"And I am Miss Cordelia Tyninghame," she introduced herself with a faint blush over the irregularity of it. "I am a...relative...of the earl, as you may have guessed."
"Indeed the resemblance is remarkable," Taunton said. "We are staring like gapeseeds for which we must also apologize."
"We were taken aback ourselves," Delia chose her words carefully. "I came from Scotland to visit all unaware of it. It has put us on end." That was the plain truth. She had not yet become accustomed to their uncanny resemblance. She even looked in the glass with reluctance. Her face was no longer her own, but shared.
"It must have been you that I heard two weeks ago when I visited," Major Rhyle was thinking aloud. "I thought Rupert uneasy."
"We've n-not seen Torgreave of late," the Captain spoke for the first time. "G -- g- got worried."
"You must wait; he will not be long, I think, for he has been abroad all day," Delia urged them to stay. It could only be restorative for the earl to see his friends. "Please do sit down," she invited.
The door opened admitting Morag Lochmaddy with a tray of refreshment.
It was nearly thirty minutes before the earl's firm tread was heard in the hall. Delia had enjoyed visiting with the gentlemen. After their initial discomposure, their innate excellent manners made them unexceptionable companions. She was laughing at a remark Major Rhyle had made when Torgreave entered.
He looked discouraged. His day must have been unfruitful. She saw something flare in his gaze. Jealousy? It was quickly gone. She watched him look for Morag, and read relief in his expression. He concealed his emotions however. With good grace, he greeted his friends.
He seated himself proprietarily near to Delia. He spoke to her in a low voice, though he must know that they were closely observed. "I have purchased a town chariot, after ascertaining that Cullen will drive it. The coach is too ponderous for London streets." He was emphasizing their intimacy by confiding news of a household nature. Delia understood his actions and disapproved of his motives. She dispelled the intimacy by rising and leaving his side.
"Surely this orrery is new." Hugh Taunton was examining the ivory and brass model curiously.
Delia joined him at the table.
"It is," Torgreave confirmed, his voice curiously inflexible.
"C-Can't think why you find all that scientific n-nonsense interesting," complained Captain Finglas.
"You must excuse our friend Finglas," Taunton said to Delia. "He has charms that make up for his lack of scholarly curiosity. Has Torgreave confided his guilty secret to you? He aspires to intellectual heights much beyond Rhyle and myself."
Delia could not hide her questioning confusion.
"Do not play the fool!" the earl said to his friend with asperity.
The Major, apparently the peacemaker, explained to Delia's querying look. "Rupert is a member of the Royal Institution, a founding member in fact, and highly regarded in its ranks for his studies in astronomy."
The earl flushed darkly, and frowned on his friends.
"Does the Institution by chance meet on Tuesdays?" questioned Delia. She remembered accusing Rupert of seeking dissipation on that night a week before.
"B-Believe it does," Finglas responded unexpectedly. "At least that is the n-night he will not attend at card parties or anything else."
Delia surveyed the earl calmly, until he rose and poured himself a glass of wine. She noted that he did not drink from it. He chose to counter his friends' raillery.
"Have they told you their occupations?" he queried. "No? Well, Rhyle is attached to the Depot -- military intelligence, Finglas the War Office, and Taunton is an idle Corinthian."
"Not by my own desire," that worthy grimaced.
Delia moved to a chair and settled herself well away from the earl.
"I am the only son of anxious parents, heir to a viscountcy, and they would not hear of me purchasing a commission. So here I am set to squire my sister about on her first season. 'Tis an unsatisfactory prospect," Taunton explained.
"He is not the saint he tries to appear," Rhyle rumbled, laughingly.
"Unlike you, who is striving for sainthood," Torgreave turned on his massive friend. "You have yet to attend at one of my soirees. You are a devoted mentor of the recon officers, and a dedicated soldier."
"Make me sound demmed boring," the big man protested.
"You are. Occasionally," Taunton interjected. "And Finglas, what shall you say about him?" He directed the question at the earl.
