Ross could only stare at her, torn by the desire to laugh, and by another desire that didn't bear close scrutiny. "Aye, annsachd," he said with false meekness, "I hear you."
"And don' t call me names when I don't know what they mean!" she added, scowling. "I hate not knowing what you are saying."
"Yes, an—yes, Miss Terrington." He was grinning like a fool. "As you wish."
"Oh!" She batted his hand away. "Why do I even bother? This will teach me the folly of feeling pity for such a thickheaded, arrogant scoundrel! Now, what are we going to do about these rumors? I know his grace and Lord Falconer have the situation well in hand, but I want to do something as well."
The abrupt shift in conversation had him blinking in confusion, but he grudgingly followed her lead. "You've done enough, Adalaide," he told her, not wanting her to put her reputation at any more risk than she had already done. "The rest is better left to us. We will take care of the matter, have no doubt about that."
"But I want to help," she insisted, clearly refusing to be set aside. "My brothers have several friends in the government, and I am sure if I asked they would be happy to do some nosing about. If General Wellington's foes are to blame for this, then the sooner we mount a counteroffensive, the better."
He raised his eyebrows at that. "So you think to lecture me about warfare, do you?" he asked, his tone mild.
She gave him a regal look. "And if I do?"
"Then I would remind you, lass, that the first rule of engagement is never to assume anything," he told her bluntly. "The enemy you are seeking could be right there beside you, and you'd not even suspect it until they were slitting your throat."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
He started answering, but then thought better of it. He had no real proof, and until he did, he didn't want to tip his hand to his cousin. If Adalaide even suspected Atherton was involved, he didn't doubt but that she would march up to him and box his ears good and proper. A woman who would confront a prince would dare anything; the thought had him trembling with fear.
"Never mind," he told her firmly. "And I meant what I said about your keeping clear of this. 'Tis my reputation, Adalaide, and I'll be the one to save it. Mind you remember that, you little briosag, or I shall make you most heartily sorry for it."
She raised her chin with cool pride. "I have asked you not to use foreign words when addressing me," she reminded him, her tone imperious as a queen's.
"'Tis not foreign," he said, chuckling at what he considered her shameful ignorance. "'Tis Gaelic, and there are some words you're better off not knowing the meaning of." While she was mulling over what that might mean, he grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips for a playful kiss.
"Keep yourself out of mischief, annsachd," he told her, his eyes dancing as she jerked her hand free of his. "I promise I'll call upon you when I am back in London." He turned to go, and had almost reached the door when she came scurrying after him.
"Wait!" she cried. "Tell me what that word means!"
He turned to grin at her. "Which word?" he asked, feigning innocence. "Annsachd? "
"Yes." She glared up at him defiantly. "Is it an insult?"
He considered how best to answer that. "Hardly," he drawled, resisting the urge to show her the endearment's true meaning. "'Tis . . . a compliment, I suppose you might say. It means dearest friend, amongst other things."
"Oh." Her brows met in thought as she mulled his response over in her mind. "And the other word? Briosag? What is its meaning?"
He hid a wince at her pronunciation. "Oh, that one," he said, wondering if he could make it safely out the door before she was on him like a fury.
"Yes, that one." She had folded her arms under her pretty breasts and was glaring at him like a suspicious wife. "What is its meaning? Or are you going to pretend it hasn't a meaning?" she added when he remained silent.
"Oh, all words have their meanings, annsachd," he assured her, tongue in cheek. "Some more than others."
"Then what does it mean?" She all but howled the words at him.
He opened the door, making sure her aunt and several of the servants were in sight before turning back to grin at her.
"Witch," he said, and then stepped out into the hall, closing the door on her shriek of outrage.
Eight
"That's the last of them, thank heavens. I've looked through every one of the morning journals, and there's not one mention of last night's incident in any of them," Aunt Matilda said, smiling up at Addy from the mound of papers piled before her plate at the breakfast table. "Congratulations, child, it seems your gamble has worked after all."
