by Gayle Buck
Ferdie shrugged, and then wished that he had not. Bad temperedly, he snapped, “I wonder that you would expose yourself to gossip, cousin. But I am aware that you think nothing of my opinion. I am merely your father’s heir and will one day be head of the family. So who am I to cavil at my cousin’s careless conduct? Just do not come moaning to me when word gets about that you receive gentlemen without the advantage of a chaperone!”
“And who will put word about, Ferdie? You?” asked Lucinda quietly. She saw that it had been a home shot, and her lips curled in a contemptuous smile. “Pray do not think that I am unaware of your machinations, Ferdie.” She swept toward the door, her head held high.
“I have been slandered, most viciously and unfairly! What do you mean by it, Lucinda? I say, I demand an answer,” exclaimed Ferdie.
“Mr. Stassart, should you be putting yourself into such a passion? It is quite unhealthy for you,” said Miss Mays diffidently.
Ferdie stared at her, his mouth hanging open. He was astonished. This mouse of a female had actually dared to remonstrate with him. His rather hard blue eyes suddenly narrowed. “Miss Mays—”
“Why do you not go practice on the pianoforte, my dear? I shall walk with you to the music room since I am headed toward the library,” interposed Miss Blythe, smoothly derailing whatever blistering remark that Mr. Stassart had meant to deliver.
“Oh, but what of poor Mr. Stassart?” asked Miss Mays.
“I am certain that it will do Mr. Stassart a great deal of good to have a few moments alone in which to collect himself,” said Miss Blythe bitingly. Rising from the table, she firmly took Miss Mays in hand and steered her out of the breakfast room.
Chapter Twenty-three
The butler opened the drawing room door, and Lucinda swiftly entered. Her expression lit up at sight of the gentleman standing in front of the mantel. “Wilfred! I am so glad to see you.”
The butler quietly closed the door, privately determining that there would be no interruptions to this particular interview.
Lord Mays turned at Lucinda’s entrance and instantly went to her, catching hold of the hands that she held out to him. “Lucinda! I came as swiftly as I could to tell you. I have just this moment returned to town.”
“Yes, I can see that you have,” said Lucinda, having already taken note of his attire. His lordship was wearing a driving coat, a few extra whip points thrust through the top buttonhole, and there was a rakish windblown look about the ruddiness of his complexion and hair. She drew him over to the settee. “Tell me at once what has happened.”
Lord Mays sat down, apologizing for his dirt. Lucinda assured him that it did not matter in the least, but urged him to go on with his story.
“I was able to run those idiots, Lord Levine and Mr. Pepperidge, to ground at last. They had left the cockfight and gone on to a mutual acquaintance’s hunting box for a rare night of it.”
“Oh, dear! How unfortunate!” exclaimed Lucinda. “They were not completely incapacitated, I hope?”
Lord Mays snorted his disgust. “Disguised to the gills, I assure you! I thought that Lord Levine would heave his freight all over the floor of my curricle any number of times. But I stopped to hold his head, and that seemed to steady things a bit. He was still a bit wobbly when I let him off at his lodgings, but at least he was upright. There was no doing anything with Pepperidge at all.”
“Then you brought Lord Levine back with you? And he will take Ferdie in with him?” asked Lucinda. At his lordship’s nod and grin, she threw her arms about him. “Oh, Wilfred, thank you! You have no notion how happy I am to hear it.”
Lord Mays had instinctively put his arms around her, returning her embrace. There came an arrested expression into his gold-brown eyes as he looked down into her smiling face. “I was glad to be of service to you, Lucinda.” He cleared his throat. “Lucinda, I...”
Lucinda felt of a sudden unaccountably breathless. She straightened away from his lordship, very aware that he seemed slow in releasing her. She said quickly, brightly, “Such good news, my lord! Ferdie has been such a nuisance, you have no notion. I shall be glad to be able to show him the door.”
“Has the fellow shown his impertinence, Lucinda? I shall know how to deal with that,” said Lord Mays, rising with a purposeful light in his eyes. His fists were bunched suggestively.