Torgreave considered their fiery-haired friend.
"Egon? A reliable friend, a good man on the field or in a fight, and an honourable gentleman."
The Captain flushed uncomfortably.
Delia could not forebear to laugh. "You are a motley crew!" she offered. She ignored Morag's patent disapproval.
"We could be united in admiration of you," said Taunton.
"My cousin has no need of your admiration," the earl snapped at his friend.
Taunton raised his brows and blinked.
"Shall you be here for the Season, Miss Tyninghame?" queried Rhyle.
Delia was glad of the intervention. "I think not. I shall be home in Edinburgh well before April, I believe."
"Pity," Taunton said, "But perhaps I may bring my sister, Aurora, to visit you here? She is driving us all mad waiting for invitations and diversions to appear."
Delia exchanged an uneasy look with Torgreave. "I should be happy to receive her, though my visit is a private one."
Taunton looked satisfied. "We are promised to Holland House tonight. We must be off. Torgreave, will you join us?"
The earl's bleak gaze regarded each of his friends in turn. "I think not. It is a cold night. My cousin's presence has accustomed me to be more at home."
Delia read challenge and warning in his eyes. She coloured deeply, but composedly accepted the farewells of the gentlemen. To her relief, Rupert departed the bookroom to see his friends out. To her surprise, and Morag Lochmaddy's expressed satisfaction, he did not return. In fact, despite his intimations of domestic harmony, Delia had no notion of how or where he spent that evening.
***
They did not speak of his friends' visit the next time they met. Delia was involved with her needlework, in the morning room, and Morag was knitting when the earl entered. Bowland was close behind him carrying an unwieldy paper parcel. He set the package on the scarlet-clothed central table, and began to unwrap it.
"What do you suppose that I have brought?" Torgreave queried. He set his beaver and York tan gloves aside, and warmed himself by the fire without removing his greatcoat.
Delia placed her stitchery on a nearby table. Her eyes gleamed as she looked from Rupert's face to the parcel in Bowland's hands. It was a largish, awkwardly shaped bundle, and she could not imagine its contents.
Morag Lochmaddy looked suspicious.
Delia rose to inspect the parcel and exclaimed almost immediately, "Ice skates! Oh Rupert it is ice skates!"
"It is," he smiled. Bowland removed the final layer of paper. "Bowland has been busy abroad this morning investigating the Frost Fair. The watermen have cleared and smoothed some ice on the river, and there are dozens of people skating. Do you care to venture out? I have not skated for many years so you shall have to support me."
"I reckon that I am expert," she laughed, holding up the metal blades. "We have had ice on Nor' Loch these past ten years, and a very active skating club."
"Before we skate, you must have those woolen stockings we discussed. If Mrs. Lochmaddy will fetch your bonnet and pelisse, I will attend you to the shops."
Morag slipped out of the room in company with Bowland.
"Thank you Rupert," Delia said meeting his gaze squarely. "This means a great deal to me. I was used to skate with my young brother."
He lifted an inquiring eyebrow.
"Half-brother?" she said sadly. She knew her pain was evident. "In any event, he died from fever. I was twelve, he was eight."
"I a
m sorry."
"I had a sister as well. She died in infancy."
"Lady Tyninghame bore a great deal of sorrow," Torgreave said.
"I thought so. It seems there was more, that she did not confide. I find that so difficult to understand. I thought we were remarkably intimate."
"We all hold close guarded secrets. We may never find the words to divulge some of them. We do not know the truth as yet. Her reticence may become clear. She may not be involved," he said. "Just now let us go out."
With an effort she brightened as Morag returned with her warm outer wear. The earl ordered the new town coach. It took a very few minutes only to reach Bond Street. It was crowded with the fashionable ton who were apparently undeterred by the frost. Delia drew down her veil before they left the coach.
"I should not be averse to announcing our connection to all and sundry," Torgreave murmured. He assisted her from her seat in the coach to the pavement.
