Anne Barbour (6 page)

Still, when Jared withdrew his gaze, she experienced a sharp sense of loss, knowing that she would never again find that expression in his eyes.

Fool!
Jared berated himself. Why did the nearness of this woman move him so? Her cheek, so deliciously curved, and soft as crushed flowers—and those eyes . . . A man might drown in their misty depths.
But never forget,
he reminded himself harshly,
she is an artful siren, and in those silvery pools a man could run aground on the rocks of greed and cruelty.
No one knew better than he the treachery to be found in the limpid innocence of a woman’s gaze.

Suddenly, Lord Chamford released Diana’s hand. She turned to find that his eyes were closed, his face whiter than the pillows upon which he had sunk. His breathing had become labored again, and Jared turned Diana toward the door. Fishperk, the valet, hurried forward, exchanging a meaningful glance with the earl as he saw the two from the room.

In the corridor, Diana leaned against the wall, pale and shaken. Her glance caught that of the earl, and she surprised a flash of respect in his eyes.

“A formidable performance,” he acknowledged. “Yes,” she replied bitterly, “I believe I was satisfactory. Between the two of us, we have successfully hoodwinked that wonderful old man.’’ Despite herself, tears welled in her eyes. “Please have done, madam,” sighed Jared. “Spare me your false expressions of pity. You have nothing further to gain from them, you know.” Diana’s breath came fast in indignation. “Do you not think I have human feelings?” she cried. “Possibly,” he returned. “However, your tears would be much more convincing had you not bargained quite so cleverly before inducing them. No, do not fly up at me.” He grinned sourly as Diana’s eyes flashed. “I will not permit you to assault me in my own home. Please try to conduct yourself ...”

They had been moving toward the staircase, but Jared stopped suddenly at the sound of voices rising from the great hall below. One of them, clear and youthful, could be heard distinctly.

“Yes, we did make good time. But never mind that now, Mallow. Quickly—take my pelisse, and here is my hat. I must go directly to Grandpapa.”

The voice of the butler could be heard in ineffectual remonstrance.

“But of course I’m going up. He will want to see me— I know.”

Now the voice grew closer. Jared stiffened, and cursed under his breath. He grasped Diana’s arm in an attempt to draw her away from the staircase, but it was too late.

In a flurry of gauze and flying ribbons, the owner of the voice came into view around the curve of the staircase. She appeared to be about seventeen years old, and was quite astonishingly beautiful. A tumble of brunette curls framed an enchanting little face, with dark, sparkling eyes, a small, straight nose, and an adorable pink bow for a mouth. Her figure was small and slender, her movements graceful, and she gave the impression of floating, fairylike, up the stairs. On catching sight of the earl, she launched into hurried speech.

“Jared! We started as soon as the message came. I thought we’d never get here. Mallow says I’m not to see Grandpapa, but that’s—”

She stopped short as she caught sight of Diana, standing a little behind Jared at the top of the stairs.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, her delicate brows arching in surprise.

Then she took in the borrowed dimity gown. Her mouth formed a small pink 0 of astonishment as she shot a questioning glance at Jared.

The earl, with creditable aplomb, turned to Diana.

“Miss Bavister, may I present my sister Felicity?” Then, to the younger girl, “Lissa, this is Miss Diana Bavister. She is the daughter of a dear friend of our mother, and she has come all the way from Wales to visit us.”

Lissa, her eyes still on the gown, bobbed a dubious curtsey and murmured a greeting.

Diana took Lissa’s proffered hand, concealing her trepidation. She had hoped for more time to recover from the interview with Lord Chamford before embarking on an encounter with another member of the family, particularly since this enchanting beauty was obviously the owner of the pale green dimity.

“How do you do. Lady Felicity? You must think me a strange visitor, indeed, to have pilfered your wardrobe. When you hear my sad story, I hope you will forgive me.”

She then, with appropriate interjections from Jared, related the tale of the overturned coach. Lissa was all concern.

“What a dreadful thing to have happen!” she exclaimed. “Please call me Lissa. And, of course, you are welcome to anything I have. But,” she continued, not to be deterred from her purpose, “right now I must go to Grandpapa. Oh, Jared,” she choked, “is he really. . . . ?

