Anne Barbour (17 page)

Some minutes later, she was obliged to shake herself free of a fantasy that involved moonlit assignations in scented gardens and candlelit boudoirs and the vision of a hard, muscular body bent over hers under rumpled bedcovers.

Gracious, perhaps she did need a man, after all! Her thoughts drifted to Trevor Bentham, who was hers for the asking. Somehow, however, the thought of lifting her lips to his in that moonlit garden did not send sparks fizzing through her veins as they had a few moments before when another figure filled her fantasy. And then there was Robert Carver. On the drive home after the ball, Gussie had made it more than evident that she had introduced her to Robert with a definite purpose in mind. Robert Carver, said Gussie in an unspoken but unmistakable message, was the perfect match for Hester.

Hester had accepted Robert’s invitation to come to his house for a meeting of his discussion group, not because of Gussie’s patent manipulation, but because she genuinely liked the man. She would, she decided, avail herself of Robert’s company and simply see what developed. There could surely be no harm in that—and perhaps something very good would come of it. She was certainly not, as she had averred so often, in the market for a husband, but there was something to be said for masculine companionship—in judicious doses.

In the meantime, Trevor would be collecting her that evening to take her to a meeting of The Friends of Greek Literature, to be held at the home of Mr. Jasper Fenwick, critiquer of Ovid and Pindar. She looked forward to the outing, not only because she would be greeting old friends, but because it would mark a return from the dangerous world of Lord Bythorne and his amoralities to her own secure environment.

In the event, however, that circumstance was to be postponed. Shortly before dinner, when Hester, Lady Lavinia, and Lord Bythorne had gathered in the gold saloon, a commotion in the entry hall sent them peltering out in inquiry. There they found Chloe standing in the center of the hall in the shelter of John Wery’s arms. Her maid Pinkham stood to one side twittering distressfully. Both young women were in an advanced state of disarray. Chloe’s Gypsy hat hung down her back, the cherries torn away from their moorings, and the pomona gown was mud-stained and torn.

“Good God!” exclaimed Thorne. “What happened?”

Chloe, pale and shaken, turned blindly toward him. “Oh, Uncle Thorne!” She put out a hand to him, but she did not leave John’s side. “There was an accident. A terrible accident. Oh, it was so dreadful! I thought we were all going to die!”

John led her to a chair placed at the edge of the parquetry floor and tenderly deposited her in its cushioned depths. He straightened, then, and turned to Thorne, as Lady Lavinia hurried to Chloe’s side.

“It was a carriage accident, sir. I believe Ch—Miss Venable has suffered no real injury, but she has sustained a great shock. Perhaps if her maid could take her upstairs?”

“I will take her,” said Hester sharply. “Pinkham appears to be greatly distressed as well.”

“Oh!” Pinkham squeaked, apparently startled at the idea anyone would consider her state of mind. “I am quite well, miss, thank you. It’s only—

“John!” Chloe gasped and, clinging to her aunt with one hand, gestured wildly with the other. “Do not leave! I have not had a chance to thank you properly.”

“What in God’s name—?” interposed Thorne sharply. “What happened?” he repeated.

Chloe, by now somewhat restored, turned a glowing face to the earl. “Oh, Uncle Thorne. John was magnificent! If it were not for his quick thinking—and his strength—we would all be stretched out lifeless on the road to Richmond!”

John flushed to the roots of his wispy brown hair. “It was nothing like that,” he assured Thorne hastily. “We were driving in a carriage belonging to Fred Wilkerson, one of our party. There were seven of us in the vehicle, which was a tight squeeze, so I volunteered to sit on top, along with one of the other fellows who was in the group. We had nearly reached our destination, a picnic ground not far from the river, when the sky darkened. Thinking it was going to rain soon, we decided to turn off the main road toward Wandsworth, where we could stop for refreshments at an inn there. We had not gone far along this route, when the weather turned very nasty, indeed.”

“Mrs. Salburt, Helen’s mother, was with us,” put in Chloe, “and she began screeching like a demented crow.”

“Yes,” said John, “well, it began to thunder and lightning, and the horses began to grow extremely restive. Finally, as luck would have it, lightning did actually strike a tree, just as we were driving beneath it.”

“I never heard such an awful sound in my life,” said Chloe, going quite pale at the memory. “I thought the world had come to an end.”

