Emily Hendrickson (13 page)

His sheer shirt was crisply white, his cravat a wonder of clever simplicity, and his waistcoat of white Marcella quite, quite beautiful, if one said such things about a waistcoat. The contrast between them was pitiful,

Lord Brentford turned aside to Lord Osman. “Take charge of things here while I convey Miss Herbert home.”

The older gentleman agreed, looking concerned.

Lord Brentford assisted her into the vehicle, and they commenced a silent ride to the Court. The maid, now sitting mute as a fish, had clambered in beside Dru.

Once at the Court he turned to the little maid as he handed Dru from the carriage. “Look after her from now on. See that Miss Herbert has a hot bath and a glass of port.”

“Yes, your lordship.” The maid bobbed a curtsy.

The two women hurried up the stairs to Dru’s room, where in short order a steaming bath was arranged for her.

“Your name?” Dru wondered as the girl assisted her.

“Mary, Miss Herbert. I gather I’m to see to you, iffen his lordship meant that I’m to see after you from now on. I will take good care of you, too.” She nodded emphatically.

In spite of her misery,
Dru had to smile. “Very well, Mary. I surely could use some help. I fancy this dress is best consigned to the dustbin?” She plucked at the sodden muslin with a listless finger.

“Perhaps all is not lost. Mrs. Simpson will work her magic on it, you’ll see.” Mary offered a look of comfort.

“I wish I had your confidence. Mrs. Simpson has a great deal to do with all the company in the house. I doubt she will have time to fuss over the dress belonging to a mere companion.” She didn’t have all that many dresses with her. The ruin of a favorite would be a sad loss indeed.

“No, miss, there you are wrong. Mrs. Simpson would do anything for you. Thinks the world of you, she does. You help her, you see. Now she will help you.”

When Mrs. Simpson entered to see what was amiss, she was horrified at the story Mary poured forth for her ears.

“I will see to it that this poor dress of yours looks as good as I can make it.” Mrs. Simpson studied the sprigged muslin, shaking her head.

Dru stammered her thanks. She sank down into the blissfully warm water and allowed Mary to wash her hair with fine lavender-scented soap.

A tray bearing the glass of port was brought up with biscuits as well. Dru thought the port lovely but wondered what her father would have said to it. She sipped while Mary rubbed her hair dry, then brushed it to a fine silk.

Once Dru set the empty glass on the tray, she crawled between the sheets, permitting Mary to fuss over her. Did Lord Brentford know what a comfort it was to have someone to care about her? To tuck her in, see to her things?

Mary bustled about the room, ushered James and another footman in to remove the slipper bath. This was done with such dispatch, Dru was scarcely aware they had come and gone. The port had made her drowsy, and she willingly let sleep overtake her. A short nap would help restore her self-possession, which was a trifle lacking at the moment.

* * * *

Adrian watched the two women go up the stairs. The plunge into the stream had likely placed a dampening effect on the rest of the picnic group. His mother would gather her friends to return at once. Knowing the servants would take care of everything else, he waited patiently for the group to return to the Court. His surmise was correct. Within a brief time he heard the carriages rumble up the avenue to the house. He nicked a glance at Lady Felicia, who was flirting with Ives and he seemed to enjoy it.

“I am sorry our outing had to end so precipitately.” He spoke to the group in general, but turned to Felicia.

“Well, if your mother’s companion wasn’t so clumsy, we could still be enjoying ourselves.” Lady Felicia preened a bit, aware she looked entirely delightful in her pink-and-white ensemble. “She had to spoil everything.”

She twirled her parasol, batting her eyelashes at him as she did. Adrian wondered why his mother was so bent on his marrying this self-centered pea-goose. It was possible that the foolish run across the meadow was all an accident. He couldn’t believe a woman as beautiful as Felicia would stoop to such behavior. She didn’t need to put any other woman out of her way. Yet—in his eyes—she had tried.

“I wouldn’t have put it quite that way,” he said dryly. He was host and had better remember that. She was a lady who knew what was due her station. Ives . . . thank heavens Ives was here. He exchanged a look with his friend, who assisted Lady Felicia from the carriage with care.

When they entered the hall Adrian caught sight of the lilac sprigged muslin over Mrs. Simpson’s arm as she turned from the stairs to go to the kitchen. Leaving Ives and Lady Felicia to saunter on to the drawing room, he went to the housekeeper.

