Country Flirt (12 page)

He was greeted with warmth at the Armstrong residence. The palms were read again, and again strong emanations passed between the two. Serena was given to understand Lord Howard would be deeply insulted if she didn’t accept a ruby ring as token of his gratitude for her returning the cat. She was also reminded of other baubles awaiting her pleasure, if only she could see her way clear to breaking a vow that was in no way binding. She stuck to her guns.

“I shall never remarry,” she announced.

Lord Howard squirmed uncomfortably and, being an impatient man, came right to the point. “How about the other, then? A cozy little house in the countryside
—”

“Ah, Howard,” she said, with more sadness than rebuke. “If marriage is difficult, how impossible any other sort of alliance would be! I shall try to forget you suggested that.” The “impossible” vow had been downgraded to “difficult,” and she peered from under her long lashes to see if her caller had noticed it.

“The thing is, Serena,” he said gently, “I have been bleating like a sheep at the Hall that I disapprove of widows’ remarrying. I would look nohow if I turned around and married one.”

She lifted her lashes and directed a long gaze on him. “It would take a very strong man to change his mind in public,” she said.

“I haven’t changed my mind.”

“You are very foolish,” she chided gently. “A woman is not a suit of clothing designed for one man only. She is a book to be read and interpreted. But I see you care a good deal for public opinion. I had not thought ...” She came to a discreet stop, leaving her meaning for him to figure out himself.

“You’re out in your reading if that is what you think! I do as I please.”

“And it doesn’t please you to marry me, I see.” Her voice quavered, but she lifted her chin bravely. “We can still be friends, Howard. I hope you will call again, when you happen to be in the village. And now I must retire. I feel one of my headaches coming on.”

She rose gracefully. A long, loose robe fell in folds to her ankles, but clung enticingly to her upper body. The sleeves fell away to reveal a shapely white arm as she waved him good-bye. Lord Howard sat entranced at the picture.

He was not accustomed to having his character questioned. It riled him that this enchanting creature should think him so uncertain of himself that he dare not change his mind in public. Being very much a man of the world, he also knew she was angling for marriage, and that she was not of that class from whom he should choose a bride. She was not as easily available as he had first hoped, but like a nag with a bad knee, she just didn’t go flat all around. He drew out his watch and checked the time. It was still early. He’d head across the street and flirt a little with Miss Bright. She was a fine-looking lady, and younger than Serena.

It added a fillip to the visit that Monteith was ensconced in the parlor, looking daggers at him.

“Congratulations, Howard,” Samantha said. “I hear Ginger has been returned.”

“That she has. I have just stopped off to thank Mrs. Armstrong for it.”

Lord Howard mentally compared the two ladies as he explained in detail the assault of banditti during which the cat had saved his life. Samantha had the unmistakable stamp of the lady. She was younger and equally pretty. Then, too, he had seen her in broad daylight, while Serena’s charms had only been studied by lamplight. In spite of all Miss Bright’s advantages, however, there was a certain something in Serena that whetted his more mature palate. She had the knack of appealing to a man’s sensual nature.

Samantha made all the proper exclamations at his tale of slashing the banditti apart with his
tulwar,
but in her heart she felt Howard would soon become a bore. The greater enjoyment of the evening was in annoying Monteith, who sat in well-simulated ennui.

“With my
creese
clamped in my teeth and my trusty
tulwar
in my hand, I had at them,” Lord Howard said. “I caught one of them a good stroke on the wrist. I hope I didn’t sever his hand, poor lout. Another crept up behind me and got hold of my nightshirt. I caught him by the shirttail and tossed him across the room.”

Mrs. Bright clucked in disapproval, but Samantha smiled approvingly. “Then what? How many of them were there?”

“Only five, that I could see.”

After fifteen minutes of Howard’s boasting, Monteith rose and said, “I believe I’ll be going home now. Mama is alone.”

“That’s right, lad. You run along and amuse your mama. I’ll keep the ladies here lively.”

Monteith glared at his uncle, who winked playfully at Samantha. Mrs. Bright looked up from her sewing and said, “It seems foolish, driving two carriages down from the Hall. Why did you not come together?”

“I don’t keep a youngster’s hours,” Howard said.

