by Farr, Diane
Drake scowled. “What we agree on, Aunt, is our mutual antipathy. I’d as lief marry a wildcat as spend my days with Li—Miss Chadwick.”
“And I’d as lief marry a grizzly bear,” retorted Lilah, stung. “At least they hibernate from time to time.”
“Besides,” said Drake suddenly, as if he had just remembered something. “I want to marry Eugenia.”
This simple statement caused a sensation. Nat Peabody made a choking sound and goggled at his nephew. Polly Peabody threw up her hands, exclaiming, “Oh, Drake, no!” Sir Horace demanded testily whether he had gone mad or everyone else had.
But Lilah was watching Miss Mayhew. It seemed to her that the lady was taken aback, but only for a moment. Then she smiled. Her smile, though amused, was filled with rueful affection—and struck Lilah as a little wistful, too. For a moment, Eugenia Mayhew was almost pretty.
“Dear Drake,” said Miss Mayhew warmly. “How lovely. Thank you.”
Her response would have been equally appropriate had Drake handed her a bunch of lilacs. Lilah could read nothing more into it than pleasure at receiving a compliment. Apparently neither could Drake, for he looked nonplussed.
“Hang it all!” he exclaimed. “I’ve done it wrong. Forgive me, Jenny. I’m a poor hand at making pretty speeches, and I’ve never offered marriage before.” He strode swiftly forward and dropped to his knees before Miss Mayhew, plucking her hand from Sir Horace’s sleeve and holding it tightly in his. The sight gave Lilah a strange pang.
Her unfortunate father looked as if he might go off in an apoplexy. “Now, see here—” he began, in a tone of outrage. But Drake’s firm voice interrupted him, addressing Miss Mayhew as if there were no one else present.
“Jenny. Eugenia. I know I’ve taken you for granted all these years.”
Amusement crinkled the corners of Eugenia’s eyes. “Yes, Drake. You have.”
“I believed I could claim you at any time convenient to me. I thought you would wait, however long I took.”
“Yes. It was rather rude of you, wasn’t it?” Miss Mayhew mused, gazing at Drake with a faraway look. “And short-sighted as well, if you intended all along to marry me one day.”
“If? There’s no if about it,” he said impatiently. “I always meant to marry you. You must have known I did.”
Miss Mayhew looked even more thoughtful. “Did I? No, not quite—although I did suspect it. I would have brought the subject up at some point, but I hesitated to put myself forward. After all, I might easily have been mistaken. Your attitude toward me was never lover-like. It was merely possessive.”
A note of chagrin crept into Drake’s voice. “I’m sorry, Jenny,” he said gruffly. “I’m a thick-skulled chap, and only drastic action gets my attention. I drove you to this, didn’t I?”
Miss Mayhew cocked her head as if puzzled. “Drove me to what?”
“This ludicrous flirtation with Chadwick. I don’t blame you. In fact, it was a clever little stratagem, as far as it went. It was a dangerous game, and it didn’t fool me for a moment, but it was a spirited thing to do for all that. I deserved it, too. I won’t hold it against you after we are married.”
Sir Horace exploded. “I’ve heard enough!” he exclaimed, seizing Miss Mayhew’s arm and attempting to drag her hand from Drake’s by main force. “I am a patient man, sir, but this is too much! The lady is spoken for.”
Drake sprang to his feet, towering menacingly over Sir Horace. “By you?” he asked, his lip curling. “I think not.”
Lilah threw herself between the two men, clinging to her father. “Papa, pray do not be overset,” she begged, her voice throbbing dramatically. “Do you not see? Think! Lord Drakesley’s suit is good news.”
Her father’s arms went around her reflexively, but he appeared exasperated. “Lilah, give over, for pity’s sake,” he said testily. “The last thing I need now is a bout of your theatrics!”
She blinked at him, hurt. “But, Papa, don’t you understand? You need not marry Miss Mayhew after all. Drake is willing to marry her instead. In fact,” she added, warming to her theme, “you will be doing Miss Mayhew a favor if you jilt her.”
“That,” murmured Eugenia, “is entirely a matter of opinion. Is anyone interested in hearing mine?”
All eyes turned to Eugenia. Mrs. Peabody chuckled. “It seems to me, my dear, that yours is the only opinion worth hearing.”
