Black Sheep's Daughter (16 page)

 "Thank you, that will do very well."

 No sooner were the words uttered than she recalled the duchess's rejection of "mushrooms." Her aunt had not specifically named Andrew. Of course she had not known that her niece meant to call on him, and even invite him to call. Teresa looked at him, trying to judge whether he looked like a mushroom.

 He too had purchased new clothes since returning to England. Though his dark coat and knit pantaloons had none of the flair of Lord John's apparel, he was dressed with the utmost propriety. She thought the riding clothes he had worn when they first met suited him better, but at least there was nothing in his present appearance to give the duchess a disgust of him. His father was a viscount, she remembered. Surely the invitation would not land her in a scrape!

Chapter 11

  Next morning, Andrew found himself in a quandary. The Foreign Secretary wanted to see him at half past three, and he was promised to Teresa for three o'clock.

 According to his immediate superior, the great man wanted to thank him for the sterling service he had done in Central America. It was not the sort of meeting an ambitious young man could afford to miss. Had his other appointment been with any other person of his acquaintance, he would simply have sent a note postponing it. But this was with Teresa. And what was more, she had sounded worried. The idea of Teresa worrying caused an inexplicable sinking feeling in his middle.

 He decided to present himself at Stafford House at ten in the morning. It was an unconscionable hour to pay a visit, but she was therefore unlikely to have already gone out.

 He dressed with his usual plain neatness, then, just as Rowson was about to help him don his dark brown cut-away coat, he was overcome with dissatisfaction. Before his eyes rose a vision of Lord John's careless elegance. "Wait," he said, "I believe I shall try something more elaborate with my neckcloth. Do you know how to tie a Waterfall?"

 "Nay, sir," said Rowson, shaking his head mournfully. "I've tended ye through desert and jungle without ever learning to tie a fancy knot. If that's what you want, 'tis a proper gentleman's gentleman you'll need."

 Andrew frowned at the offending cravat. He had been happy with the same simple tie for years; now it seemed inadequate. "Let me try. Is there another cloth ready?"

 He struggled for several minutes. First the knot was off centre, then the creases were all crooked, then it was so tight he could not breathe. "The devil with it!" he said at last, ripping it off and retying a fresh one the usual way. "It will have to do. Is this the best waistcoat I possess?"  He regarded the amber satin with distaste.

 "'Tis your favourite, sir!" said Rowson, his voice reproachful.

 "I shall buy some more waistcoats."  Andrew put on his coat, took up his gloves and top hat and turned before the mirror, peering at himself. "Damned if I haven't done this before," he muttered. "Posing like a man-milliner."  Then he remembered that last time he had been naked, and he grinned. "Find me a hackney, Rowson, I'm running late."

 At this hour there were more pedestrians in the streets than carriages. However, the hackney was pulled by an aged and infirm nag and moved at scarcely more than a walking pace. Andrew had all too much time to think. He was overcome by a wave of guilt. It was all very well to decide to refurbish his staid image, but he ought to be doing it for Muriel, not for Teresa.

  What a beauty she had turned out to be with a little town bronze to give her polish!  She was not at all his style, though. He had always admired blondes with fair complexions, and had won the hand of the prettiest of them all. And Teresa was far too lively for comfort. A man wanted a quiet, conformable wife who would make him a peaceful home and not contradict him at every turn.

 He could not deny that his heart beat faster at the thought of seeing Teresa again. It was worry, of course, at what sort of scrape she had fallen into this time. For all her new town bronze she was not yet up to snuff, and he had an obligation to Lord Edward to keep an eye on her.

 His guilt rationalised away, he reached Stafford House at half past ten and bounded up the steps. Boggs, being an excellent butler, recognised him and admitted him at once.

 "Miss Danville?"

 "Miss Danville is not at home, sir."

 "She asked me to call on a matter of business. If you tell her I am come, I expect she will see me."

 "I beg your pardon, sir, but I did not hintend to convey that Miss Danville is not receiving. She is gone out. If you would care to see young Mr Marco, sir, I believe he is yet at breakfast."

 Andrew frowned. "Yes, I had best see Marco. Perhaps he can explain the matter. Tell him I am here, if you please."

