Barbara Metzger (23 page)

“My granddaughter, is it? Has anyone told you that you are impertinent, miss?”

“I believe your son has mentioned it.”

“Humph. I shall be discussing the sudden addition to my family at another time. Right now I wish to see—”

“He is not here,” Delia blurted, crossing her fingers at the lie.

“Ah, so the jackanapes is here. I wondered where he had gone to ground. You have been busy about my family’s affairs, haven’t you, Miss Croft?”

Delia ignored the personal slur. “Your youngest son was in a duel days ago, and you wondered? You did not come to find out his condition for yourself?”

The earl reached into his pocket and removed an elegant snuffbox. He raised a pinch of the stuff to his nose. “St. Ives lives, I assume?”

Delia nodded.

“Yes. Someone would have notified me else.” The earl patted his nose with a lace-edged linen. “But I saw no reason to bestir myself over a schoolboy stunt, not when Tyverne had the matter well in hand. I did, however, come to find my daughter. She, at least, left word with her people as to her location.”

Delia could not deny the duchess to the earl, could she? Goodness, she was swimming in deep water here. Luckily she did not have to lie this time. “Her Grace is on a tour of the cathedral at Canterbury with Mr. Stephen Anselm, a vicar there.”

“Anselm, you say?” The earl stared at her, as if trying to decide where to start carving a cooked chicken. “How could such a little dab of a female have her fingers in so many pies, I wonder.”

“I do not understand, my lord.”

“No, I daresay you never knew the brazen puppy offered for my daughter when she was presented.”

Ah, that explained a great deal, none of which Delia was going to discuss with the lady’s father. “No, I thought they were good friends, nothing more.”

“Then you are a fool, Miss Croft, which is the one thing I did not suppose you to be.”

“Thank you, I think. At any rate, you will have a long wait for Her Grace. If you wish to repair to the inn”—not the parlor, inside—“I can tell her you called, or give her a message.”

For a moment the earl looked unsure of himself. No, Delia decided, that had to be the light. He took another pinch of snuff, one-handedly, and said, “I came to tell her that her husband is gone.”

“Gone to another house party? Gone to his Irish estates?” Delia knew all about Illington by now, and his mistresses.

“Gone to his Maker, by George. It gives a man pause when his friends start falling like flies. The duke was younger than I am, by Heaven.”

The duke was an old satyr who had made his young wife miserable. This old ogre had nearly destroyed all four of his children’s lives with his dictates and decrees. He had almost lost Ty altogether. Now Delia was supposed to feel sorry for him that he had lost a friend? “My condolences” was all she said.

Chapter 26

If Major Lord Tyverne could ride into battle, Delia thought, she could be brave enough to face his father over tea. If that did not prove she was brave enough to be a soldier’s wife, if that was what Ty wanted, then nothing would. So she invited the Earl of Stivern, surely the most assertive and self-assured man of her acquaintance, now that she realized Ty had feet of clay, or whatever, into her home. How could she not extend her hospitality when he was waiting for Ann with such news?

After sending Dover ahead with a warning, she led the earl up the narrow stairs. Nonny was established in one bedroom of the master suite, and Melinda’s nursery was in the other, saving Nanny and the rest of them the additional climb up to the attic level.

Mr. St. Ives sat propped up on his pillows, wearing an old dressing gown of George’s. Thea stood by his bedside, her hand in his. Delia could see the white knuckles of Nonny’s hand, and the trembling in Thea’s, but the girl did not faint, thank goodness. From her chaperoning seat by the, window, Aunt Eliza slipped out the door after a brief introduction. “You know how I hate family confrontations, er, conversations,” she whispered to Delia as she passed by.

The earl took out his quizzing glass and surveyed the pair in front of him. He noted his son’s healthy color and steady gaze. “You’ll do,” he said with a nod of his silver-haired head. Then he fixed his blue-eyed scrutiny on Miss Dunsley. Thea’s complexion turned ashen, as if she were the invalid, and her curtsy was a bit shaky, but she stayed upright, Delia was relieved to see.

“Miss .
..
Dunsley, is it?” At Thea’s nod, the earl continued: “If I were to offer you a sum of money to release my son from any cabbage-headed commitment he may have made, one, moreover, that is unenforceable by law, since he is a minor, would you take it and leave?”