“I’m afraid so, my dear. He is very weak, and cannot see anyone just now.’’

“But that’s nonsense!” cried Lissa mutinously. “I know he will want to see me immediately!”

“Absolutely impossible. Now, go to your room, and I will call you as soon as Grandfather has rested.”

In his voice Diana caught the sound of nerves rasped raw, and as a look of battle flashed in Lissa’s eyes, she spoke without thinking.

“But, Lord Burnleigh, you have not explained the situation to your sister. Lissa, I’m afraid this is all my doing.”

Two pairs of dark eyes swung toward her, and she placed her hand on the young girl’s arm.

“As you can imagine, when your grandpapa heard there was a strange female in the house, nothing would do but that I be brought to attend him at once. We talked at some length, which I fear cost his lordship a great deal. He was indeed very weak when we left him just a few minutes ago.”

Lissa appeared to digest this with a tolerable degree of acceptance, but opened her mouth to deliver what promised to be a strong caveat. Diana continued quietly, “If the decision to see him were yours alone, which do you think would be the best course?”

Once again she was the recipient of a thunderous scowl from the earl. Lissa did not reply, but remained still for a moment, her head bowed. Then she spoke in a subdued voice.

“I did not perfectly understand. Of course, I’ll wait until Grandpapa is able to see me.” To Jared she said, “You will tell him as soon as he is awake that I am here?”

Jared appeared dumbstruck as he observed the unaccustomed expression of gravity on his sister’s willful young face.

“You know I will, Lissa,” he said, his voice softer. “As soon as he awakens. And now,” he continued, “I wonder if I might impose on you to accompany Miss Bavister to her room. We have put her in the rose bedchamber. Aunt Amabelle has had her women sewing since early this morning, and by now should have a gown ready for her.”

Diana glanced at Jared in blank bewilderment.

“Ah, Miss Bavister,” said the earl with a smile, a glint of pure mischief in his eyes, “my aunt prides herself on her efficient household. Did her maid not tell you that measurements were taken from the ruined gown in which you arrived, and that one or two garments would be ready by late this morning?”

Diana, her improvisational abilities deserting her, responded with a strangled gasp. Lissa took her hand.

“Of course she will need a guide. Grandpapa always says this place is such a barracks one needs bearers and a batman to get from the hall to the scullery.’’

Diana contented herself with a speaking glance at his lordship and allowed herself to be drawn along the corridor.

Jared watched the two figures disappear from view, and turning away, he mused for a moment in brief self-congratulation. He had chosen his tool well, he thought crudely, and so far all was going according to plan. The female had performed beyond his hopes; Grandfather was at peace.

He was not particularly surprised that the manners of a lady could be successfully counterfeited by a woman of the streets. Her sort could be found in discreet little
pieds-à-terre
all over London, the mistresses of wealthy men. Not, he thought wryly, that their morals were much different from those of the noble ladies they emulated. An image of the lovely Cleanthe flashed into his mind. He was startled by the vision, for he had not thought of that high-born beauty in years. He was grimly pleased that the memory of her cornflower-blue eyes no longer had the power to twist his insides into knots of hurt and humiliation. If anything, he mused, he was grateful to her for teaching him the eminently practical lesson that the heart of a noble lady could be as wanton and rapacious as that of the lowest street drab.

Armed with this invaluable knowledge, he had for many years sought his pleasures not only from among the muslin company, but in the softly lit boudoirs of accommodating peeresses whose husbands attended to pressing affairs elsewhere.

He sighed, his thoughts turning back to his present predicament. Why had he for so long put off choosing a bride? Despite his grandfather’s urging, he had avoided parson’s mousetrap with great care, and had for many Seasons remained the most determined of bachelors, eluding the myriad lures cast by hopeful mamas of the
ton
and their dutiful daughters.

What—or who—was he looking for? he wondered. Would marriage to one of the dutiful daughters be so terrible? Surely, it would not necessitate a change in his pleasant life-style. After all, men of his station wed for advantage, and they joined with women who married for the same reason. That was the way of the world. His world, at any rate. The bride of his choice would be an ornament to his family and their name. He would support her in magnificent style, provide her with clothes and jewels, and assure her of a place in the highest ranks of the
haut ton.
She, in turn, would maintain his home, bear his children, and conduct her own affairs with discretion. It was certainly not to be expected that she would interfere in his pleasures. All in all, he could look forward to a most comfortable existence as a married man.