A faint smile curved Miss Mayhew’s lips. “I never dreamed I might, one day, be forced to choose between two offers of marriage,” she remarked. “I thought such things only happened to wealthy women, or those with great beauty. This is a lesson to me, for I have always envied women who received proposals right and left. I see, now, that the reality is quite different. It is a melancholy task to choose one man over another.”
Both Sir Horace and Drake tensed, seeming to steel themselves for the worst. Miss Mayhew reached out and placed one slender hand on Drake’s. He clutched it, and Lilah’s heart twisted within her at the sight. All for the best, all for the best, she repeated in her mind like a litany, bracing herself for the blow that would surely fall.
But when Miss Mayhew’s homely face smiled at Drake, it was a kind smile, not an adoring one. With her hand still in his, she slowly shook her head. “Dear, darling Drake,” she said softly. “You have been my closest friend for many years. But I could never marry you.”
Drake appeared stunned. She pulled her hand from his and patted him gently. “I mean that, you know,” she told him, with gentle firmness. “I cannot now, and I never could. Had Sir Horace and I never met, I believe my answer to you must always have been the same.”
Lilah’s heart seemed to leap and pound in her chest. Relief that she would not have to give Drake up to another woman—at least not immediately—warred with shame at her dog-in-the-mangerish emotions. She was also conscious, absurdly, of a flash of anger at Eugenia Mayhew for daring to turn Drake’s offer down. How could the ungrateful creature wound him so?
But Drake did not look wounded. He looked furious. He shook Eugenia’s hand off his sleeve. “Why?” he demanded. “This is utter nonsense. Confound it, Eugenia, I thought you loved me!”
“I do love you,” she said firmly. “As you love me. Do not pretend you are in love with me, Drake. You know perfectly well that you are not, and never have been.”
Polly Peabody stepped forward. “Well! This has all been vastly entertaining,” she said brightly. “But I suggest we return to the ballroom.”
Drake rounded on her, head lowered like an angry bear. “Blast it, Aunt—no! What the devil can we do in the ballroom, among that crowd?”
His Aunt Polly smiled benignly, in no way discomposed by Drake’s surliness. “Dance,” she replied. And shooed them all back through the door.
Chapter 11
“She didn’t even hesitate,” Drake growled, for Lilah’s ears alone. “You’d think she would do me the courtesy of thinking it over for a bit. Hell’s bells, I’ve known the woman all my life!”
He was dancing with Lilah in a perfunctory way. Both of them were too preoccupied with the events that had just taken place to mind their steps. Their moment of high drama had unaccountably fizzled, and they had been made to feel faintly ridiculous. For the first time, they were united in hostility toward something other than each other.
Lilah, awash with indignant sympathy, patted Drake’s arm to console him. “It is a shame,” she told him warmly. “I sincerely feel for you.”
“But I cannot believe this is her final decision. It makes no sense.” In his agitation, Drake swung Lilah violently in a circle. “Why would she choose an old man over a young one? Why would she choose a stranger over a friend?”
“For that matter,” said Lilah rather breathlessly, “why would she choose a baronet over an earl? Drake, for mercy’s sake, slow down.”
“Sorry.” He slowed his steps. “Dash it, Lilah, there’s something peculiar about the business. She turned me down flat! I don’t mean to sound lik
e a coxcomb, but—”
“Oh, you don’t!” Lilah assured him. “I perfectly agree with you. I love my father—he is a most estimable creature, and quite young and vigorous for his age—but he cannot compare to you by any measure known to man. Or, which is more to the point, woman.”
Drake stared intently into Lilah’s eyes, perplexity and bewilderment writ large across his face. “Then tell me. Why do you think she chose your father over me?”
Lilah thought for a moment. Inspiration struck. “Why, I imagine she was intimidated by that crowd of people in the room.”
Drake halted in his tracks, nearly causing Lilah to stumble. “Do you think that was it?” he exclaimed. “By Jove. You may be right. By Jove, you are right! What else could she say, with Sir Horace standing there?”
“Nothing,” said Lilah triumphantly. “She had to decline your offer. I daresay she has already promised to wed my father.”