“Do you think you will be able to restore that poor gown to any sort of wear?”

She shrugged. “I’ll do my best. The poor dear has so few clothes, she can ill afford to lose one.” She glanced after the departing figure of Lady Felicia. “Not like some others who have more than enough.”

“Is there some way the dress can be replaced? Could the local mantua maker copy it?” He frowned, doubting it would be possible.

“Deary me! I fancy she might at that. Would you be wishing me to have her see to it?” If the housekeeper was curious as to why her master was so concerned about a mere companion, she gave not the slightest indication.

“Please. And in the meanwhile, say nothing to Miss Herbert in the event the task cannot be done.”

“Nary a word, you may be sure, my lord.” She continued on her way to the kitchen, the sad dress dangling from her capable arm.

Adrian was about to follow Ives and Lady Felicia to the drawing room when he heard a carriage draw up before the house. Motioning to Priddy to open the door, he went out to see who had arrived. He wasn’t expecting anyone, but it might be a neighbor.

Two fashionable gentlemen garbed in the very latest attire stepped from the traveling carriage.

Adrian extended his hands in welcome. “Vane! Metcalf! Well met. You are come to join our little party?”

“Didn’t know you had one, Brentford.” Harry Metcalf eyed Adrian with a speculative gaze, as though to gauge just how welcome their company might be.

“Well, we do—to celebrate my mother’s birthday. Ives is here—as is Lady Felicia Tail. Miss Drusilla Herbert is also in residence.” He didn’t explain Dru was a mere companion. The very words stuck in his throat for some reason. How could any woman as gloriously beautiful be relegated to the status given a companion? He’d not have it.

Gregory Vane joined Harry to walk up the short flight of steps to where Adrian shook hands, making it clear they were welcome. He ushered them into the house, pausing to give instructions to Priddy regarding luggage and rooms.

“On a little repairing lease, are you? Thought you had won that large sum from Pickering?” he asked Metcalf.

“Oh, I won, all right. Only now every chap in Town wants to play cards with me in hope of winning it all away. I’ve a notion to hang on to such a lovely bit of money for a time.” He grinned to take away the impression of fervor from his words.

Adrian gave him a knowing look. Harry was a good chap, but inclined to be a bit devil-may-care. Adrian turned to Gregory Vane. “And you just came along to keep Metcalf company?”

“London was a bit dull.” He grinned.

“Be sure to mention that to Lady Felicia. I have no doubt she thinks she is missing everything of interest.”

“Why do I doubt that?” Vane’s expression grew cynical.

Adrian gave Vane a puzzled look before leading the two men into the drawing room to make them known to his mother and her guests. The men already knew Ives and Lady Felicia. Felicia greeted them warmly.

His mother welcomed the new guests with her customary graciousness. She rose, saying she must see Mrs. Simpson.

He watched her leave, then set himself to entertaining the others. If he wondered how Dru was faring, he did not permit this to show on his face or in conversation.

Lady Brentford did not go to the housekeeper’s room, but rather to Drusilla’s. She tapped on the door and went in when she heard an “enter.”

“How are you, my dear girl? I was worried about you.”

“Your son insisted I have a glass of port after my hot bath. I took a little nap and now feel splendid.”

“And your poor dress. We shall have to do something about that.” She crossed to the window to stare out a moment, then pivoted to face Dru. “We have more guests. Where shall we place two gentlemen?”

Dru thought a few moments. “Those two rooms at the end of this corridor are still vacant. ‘Tis fortunate that you are blessed with a goodly amount of space.”

“Fine. Could you direct the maids?”

Mary entered the room just then. She paused, ready to retreat.

“Mary—you understand that his lordship wishes you to look after Miss Herbert?”

“Indeed, ma’am. It will be a pleasure.”

Lady Brentford walked to the door, halting a moment. “You will be able to join us for dinner, I trust?”

Before Dru could say no, Mary interjected, “I will have her looking fine as five pence, my lady. She will be there.”

With that assurance, Lady Brentford sailed from the room, leaving a mildly indignant Dru.

“I intended to remain up here.” Dru was reluctant to face Lady Felicia again.