"Thank you, Aunt," Addy said, managing a half smile for the older lady's benefit. "But there are still the afternoon papers to be got through, and they are all controlled by the Whigs."
"Well, then, we shall simply have to deal with them when the time comes," Aunt Matilda said with a brisk nod. "Which reminds me, my dear, at what time may we expect his lordship and the others? I've been thinking, and there are several things about last night I should like to discuss with them."
Addy hastily picked up her cup. "I'm afraid Lord St. Jerome shan't be calling today, Aunt," she said with a forced air of indifference. "He told me last night he and Lord Falconer were going up to Newmarket for the races."
"Heavens, has the racing season started already?" her aunt asked, nibbling thoughtfully on a bite of roll. "I had no idea the year was so far gone as that. Ah, well, that is how it is when one gets old. Time drags on forever when one is your age, and then flies past in the wink of an eye when one is mine."
And on she chatted, offering comment or complaint about any number of topics while Addy sat in dutiful silence. It was as well Aunt expected so little of her audience, Addy mused, listening as her aunt rattled on about the princess's latest imbroglio. Addy's head was so stuffed with cotton batting, she didn't think she would be capable of logical discourse.
This was all Ross's fault, she decided, poking at her eggs in incipient resentment. If the dratted man hadn't thrown her into such turmoil, she would never have spent the great part of the night staring up at the ceiling and wondering about things best left unthought. Her heart had ached when she remembered the stark way he had described his days in the Army, and more than once she'd found herself wiping away tears. Those experiences explained much of the hard and aloof man she'd come to know, but oh! how she hated the thought of them. But that wasn't the only thing that had kept her awake long into the night.
It had been the memory of the way he had touched her, his hands so gentle as he'd wiped away her tears. He'd been standing so close to her she could feel the warmth of his body, and the softness of his breath feathering across her cheeks. There'd been a moment while he'd been cupping her face between his hands, his eyes gazing down into hers, when she'd hoped he was going to kiss her. Her heart had been racing like a mad thing in her breast, and a delicious warmth had stolen over her. She remembered the way her knees had trembled, and the way her lashes seemed so heavy they—
"Adalaide!"
"What?" Addy jolted upright, her heart pounding and a hectic flush staining her cheeks. She glanced at her aunt, and found the older lady regarding her with a knowing smirk on her face.
"I am sorry, Aunt Matilda," she said, straightening her spectacles and striving for nonchalance. "What did you say?"
Her aunt stared at her for several more seconds before her lips curled in a crafty smile. "Nothing so important it cannot wait," she said, gesturing to the hovering footman. "Have some coffee, my dear. You must have cobwebs in your mind, for all the attention you are paying."
Addy waited until the footman had served her and retreated to the kitchens before speaking again.
"This is much better, Aunt. Thank you," she said, taking a grateful sip of the richly flavored coffee. "Now, what was it you were you saying? I promise to pay attention this time."
"I was reminding you we are supposed to be meeting with the Wellfords this
afternoon," her aunt said. "Their son, Richard, is in the midst of his fifth Season, and making a sad hash of it for all I can understand. The lad is so bookish he won't say a word to a lady but to quote Latin at her. They are hoping you will prove as successful with him as you have with all the others."
Addy set her cup on its saucer. "I'm not certain if I ought to be taking on another pupil, Aunt. Admittedly Lord Hixworth has improved far beyond my expectations, but I've still a great deal left to teach him. And with this new business with Lord St. Jerome, I really haven't the time to dedicate to a new pupil."
"Nonsense," her aunt said with a scowl. "The earl is all but ready to fly out on his own, and the viscount, this dreadful business notwithstanding, has no need of your expertise whatsoever. It would be selfish of you to deny the Wellfords the benefits of your instruction."
Addy winced inwardly at her aunt's blunt words. However hurtful they were, they were nonetheless the truth. Ross did have no further use for her, and perhaps it was past time she was admitting as much. It would make it so much easier when the time came to watch him walk away.