Delia and Nonny both gasped at the man’s audacity. Thea simply bobbed another curtsy, a steadier one this time, and said, “No, my lord. I would not leave unless Non—Mr. St. Ives wished me to go.”

“Without first asking how big a sum I was willing to hand over?”

Thea shook her head. “No.”

“Then you are as big a fool as my son, and you two deserve each other.”

Nonny smiled and said, “I do mean to have her, Father.”

The earl replaced his quizzing glass. “After dragging the family name through whatever muck Tyverne did not, I should hope so. And no havey-cavey Gretna nonsense, either, do you hear? There has been enough talk as is.”

“No, sir. Ty
is arranging a special license, for as soon as I am able to walk down the aisle.”

“Good. And then you will bring your bride to Stivern Keep in Warwickshire. I am not getting any younger, you know. It is about time one of my sons knew something of the family lands. You’ll train to be estate manager for that jackanapes brother of yours.”

“I will?” There was nothing Nonny wished more, after marrying Thea. He could earn his own way, not accept charity from Ty. “That is, I will, sir! Thank you.”

“Good. And see that you do not present me with any more premature grandchildren, either, is that understood?”

Thea and Nonny both blushed, but they nodded.

“Fine.” The earl turned to Delia then and said, “I suppose you are going to force me to view the infant next.”

Delia had to smile. No one forced this man to do anything he did not wish. She led him back to the sitting room between the bedchambers and fetched Melinda out to him. Without asking, she put the sleeping child in his arms. Now the failing-sighted old fake did not have to use his peering glass to see the baby’s perfect features.

“She is quite
...
lovely,” the earl said. “My own were red-faced, squalling trolls, from what I recall. I am always amazed they turned out to be so handsome.”

“Your family is indeed a good-looking one, from the three members that I have seen,” Delia agreed, going to take the baby back.

“No, she is sleeping so peacefully, it would be a shame to disturb her. Melinda, you say? Pretty name. Pretty child. I would hold my first granddaughter a minute longer.” He sat in the comfortable armchair, obviously prepared to sit longer than a mere moment—or toss thunderbolts at anyone daring to take the infant from him. “They are decent, too.”

“My lord?”

“My sons and daughter. They turned out well.”

Delia wanted to reply, “With no help from you,” but she did not. Instead she said, “Excellently well. You should be proud,” although she could not help the rude noise that escaped her lips.

“I take it you do not approve of me, Miss Croft.”

“I am sure I would never be so presumptuous, my lord.”

“Fustian. I think there is nothing you would not presume, not after seeing how you got this little lady so well established. In truth, you do not approve how I raised my children, do you, Miss Croft?”

“In truth? No. I would wish Melinda’s father to be kind and caring, sharing her daily life, not be some distant godlike figure, sending orders down from his distant throne. I would wish her father to listen to her wishes, and help her make the right choices.”

“I cared for my children. I did what I thought was best for them.”

“Did you? Is that why you forced Ty into the army?”

“Force him? No one forces that boy to do anything. He was army mad from the day he could toddle. Horsey was his first word. He would have gone off to the cavalry when he turned six and ten. I tried to steer him in other directions, show him there were other ways of serving the country, get him leg-shackled so he could not run off. Bah. I should have saved my breath.”

“And your second son, Aristotle?”

“Totty? The fool would have been content to manage my Irish stud, staying in Tyverne’s shadow his entire life. Now he has a prosperous horse farm in Virginia. He is a wealthy landowner who might become governor, or senator, whatever they call the government there. My only regret is that he has children I might never see.” He pulled the blanket closer around Melinda. “And Ann never had any.”

“You married her to a man nearly your age.”

“A rich man, who adored her. Frankly, I thought he would pop off years ago, leaving her a wealthy widow. What else was I to do, let her wed young Stephen Anselm, a cleric without connections or hope for advancement?”

“He has gone far, to the archbishop’s own staff.”

“With my son’s help. But Anselm was a gazetted flirt then, with all the girls sighing over him. He would have broken her heart. Then she would have fallen prey to the next fortune hunter with a handsome face and a winning smile.”

“He is still charming, but he never married.”

“And she is finally a widow.”

They both remained silent, contemplating the possibilities.

