Earl of Scandal (London Lords) (6 page)

The cat mewed again.

“Oh, all right. I know Lord Bedlington is his proper title, so I suppose I shall have to call him that.”

Merissa spoke the name in a sour voice, then mimed a coquettish smile and fluttered an imaginary fan. “Oh, Lord Bedlington, I’m so honored to meet you,” she gushed. “You cut such a dashing figure. I vow my poor heart can scarce endure the sight of your splendor!”

Batting her eyelashes, she dipped into an elaborate curtsy, then straightened and made a face.

“It’s sickening, that’s what it is,” she said, as she picked up the cat and began to stroke its fur. The beast broke into a rumbling purr. “I don’t see why a man’s title and wealth should change how people behave towards him. Lord Bedlington is nothing but a shallow, conceited fop, and I have no intention of flattering his already inflated sense of himself. Next time I see him, I’ll show him exactly what disdain I feel for him! That is...
if
I see him again.”

A frown creased her brow and she paused in her stroking. “Surely he must return the wagon. Unless he has forgotten he borrowed it. Perhaps, with all his property, he doesn’t realize that we might find the loss of our vehicle highly inconvenient.

“Of course,” she said, continuing to address the animal. “There’s no reason to suppose that he will return the wagon personally. He could easily send it with one of the many servants he must employ.”

The realization filled her with disappointment. The truth was, she very much wanted to see Lord Bedlington again, if only to disabuse him of any notion that she was impressed by his rank. “He will come back, won’t he, Blackie?” she whispered. The cat stopped purring and blinked its gold eyes at her.

~ ~ ~

Christian tooled down the road in a phaeton borrowed from the Northrup stables, a groom following behind him in the Cassells’ wagon. His heartbeat seemed to quicken with expectation. As the two vehicles rapidly approached the Cassell residence, a figure could be seen walking towards them. Christian strained his eyes, hoping it was Merissa. A closer look revealed an older man strolling with his head down and his hands behind his back.

Christian felt a rush of disappointment. What if Merissa wasn’t at home? If not, how would he contrive to see her again?

With a flourish, he guided the carriage to a halt. The gray-haired man didn’t stop to greet him, but continued walking.

“I say,” Christian called. “Are the Misses Cassell at home?”

The man turned slowly, as if only now realizing that there was a carriage beside him. He looked vaguely towards the house. “I suppose so. At least they were the last I knew.”

Christian tied the reins to the bar and jumped down. He approached the man, intending to introduce himself. “I’m Lord Bedlington, sir. I’ve come to return the Cassell wagon. I borrowed it a few days ago when my own vehicle was damaged.”

“Lord Bedlington?” The man plucked at his gray-bearded chin. “No, I don’t recall anyone by that name.”

“I spent the night as a guest in the Cassell house.”

The man slowly looked him up and down, as if seeing him for the first time. “Oh, you’re the fellow who was there. Caused rather a stir with the girls.”

Christian repressed a grin. At least he’d made some impression. “The Reverend Mr. Cassell?”

The man nodded.

Christian extended his hand. “Christian Faraday, earl of Bedlington. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

They shook hands. Christian gestured to the vehicle behind him. “Your daughters were kind enough to offer the loan of your wagon. I’d like to thank them for their generosity, if you have no objection.”

“Of course,” the Reverend Mr. Cassell responded. “By all means.” He waved towards the house. “I’m certain that Elizabeth will be delighted. She loves to have visitors, as her mother did. Merissa is more like me in preferring solitude.”

Christian’s mouth twisted in amusement. “I will endeavor not to disturb Miss Merissa too greatly.”

The Reverend Cassell nodded. “A pleasure to meet you, sir.” He spoke in a distracted tone. “Good day.”

Christian stared at the clergyman as he resumed walking. The Reverend Cassell acted as if he lived in his own little world. What was wrong with him? Did he have some mental affliction that made his thoughts wander? Christian shook his head as he returned to the wagon.

When he knocked at the house, Elizabeth greeted him wearing a white mob cap and water-spattered apron. She touched her clothes self-consciously. “Mr. Faraday—that is, Lord Bedlington, how nice to see you again.”