Lucinda also rose, catching at his lordship’s sleeve. “Pray do not, Wilfred! It is not at all what you think. Actually, I suppose it is, though Agnes was involved and not me. Last night I discovered her in his bedroom, playing cribbage, if you please! She had not the least notion what a compromising position she had placed herself in, of course! But Ferdie most certainly did. The only excuse he tendered was that he had been so utterly bored that he could not turn away her offer to entertain him.”
Lord Mays had listened to her explanation with a fixed expression. It seemed to calm him somewhat. At the end, he said frankly, “The fellow is an out-and-out bounder, Lucinda. My advice is to send him this very instant to Lord Levine’s before he can get up to any further mischief. There is no knowing what he might take into his head next. The fat would be in the fire if he should try to compromise you, or Agnes, of course, and some starched-up lady come to call and chanced upon such a scene. There is no knowing what kind of talk is already running through the servants about poor Agnes.”
“You are right, of course. Very well. I shall do so at once,” said Lucinda. She started toward the door. “I left Ferdie in the breakfast room, but he is undoubtedly gone from there. I shall ask Church if he has seen him.”
Mr. Stassart had indeed left the breakfast room. He had repaired to the billiards room to idly roll a few of the balls to and fro, but it was poor sport and he soon abandoned it. He sauntered out of the door in search of better entertainment. He was heartily weary of his own company, and he had never known a duller household in his life. There was not a game of chance to be had. The opportunity to play cribbage with Miss Mays for a penny a point had been mildly amusing, as an adult might play at a child’s game for a time and find it diverting, but the thought of indulging in such tame stuff again made him shudder.
He heard the sound of music, like a rippling stream. Ferdie followed the sound. He pushed open the door to the music room and stepped inside.
Miss Mays was sitting at the pianoforte. Her fingers flew, her body swayed, with the passion of the music that she was bringing forth.
Ferdie was astonished. He could not believe that this passionate flame, this fervent muse, was the same colorless Miss Mays. The beauty of her playing held him spellbound for several minutes. It gradually occurred to him to wonder whether the ardor that she displayed at the keyboard could be unlocked through other means.
Ferdie sauntered across the carpet. Stepping up close behind Miss Mays, he bent to touch a light kiss under her ear. Miss Mays started violently, her fingers striking a monstrous discordancy. The top of her head cracked sharp against Ferdie’s chin. He reared back, biting back a curse.
Miss Mays jumped to her feet and whirled. The pianoforte was close behind her, and she leaned against it. She stared at Mr. Stassart, her eyes dilated. Then her expression changed. “Oh! Mr. Stassart, are you hurt? I did not in the least mean harm to you.”
Ferdie gingerly fingered his chin. “I believe that I shall live, Miss Mays. But I do urge you to not to leap up in just that dangerous way. One might take a real hurt from such a blow.”
Miss Mays straightened, instantly sympathetic. Stretching out her hand to him, she said, “I am so very sorry! Does it pain you terribly? Shall I run to get a cold compress for you?”
Ferdie captured her hand with his and carried her fingers to his lips. “I require nothing, dear lady, but the honor of basking in the warm echoes of your music. You are an extraordinary musician, Miss Mays. Extraordinary! Such passion, such ardor, such delicate power! I stand in worshipful awe. I am entirely at your command.” As he had spoken, he had managed to slide his good arm about her trim
waist. With his body, he pinned her against the pianoforte.
Miss Mays had put up her hands between them, and she pushed ineffectively against his chest. “Sir! Mr. Stassart, you must let me go!” There was agitation in her voice and on her face.
Ferdie leaned over her, bringing his face closer to hers. “My dear, dear Miss Mays,” he murmured. He sought her lips, but she turned her head swiftly. She was a squirming, trim little package pressed against him. Ferdie tightened his arm around her and bent her over the pianoforte, determined to have his way. “A kiss, sweet, dear Miss Mays,” he panted.
“No! Oh, no!” cried the distressed lady, beating at him with her palms and twisting her head away. In the struggle a vase on the top of the pianoforte was knocked over onto the floor with a loud crash. The vase disintegrated into a thousand pieces.
The door of the music room was thrust open, and Lord Mays stood on the threshold. In a bare second, he had taken stock of the situation, and he leaped across the room.
Grabbing Mr. Stassart by the shoulder, he whirled the other man around. He threw a punishing right into Stassart’s jaw.