"As you did to your friends?" she queried. His proprietorial air on that occasion still disturbed her.
"I wondered when you would mention that." His smile held tension, as he found their way through the crowds.
"You had no license..." she began.
"My friends needed warning. They are dedicated womanizers. They had to know the family connection. I will not have them go beyond the line."
"Major Rhyle seemed to me the perfect gentleman," she protested feeling her temper rise.
"Oh Gideon...yes, he is. And he is the one most likely to fall in love with you, and to wish to protect you from me."
"I need no protection from you," she offered, her anger fading.
"Not yet," he muttered. He bowed to an acquaintance
She was silent with confused thoughts. Could Morag's observations be true? Were his attentions more than brotherly...could they be? And would she be averse to intimacies that he might attempt? She must.
"Everyone is wondering who you are," he said. He unknowingly put an end to her conjectures.
Delia gulped, and said, "You are known by everyone, and no one is surprised to see you in company with a veiled lady." She marvelled at the even tone she managed to produce.
"But they are curious. They are imagining you much less than respectable."
"There is a certain charm in being the 'mysterious unknown'," she commented. Her thoughts had been less than respectable. "They would be very surprised, could they but see me."
He agreed, then paused as a gentleman approached him out of the throng of fashionables. Delia watched curiously from behind her veil. Rupert turned aside a little to listen to the man who spoke earnestly in a low voice. Buffeted by the crowd, she could not hear what was said. At length Rupert drew out his purse, and it seemed to Delia that a great deal of gold changed hands. He turned back to her without comment on the incident. She took his proffered arm once more and they walked on. Delia could scarcely see to the shop windows, but spied fine china in one, and jewels spread on velvet in another.
"Ah, here we are." Rupert paused before a bow-windowed shop. Within a shopgirl hurried to open the door for them. Delia could not fail to see the languishing look that the girl bestowed on the earl's fine features.
"My lord!" A massive lady gowned in black, surged from behind a counter. "We have not seen you this age. With what may we assist you?"
Delia smiled behind her veil to see the woman eyeing her with discreet but avid curiosity. Rupert was obviously well-known here.
"My companion requires some warm stockings, your best wool, rose coloured I think, and your warmest shift."
Delia gasped and nipped his arm with her fingers. "I have plenty of chemises," she hissed. "And you need not decide the colour of my stockings!"
"Hush," he retorted, in a deep whisper, "Or I shall help you try them on."
There was a wicked smile turning his lips as the woman brought goods for Delia's inspection.
"You will not, and you may stand near the door while I examine these things," she directed spiritedly. He had the decency to do as he was bid while she made her choices. He returned only when she appeared finished.
"You must be warm if we are to skate. You have your fur-lined cloak, but it will not do for such activity. Have you a tippet and muff?" he asked. He directed the shopkeeper to deliver the parcel and ushering Delia into the street again.
"No, I did not bring..." she began.
"Do you prefer light or dark fur?"
"Light, but..."
"Such a necessity cannot be discussed." He chose another shop, and led her in.
"Indeed it may be discussed," she hissed. "I have a perfectly good set of furs at home."
"In Grosvenor Street?"
"In Edinburgh," she admitted ruefully. Aware that her gloved hands were icy, she argued no more but chose from amongst the beautiful wraps offered. She accepted the warmth gratefully as the soft fur was wrapped about her throat. Eagerly she tucked her hands into the muff.
"These bills must not be submitted to you, but to me," Delia admonished the earl. Ushered out by an obsequious clerk, they regained the pavement.
"You will not accept a gift from a brother?" he asked. His hand at her elbow urged her to walk on as the shoppers showed a tendency to stare at their immobility.
"Not as matters stand, no I will not," she said. Tears threatened her composure and she was grateful for the soft veil that covered her face.
He was unaware, and continued to tease. "I have no secretary. You shall have to remind me."
"I shall have Bowland deliver the bills to me," she stated. Irritation overcame her distress.