“She almost certainly has. Lilah, you’ve hit it! I’ll get Eugenia alone and try again.” He seemed to notice something odd in Lilah’s expression. His brows lifted slightly. “Well? What is it?”
Lilah gave a short laugh and looked away. “Nothing. I merely wondered—” She hesitated. “Well, to speak frankly, there is something else about the business that strikes me as peculiar.” A glimmer of mischief lit her features. “Everyone seems wild to marry Eugenia Mayhew. I confess, I do not see the attraction.”
His eyes gleamed. “Never underestimate the power of a biddable woman. No, do not look daggers at me! I realize Eugenia will never be a beauty. And she’s not the most entertaining woman you’ll ever meet. But she’s restful. And superbly competent. She’ll be an excellent and thrifty housewife. A quiet life and a well-run home are worth a great deal to a man.”
Lilah pursed her lips demurely. “And, of course, one need not watch a plain woman too closely, since it is unlikely that another man will steal her away.”
Drake looked glum. “So I thought,” he admitted. “But apparently I was wrong.”
Lilah choked. “Is nothing safe?” she asked, with mock sympathy. “Is there no woman plain enough to ignore with impunity? Tsk! You might as well marry a pretty girl.”
She looked up at him, her eyes full of laughter. But he was staring down at her with a strange intensity that caused her laughter to fade. “I wonder if you are right,” he said slowly.
Lilah suddenly felt a vigorous tap on her shoulder. Since she was entirely focused on Drake, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “There you are!” said the cheerful voice of Polly Peabody. “I wanted you to know, my dear, that I’ve sent round to Kensington for your things. They should arrive within the hour.”
Lilah quickly dropped her hand from Drake’s shoulder and turned to face her hostess. “I beg your pardon?”
Mrs. Peabody smiled patiently. “Since your father is stopping here at the Abbey, we have decided it would be wholly ineligible for you to remain in Kensington. Whatever the custom may be in the countryside, dear child, in London I assure you that single females do not reside alone.”
Lilah blinked. “But—do you mean I am invited to stay here?”
She beamed. “Certainly. You cannot refuse, you know. Your papa and I have arranged everything. Your companion—what is her name, dear?”
“Pickens,” said Lilah faintly. She was feeling a bit overwhelmed.
“Miss Pickens will be brought round in the morning. And as for you, Drake—” Mrs. Peabody bent a severe look on her nephew, peering over the top of her spectacles. “I hope you know better than to argue with me. I’m ready to box your ears as it is.”
Drake looked mildly surprised. “I wouldn’t dream of arguing with you, Aunt. You may house Miss Chadwick with my good will.”
“So I should hope. But I’m housing you, too.” She raised a warning finger. “Not another word! I won’t be made a subject of gossip. My own nephew, staying at the Pulteney!” She gave a disapproving sniff. “Anyone might think we’d had a falling out. Well, we haven’t, and I won’t have it spread all over town that we have.”
She gave a brisk nod and bustled away, leaving Drake and Lilah with their mouths agape. They turned back to each other, eyeing one another with misgiving. It was Lilah who broke the silence.
“I hope you won’t take this amiss, Drake, but I am extremely reluctant to stay in the same house as you.”
“I don’t blame you. There’s a very odd dynamic at work between us.” He took a deep breath and expelled it, looking thoughtful. “On the other hand, both of us staying here will have certain advantages. Provided we take care never to be alone together.”
“Oh, we must avoid that at all costs,” said Lilah fervently.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Drake—although it was just as well if he thought that. She did not trust herself. Merely standing beside him as she was now, or dancing with him, gave her far too much pleasure. It wasn’t normal.
“Very well,” said Drake abruptly. “We’ll make that a rule. We meet only when others are present. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Good. Because as long as nothing untoward happens between us, Aunt Polly’s invitation is a godsend. If you and I went tamely back to London, we would never break up this ridiculous engagement. Matters seem to have reached a critical point. In fact, I wouldn’t put it past Eugenia to simply avoid us altogether until the knot was tied.”
Lilah was much struck by this insight. “I believe you are right,” she exclaimed. “I am not acquainted with Miss Mayhew, but that is definitely what Papa will do. He goes to great lengths to avoid what he calls unpleasantness. If he thought we were going to argue with him day and night, he would do almost anything to hide from us.”