John smiled crookedly. “It very nearly did—for us, at least. A tree limb was broken off and it struck the coach driver, knocking him from his perch to the ground. The horses, of course, took the whole thing very much amiss—

“Maddened by fear,” whispered Chloe dramatically.

“And they bolted,” finished John in a remarkably prosaic tone. “Fortunately, I was able to maneuver myself into the coachman’s position and tried to bring them to a halt. However, I was able only to slow them considerably before we eventually plunged into a ditch.”

“He was absolutely magnificent,” breathed Chloe, her eyes wide and awestruck. “After the coach finally halted, no one else had the slightest idea of what to do, but John leaped down and, after assuring that the rest of us were unharmed, directed the groom to help him unhitch the horses from the carriage. John Coachman came hurrying up a few moments later, none the worse for wear, and John sent him to a nearby house for help.” She uttered a deep, quavering sigh. ‘Then he hired another coach at the village posting house and brought us all home safe and sound.”

She turned adoring eyes to her rescuer.

“Well!” exclaimed Thorne, expelling a forceful breath. “It seems as though you are the hero of the hour, Mr. Wery. Let me offer you my congratulations for bringing a very sticky situation to a happy ending.”

John flushed furiously, all but digging his toe in the carpet, and said nothing. Hester noted that Chloe was still in a high state of excitement.

“Let me help you upstairs, my dear,” she said, gesturing to Pinkham as she did so, and in a moment the little cavalcade made its way up the staircase toward Chloe’s bedchamber. John spoke to Thorne in a diffident voice, and Hester caught his last words as she and Lady Lavinia propelled Chloe upward.

“If I might have a word with you in private, sir.”

Chapter Twelve

Upstairs, Hester dismissed Pinkham, recommending that she get herself into a hot hath and then to bed. Aunt Lavinia, her expression a bit startled at this unusual solicitude for a servant, acquiesced in a faint voice, merely requesting that she order one of the other maids to bring up hot water for Chloe.

Chloe, unheeding, allowed Hester to assist her in removing the tattered Gypsy bonnet and stained pomona muslin.

“Uh!” she said. “It’s soaked. I’ll never be one of those females who damps her petticoats just to display her figure. What a dreadfully uncomfortable way to spend an evening.”

“I daresay,” agreed Hester solemnly. “In any event, you are fortunate you came to no further harm than a ruined gown and bonnet.”

“Oh yes,” cried Chloe, returning to the theme that had occupied her mind since the disaster near Richmond. “Oh, Hester—Aunt—I wish you could have seen John in action. He was just like one of the heroes in Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels.”

“My!” said Aunt Lavinia, much impressed. She hurried away to open the door for a maid staggering under a can of hot water, and soon Chloe was immersed, sighing with contentment, in a steaming bath.

At this point, Aunt Lavinia succumbed to Hester’s urging that she seek her dinner. There was really no need, said Hester, for both of them to minister to the stricken damsel.

As she stepped from the tub into a lawn nightshift, Chloe was still talking about John’s daring exploits.

“I truly did think we were all going to be killed, Hester. The coach seemed to be pitching in all directions at once, and when we finally did come to rest in the ditch, we were tossed at such an angle! I didn’t know if I was on my head or my ears. Kitty Fairchild had fallen on top of me, and, as I said, Mrs. Salburt was screeching fit to wake the dead.”

“It was fortunate that John was with you,” murmured Hester. “Even,” she added with a smile, “if he did practically invite himself.”

Chloe flushed. “That was an unhandsome thing for me to say, wasn’t it? But, I didn’t really mean it, of course. Oh, Hester, I didn’t ask him to call tomorrow. Do you think he will?”

“I believe it to be more than likely,” replied Hester, thinking of the words she had overheard just before coming upstairs.

* * * *

Below, in Thorne’s elegantly appointed library, Mr. Wery was just bringing himself to the point of his request for a private audience with the earl. He drew a deep breath.

“In short, my lord, I request your permission to pay my addresses to your ward.”

More beautiful words he had never heard, thought Thorne relievedly. The next instant a flash of compunction shot through him. Had Hester been right? Was he simply throwing these two young people together to suit his own ends? Was sober, stiff John Wery really right for eager, impetuous, volatile Chloe?