Mr. Stassart went down. He yelped from shock and hurt. Dazed, he attempted to rise from where he had sprawled onto the carpet. But then he chanced to look up and saw the grim set of Lord Mays’s expression. This was swiftly followed by the distinct impression of that gentleman’s still bunched fists. Ferdie deemed it prudent to remain where he was. He fell back, groaning.
Miss Mays, who had been cringing against the pianoforte, now flew across the space between herself and Mr. Stassart. She threw herself down beside Mr. Stassart’s inert body. “Oh, you are hurt!”
She swung her head up to stare at Lord Mays. Flags of indignation flew in her cheeks, and her brown eyes flashed. “You callous beast! How could you hit a wounded man?”
Mr. Stassart stopped groaning long enough to look up at her in astonishment. His own expression was duplicated on Lord Mays’s face. Ferdie, ever quick-witted at the least sign of opportunity, commenced to groan with great fervor. He added an artistic touch by fumbling with his hand at his throbbing jaw.
“Oh, you poor man!” crooned Miss Mays, sitting down and carefully lifting Mr. Stassart’s head into her soft lap.
“Here, I say!” protested Lord Mays feebly. “Not at all the thing, cousin!”
Ferdie flicked his eyelids a couple of times before apparently being able to focus upon her anxious face above him. “Where am I? Miss Mays? Can it be you? Ah, no, it is an angel!”
“Now see what you have done! He is delirious. I shouldn’t wonder at it if he is not put into a raging fever after your brutal treatment, my lord!” said Miss Mays fiercely.
Lord Mays’s eyes fairly started from his head. “No such thing! I just planted the fellow a facer.” A sense of strong ill-usage rose up in him, and he said indignantly, “Good God, cousin, I have just saved you from this dastard’s unwelcome liberties!”
Ferdie had closed his eyes, enjoying his unique position. But at his lordship’s untimely reminder, he uttered another loud groan. “Oh, my head! My shoulder! Has my face begun to swell? Am I bleeding!”
“Go away! Haven’t you done enough damage?”
“Miss Agnes Maria Mays!”
Miss Mays started severely at the awful pronouncement of her name. She stared up at Miss Blythe’s stern visage. Abruptly, all the evils of her situation burst upon her. She had been caught once more in an unladylike pose.
She scrambled to her feet and Mr. Stassart’s head dropped hard against the floor. He let loose a string of curses, but Miss Mays never heard the gentleman’s shocking lack of control. It was doubtful that anyone else did either, for Miss Mays had promptly burst into noisy tears.
“What a looby!” exclaimed Lord Mays. He stretched a hand down to Stassart, who was groaning in earnest and nursing his head. “Come on, you shouldn’t stay down there. She might take it into her head to stumble over you and there you would be, trapped beneath a watering pot!”
Ferdie was instantly struck with the truth of these words. He grasped his lordship’s hand, and as he was pulled to his feet, he exclaimed, “Yes, by Jove! And though I do not care for this coat, it is the only one that I have at present.”
Miss Blythe had put her arm around Miss Mays’s shoulders. “Come, my dear. This is no place for you. I shall take you upstairs.”
As the two ladies turned to the door, Lucinda walked into the room. She stared in consternation at the weeping Miss Mays, and then her gaze swept around to her cousin, who was brushing down his coat. “What has gone on here?” she asked very quietly.
In response, Miss Mays weeped louder. Miss Blythe’s lips thinned. She raised her voice. “I am taking Agnes upstairs. I shall deal with her there. I shall leave Mr. Stassart to you, Lucinda.”
Lucinda waited until Miss Blythe had guided Miss Mays from the room before she rounded wrathfully upon her cousin. “How could you, Ferdie? When I expressly told you last night that Agnes was not to be treated like some light-skirt.”
Ferdie threw up his hand. “I admit that I was off my head for a few moments. I was seduced by her playing of the pianoforte and—”
“What rot!” exclaimed Lucinda. “The truth is that you took advantage of an ignorant young woman, not taking a thought to anything else but your own selfish desires!”
“I knocked him down for that, Lucinda,” offered Lord Mays in a conciliating way.
“Thank you, Wilfred! I wish you had milled him down a few more times for good measure!” said Lucinda.
Lord Mays coughed. “Couldn’t very well do that, my dear. Miss Mays wouldn’t let me.”
