Anne Barbour (23 page)

“What a wonder you are, my lady! Chatelaine, nurse, and good friend to your family. I have never properly thanked you for your kindness to me. I know how difficult it has been for you—forced to house an unknown female in such outrageous circumstances. You were told I was a—a woman of the streets, but you have treated me with compassion and every courtesy.’’

Aunt Amabelle jerked upright, fairly bouncing in her seat, her eyes snapping.

“Well, that’s just—just nonsense, my dear. Woman of the streets, indeed! I should think I know a lady when I see one, and any idiot can see that’s what you are. As for courtesy, all I’ve done is provide you with a few bits of clothing, all in aid of that wretched boy’s plots and schemes. The thing is, Diana, you have more than repaid all of us for any consideration we might—that is. Papa has shown such marked improvement, and I’m sure much of it is due to the time you have spent with him. And the change in Lissa is incredible. She actually sought out Miss Bledsoe yesterday and asked for more French vocabulary words to study, so that she may deal better with Odile! You have quite become a part of our family, my dear, so let us have no more talk of—ah, here is Mallow with the morning post.”

She received the correspondence from the butler, and Diana, despite herself, craned to see if the color pink was in evidence among the assorted missives. Yes, there it was—she had caught its scent even before it leapt out at her from behind the notice of a horse auction in Canterbury. She ignored it.

Lady Teague, after perusing the letters on the silver tray, turned to the
Morning Post.
Opening the newspaper, she regaled Diana with the society pages of that periodical. The fact that Diana was unlikely to be acquainted with any of the personages named seemed immaterial to her ladyship.

“Oh, look, Janie Rutherford has finally been delivered of her child—a boy! That’s their third, you know, but the first were two girls. She must be so pleased to have presented her husband with an heir. And mercy, the Fishburtons are visiting at Oatlands again. I wonder they can stand the pace. Last time they were there. Lady Fish was bitten at least three times by the duchess’s wretched dogs.”

She scanned the page with relish, apparently deriving great pleasure from the doings of persons she saw rarely, and cared for even less. At last, as she was about to put down the newspaper, a small, discreetly placed article caught her attention. She began a casual perusal of the item, and her eyes suddenly widened. Her grip tightened on the paper, and as she continued reading, her breathing erupted into horror-stricken gasps.

“What is it, my lady?” asked Diana, alarmed.

“Mmpshfmump!” was the only response, spoken through a mouthful of toast, which Lady Teague had inadvisedly placed between her teeth a few moments before. She semaphored wildly with the
Post.

“Rarsterf—woobfum!” she cried in appalled accents.

With one final agonized gulp of air, her ladyship inhaled the remainder of the toast crumbs, and lapsed into a paroxysm of strangled coughs. Unable to speak, she thrust the newspaper at Diana, jabbing with a shaking finger at the offending item. She irritatedly waved away Diana’s attempts at assistance, commanding her instead, with anguished gestures, to look at the passage indicated.

To an accompaniment of gradually subsiding hiccups and wheezes, Diana began to read. To her unbelieving eyes was thus delivered the intelligence that the engagement was announced between the Earl of Burnleigh and Miss Diana Bavister of Wales.

Her eyes widened in horror no less expressive than that displayed by Aunt Amabelle, and for a few moments the only sound in the room was an inarticulate sputtering emerging from two throats.

“But this is abominable!” cried Diana.

“Yes, abominable,” moaned Aunt Amabelle, recovering her voice at last.

“It’s absolutely outrageous!”

“Outrageous,” intoned the antistroph.

“Who in the world could be responsible for this?”

“I can’t imagine,” breathed Aunt Amabelle, her bracelets, rings, and necklaces fairly vibrating. “The only persons who knew of the pretended betrothal were you and me, and Jared—and Simon. I cannot imagine that Jared would—”

“Certainly not,” snapped Diana, annoyed to find herself flushing. “Such a wicked joke is not beyond him, of course, but he would certainly not jeopardize his genuine betrothal plans with a—a stupid prank.”

“And I’m sure it was not Simon,” continued Aunt Amabelle. “He was forever playing tricks on his older brother, but he would never do Jared any real mischief.’’

Diana, her forehead wrinkled, nodded in agreement. Suddenly, she sat upright.