Unbelieving, he heard himself say, “Are you sure you want to do this, John? Chloe is, of course, an excellent match, but—you and Chloe are very different in style. She spends a good deal of her time swooping about in the boughs, and the least little thing sets her off. For example, do you think, on your own, you would have been able to handle her just now? I’m quite sure I could not. It would not have taken much to send her into hysteria.”

“Oh no, sir,” replied John earnestly. “You did not see her earlier. She bore the chaos of the carriage wreck with great fortitude, making sure the other girls were safe before she would exit the vehicle herself, and soothing them—and Mrs. Salburt—in their fear and excitement. It was only when the crisis was over that she became, er, flustered.”

“Really? You amaze me.”

“It’s true, sir. And—yes, I know she is somewhat volatile, but of late I have seen a seriousness of purpose that I had not observed before. She is quite interested in social issues, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I must say, she seems inordinately interested in the decoration of her person with expensive jewelry—

“Chloe?”

“Yes, but I am sure that is just the enthusiasm of youth for trivialities. Also, she says she prefers to live in London, but I sense she is not sincere in that.”

“No, I believe you are right,” said Thorne, a little puzzled. “She seemed to enjoy our stay at the Park, and several times expressed her preference for the countryside over the city. Well,” he concluded, his conscience fully satisfied, “if—”

He was interrupted by the entrance of Hobart.

“You have—or rather Miss Blayne has a visitor, sir. Mr. Bentham.”

“What the devil—? Oh, yes, I remember now. Well, show him into the drawing room and notify Miss Blayne of his arrival.” He turned once more to John. “Now, as I— What is it, Hobart?” he asked the butler, who remained in the doorway, clearing his throat in some agitation.

“Miss Blayne is with Miss Chloe, sir. I am not sure she would wish to be interrupted.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. Just—No, never mind. I’ll go up myself. John—”

“It’s all right, sir, I’ll see myself out. I would not wish to disturb Miss Blayne if she is ministering to Chi—Miss Venable.” John’s voice took on a reverent tone as though he were referring to a temple menial attending a discommoded Vestal.

“Thank you, my boy,” returned Thorne in an avuncular tone. “And as to that other matter, you have my wholehearted permission to pursue your suit.” John’s smile widened to what could only be called a radiant grin.

‘Thank you! Thank you, sir. I hope to speak to you again on the matter very soon.”

“Such is my hope as well, John—my very devout hope.” Bidding John a brief good evening, he hurried upstairs to tap on Chloe’s door. A moment later, Hester appeared.

“Oh dear,” she said in reply to Thorne’s announcement. “I had forgotten all about Trevor. Well,” she said, looking back over her shoulder, “Chloe is dozing. I prepared her some warm milk, and I think she is probably asleep for the night. I hate to leave, though, in case she wakes up.”

“I suppose Aunt Lavinia could sit with her, if you think it necessary,” said Thorne halfheartedly. His lips curved in a half smile. “I have some news I wished to discuss with you this evening.” He was surprised at his reluctance to see Hester leave the house. He felt an unexpected need to tell her of John Wery’s request. Not that he needed her counsel regarding Chloe, of course, but he rather looked forward to simply talking things over with her. “And you have not yet dined,” he added awkwardly.

Hester, too, knew a moment of hesitation. She had been looking forward to this outing for some days, but now, at Thorne’s words, the thought of going out for the evening was strangely unwelcome. Conversely, the notion of staying home for a quiet chat with the earl held considerable appeal.

“I think it would be unwise for me to leave the house,” she said mendaciously. “Aunt Lavinia could cope with Chloe, of course, but I think she would rather not.”

“I agree.”

Hester smiled. “I’ll just go down and explain to Trevor. I’m sure he will understand.”

“I do not understand,” said Trevor, upon receiving Hester’s brief explanation of the evening’s events. His thin nose pinched unbecomingly. “We have had this engagement for over a week. Everyone is expecting you tonight. I cannot believe you would desert your friends to hold the hand of a pampered young miss who—”

“Trevor, please,” responded Hester tartly. “I am hardly deserting my friends. I was planning to invite everyone here for a small collation in a few days. I shall send notes around tomorrow. In the meantime, it would be remiss of me to leave the house tonight. My reason for coming to London, as you will recall, was to assist my cousin with his ward. She underwent an extremely trying experience this evening and I just now got her to sleep—with a great deal of difficulty, I might add. If she should awake, I feel I should be at hand to, er, render assistance.”