both of you are to go on to the park. Here is the money for the driver. I will join you as soon as I can,” Audacia told them firmly.
“Her ladyship will be most displeased,” the abigail warned.
“That I make a morning call on Lady Lucille? Nonsense, Miss Bea. Helene, stop your pouting and enjoy a good romp.”
“But you promised we would—”
“And we shall,” Audacia cut her off quickly lest Miss Bea discover what she had promised. Giving the young girl’s hand a squeeze, she pledged, “Plans must be made first.”
“Plans for what?” Miss Strowne asked suspiciously.
“For a picnic,” her charge returned lightly and stepped from the coach before further could be asked.
“We shall wait to see if you are admitted,” the abigail called from the cab.
A stern-faced butler opened the Mandels’ door at Audacia’s knock.
“Miss Aderly to see Lady Lucille,” she told him crisply.
“One moment, miss.” The butler motioned a footman to stand watch over the open door and disappeared. He returned a short time later and bowed.
“Roberts shall show you to the Blue Salon, miss.”
The footman led the way through the ornately decorated corridor, up the delicately carved stairs, to a room located midway on the second floor. Done in shades of blue, the salon had a cool, relaxed air. Audacia was relieved to see that Lady Lucille was alone.
“Good morn.” Lady Lucille greeted her caller more coolly than usual.
“I come to speak with you because—because I fear you may be under a false impression regarding me,” Audacia said hesitantly.
“That was corrected last eve, was it not?”
After puzzling the words briefly, Audacia asked, “Geoffrey spoke with you of me?”
Lady Lucille blanched. “I was speaking of your impertinent treatment of my brother.”
A blush brushed tinges of red across Audacia’s face. “That was a thoughtless action on my part,” she stated slowly. “But the words that prompted it are the reason for my coming today. I fear you may think as Lord Greydon does.
“Please listen to what I have to say,” she entreated. “Your happiness depends upon it.”
“I think that highly unlikely.”
Audacia ignored the other’s assumed hauteur. “Geoffrey Webster loves you, my lady. He has a right to—”
“You have no right to speak to me of this.” Lady Lucille rose agitatedly.
“Have you no love for him? Is his belief that you feel only pity for him true?” Audacia challenged.
“I shall not discuss this matter. Please go.”
“Lady Lucille, I come as a friend. I desire nothing more than Geoffrey’s happiness and yours,” she pleaded. “He believes you cannot love him because he is no longer a ‘whole’ man.
“I cannot think so little of you to credit the thought that the loss of his arm made him less a man to you. Surely you see that he is whole in his being. He is a normal man who loves you—who needs your love.”
Tears coursed down Lady Lucille’s face. “I have . . . seen h
im . . . with you. It is you . . . who . . . brings a smile to his face. I am no longer held highly in his affections.”
“Geoffrey does not love me. If he does it is only as a—a sister—as a friend. He is grateful to me because I would not pity him.”
“He loves you and you must wed him. He deserves that much from life,” Lucille repeated stubbornly.
“I do not love him. What happiness would there be? It is you who holds his heart. Open yours for him,” she urged, laying a hand on the other’s trembling shoulder. Sensing the compassion and sincerity that prompted Audacia’s words, Lady Lucille turned her face into the younger woman’s shoulder and sobbed.
After the first burst of emotion passed, Audacia led her to the sofa and pressed Lucille to sit down.
“It is you he must wed,” Lady Lucille still insisted. “I would bring him nothing but pain. I do so wish to see him happy.”
“Then do nothing. Be neither too cool nor too doting when Geoffrey is near. If you observe him closely you will soon see it is not I he cares for.”
Lady Lucille gave a sad shake to her head and dabbed the tears from her eyes. “Even if what you say is true, I could never convince him that his lost arm matters not to me.
“Can we be friends again?” Audacia asked, while absorbing her words. “Even though Lord Greydon despises me?”
A chuckle broke from Lady Lucille. “It was a set down he has deserved for years,” she said laughing and crying together. “How did you dare do it?”
Ruefulness marked Audacia. “In truth, it was done without thought.” She shrugged, a forlorn look to her features. “My temper has not oft been so liable to run me to ruin. Indeed, I have puzzled long over—”
“Puzzled over what?” Lucille prompted.
“Why Lord Greydon sets my ire aflame. It seems we must cross swords when we meet, even when I resolve not to.”
Lady Lucille started. “Oh, dear. He is to call upon me shortly. You had best go, for I could not foreswear what his temper will show so soon after insult. Vastly out of spirits was he last eve, although few saw the incident.”