As You Wish (15 page)

Blacker than licorice, she thought, warmth flooding her body at the memory of “tasting” his hair, his skin, his mouth . . .

He turned and said something to his father, giving her a better view of his profile: the unmistakably noble nose and sensual curve of his mouth.  She liked the way his lower lip jutted forward just a little, somehow promising a talent for kissing--or maybe her new personal knowledge had suggested that interpretation.

His gaze flitted to meet hers, and she realized she’d been staring.  Now he stared back at her, slowly getting up as she gathered her wits and stepped into the room.

The marquess looked up when his son stood, following the line of David’s gaze to the entrance way.  He smiled and jumped to pull out another chair at the table.  “Good morning, Miss Cantrell.  I shall ring for more tea.  This pot has gone cold, and David and I need fresh cups as well.”

The mention of David’s name unlocked the son’s gaze from hers to glance at his father.  When he looked back at her again, he gave her a stiff nod.  “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”  She let Lord Solebury help her with her chair, smiling up at him.  “Thank you, my lord.”

While she answered her host’s polite inquiries into her rest, servants bustled in with hot tea, wonderfully aromatic croissants and big, crimson strawberries.

“I’m sorry I interrupted your meeting,” she said to her companions, noticing David had begun scooping papers into a leather portfolio.  She spooned what she hoped might pass for a ladylike portion of fruit onto her plate.  “Please don’t let me keep you from your discussion.”

“We have discussed enough for one morning.”  Lord Solebury poured himself a cup of tea, then pulled out a pocket watch and flipped open the hinged cover.  “By Jove, time passes quickly when one is engaged usefully.  My son is teaching me to employ my wits, Miss Cantrell.  Who would have suspected planning and preparation might offer so much entertainment?”

“Even when you’re planning how you can keep Napoleon at bay?” she asked, treating herself to a dash of cream on her strawberries.

In her peripheral vision, she saw the marquess look at his son with raised eyebrows.  David gave him a barely perceptible shake of the head.

She grinned.  “I see.  I’m only a woman and not privy to complicated male pursuits like military strategy.  Well, no thanks, anyway.  As far as I’m concerned, war is one male-  dominated arena we women shouldn’t bother infiltrating.”  Recalling David had served in the military, she sent him an apologetic look.  “No offense intended.”

He shrugged.  “I have my own compunctions about war--doubtlessly outnumbering yours.  That is one reason I sold out of my commission.”

His father took her remarks more lightly, peering over the brim of his teacup with carefree eyes.  “Tell me, Miss Cantrell, what male pursuits would you like to infiltrate?  Politics?  Or a more recreational area, like men’s clubs?  Believe me, my dear, you ladies are missing little in being excluded from such activities.”

“How about property ownership?”  She smiled to soften her words, pushing a strawberry into her mouth.

“Women may own property,” he said, “though I suspect you speak of making the occurrence commonplace.”

She nodded.

He looked to his son, grinning.  “What a place America must be, with all this free thinking bandied about, eh, David?  I think I should like to visit the States myself sometime.”

“I had the very same thought.”  David eyed Leah so intensely that for a second she forgot to chew.

The marquess leaned back in his chair.  “So, what do you young people have in store for today?  I don’t believe my wife has assigned you any additional tasks, so your time is all your own.  Perhaps you might drive over to see the ruins of the old abbey.  The building is little more than a shell these days, but the locale affords a lovely view of the Channel.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Leah said, excited by the prospect of going anywhere with David, let alone a picturesque old abbey.  “I love the idea of exploring ruins.  Where I come from, we don’t have many, you know.”

Instead of smiling at her little joke, David frowned and looked at his father.  “The abbey is also entirely deserted, isolated from everything and everyone.  Would Miss Cantrell not require a chaperon for such an excursion?”

“Would she?”  Lord Solebury laughed.  “As her prospective escort, perhaps you are better equipped to say, but I should think a young gentleman and lady might fare well enough alone on such a short journey and in an open carriage.”

David glanced at her and looked away again, an action that made his reluctance clear.  “An open carriage might not be a good idea today.  I believe we can expect rain this afternoon.”