"Are the Wellfords so far in the suds, then?" she asked curiously, knowing it was the desperate need for an advantageous match that brought most of her students to her doorstep.
"Heavens, no!" her aunt replied. "Rather the opposite, in fact. Mr. Wellford has made a tidy sum in the China trade. But he is the only male remaining in his family, and Richard is his only son. If the lad doesn't get married soon and beget an heir, as poor Mr. Wellford fears he will not, the entire Wellford line will die out! We really cannot let that happen, Adalaide, indeed we cannot."
Addy considered the matter for a few seconds before reaching her decision. Perhaps a new challenge was just what she needed to get her mind off . . . other things. And as her aunt had pointed out, it was her duty to help families like the Wellfords. "Very well, ma'am," she said, her heart lifting somewhat. "I suppose I might be willing to give the younger Mr. Wellford whatever help I can."
"However," she added, bending a stern look on the older woman, "I want it understood I still mean to carry out my mission for Lord Wellington. You and St. Jerome might consider he stands in no need of my tutelage, but I am far from finished with him. Until this business with the rumors is resolved, I shall still consider him my pupil."
"But I thought St. Jerome said you were to stay out of this!" her aunt protested, and then immediately clamped her lips closed.
It took Addy less than a second to discern the reason for her aunt's discomfiture. "Aunt Matilda, have you been listening at keyholes again?" she demanded suspiciously.
Knowing her aunt as she did, Addy could swear she heard the wheels in the other woman's head turning as she weighed which approach would best serve.
"Of course," her aunt said, evidently deciding that having been caught red-handed, her best defense lay in boldly confessing her crime. "And you needn't look so outraged, young lady," she added at Addy's disapproving frown. "Five and twenty you might be, but I am still your chaperon. I should have been very behind-hand in my duties to leave you alone with a man without making sure of your reputation! Indeed, I am shocked you should even suggest such a thing."
Despite her indignation, Addy was forced to admit to a reluctant admiration for her aunt's shameless manipulation. "How much did you hear?" she asked, struggling not to smile.
"Enough," Aunt Matilda admitted, sobering. "Poor lad, he has had a hard time of it, has he not? Small wonder he seems such a cold fish at times.
"But really, Adalaide," she continued, shaking her head at Addy in disappointment, "what could you have been thinking? His lordship was all set to kiss you, and what must you do but fly up into the boughs at him!"
"Aunt Matilda!"
"What?" Her aunt gave a haughty sniff at Addy's horrified gasp. "I might be in my dotage now, but don't forget I was once a young maid like you. There the pair of you were standing not inches from one another; it was the perfect opportunity for him to steal a kiss. And he would have, if you hadn't lost your nerve there at the end."
Addy opened her lips in furious defense, and then thought of something. "And you saw all of this from a keyhole?"
"And the priest's hole on the other side of the drawing room," her aunt confessed with singular want of remorse. "My husband showed it to me when he bought me this house. I must say I was finally happy for the chance to put it to use."
"Madam, you are the most complete—"
"Pray don't be stuffy, Adalaide," the other woman said, interrupting Addy's indignant sputtering. "You put me uncomfortably in mind of Reginald's wife when you do, and you know I can't abide the creature above five minutes' time. She gives me the megrims."
"Now, as to St. Jerome," she plowed on, "faint heart, as they say, never won fair lady, or in this case, fair gentleman. If you are going to win St. Jerome you're going to have to do a far better job of it than you've done to date. But never fear." She winked at Addy. "Auntie Matilda will be happy to help you."
"But I don't want his lordship!" Addy cried in frustration.
"Of course you do," her aunt said, waving aside Addy's objection as if of little importance. "The lad is rich, handsome, titled, and quite the most honorable man I have ever met. You would be particular beyond all enduring to turn your nose up at such a catch."
"But no more of that," she said hastily. "The Wellfords will be here within a few hours, and here we are still in are morning gowns. What will your curriculum be this time, hmm? From all accounts the lad will need all you have to offer, and likely a great deal more."