“Lord Chamford!” she exclaimed. “He has become increasingly vexed that the wedding plans have not been going forward. He specifically mentioned inserting an announcement in the
Post.
Do you suppose…?”

Lady Amabelle moaned faintly.

“Papa! Yes, it must have been Papa.
That’s
what he wanted with our bailiff the other day. Not an hour after leaving Papa’s chambers, he was on his way to London. Oh, dear. Oh-h-h, dear!” she repeated dismally, as the implications of the news item unfolded in her mind. “The whole world will believe Jared to be betrothed— and the scandal when the fraud comes out. Good heavens!” She started, as a fresh horror raised its head. “What else do you suppose Papa has been up to? Oh, Diana, what if he’s written to your mother? That is, Lady Bavister, in Wales?”

She rose and, grasping Diana’s wrist, towed her from the room.

“We must go to Papa at once!”

“But should we not see Lord Burnleigh first?” interposed Diana.

“Jared is not here—of course!” responded her ladyship bitterly. “He left the house early this morning, saying he did not know when he would return.”

The two ladies left the breakfast parlor in despairing silence.

When they reached the marquess’s bedchamber, they found him occupied with his own copy of the
Morning Post.
He sat in a huge armchair by the fire, chuckling as he read aloud to Fishperk.

“ ‘An autumn wedding.’ Good touch, that, don’tcher think? Finest time of the year, to my mind, and—hah! Good morning, Amy. And Diana, too. Have you seen this?”

Lady Teague nodded.

“If you were referring to the announcement of Jared’s betrothal, Papa, yes, indeed I have, and was never so mortified.”

“Mortified!” came the answering roar. “Nonsense! The chaps at the paper printed it up exactly as I composed it. Close your mouths and sit down, both of you. You look like landed flounders.”

As they obeyed he continued, addressing himself to Diana.

“For some absurd reason, you and Jared have been shilly-shallying about your wedding plans. You needed a fire built under you; I have merely supplied the tinder.” He laughed aloud in pleased appreciation of his own wit.

Diana raised a limp hand in protest, but was forestalled by the bustling entrance of Lissa, who was fairly shooting sparks of excitement.

“Oh, good!” she cried, “everyone is here. Is it true? Diana, are you and Jared really engaged to be married?”

Diana closed her eyes. She felt as though she were in a dream, from which she could surely wake at any moment. None of this could possibly be real. It was Aunt Amabelle who finally responded. “How—where did you hear such a thing, my dear?”

“Why, Odile told me. Trust the servants! She told me it’s all over the stewards’ hall.” She ran to Diana and hugged her ruthlessly. “What a sly boots you are. I knew there was something going on. I can’t imagine why you denied it in the first place, but I am so very glad you are going to be my sister. I am going to go right over to the vicarage to tell Patience! Then we will ride to the Marstons, and—” “No!” exclaimed Diana and Lady Amabelle as one. “That is—um,” continued her ladyship feebly. “Perhaps you should remain here, Lissa. We are sure to have visitors. Papa, of course, will not want to receive, so the rest of us must be on hand to—”

“Nonsense!” Lord Chamford smiled sunnily. “I have almost completely regained my strength, and it would be remiss, not to say ungracious of me, to absent myself when my friends and neighbors gather round to wish us well. I have already decided that today— Ah,” he said in satisfaction as the door opened to admit two footmen, “here are the young men I sent for to assist me downstairs.”

Diana perceived that one of the young men was her brother, who dropped her a wink as he passed her. He moved to the armchair and bent to assist his lordship, who was attempting to rise unaided. Suddenly Marcus straightened, a stupefied expression on his face. Following his gaze, Diana’s eyes came to rest on Lissa. That young beauty, all unaware, hovered over her grandfather in pretty solicitude. Diana turned back to find Marcus still staring at Lissa, and she was forced to administer a surreptitious kick to bring him back to his surroundings. The young man returned to his duties, but the expression of incredulous wonder stayed with him as his eyes strayed again to Lissa’s fairylike countenance.

Lady Teague, meanwhile, had drawn herself up briskly.

“Papa, I must protest. You know very well the doctor said you might go downstairs, but only for an hour or so at a time. And you are not to allow yourself any excitement. We were hoping you might join us for dinner, but if you persist in overtiring yourself with visitors, you will deny us that pleasure. That would be too bad of you, Papa.”