 Boggs returned a moment later. "His Grace requests the pleasure of your company in the breakfast room, sir. Mr Marco is with him."

 Ushered into a room redolent of grilled ham, kippers and toasted muffins, Andrew made his bow to the duke. He nodded to Marco, who looked anxious, and a gentleman of about his own age whom he vaguely recognised.

 His Grace of Stafford stood up and shook his hand, then waved him to a seat. "Coffee?" he offered, "or something more substantial?  So you are the young man who brought me my niece and my nephew. My thanks to you, sir. A most welcome addition to my family, and of course I was more than happy to have news of my brother after all these years. You know my son, Danville?"

 "How do you do, Graylin," said Viscount Danville, a solidly built gentleman as good-looking as his younger brother but for his haughty expression. "We have met, I believe."

 "Yes, indeed, some years since."  After a few minutes of conversation, the duke affable, his heir stiff, Andrew said, "If you will excuse us, your Grace, I should like a few words in private with Marco."

 Marco breathed a sigh of relief, bowed to his uncle and cousin, and led his visitor to the library. "This is where I have my lessons," he explained as they sat down. "No one else uses it at this hour. Have you come about the trial?  Teresa said she had no chance to consult you yesterday, but I thought you were coming this afternoon."

 "The trial?"

 "Did you not read about it? The
Times
reported that the
Destiny
's passengers are to be called as witnesses in the trial of the crew of the
Snipe
. You know my sister, she is pluck to the backbone, but the thought of all London knowing of her exploit has her in a quake."

 "Do the duke and duchess know?"

 "No, only Cousin John. He thinks it a famous adventure and calls her a heroine, but even he says it will ruin her if it becomes generally known. He is up to every rig and row in town, you know, and Teresa was quite overset when he said that."

 "I daresay it will not do to tell the duchess, but it may be necessary to open our budget to the duke. He has the influence to quash a subpoena, and he is fond of you both already. I doubt he will turn you out into the street. Where is Teresa, by the way? I thought I was early enough to catch her."

 "She went to see Don Eduardo's banker. We both need a spot of the ready in our pockets, besides what we owe you."

 "She went to the City?  Alone?"

 "Of course not, she took Annie."  Marco was indignant. "She is not stupid, you know."

 Andrew groaned. "No, but she is green!  Ladies of quality do not go to the City without a male escort. Indeed, it is not
comme il faut
for a young lady to visit a man of business at all."

 "Then I had best go after her at once,” the lad said stiffly. “Pray excuse me, sir, I must make my excuses to my tutor. Thank you for warning me. I shall pass on your advice to my sister, regarding the trial."

 "Don't be a gudgeon, you young firebrand. I shall go with you. But I cannot help wondering what will be her next start."

 By this time the streets were bustling with traffic. The barouches, phaetons and chaises of Mayfair gave way to the stagecoaches and carters' wagons of less exalted quarters. Then their hackney threaded its way through the narrow streets of the City, past St Paul's, and turned into Lombard Street.

 Fortunately Marco remembered the name of the bank. The carriage drew up before it and they climbed out. Andrew paid the driver.

 "It's a good thing you did come with me," admitted Marco, flushing, "for I haven't even sixpence for the hackney. You can see how necessary it was for Teresa to come here."

 "I am surprised that your uncle has not offered you an allowance."

 "Teresa would not accept it," said the youth proudly as they were ushered into the bank. "Uncle Stafford insists on paying all our expenses."  He turned to a bowing, black-clad clerk. "We are looking for my sister, Miss Danville. Is she still here?"

 The clerk led them through a counting house full of more black-clad clerks, and up some stairs to a small office at the back. As he opened the door they saw a plump, middle-aged man sitting behind a desk, his face wreathed in smiles, then Annie, in the corner, and Teresa, seated with her back to them.

 "Sir Andrew Graylin and Mr Danville," announced the clerk.

 Teresa jumped up, ran to Marco and flung her arms around him. "We're rich!" she crowed.

 Andrew watched with amusement as Marco disentangled himself from his sister's embrace. In this place, in her sapphire outfit, she looked like a peacock among crows.