Lucinda stared at Lord Mays, her fury momentarily suspended. “Not let you? Whatever do you mean? Why, Agnes was in hysterics just now. I would have thought she would have been egging you on to it!”
Ferdie gave a nasty laugh. “Your little sister-in-law gave me her lap and nursed my head, dear cousin. She only fell into strong hysterics at sight of Miss Blythe. I can’t say that I blame her for that. That woman has always given me a strong desire to spit.”
“Mind your tongue, you!” warned Lord Mays.
Mr. Stassart honored his lordship with a mocking bow. “Forgive my lapse, my lord. Behold, I am all contrition.”
Lord Mays gave a snort of disgust. He turned to Lucinda. “For all that he is a dashed court-card, Stassart speaks the truth of the matter.”
“Court-card! You slander me, my lord. I admit that I am nice in my tastes and perhaps a bit finicky in my dress. But I am no court-card!”
Lord Mays ignored Mr. Stassart’s indignant digression. “Once I had knocked down Stassart, Cousin Agnes flew into me with the most astounding denunciations. She accused me of practically murdering Stassart here and took his head in her lap. Lucinda, I swear to you that I was never more thrown off balance than when she turned around on me as though I were a criminal.”
“I do not believe it!” exclaimed Lucinda, having difficulty reconciling this picture with what she had envisioned to have happened.
“The sooner you have this fellow out of your house, the better it will be for you,” said Lord Mays.
“Yes, indeed! Ferdie, I was just coming to tell you, and now I may do so with even greater pleasure! I am throwing you out, Ferdie. Lord Mays has persuaded Lord Levine to take you in. How he protects you from the tipsters is your worry, for I wash my hands of you!” said Lucinda.
Ferdie drew himself up with an assumption of grand dignity. He adjusted his sling with a fussy air. “I shall not hold these hasty periods against you, cousin. I recognize that you are overwrought. It is only what one might expect of a high-strung beauty.”
“Shall I help him along, Lucinda?” asked Lord Mays with a suggestive flexing of his hands.
“Pray do,” said Lucinda cordially.
Ferdie stepped backward, putting some distance between himself and Lord Mays. “I am just going,” he said hastily, defensively. “However, there is a bit of a difficulty. My po
ckets are to let. I haven’t even the fare for a hackney. Dearest cousin, may I make so bold and request an advance of you?”
“How much do you lack, Ferdie?” asked Lucinda quietly, a strange smile touching her lips.
“A few hundred pounds. That is all that I require. I daresay that I could squeeze by on that,” said Ferdie promptly.
Lucinda turned her gaze on Lord Mays. There was a mischievous light in her eyes. “What say you, my lord? Shall I frank Ferdie to the tune that he lacks?”
Lord Mays regarded her for a moment with a frown, which abruptly cleared. He gave a bark of laughter. “By all means! I have no objection, for it is a reasonable request.”
Ferdie looked at Lord Mays almost with friendliness. “I say, that is deuced decent of you, Mays. I never expected you to come the pretty.”
Lucinda went to the door and called for the butler. Quietly, she made a request. The butler nodded and reached into his own pocket. He withdrew a few pound notes and some coins. Lucinda scooped up what she needed, thanked the butler, and turned back to her cousin. She put out her hand, and automatically his hand rose to meet hers.
“Here you are, Ferdie—the price of a hackney fare,” she said cheerfully. She dropped the meager amount into his outstretched palm.
Ferdie stared at what he held. Then he raised his head. He smiled. “Very amusing, I am sure. But let us end this game, dear cousin. Am I not to be properly provided for?”
Lucinda raised her slim brows. “Ferdie, you complained that you did not have the price of a hackney fare. I have provided it. I believe that I have fully honored your request.”
Ferdie’s face hardened. He would have liked to have thrown down the sum he had been given, but it was not in his nature to toss away his substance except on the game tables. “I now know what I am thought of, I see. You will rue this day, my fine lady.”
“Are you threatening Lady Mays?” barked Lord Mays. He did not move, but he positively emanated a threatening presence. Very quietly, he said, “If I hear one whisper, one innuendo, I shall come after you, Stassart. Then we shall see how well you do without a female’s skirts to hide behind!”