The meeting with the Wellfords went better than Addy might have hoped. The younger Mr. Wellford was indeed quite bookish, but also endearingly shy and possessed of a singularly sweet nature that made Addy realize he would be quite wasted on the ton. Instead she decided she would see him introduced in some of the more intellectual circles where she moved, certain one of her bluestocking friends would find the agreeable young man of particular interest. She even had a certain friend in mind, and after making arrangements to give the younger man some quick lessons in flirting and social conversation, Addy sent the family on its way.
The rest of the day was given over to handling the mound of invitations and letters that had arrived in the afternoon post. To her amazement she found herself being regarded as something of a heroine, and nearly every letter praised not only her, but Ross as well. Several were from men who had served with him on the Peninsula, and each of them offered her whatever help she required in defending Ross's reputation.
In her orderly fashion she made a list of the names and set it aside. Ross might have decreed she was not to involve herself in the matter, but that didn't mean she had to obey him. Besides, she decided primly, there was nothing wrong with her writing the gentlemen to thank them for their generous offers.
They were promised that night at the home of Lady Hillburoughs, one of her aunt's oldest friends. There was to be dancing, and as was her custom, Addy set out for the dowagers' corner, were she passed most evenings at such events. She never made it. The moment she arrived, she was surrounded by a wall of men all desirous of making her acquaintance.
"Served with the sergeant in Spain, don't you know," one tanned young man explained, bowing over her hand. "A braver, finer man I've yet to meet, enlisted or officer. When I heard what was being said, I was ready to do murder."
"As was I," another man interposed. "I was there at Fuentes D'Onoro, and I'd have been killed if a company of Rifles, led by Sergeant MacCailan, hadn't rushed forward in a charge. He ought to have been promoted then, if you want my opinion."
And on it went. Addy spent the next hour being treated to various stories of Ross's bravery. It quickly became obvious to her that while he might have held a low opinion of the majority of English officers, it was an opinion that wasn't returned by those same officers. To a man they were vociferous in their defense of Ross, and they were equally vociferous in pledging their undying loyalty to her. It was a nov
el experience to be the focal point of so much male ardor, and Addy was surprised to find she was feminine enough to enjoy the feeling.
Finally she was able to extract herself from their midst, only to be swallowed up by another group comprised mostly of females, all eager to declare her their dearest friend. Shedding herself of them proved a little more difficult, but at last she managed to slip away. Hoping for a few minutes' respite in which to mull over all that had occurred, she hurried to the farthest corner of the room where a lone footman was dispensing fruit punch and other delicacies. She'd barely taken her first sip when she felt someone touch her arm and turning, found herself face-to-face with William Atherton.
"My dear Miss Terrington, what an unexpected delight to encounter you," he said, making a great show of bowing over her hand. "I was hoping we might have cause to meet."
"Were you, Mr. Atherton?" she asked, taking the man's measure in a single, haughty glance. "Might one ask why?"
His thick lips thinned at the obvious set down in her voice. "To thank you, of course," he said, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied her. "These days I might not fly in quite so elevated circles as you and my esteemed cousin, but even I heard of your daring championing of him. It was quite good of you."
Addy took immediate offense to the sneering note in his voice. "It is hardly 'good,' Mr. Atherton, to defend an innocent man against such cowardly and vicious lies," she informed him in her most imperious manner. "And as it happens, his lordship hardly stands in need of my poor efforts."
A hard look stole into his mud-colored eyes. "Indeed?"
Addy considered dumping the contents of her cup over his head, before deciding it would be a foolish waste of punch. There were other ways of dealing with the odious toad, and she was just of a mind to employ them.
"Do you see the two men over there, the ones in uniforms of the Guard?" she asked, turning to nod at two of the men she had been speaking with less than half an hour earlier.
"Yes," Mr. Atherton responded cautiously.
The Scotsman and the Spinster Page 12