Amanda Scott (25 page)

She was shocked to see how worn he looked, but she hid her feelings as well as she could and replied, “Very well, thank you, your royal highness. I hope your journey was a comfortable one.”

“It was, damme, it was. Looking for a little peace and quiet now, don’t you know. Not an easy task for a man in my position, but couldn’t think of a better place to find it than Bath. Sleepiest damned town I know.”

Matilda, seated next to Miss Pucklington on the opposite side of the hearth, said briskly, “The city is thought by many people to be a trifle flat, sir, but there are many others who enjoy its amenities, as I am sure you must know.”

The dowager, sitting on her favorite sofa, stiffened enough at the first word of criticism to disturb the little spaniel curled in her lap, but her tone was complaisant when she said, “I am persuaded, sir, that Bath is well known for its fine culture and excellent history. Indeed, I do not know another town with such an remarkable history as Bath.”

“A damned long history, if you ask me,” replied the Regent, “and folks always wanting to tell one about it. London is much the same, you know, more history than one wants to hear. But I have come here to rest, you know, so I daresay I will like the place well enough. Better than London, at all events, just—”

He broke off when the drawing room door opened and Shields, visibly shaken from his customary stately hauteur, entered to announce, “If it please your royal highness, his royal highness, the Duke of Cumberland begs to be announced.”

“Well, it don’t please me,” the Regent declared, clearly appalled. “Send him away, man, send him away! I won’t see him.”

But Cumberland, not waiting for permission, strode past the butler into the room, with the faithful Neall at his heels. “You needn’t talk to me, George,” the duke snapped. “Indeed, I’ve no wish to hear your prattle, but I damned well intend to talk to you! What’s this nonsense I’ve been hearing?”

“Ladies present, Ernest,” the Regent said weakly, waving a hand in the general direction of Lady Skipton, who was sitting rigidly upright and stroking poor Hercules hard enough to make him glare at her in profound disapproval.

Cumberland, who was for once attired in a plain coat and pantaloons, snatched off his hat, practically flung it at Neall, and glanced irritably at the others. “Beg pardon,” he snapped, adding unnecessarily since no one had moved, “Don’t anyone get up. George, I want to be private with you.”

“Well, I don’t want anything of the kind,” the Regent said plaintively, “and after the dreadful things you’ve said of me to anyone who’d listen, you ought not to expect I should. Go away!”

“I have said nothing at all, damn you, and if I ever discover the gabblemonger who has set these lies afoot, I will destroy him with my own hands. I don’t doubt, however,” he added, looking grimly from Sydney to Carolyn, “that you have been encouraged in this house to see the devil wherever I walk.”

“Damme, I won’t listen to such stuff,” the Regent told him. “I don’t need encouragement, and Saint-Denis wouldn’t speak against you, in any event. Well, God bless my soul, Ernest, he’s a gentleman, ain’t he, which is more than folks say of you!”

“Perhaps the
gentleman
will not object to housing me for a day or two until I can prevail upon you to listen to me,” Cumberland said, with a challenging look at Sydney.

Sydney said gently but nonetheless firmly, “As to that, your royal highness, if the Regent objects to your pres—”

“Oh, let him stay,” the Regent said wearily. “He will only prevail upon one of your neighbors to house him if you do not. He nettles me till I cannot bear it, but damme, he’s the most persistent man I know. You won’t want to be burdened by all his people, though. Tell him your house is too small.”

“He would have to have an exaggerated notion of its size to think otherwise,” Sydney said. “This house is not Oatlands.”

“Never thought it was,” Cumberland retorted, flicking a contemptuous glance at the Regent. “I know the sort of entourage George trails about with, so I’ve got only Neall and two other body servants with me. The others have gone to the nearest inn.” He curled his lip. “Do you mean to house me, then?”

“Shields will show you to a room, sir,” Sydney said calmly.

As the duke turned abruptly to follow the butler, Matilda said, “It is a pity we did not know he was coming, for he might have had the suite of rooms Skipton and I are occupying, which is much nicer than any that will be left now.”

Skipton nodded agreement, but the Regent paid them no heed. As soon as the door was shut behind Cumberland, he pulled a white handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket, mopped his face with it, and demanded, “Why has he come? Damme, I’ll tell you why, to plague the life out of me, that’s why.”