“But the sun is shining,” she said, confused by his excuse-making.  Then she remembered his concern for her “virtue” and realized he must not trust himself alone with her--or maybe her with him.  She felt insulted until she reminded herself he was a product of another society.  Couples in this age didn’t just “hook up”-- though she had no idea how their courting rituals went.  People probably didn’t even kiss until they got engaged.

Well, she wasn’t about to sit back and wait for that, a remote possibility at best.

She tilted her head to one side and cooed, “I’ve never visited a ruin before.  It must be fascinating to look at the remnants of an ancient building and imagine its original glory . . . to wonder about the people who worked on its construction and who once lived within its walls.”

His stoic expression showed he didn’t share her enthusiasm.  He swallowed.  “Perhaps another day.  I feel a change of weather coming.  An old injury in my leg grieves me whenever a storm is approaching.”

She looked to the windows lining the far wall and saw that a few clouds had gathered in the last half-hour.  A meteorologist might have predicted otherwise but, in her estimation, the chance of precipitation remained slim.

“You may be able to do some exploring before the storm comes,” Lord Solebury said.  “I would judge that you have quite awhile before rain clouds set in.”

“I am sure Miss Cantrell would not want to chance getting caught in a downpour.”  David looked into his cup, reached for the teapot and poured himself another serving.  “The abbey is too dilapidated to afford shelter against the elements.”

“You are free to take my barouche again.”  The marquess watched his son with the intent gaze that ran in the family.  “You can ride on the box while the weather holds and take shelter inside later, if need be.”

“A barouche is not the ideal place to be trapped in the middle of a storm, either.”  The quickness of David’s answer announced he had no intention of reconsidering.

“Depends on whom one is trapped with.”  Lord Solebury grinned, but his amusement faded when he looked to Leah.  “Forgive me, Miss Cantrell.  I simply cannot understand why my son resists such a charming scheme.”

She waved off his apology and decided to show David some mercy, too.  “Never mind.  We can go another day, when his leg isn’t bothering him.  Then we’ll be able to explore the ruins more thoroughly.”

The marquess looked disappointed for her, but if he meant to argue further, the arrival of the butler prevented him.

The stately, gray-haired servant stopped just within the doorway, bowing deeply to his employer.  “I beg pardon, your  lordship, but Viscount Langston and his lady have stopped to call on their way to London.  His lordship apologizes for the early hour of his visit.  He says he will wait on you another time, if you are occupied at the moment.”

“Langston and his wife are here?”  Lord Solebury broke into a broad smile.  “What a pleasant surprise.  I shall go to them directly, Domfrey.  Have you shown them to the drawing room?”

“Indeed, sir.”

“Have some refreshments brought in, and tell them I shall be there in but a moment.”  The marquess looked to David.  “Do you remember Lord Langston, David?  I believe you met him once or twice many years ago.”

He nodded slowly, his expressive lower lip curling.  “He is William’s godfather.”

Lord Solebury made a face.  “So he is, but I should like him to see I have one son with a good head on his shoulders.  You will come and greet him with me, I hope?”

The V-like slant of David’s eyebrows smoothed into an arch of surprise.  He darted a look at Leah.

She smiled, nodding her encouragement.

“I hope you will join us as well, Miss Cantrell,” the marquess added.  “Clearly, my wife cannot act as hostess, and I should like your assistance.”

“I’d be honored.”  She got up, compelling the men to follow suit--a bit of chivalry she had already grown to like.  No cause for finding such manners sexist, she reasoned, as a woman could show a man the same courtesy.  As a matter of fact, she would do so herself at the next opportunity.

She took the arm the marquess proffered, turning to give his son a hopeful smile.  He didn’t smile back, but he followed their lead through the hall to the drawing room.

Viscount Langston looked a little older than his friend, in his mid-fifties, maybe, with thinning light brown hair and a slight paunch.  His wife must have been about ten years younger, with short-cropped, tawny curls and a matronly build.  Leah decided she liked both of them as soon as she saw how friendly they were when the marquess reintroduced them to David.  They greeted her with just as much warmth, adding to the good impression.