In the face of his daughter’s gentle but implacable remonstrance, the old gentleman breathed a martyred sigh.

“Oh, very well, Amy. I shall compromise. To be honest, I have little desire to see the parcel of cloth heads that will no doubt be showing their faces. But if Tom Warfield should come, or Dandy Morris, bring them up here to see me.”

Relieved at having won the major portion of the battle, Aunt Amabelle promised hastily that if these gentlemen or any other of the marquess’s particular cronies appeared, they would be shown directly to his lordship’s chambers. She dismissed the footmen, and Marcus, with some difficulty, wrenched his gaze from Lissa’s elfin form. When the two young men had left the room, her ladyship rose, declaring she must be off.

“If I hurry,” she said, “I should be back from my visit to Cook’s mother by luncheon, and that is when, I should imagine, callers will begin to arrive.”

She bustled out of the room, and Lissa drew close to Diana.

“Very well,” she trilled, “I shall stay here with you. Very likely Patience and her parents will call here before long.” She drew Diana to her feet, and with a smiling wave of farewell to her grandfather, she hurried the older girl out of the chamber.

Propelled into the corridor, Diana drifted like a storm-tossed leaf, without will or emotion.

Beside her, Lissa was chattering excitedly.

“You must tell me everything! How long have you and Jared been interested in one another? Had you become well acquainted before you came to visit? And why did you not tell me anything? I declare, I don’t understand why you and Jared didn’t simply come out with it when—”

Diana raised her hand. She must bring this to a halt right now.

“Lissa, this whole thing is a dreadful mistake. Your brother and I are not betrothed, and have no intention of becoming so. The announcement in the
Post
was inserted by your grandfather, who seems to have taken a notion in his head that—”

“But that’s nonsense. You cannot make me believe that you are indifferent to one another—not with the two of you going about smelling of April and May!”

“What do you mean?” exclaimed Diana.

“Just that a person can tell, that’s all,” replied Lissa with a knowing smile. “The way you look at each other, the way Jared goes out of his way to let his hand rest on your arm—that sort of thing. It’s all been perfectly obvious to anyone of the least sensibility.’’ A dreamy expression settled on her exquisite features. “A person can tell when someone is attracted to someone.”

Ninian!
thought Diana. Of all the young men upon whom Lissa might have bestowed her youthful affection, why did it have to be Ninian Crowne?

But there was no time for that now. She thrust the problem from her mind, returning to the matter at hand. Here she found herself at a standstill. She could not explain to Lissa that Jared’s gestures of affection were pure artifice, because that would mean revealing the betrothal scheme, which would, in turn, lead to a most uncomfortable discussion of how she and Jared had come to meet in the first place.

Oh, what a tangled web,
she reflected dismally.

She faced Lissa and tried again.

“You are quite mistaken,” she said in a firm voice. “Lord Burnleigh has been most courteous, and I am grateful, but that is all there is to our—our relationship.”

Lissa grinned skeptically.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing at, Diana, but I shan’t tease you anymore. I’ll simply say that if Grandpapa considers you betrothed, you might as well start getting your bride clothes together. In the meantime, prepare yourself to accept the congratulations of the world.”

Diana turned to her, startled.

“Do you really think Lord Burnleigh’s betrothal will create such a stir?”

“But, my dear,” drawled Lissa, essaying the role of sophisticate, “Lord Burnleigh is the most notable catch in the marriage mart. The announcement that he has at last fallen into parson’s mousetrap will set the
ton
on its ear!”

“Oh,” replied Diana hollowly.

“And I will wager my best pearls that right this minute everyone within thirty miles is making preparations for a visit, hoping to be the first to do the proper.”

“Oh.”

* * * *

Events soon proved Lissa to be eminently correct, for the ladies had just risen from luncheon when the first caller arrived at the front door.

The visitor was Ninian Crowne.

Chapter 20

Diana stood near the fireplace in the Gold Saloon, where the ladies of the house had gathered after leaving the luncheon table. She felt the blood drain from her face when she heard the name of the spurious viscount announced, but by a strong effort of will she kept her face composed. When her enemy’s graceful form stepped into the room, she greeted him with a semblance of cordiality-Good manners dictated that he make his first pleasantries to Lady Teague, and he accomplished this with his characteristic polish. Lissa then came in for several fulsome compliments, under which she blushed adorably.