“Then you should have called on Miss Bright first, Uncle,” Monteith said. “She, I believe, does.”

“I shan’t overstay my welcome, never fear. I have a call to make at the inn before returning. I have decided to remove to the inn, Monty. I’ll speak to the proprietor and see if he can clear the place out for me and my servants.”

Monteith looked alarmed. “When did you take this decision?”

“Don’t fret yourself. It has nothing to do with the decor of your saloon,” he said playfully. “No, with my house to be built, I want to be closer to it. That’s all.”

Samantha wanted to hear about this decor of the saloon and accompanied Monteith to the front door.

“What happened? Have you come to cuffs with the nabob?” she asked eagerly. “Is that why you were in the sulks all evening?”

“Gentlemen don’t sulk! I was merely peevish. And I have not argued with burra sahib. He agreed with me that a polite saloon was no place for his Indian artifacts. That’s tuppence you owe me, miss.”

“Put it on my account. My reticule is upstairs. What do you think of his moving to the inn?”

“I am delighted.”

“Your mother won’t be.”

“I don’t take orders from Mama!” he said with unwonted violence.

“I seem to have struck a nerve.”

“Anyone’s nerves would be exacerbated, living with that pirate. I don’t know how you can fawn over him.”

“I was not fawning!”

“Were you not? You never took that smile off your face from the moment he arrived. How a well-bred young lady can smirk and simper to hear of the wholesale carnage Uncle
allegedly
inflicts with one sword is beyond me.”

“No, no! He had his trusty
creese
in his mouth as well. Imagine, there were five of them against him.”

“There were three the last time he told it. Soon it will have been an entire regiment.”

It was borne in on Monteith that he sounded like a jealous boy, and he smiled apologetically. “I’m being an unpleasant guest—and derelict in my duty besides. I promised I’d come to protect you from the nabob, and here am I shabbing off on you.”

“He’ll be leaving soon. And by the by, Monty, it wasn’t necessary for you to make an issue of my relative youth. Howard knows my age.”

“And you know his. If neither his advanced years nor his monologues, which we call ‘conversation,’ are enough to deter you, I fear I’m wasting my time in trying to protect you.”

“True. You could be home playing whist with your mama,” she taunted.

Monteith glared, but managed to keep his tongue between his teeth till he was beyond the door. On that unsatisfactory note Monteith left, and Samantha returned reluctantly to the saloon to hear more about
hoppos
and
hookahs
and
sircars,
till she began yawning into her fist.

At the Hall, Monteith was met by his mother, complaining that she couldn’t call her house her own since Howard’s arrival. “Here I have sat alone all evening. I daren’t invite Clifford for fear of what Howard will think, and
he
walks off to the village to make up to that wretched Armstrong hussy.”

“He didn’t stay long. He was at Brights’ when I left.”

“All the worse! It is marriage with Samantha the old fool has in mind. From that Armstrong baggage to the daughter of a deceased half-pay officer. One hardly knows which is worse.”

“You can hardly put them in the same category! Sam is at least respectable.”

“I’m surprised Nora tolerates it. You should have stayed to keep an eye on him. And what were you doing at Brights’?” she demanded suspiciously.

“I’m not accountable to anyone for the visits I choose to pay.”

“I hope you haven’t been making overtures to Samantha. That’s all I need, for that Armstrong creature to get her hands on Howard’s fortune and you to offer for a nearly dowerless nobody. The boys will end up in the poor-house.”

“It’s news to me if the Colonel Bright’s daughter is a nobody!”

Their argument was interrupted by Cook, who came with her shoulders squared and her jaw set at a mutinous angle. “That Hindu in the kitchen has just destroyed tomorrow’s bread,” she announced. “He slid it into the oven before it had risen an inch. Either he goes or I go. I’ll not have him sprinkling his foul powders in my food.”

“I’ll speak to him, Cook,” Lady Monteith said placatingly.

“Ho,
speak
to him. I’ve shouted at him till my face is blue, and he won’t understand a word of English.”

“I’ll speak to Lord Howard. Can’t you make more bread?”

“It’s ten o’clock, and I can’t get near the table for the bales littering the place. There’s more of them landing in every day, full of heathen clothes and I don’t know what all. Tomorrow his lordship’s slaves plan to use the washing dolly, if you please. At least they’ve moved it out from the corner and begun taking out the water kettles. Tomorrow is supposed to be our laundry day. Though how we are to accomplish it with Jennie having to be sent home to escape the lecher, I don’t know.”