The dowager, ruffling Hercules’ ears, said, “I believe you have never got on well with him, sir. ’Tis often the way with brothers, you know, and of course, that unfortunate eye patch of his does tend to make the duke appear rather sinister, but surely—” She broke off, sniffing the air suspiciously. “Good gracious me, what an odor! Judith, surely you—”

“Oh, no,” exclaimed Miss Pucklington, coloring up to the roots of her hair and looking quickly away.

The Regent, looking from one to the other and then at Hercules, who was licking himself in a way generally not approved of in polite circles, suddenly shouted with laughter. “Blame it on Ernest, ma’am! Damme, if he don’t leave a smell wherever he goes!” Having laughed himself into a better humor, he said to the dowager, “You must know that he has amused himself of late by initiating rumors of the most malignant sort about me! Telling folks he fears the same ailment that afflicts our unfortunate father has got its hold on me. Poppycock, of course, but damme, people believe him because he is my brother.”

Matilda said, “His highness has said he did not say any such thing, sir, if you will pardon my reminding you. Perhaps you ought not to blame him without more evidence of his guilt.”

The dowager clicked her tongue. “Indeed, I cannot imagine why any man’s brother would tell such lies.”

“Ernest wants me declared unfit,” the Regent said flatly, “so that he can take over the throne. He is the most cunning fellow, you know, forever looking for one’s weaknesses and then pouncing upon them. I must watch what I eat, I daresay, even here. Wouldn’t put it past the damned fellow to poison me!”

“He will not do so in this house,” Sydney said quietly, adding as Hercules began to scratch himself, “Cousin Judith, I believe it is time someone took that animal for a walk. He has provided enough amusement for one day.”

Miss Pucklington got up at once and took the spaniel from the dowager, who made no objection and occupied herself for a moment or two with brushing dog hairs from her skirt.

Lord Skipton, who had followed his own, rather slow train of thought, now said pensively, “I do not think it possible, sir, that Cumberland can expect to take your place, for he could not become Regent after you. Surely the Duke of York is the eldest after you, and Cumberland but one of your father’s younger sons.”

“True,” the Regent agreed, “but Ernest ain’t deterred by that. Wants to be king, and I doubt he would cavil at a few murders along the way. Damned shame we can’t just give him some small spot on the map like Hanover to rule. Make him perfectly happy, I daresay, for he dotes on the place and would just as lief live there as here. Can’t think why, but then I’ve not spent the time there that he has.”

Sydney deftly turned the subject, and the conversation became general after that, but although they chatted amiably about any number of other things, the Duke of Cumberland still occupied more than his share of everyone’s thoughts.

N
O ONE COULD DENY
that Cumberland’s arrival strained the hospitality of Bathwick Hill House to its limits. The royal duke, while continuing to insist upon his innocence with regard to the rumors about the Regent’s mental condition, made not the least effort to conceal his contempt for him when they met again at the dinner table that evening.

Whether the duke had sinister intentions toward his brother or not, everyone could see that his sly references and innuendos were making the Regent miserable. When Lady Skipton gave the signal to withdraw, Carolyn hoped that the men would linger long over their port, but she was not entirely surprised when they entered the drawing room less than half an hour later.

Skipton looked disapproving, the Regent harassed, and Cumberland looked saturnine. Only Sydney appeared to be his usual self. In fact, as Carolyn noted, there was even a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

The Regent’s wiry secretary, Colonel MacMahon, drew a chair nearer the fire and fussed over his master as he settled himself. Mr. Neall hurried to do the same for Cumberland, and when the two attendants had effaced themselves at last, the dowager turned to Carolyn and said placidly, “No doubt their royal highnesses would like to hear you play for them, my dear.”

Carolyn paled, saying hastily, “Ma’am, you know my skill is nothing superior. I would prefer not to inflict it upon them.”

“Nonsense, you have been well taught and play quite tolerably. Do not be difficult, my dear. It don’t become you.”

Without thinking, Carolyn looked imploringly at Sydney and was immeasurably relieved when he said at once, “I will play for you if you like. His highness appreciates a pretty voice and will enjoy hearing you sing a ballad or two.”