“Eugenia is the same way,” said Drake grimly. “Craven, I call it! But if Sir Horace shares the trait, that cinches it. They will duck us if they can. If we are staying in the same house, at least they’ll have fewer opportunities to give us the slip.”
Lilah frowned. “But even if they are unable to avoid us, they will pooh-pooh whatever we say,” she pointed out. “Only look how they treated us just now! As if we were putting on a show for their amusement.” Resentment churned within her. “Papa seemed to think I was being childish.”
Drake gave a brief nod. “Theatrical, he called it.” He sounded both disgusted and sympathetic. “We were both made to look like fools. But we’ll get the last laugh, Lilah, never you fear.”
#
Lilah awoke late on Sunday morning and staggered grumpily down to breakfast. Her things had arrived at Wexbridge Abbey long before the end of the party, and when she was notified of this she had immediately retired—since the more time she spent in Drake’s company, the more jangled her nerves became. However, going upstairs to bed had accomplished little. It had taken nearly an hour to wash the powder out of her hair, and the festivities below had gone noisily on until dawn. She had sat up, listening to the cacophony and waiting for her hair to dry…and brooding. She felt far from rested.
At least her appearance was fresh and neat. Mrs. Peabody had honored her by sending her own maid to help dress her hair this morning. The woman was an artist; Lilah had actually smiled when she saw the result of the maid’s labors. But her smile soon faded. She was in no mood this morning to be pleased.
She expected a solitary breakfast at this hour, but, to her surprise, Polly Peabody was in the breakfast room, consuming a substantial repast and chatting with Miss Pickens. Miss Pickens still wore her traveling cloak and was sipping gingerly on a cup of black tea—her custom when recovering from a journey of any length. Her thin face brightened when Lilah entered the room.
“Lilah, my love, good morning! Is this not delightful? So kind of Mrs. Peabody to invite us! She has been telling me a little of the Abbey’s history and, I must say, I am looking forward to wandering the grounds—which she has told me I may do at my leisure. I am truly grateful. Such an opportunity does not often come my way. Only fancy, Lilah—Queen Elizabeth herself is s
aid to have stopped here for a week’s hawking, in the early days of her reign. Can you not picture it?”
Some of Lilah’s crossness evaporated in the face of Miss Pickens’s obvious enthusiasm. She smiled affectionately at her loyal companion. “I am glad for you,” she said simply.
Polly Peabody, her mouth full of toast, waved Lilah languidly into a nearby seat before swallowing. “Miss Pickens seems to know a frightful amount of history,” she remarked. “I am quite terrified of her.”
Miss Pickens beamed. “I’m afraid I am a dreadful bore on the subject,” she said. “I seldom have an audience for my favorite hobby-horse.”
Lilah laughed, wrinkling her nose. “By that, she means that I showed little interest in sixteenth century politics,” she explained to her hostess. “Or any other period of history, for that matter. I was a sad disappointment to her, back in the days when she struggled to educate me. You have offered her a rare treat.”
“Well, that’s lucky,” said Mrs. Peabody, her eyes twinkling. “It’s seldom that a genuine treat costs so little. I’m delighted to be able to provide it.”
Lilah glanced surreptitiously around the room, wondering what was expected of her. No servants were anywhere in sight. Places had been laid for four persons besides the three now seated at the table, but dirty dishes and discarded napkins bore witness to the fact that two of the four missing people had already breakfasted and departed.
Mrs. Peabody saw Lilah’s indecision and, with the same informality she showed in waving Lilah to a seat, gestured toward the sideboard. “The coffee and tea are piping hot, and I can vouch for the eggs and ham as well,” she said cheerfully. “You may need to stir the chocolate. Shall I ring for fresh toast?”
Lilah was taken aback for a moment. Apparently, she was supposed to wait on herself at breakfast. How excessively English.
“No, thank you. Not on my behalf,” she replied politely, and carried her plate to the sideboard to explore the contents of various covered dishes. Strange. But as she lifted the covers and examined what lay beneath, choosing what to take and what to leave, she discovered that she rather liked filling her own plate. Mrs. Peabody’s informal ways, although different from the French customs she had learned from her mother, had a charm of their own.