After a flurry of inquiries into various people’s health, most notably Phoebe’s, everyone settled down with England’s omnipresent tea.

“What a lovely surprise your calling is,” the marquess said, reclining in a stuffed armchair.  “Solebury House is a bit off the route between your country seat and London.”

“Not at all.  What is a few miles of added travel where friends are concerned?”  Lord Langston paused, his smile ebbing into sober lines.  He glanced at the faces around the room, setting down his cup and saucer.  “Actually, I have a specific matter I wish to discuss with you, Harold.  But perhaps you would like to speak in private?”

“What sort of matter?”  The marquess leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.  “A business concern?”

His friend fidgeted, sitting up straighter on the settee he and his wife shared.  “I wished to talk to you about William.”

“Ah, I see.”  Lord Solebury sighed.  “Well, you may as well speak freely.  David knows what trouble his brother is, and the ladies are likely to learn sooner or later . . . unless of course, the boy has done something unfit for their ears.”

“No, nothing quite so dreadful.”  Lord Langston took a deep breath.  “Relatively minor, perhaps, and I hate to bear tales, but he is my godson, so I feel a certain responsibility to try to promote his welfare.”

“Rightly so,” the marquess said, while Leah’s curiosity grew.  She glanced at David, who wound his pocket watch with an absorption she thought feigned.  He didn’t normally hide his resentment for his half brother quite so well.

“Well, first, I happened upon William at Tattersall’s the other week,” Lord Langston said, looking his friend in the eye.  “The last time I spoke to you, you mentioned his straitened finances, so you can imagine my surprise upon learning he had purchased a prime team of grays.”

Lord Solebury’s jaw dropped visibly.  “A
team
of grays?”

Langston nodded.  “I thought you might be unaware of the acquisition.”

“Indeed.”  The marquess stood and went to the window, his slumping shoulders leading Leah to wish she hadn’t been allowed to witness the conversation after all.  She sympathized with Lord Solebury, with one son who resented him bitterly and another who showed him no respect.

After staring outside for a long moment, he turned back to the others.  “Well, you were right to inform me of this, John.  The boy has no business making that sort of purchase in his circumstances.  And I don’t suppose he has sold off any of the other blood he has purchased in the past year?”

The viscount rose as well, joining him by the window.  “No, and I fear there is more to the story.  The very next day, news of a certain carriage race spread quickly in the clubs.”

“So he means to race now?”  The marquess threw his hands up in the air.  “And why should that surprise me?  Any pursuit that provides an opportunity for gaming is likely to attract the young jackanapes.”

The viscount pressed his palms together, placing his thumbs against his chin.  “This particular race had already taken place, I am afraid.  Now, let me assure you William is unharmed, but I am sorry to say he had an accident, in which he overturned his carriage.  The grays did not fare as well as the driver.  Two horses had to be destroyed.”

Lord Solebury’s face went ashen, then reddened in obvious rage.  When he spoke again, his voice cracked.  “Those poor, hapless animals.  The boy demonstrates a complete lack of responsibility at every turn!  Well, I suppose there is nothing else for it: I shall have to go to London.”

Silence fell over the group, as everyone stared blindly at different points around the room.

At last David cleared his throat, stating quietly, “Lady Solebury will be highly upset.  She won’t want you to leave her at this time.”

“True.”  His father ran a hand through his hair.  “But I can see no other way to deal with William.  I will leave immediately and make the trip as brief as possible, returning as soon as I can drag William’s wretched carcass home with me.  Phoebe does not expect to be confined for another month yet.”

But Leah knew his going could upset Phoebe enough to endanger her and her baby.  She looked around at all the grim faces and could tell everyone else thought the same.  David, in particular, looked agitated, shifting in his chair and tapping his foot on the highly polished wooden floor.

Finally, he glanced at Leah, then stood and stepped toward his father.  “I shall go in your stead.”

“You will?”  Every line of worry on the marquess’s face transformed to show astonishment.

“You cannot possibly leave Phoebe now.  You know how your going would affect her.  Of course, I don’t know how much I can accomplish with William, but I daresay I may proceed as well as you would have done.”