Though knowing her voice was likewise nothing beyond the ordinary, Carolyn acquiesced at once, feeling as though she had been spared a dreadful ordeal, and when the Regent said that it would not matter what she sounded like so long as they might simply sit and watch her, she was able to grin saucily at him and say, “You may change your mind, sir, if I miss a note. I know you are famous for having a fine ear for music.”

While the Regent preened himself and settled comfortably back in his chair, Cumberland looked compellingly at Carolyn and said with intent, “George is known for his excellent taste not only in music but … in many other things.” Then, finding Sydney’s eyes suddenly fixed upon him, the duke added casually, “I daresay we shall all enjoy your singing, Miss Hardy.”

“Thank you, sir.” She went hastily to the pianoforte after that and helped Sydney select some music, but she was still nervous, for she was guiltily aware that she had practiced infrequently since leaving school. When she moved to take her place, he stopped her with a light hand upon her arm, and when she looked up at him, he smiled reassuringly. Carolyn felt herself relaxing at once, as a warm feeling of confidence spread through her, and she smiled back, no longer nervous at all.

The first song was a simple ballad, one she hoped would not betray her lack of skill, but she need not have worried, for no sooner had she finished the first verse than Sydney, who played as well as he did most things, joined his pleasant baritone voice with hers. By the fourth verse, the Regent, who did indeed have a great love for music of any kind, had moved up beside her to sing along, and so much did he enjoy himself that the songfest continued until Cumberland had had his fill of it and excused himself in disgust to retire to his bed.

Nor did the evening end with his departure, for by then, Matilda and even Skipton had joined in the singing, and the dowager was heard to assure Miss Pucklington that she was enjoying herself very tolerably, very tolerably indeed. Only when the singers had entirely exhausted Sydney’s collection of music did she ring for the tea tray.

“Damme, ma’am, but I cannot think when I have enjoyed myself so much in a single evening,” the Regent informed her as he accepted his cup. It is just as I thought—a Bath cure is what I needed. I daresay that after a good night’s sleep, I shall be in plump enough currant to get a very good price from Melvin for those of his things that I choose to admire.”

It appeared the following day that he was indeed feeling well, for Sydney bore him off directly after they had broken their fast to visit Sir Percival. Carolyn, learning that Cumberland had likewise gone into town upon business, and that Lord Skipton had ridden out to look over Sydney’s estate, left Matilda to the dowager’s mercies and went to the stable, where she learned to her dismay that Salas had decided to make himself useful by helping to tend the royal horses. When she demanded what he meant to say if anyone questioned his presence there, he informed her cheerfully that the royal servants assumed he served Sydney while Sydney’s servants assumed he served the Regent.

“No one will object,” he added confidently. “You forget, lady, that Salas has magic in his hands for all
grees
.”

“Well, don’t get to thinking you are going to live here permanently,” Carolyn said with asperity, “for it won’t happen. You must be patient until the Regent leaves, Salas, but then you will have to go, too.”

“But that is what one wants, no? It would not suit Salas to remain here, lady. He prefers to live with his own.”

Not sure if she believed him, she left him and returned to the house, where she occupied herself with a few of the many errands the dowager had assigned to Miss Pucklington. When one of these took her late that afternoon into the kitchen garden, she was astonished to discover the Regent, quite unattended.

Standing on the gravel path, peering down into a radish bed, he raised his head at the sound of her footsteps and greeted her with a rueful smile, saying in a more sober tone than was usual with him, “Daresay you are surprised to see me here.”

“Very surprised, sir,” she admitted. “I did not know you had returned from town, and one does not, in any case, expect to find the ruler of one’s country gazing at radishes in the kitchen garden. I hope your visit to Sir Percival was a successful one.”

“Oh, yes, some devilish fine pieces.” He paused, grimacing. “MacMahon and the others have been flitting about me like flies since we returned, and Ernest—Well, the fact of the matter is I came here looking for some peace. Don’t see much of that, you know, but I thought this would be one place no one would think to look for me. That cursed brother of mine has been telling me I ought to make a few public appearances in London if I wish folks to believe me fit to rule. Damme, but he says it as though he still believes I ain’t fit. And the worst of it is, I know if I do return to London, he’ll have been before me with his little hints and jealousies. Fact is, I’m sick of it, damme if I ain’t. What I need is one of them clever magician fellows to make Ernest disappear with a flick of his magic wand, damme if I don’t.”