Christian bowed. “I’m sorry if I’ve come at an inconvenient time, but I met your father on the roadway and he implied that it would be acceptable for me to announce myself.”

“Of course, of course. Do come in.” Elizabeth stepped aside so he could enter, then peered out the door. “You say you met my father along the lane?”

“Yes, he seemed rather absorbed. Is he always so caught up in his own thoughts?”

“I’m afraid so.” After a moment she added, “May I get you some tea, my lord?”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you. I merely stopped in to return the carriage and express my thanks to you... and to Miss Merissa, of course.” He looked around expectantly.

“I’m afraid Merissa is gone at the moment. She’s taking home a neighbor who helps us with household chores. Do you have a way back to Derlingham if she does not return with the brougham?”

“Yes,” Christian said, wishing it were not true. If Merissa failed to return before he left, he’d have no excuse to see her again. “I’ve a groom waiting. He managed the wagon while I drove a rig I borrowed from Lord Northrup.”

“Oh, yes. Lord Northrup. The gentleman you’re staying with. I trust you found him well?”

“Actually, he’s still in London. I’m rather at loose ends with both he and his wife gone.” Christian smiled ingratiatingly, hoping Elizabeth would invite him to stay.

She did not disappoint. “Well, you must join us for dinner then,” she said. “I’ll go tell Mrs. Hareton we have a guest. Two, actually, counting your groom. Why don’t you tell him to come in? It’s still quite chilly out.”

Christian regarded his hostess with bemusement. In the circles he moved in, one did not bored, jaded nobleman used to having everything his way in everything y drawing room. He knew for a fact that William would only be made uncomfortable by Elizabeth’s kind offer. “Actually I think he would prefer to tramp around the neighborhood, with your permission, of course. He expressed to me on the ride here that he’d never been this far south of Derlingham.”

“Of course, he may explore,” Elizabeth answered. “Although, I daresay there is little enough to see. Our small property can scarce compare to Lord Northrup’s estate.”

She excused herself to arrange things in the kitchen, and Christian took a seat on the settle near the fire. In a short while, his hostess returned with tea.

“I presume Melissa’s ankle has healed,” he said as Elizabeth poured. “Else she would not be fit enough to drive.”

“She’s recovered completely. I’m very grateful that you were here when the incident took place. It’s frightening to think what might have happened if the injury had occurred when she was alone.”

“Which is exactly why you should not allow her to drive around the countryside unescorted,” Christian said firmly. “It’s truly not safe for a young woman, no matter how excellent a hand she has with the ribbons.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t have the means to stop her. Merissa has always been strong-willed. I’ve given up trying to order her life.”

“What about your father? Surely he can insist that she obey.”

“I fear Papa fares no better than I. And he is so preoccupied with his studies, he scarce has the time to concern himself with Melissa’s behavior.”

Christian felt a sudden surge of anger. What was wrong with the Reverend Mr. Cassell that he allowed his daughter to run wild and endanger herself? How could his “studies” be more important than his duty to his family?

He was on the verge of saying something to that effect when he realized how rude it would be for him to criticize the behavior of his host. He forced himself to suggest politely, “Perhaps your father does not realize the hazards Merissa might encounter.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t think that is entirely the situation. You see, my father is quite taken with the principle of ‘free will’. He does not believe in interfering with the decisions of others.”

Christian’s ire burst its bounds. “Why, that is nonsense!” he said heatedly. “As a parent, he has a responsibility to look after his children!”

Elizabeth looked so stricken, Christian immediately retracted. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s truly none of my affair. I should not have spoken so.”

Elizabeth put down her tea, and Christian could swear there were tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry I spoke rudely,” he said, “I very much beg your pardon.”

Elizabeth rose, obviously agitated. He stood also. “How thoughtless of me...”

She shook her head. “It’s not you ... it’s ... it’s Charles.” She broke away and left the room. Christian stared after her, then took a drink of his nearly cold tea. Who was Charles? And why did the mention of his name arouse such strange responses in the Cassell sisters?

In a short while, Elizabeth returned, looking calm and dry-eyed. “My apologies, my lord,” she said. “Can I get you some more tea?”

Christian shook his head. He was still puzzling over what had happened. Obviously, he could not pursue the matter.