 She turned her laughing eyes to him and curtsied, half mocking. "I beg your pardon, sir, but it is monstrous exciting when you think you are a poor relation to discover suddenly that you are rich. Papa thought there would be enough for Marco's education and my come-out. It seems his little pittance has multiplied with such vigour that we have enough for that even if the money is divided equally with all my brothers!"

 "Which I cannot advise," put in the banker. "To split up such a fortune among so many is as bad as squandering it."

 "I must consult Don Eduardo, of course. But even if he agrees that it must be shared, I shall have a proper dowry."

 "You are already considering marriage?" asked Andrew, scowling. His thoughts flew to Lord John, then he wondered whether Lord Danville, heir to the dukedom, might be a greater attraction. Could first cousins marry?  He had never before had cause to wonder.

 Teresa laughed. "Is not marriage the first business of young ladies?" she teased, though there was an edge to her voice. "No, not yet. However, I expect to meet a great many charming young men shortly, for my aunt is planning a party to introduce me to the Ton.”  She turned back to the banker. “But we are wasting your time, sir. For the present, I should like one hundred pounds each for myself and my brother, in notes and coins, and the draft you prepared is for this gentleman. You will notify me when you have arranged the meeting?"

 "Certainly, Miss Danville."  The stout banker rang a bell then bowed and shook her hand. "It has been a pleasure doing business with you, ma'am, though I hope you will reconsider splitting such an admirable fortune. Sirs, your servant."

 The clerk arrived to show them out.

 "Just how rich are we?" demanded Marco as they went down the stairs. He whistled as she named the figure. "Each?  I shall be able to devote my life to my studies, and with that for a marriage portion, you can look to the highest in the land for a husband!"

 Andrew objected strongly to all this talk of marriage. He could not voice his objection as he had no justification for such a dog-in-the-mangerish attitude, so he said severely, "We came after you, Teresa, to provide a respectable escort. Ladies do not visit the City unaccompanied by a gentleman."

 Teresa sighed heavily as he helped her into the landaulet. "I made sure it was all right!  I mentioned to my uncle last night that I must see Papa's banker and he said not a word."

 "Nonetheless, it is so. In fact, young ladies are supposed to know nothing of business."

 "You know very well that Don Eduardo entrusted me with his business. Indeed, I have arranged to meet with a number of coffee brokers to discuss a contract. I suppose Marco will have to go with me."

 "It cannot be necessary for you to meet them in person!"

 "I intend to. I must prepare the coffee for them to sample, so that I know it is properly done."

 "Marco is too young to be an adequate escort."  Andrew ignored Marco's insulted snort. "If you insist on doing this, then I shall go with you."

 "That will be delightful." Teresa beamed. "I could ask Cousin John, if it is inconvenient for you, though."

 "Certainly not!  I mean, Lord John knows nothing of Costa Rican coffee, whereas I may perhaps be of assistance."

 "It is most kind of you, Sir Andrew. Now tell me, has Marco explained about the trial?"

 As the groom drove them back through the crowded streets, Sir Andrew tried to persuade her that her only recourse was to confess all to the duke. At last he convinced her.

 "I daresay he will be proud of you," he reassured her when they dropped him off in Whitehall, convenient to the Foreign Office. "I am, you know."

 She flushed with pleasure. "And Cousin John said some would think me a heroine," she said hopefully.

 Damn Cousin John! thought Andrew as he waved farewell.

* * * *

 When Teresa reached Stafford House, she found that her riding habit had been delivered. Since she had ordered it so as to be able to ride with Lord John, she went to look for him. Boggs directed her to the back of the house, where he was playing billiards with his brother. He declared himself happy to squire her to Hyde Park at the hour of the fashionable promenade. To her surprise Lord Danville requested permission to join them, and even begged her to call him "Cousin Tom."

 The duke's heir had been in the country, supervising some business at one of the family estates. He had only returned to London the previous night, so she was not well acquainted with him. She remembered John describing him as "starchy," and his manner was certainly stiff compared with both brother and father. Yet he had not looked askance at the unexpected presence of herself and Marco. He had greeted them with kindly aloofness and she was prepared to like him if given a chance to get to know him.