Lord Monteith sighed and tried to understand how his life had come apart. There hadn’t been a moment’s peace since the nabob’s arrival. Serving maids were acting as footmen, and footmen were doing a sorry job of making beds. More parcels arrived from India each day, till you could hardly walk through the rooms.

“Lord Howard will be leaving very soon, Mrs. Jennings,” he said.

“It won’t be soon enough to suit me!” Cook snorted, and strutted off to her kitchen, muttering under her breath.

Lady Monteith emitted a yelp. “What do you mean—
leaving?”

“He’s going to the inn.”

“What did you say to him? If you’ve lost his fortune, Monteith—”

“It was never ours to lose. He’s leaving as soon as he can get space at the inn, and it won’t be too soon to suit me.”

“It’s the cat. I’m having it placed in the saloon at once.”

Monteith stiffened up like a poker. “No, you are not. And if you do it behind my back, I shall bust the glass and perform a feline suttee on the wretched thing, as we should have done when he sent it to us.”

Lady Monteith wailed and ran upstairs to fling herself on her bed. Monteith drew a long sigh. Now he had alienated his mother, too. And there was still the cursed f
ê
te champ
ê
tre to be got through somehow. He felt a strong urge to flee. Brighton would be pleasant in June. Even London would be preferable to this pandemonium. But he knew he wouldn’t go. He waited downstairs till his uncle returned a little later.

Monteith’s face showed nothing but polite interest when he called for wine. Lord Howard looked at the servant and shook his head when she had left. “It must be Irene that hires your servants,” he said. “Their chests are all as flat as a pea on a platter. Not a full-bodied wench in the lot. What happened to the little redhead with the figure?”

Monteith poured two glasses of wine. “She’s visiting her family till you leave. Pray leave your lechery at the front door when you enter my home.”

“Servants expect a friendly pat here and there—it goes with the job.”

“Not in this house. How did it go with Mrs. Armstrong?”

“I’ve come a cropper there, I fear. She is hinting at marriage, but I escaped unscathed. My old papa used to say if men could keep their lips and their trousers buttoned, the world would be saved a deal of bother. Truer words were never spoken. I’m happy to tell you I’ve kept both buttoned tight.”

“It’s an unlikely time to be looking for a mistress, when you’re thinking of marriage. What are your intentions regarding Miss Bright?”

“I haven’t quite settled on her, but she’s in the lead. She is young, however. The youngsters don’t make good lovers. That takes a little skill. I figure Mrs. Armstrong knows her way around a boudoir and back again. The way I see it, a wife has nothing to do with a mistress. A man likes dessert as well as meat and potatoes, what?”

Monteith’s jaws worked in annoyance. “Which course of your feast does the wife represent, Howard?”

“Daily fare, meat and potatoes. I’d be discreet, as I promised. I was a little surprised to see you visiting the Brights again. You’re sure I’m not cutting you out in that corner?’’

“I am not paying court to Miss Bright.”

“Odd you end up in her saloon so regularly then. It might be best if you let off the visits for a while.”

“Afraid of the competition, Howard?”

“Devil a bit of it. I can hold my own.”

The two gentlemen exchanged a challenging look. Lord Howard set his glass on the table and said rather brusquely, “I’m for the goose feathers. Good night.”

“Don’t let me detain you. Older folks require plenty of rest.”

Monteith took the bottle up to his room. Why was he behaving like a fool? Why was everyone else? Samantha imagining Howard was some romantic figure-—a boiled cod had more romance in one fin than Howard had in his whole body. Meat and potatoes! Why was he himself going out of his way to antagonize the richest uncle in England? Why did he want to beat a man who should evoke nothing but laughter? The trouble was, Lord Howard had gone beyond a joke.

Chapter 11

Lord Howard drove into Lambrook immediately after breakfast the next day, explaining that he was going for another consultation with Gerard, the estate agent. “He is taking me through the house today. He was to approach a neighboring farmer about selling a few acres adjacent to the Langford property first,” he explained. “I hope I will hear what the fellow is asking for it this afternoon.”