Why the prospect of such a union filled him with only the most profound depression he could not say.

He snorted contemptuously at his jaded maunderings, and turned back toward his grandfather’s chambers.

Chapter 6

As advertised, Diana discovered two gowns awaiting her in the little dressing room adjacent to her bedchamber. She presented them for Lissa’s inspection.

“I must say,” she exclaimed, “the hospitality in your grandfather’s establishment apparently knows no bounds. I could sink with embarrassment at being found in such a predicament, but I am prepared to accept with gratitude his charity to a castaway. What shall it be, then—the gray or the lavender?”

Lissa sat curled up in an armchair of cherry-striped silk.

“Nonsense,” she responded, with a magnanimous wave of her hand. “We are more than happy to render whatever assistance we can. The gray, I think. With your hair, you’ll look just stunning. Or, at least ...” She trailed off, surveying again the sober round gown, unadorned by so much as a ribbon or a flounce. “I wonder what Aunt was thinking? One would suppose you were applying for a post as governess.”

“No! How can you say so?” retorted Diana, her eyes twinkling. “I’ll wager this was your brother’s idea. In my short acquaintance with him, I find that he seems to have an inordinate penchant for respectability.’’

“Jared?” Lissa exclaimed. “Respectable? That’s just about the last word any of his friends would use to describe him, if one can believe half the
on-dits
that have been spread about him. ...”

Any interesting revelations about to be made by Lord Burnleigh’s undutiful sister were left unreported. The maid, Kate, entered, announcing breathlessly, “Lady Teague sent me, Lady Felicity. She said to tell you to bring Miss Bavister down for luncheon now, please. It will be served a little early, as the doctor is expected soon.”

At these words, Diana realized that she was quite hollow with hunger. By her recollection, she had eaten nothing since last night’s ill-fated cutlets and peas at the Green Man.

With Kate’s help, she shrugged into the gray gown, and glanced in the mirror to adjust her collar. Suddenly, her eyes widened, and she uttered a soft cry of dismay.

“Why, what is it, Diana?” asked Lissa. “Whatever is the matter?”

“I was wearing a small pendant,” whispered Diana, her hand at her throat. “I hadn’t realized till now—I must have lost it when ...” She caught herself, and forced a smile to her lips. “It—it’s nothing important.” She patted a curl into place.

But her hand crept once more to her collar as she followed Lissa from the room and hastened in her wake through yet another maze of corridors.

Eventually the two reached the family dining parlor, a spacious chamber paneled in oak and hung with straw-colored brocade. Lady Teague was already seated at the long mahogany table. Gracing the board were two additional females, the first of whom was well into middle age, and thin to the point of emaciation. She put Diana strongly in mind of a worried mouse, with frightened eyes and a pink-tipped nose. In contrast, the second lady could only be described as massive. Three chins trembled over a broad reef of bosom, and two pale eyes peered at Diana unwinkingly, like mushrooms in a bowl of cream soup.

Lady Teague waved the young women to their places.

“Lissa, dearest! I had not thought to see you returned in such good time, and I see you have already met our guest. Jared will not be joining us—he is with Papa, of course. I do apologize, my dear,” she said to Diana, “for the skimble-skamble manner in which we have treated you since your arrival. It’s just that everything is so—so ...” She finished her thought with a flutter of her beringed hands. Her bracelets clinked an accompaniment.

“I understand, my lady,” Diana replied soothingly. “It is I who should apologize for intruding into your household at such a time.”

“No, no—er, Diana—nothing of the kind, of course. We’re most pleased to have—um ...” Again her words trickled away, and, with the air of one grasping a lifeline, she turned to introduce the other two women.

“This—” she gestured to the large lady—”is Mrs. Lydia Sample, my cousin, and this”—she indicated the mouse—”is Miss Bledsoe, Lissa’s governess.”

Feeling a pang of sympathy for this frightened little person, obviously the product of years of living on the sufferance of wealthy families, Diana gave her nod of encouragement. Receiving no response beyond a quick, nervous bob of the head, Diana turned to the proffered dishes.