They were interrupted as Gideon Rhyle, muffled in a dashing military cloak, loomed out of the throng. He hailed the earl.
"Major Rhyle, how nice to see you!" Delia exclaimed. She offered him her hand, after the gentlemen had exchanged greetings.
"Miss Tyninghame, I was hoping it was you, but dared not venture a guess, knowing Torgreave as I do." The Major laughed.
The earl grimaced at his friend.
"Will you join us? I believe we are for home?" Delia asked. "At least I believe our business is concluded, is it not?" she addressed Torgreave.
"It is," he agreed. "And as it has got even colder, we will not skate today, I think."
The major indicated he would join them. Then he exclaimed, "Skate? Good God Rupert how long is it since you have done that? What if you should break a leg?"
"If I break a leg, I shall rest with good conscience. How long is it since I have done that!" the earl retorted.
The threesome mounted into the new town chariot on a wave of laughter. It was a tight squeeze because of the Major's size. He apologized for it ruefully.
Delia disclaimed discomfort a little breathlessly. She was only too aware of the earl's broad shoulder behind hers and his thigh measured against her own. A brother's proximity should not affect her so. She was still chastizing herself when they alighted in Grosvenor Street. Within the house, the candles were lit and the fires blazed warmly.
"I cannot remember that I have ever seen such cold," the major said. They all removed their heavy outerwear.
Delia was aware that his gaze was admiring as she shook her black curls free of her bonnet. Torgreave, she noted, saw the admiration. He looked angry and, possibly, fearful.
Mrs. Inniskip entered through the green baize door. "Mr. Dougherty, the steward from Manningford is come, my lord. He is in the library."
Torgreave responded with evident irritation. Delia was surprised for she knew that the earl had been awaiting this visitor with some impatience.
"Very well, I will go to him. Some warming refreshments Inniskip please, to the drawing room, for the major and Miss Tyninghame. And send Mrs. Lochmaddy to Miss Tyninghame," he said, heading for the library.
Delia and the major mounted the stairs.
The major looked about the Drawing Room approvingly as he entered.
"You have made Rupert's house a home, Miss Tyninghame."
She looked e
nquiringly at him. His rugged face and gray eyes held only friendly interest and kind intentions.
"The place was used to look as though he merely stopped here. It did not appear that he lived here. It was always impeccable. Torgreave too is much changed."
"Happier I hope?" Delia sat down and waved the major to a substantial chair.
"Oh yes."
"Have you known him long?" They were interrupted as Bowland brought in a wide tray laden with tea and cakes.
"Long enough, eh, Bowland?" Major Rhyle said.
"Indeed, Major," Bowland responded. He bowed and departed.
"I think I may say I know him better than any other. And you must not believe all you are told of him."
"What can you mean?" Delia paused in the midst of pouring tea.
The major selected a cake. "Only that there is more than meets the eye. And servants and society can exaggerate."
"You know of his relations with his father?"
"Oh yes." The major was grim.
"There is more there than he has told me." Delia was unwilling to pry, but knowledge of Rupert was essential to her.
"He will not thank me for telling you."
"He does not need to know you have told me." She could scarcely believe she was encouraging deceit.
"Very well." The major settled in his chair. The tea cup was incongruously dainty in his massive hand. "Rupert never could please the old earl, and I believe he was fourteen when he stopped trying. So then he got beatings, and if I'm not mistaken, he still has the scars. The earl wielded the rod himself, to ensure it was done right."
Delia's hands were shaking, and she was forced to set her tea cup down.
"No," she whispered, horrified.
"Oh, yes," the major said. He drank his tea as if it were an unpleasant duty. His tone displayed the depth of his sympathy for Torgreave. "He has every reason to dislike his father. The expectations of him and the injustice done him were remarkable. To this day, he avoids physical violence, will not box or fence. He does not fear it, but he hates it. I think he is concerned he will injure his opponent with the rage he suppresses."
"Do you think him a violent man?" she asked. She struggled to regain a little calm.
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