“What about Nonny, Mr. St. Ives, that is? I understand you wished him to become a cleric.”

“What I wished was that the scapegrace learn to control his emotions and his impulses. Just look at this mare’s nest he’s made of finding a bride. No, I did not wish him to be a mere farmer, without education, without seeing something of the world so he did not miss it later.”

“Yet you almost lost him.”

“And Tyverne, too.” The earl sighed. “Now that I am feeling Death looking over my shoulder, I wish I had done some things differently. A man does not want to be on the outs with his kin. Ann will make her own decision this time. She has enough wisdom to know when a man is after her money, and enough money to stay unmarried, if she wishes. Agamemnon will be happy to take his place at home and bring children and laughter to the old pile.” He looked down. “This angel will be welcome there, to grow up with her cousins.”

“Thea and Mr. St. Ives have already asked Lord Tyverne if they might keep her as their own. Ann, too, wishes to adopt her.”

“Tyverne will do the right thing. He always does.”

Delia nodded. “If nothing else, you did teach him all about duties and obligations.” She could not put any enthusiasm in her voice, though. There was more to life than moral decisions.

“And honor. I taught him that,” the earl said proudly.

“Yes, now if you had only taught him about love ...”

The earl looked at her and the sleeping infant. “How could I instruct him about something I did not know? A woman who loves a man can teach him, though. I pray that is so.”

So did Delia.

* * * *

When Ann returned with Mr. Anselm to Delia’s house, she was not visibly disturbed by the news of her husband’s death. “The physicians told him his profligate ways would kill him. Now they have. I shall have to return to Illington’s seat in Mansfield for the funeral, of course.” Ann knew her duties and obligations, also.

Her father agreed. The duke’s body was already being shipped there, on ice.

Ann would leave the next morning. “I will not be able to take Melinda with me, will I?” she asked, but answered herself. “No, of course not. Not for such a long journey, with her so tiny, and no wet nurse to travel with.” A tear started to roll down her cheek. “And who knows how long I shall have to stay there? A house in mourning is no place for an infant.”

No one gathered in that upstairs sitting room mentioned that this was also a house of mourning, chock-full as it was of aunts and an uncle ready to coddle the baby, to say nothing of a grandfather. The earl cleared his throat then. “I fear I cannot escort you, Ann. Before I left London, I heard rumors that Miss Dunsley’s uncle had left town, vowing to get her back, and get his own back on St. Ives. I expect Tyverne to return as soon as he hears the same rumors, if not before, but with Agamemnon incapacitated, I cannot leave the women and infant undefended,”

Thea clung to Nonny, and Delia made a note to have Mindle load his old blunderbuss. Ann said, “Of course not, Father. You are needed here. I shall have my maid and outriders to accompany me.”

“Still,” the earl pondered, “I cannot like leaving you without a man’s protection, and not merely for the journey. Who knows what loose screws Illington’s relatives might prove to be? You need a man’s support, a trusted man to look after your interests until I can get there myself.” He winked at Delia. “I wonder who
...
?”

Ann’s tears dried as if by magic as she put her hand in Reverend Anselm’s waiting one. “I wonder, indeed, Father.” She kissed the earl’s lined cheek. “Thank you.”

Then Aunt Rosalie woke up.

“What the devil are you running here, Dilly, a boardinghouse? People coming in and out, infants screeching, dogs yelping. Why, I hardly slept a wink, I swear, and you know how I need my afternoon nap. Not that I will do better at the inn, mind you, but if you will invite strangers to stay, instead of your own kin, I—” She noticed the earl. “Socrates? Socrates St. Ives? I should say Stivern, I suppose, although you had not succeeded to the title when I knew you.”

The earl stepped forward and bowed. “Rosalie Croft! That is how I knew the name. I wondered, but did not have time to make inquiries. But you married that Presmacott chap, of course.”

Aunt Rosalie waved her beringed hand in the air. “Gone this past decade. And your wife, Albertine?”

“Also departed.”

“Really? I mean, it is really sad, is it not, to be on one’s own in one’s dotage?”

The earl, perforce, took the fingers Lady Presmacott held out to him and brought them to his lips. “You, in your dotage, Rosalie? Why, you are still as beautiful as that night we danced in the moonlight. Do you recall
...
?”