Mary began to brush out the tangles from the wealth of blond hair that cascaded over Dru’s shoulder. “As to that, miss, there are now four single gentlemen below. I am sure that lady would like them all to herself. I expect it would be a shame to spoil the cluster about her ladyship. As it is, she’s the only hen in the coop.”

Dru smiled in spite of how she felt regarding Lady Felicia. “You have convinced me. Work what magic you can. I shall have need of it!”

One of the younger maids came to the room to receive her instructions regarding the rooms to be prepared for the new guests. All this while, Mary continued to ply her brush and comb. At last she finished.

When Dru checked the looking glass, she was astounded to see her reflection. A stylish, young lady stared back at her. “Amazing! You are a miracle worker. Thank you.” Dru allowed Mary to select a gown for the evening, bemused by the change in her appearance. It was doubtful there would be any likelihood of hair tumbling down this evening. Mary had concocted a complicated hairstyle that looked nailed to Dru’s head.

A gown of pale blue silk with dainty puffed sleeves and trimmed with delicate white silk roses around the hem gave her confidence. She had no jewelry to wear other than her simple gold and amber cross, a gift from her parents.

She pulled on her gloves, then before going down to the drawing room, she checked with the young maid regarding the rooms prepared for the new guests.

“Of course, miss. Their valets are in there now, arranging things to their liking.”

Dru thanked the maid, then slowly walked down the stairs. The house was quiet now, with most everyone dressing for dinner.

“Ah, Miss Herbert I venture?”

Dru was taken aback by the appearance of a tall blond gentleman appearing from seemingly nowhere. His blue eyes had a kindly gleam in them that quite disarmed her.

“You have the advantage of me, sir, but indeed, I am Miss Herbert.” She let a question linger in her voice, although she dare not ask his name.

“Since Brentford isn’t here to perform his duty, allow me ... I am Gregory Vane at your service.” He bowed low before her, keeping a proper distance.

“Mr. Vane, how pleasant to make your acquaintance. Your room is satisfactory? You have all you need?” When he looked puzzled, she continued, “I am Lady Brentford’s companion, but I also oversee a few other details.”

Before he could comment on her status, another stranger ran down the stairs behind Dru to join them. He promptly introduced himself.

“Harry Metcalf, fair lady. I had no idea there would be two diamonds of the first water present. Vane, we are in luck.” The three strolled along to the drawing room.

Recognizing his flattery for what it was, Dru merely smiled, thereupon suggesting the gentlemen avail themselves of beverages offered by the footman.

Moments later Lord Brentford came in, followed almost at once by Lord Ives. In minutes the older men followed.

“The ladies always take a bit longer, don’t you know,” Sir Bertram said with a wink.

Dru noticed that Gregory Vane had edged closer to her, whereas Harry Metcalf wandered restlessly about the room.

“Harry—you will wear out the carpet,” Lord Ives joked.

“I am here, Adrian.” Lady Felicia sailed into the room, a confection of pink with huge pink silk flowers in a diagonal line from hem to bodice. She wore pink silk roses in her hair. It was as though an entire rose bed had settled on the lady.

“Others are as well, dear girl,” Lord Brentford said with a dry note in his voice.

Lady Felicia spun around with a patently false start of surprise. “I vow, it is vastly amusing to be the only lady with so many eligible gentlemen.” She gave Dru a glance, adding, “Oh, dear me, I mustn’t forget Lady Brentford’s companion. You look very nice, dear.”

Dru thought that had her tone been just a little more patronizing, hitting her over the head with a vase of flowers would have been fully justified. “You do as well, Lady Felicia.” Dru had been taught to turn the other cheek, but in this case both cheeks had been used. Pushing Dru into the stream this afternoon had about wiped out Dru’s patience and taken nearly all her store of polite nothings, not to mention her charity.

“If this is what the current crop of companions are like, I must urge my mother to obtain one,” Harry Metcalf said with a laugh, a teasing note in his voice.

Then the older ladies, along with Lady Brentford, entered the room, chatting with the ease of old friends.

“Good, I see everyone knows everyone else. Drusilla, darling girl, you are feeling all right?” To the two newcomers Lady Brentford added, “Dear Miss Herbert had an accident this afternoon. She somehow fell into a stream and took a dreadful wetting.” Lady Brentford’s darted glance at Lady Felicia was missed by Mr. Metcalf, but not by Mr. Vane.