They sat in silence for a moment. He opened his mouth to make a comment about the weather, then was saved from such inanities by the front door opening. Dainty footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Merissa peered into the parlor. “Oh, it’s you,” she said.

Her exaggerated disinterest banished his glum mood. He rose, crossed the room, and executed an elaborate bow. “Miss Cassell, how delightful to see you again. I have thought often of your charming nature since we last saw each other.”

“Hmmph,” she said.

Christian grinned. “I’ve brought your wagon back,” he said, “and have come to reclaim my horses.”

“It’s about time.”

“Merissa!” Elizabeth gasped.

“Well, it is. Does he think that we are so wealthy that we can afford to do without our wagon for days at a time? And then there is the matter of feeding his fancy horses ...”

“I intend to compensate you handsomely. I’m certain five pounds should cover your expenses.” Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a bank note and offered it to Merissa.

“We can’t possibly accept that.” Elizabeth stepped between them and pressed the note back into Christian’s hand. “It’s been no trouble, no trouble at all.”

Christian gave the older sister a fond look, then raised his glance to Merissa. “I will feel a knave for not paying you, but if you insist on refusing, I can’t force you to accept.”

Merissa glared at him. Christian near choked on his amusement, but he managed to retain his composure as he secured the note in his pocket. “You have been the most enchanting of hostesses, and I look forward to sharing a final meal with you. Did you know that your sister has asked me to stay for dinner, Merissa?”

“I was certain that she would,” she said sourly.

“I’d like to check on my cattle before dinner,” Christian said. He nodded to Merissa. “Would you mind accompanying me to the stables, Miss Cassell?”

“I’d suppose I’d better,” was the grudging answer. Excusing himself from Elizabeth’s company, Christian followed Melissa out the door.

“Does your sister know what a termagant you are?” Christian asked as they made their way across the yard.

“I think Elizabeth has a fair notion of my disposition. But she loves me anyway.”

“Yes, T was struck by her near saint-like nature.”

~ ~ ~

Merissa sucked in her breath at the insult, then glanced at her companion. He looked positively mirthful, and Merissa had to struggle to keep a smile from her own lips. She was behaving terribly.

“Elizabeth is such a gentle soul,” she said, “she can scarcely imagine sinfulness in anyone.”

“A laudable outlook, at least as long as she stays here in the country. Your sister might be a danger to herself in a place like London.”

“I doubt she will ever go there. She realizes that such a shallow, superficial existence would not suit her.”

“But you, Miss Cassell.” Mr. Faraday paused on the way to the stables. “I think you would do rather well among the
beau monde
.”

She gave him an aghast look. “You insult me, sir. I no more belong there than my sister!”

“You are quick-witted and outrageous. You’d be amazed at how much the ton values such attributes.” He tilted his head to regard her with a sleepy-eyed, azure gaze. “With the benefit of some new clothing and a skilled lady’s maid, I vow I could make you in to an incomparable.”

Merissa flushed. The way Mr. Faraday looked at her was so... so something. All at once her throat felt dry and her skin hot.

It was like that time by the wagon, when he tried to kiss her. She could not let that happen again.

“Your flattery is wasted on me.” She moved ahead of him to lead the way into the stables. “I see through your slick, practiced charm quite easily, Mr. Faraday. The truth is, I have nothing but contempt for gentlemen of your class. I also have absolutely no interest in visiting London. I think it is a horrible place, full of corruption and vice.”

“But what can you know, Miss Cassell? I daresay I’m one of the first lords you’ve had dealings with. And since you’ve never been to London, how can you judge?”

Merissa compressed her lips. Charles had told her, in a voice of admiration and excitement, how the ton lived. But she’d seen what that life had done to him. She wanted no part of it! “I do not have to visit Hell to believe it exists.”

Mr. Faraday laughed. “How silly you are. I’m just a man, like any other. I don’t eat children for breakfast... nor any other awful thing you’ve been told.”

She gave him a piercing look. “Can you say you’ve never done anything you were ashamed of? That you’ve lived a life you’re proud to own?”

Some of his aggravating confidence left him. She could almost imagine that her question had struck a chord deep in his guilty conscience.