Gayle Buck (20 page)

“Here, here! It wasn’t as bad as all that,” Lord Heatherton said, looking at Mr. Underwood with dawning indignation. “You quite liked the notion of posting down to Walmesley. You said that as you were at point-non-plus with those two ladybirds of yours, it was just the thing to give your spirits a fresh turn.”

“Devil a bit!” Mr. Underwood protested.

Viscount Weemswood grinned up at his friend from the depths of his chair. “Indeed you did, Underwood! As I recall, your exact sentiments were that you heartily wished to be gone from town until the hue and cry had spent itself, even if it meant burying yourself in the country for a fortnight or more.”

Lord Trilby slanted a glance at Mr. Underwood’s direction. Mr. Underwood had the grace to look appropriately shamefaced. “I am positively overwhelmed that my roof engenders such handsome accolades, my friend. Er . . . two ladybirds, Carey? Is that not rather complicated?”

“The expense is nothing to sneeze at, I assure you. As for the other, it is not at all complicated, as long as one takes care that neither of the fair lovelies in question knows anything of the other,” Mr. Underwood said.

At this, Lord Heatherton and the viscount began to laugh. Mr. Underwood sent his riotous companions what he fully intended to be a dignified look of reproach, but it was quite ruined by the twitch of his own lips.

“I think I begin to see the light,” Lord Trilby said. “How did the ladies discover your perfidy, Carey?”

Lord Heatherton took out his kerchief to carefully dry his eyes, and it was he who answered. “Oh, it was the most monstrous piece of luck, my lord. Sinjin and I were tooling down the street, and there was Carey handing one lady in the door of a milliner’s shop, when out pops the other from the same shop! She takes one look and lets out a hideous screech. Ours was not the only carriage that slowed, believe me. Then it was bellows to mend for poor Carey, what with the tremendous scoldings that were heaped upon his head by the two harpies and the hoots of the gathering curious besides.”

“I assure you, it was a most deplorable scene, my lord,” Viscount Weemswood said.

“I can only too well imagine,” Lord Trilby said, laughing. “My poor Carey, however did you come to be so careless as to patronize the same shop for both?”

“How was I to guess that Nancy would take it into her pretty little head to exchange a hat this morning? Yes, and before noon, too! I have never known her to rouse herself before one o’clock in the afternoon,” Mr. Underwood complained.

There was general laughter again.

“Certainly you have had a most trying day, Carey. But I still fail to see how any of this is connected to Nana or Sinjin,” Lord Trilby said.

“Ah! Now we come to it, my lord. Sinjin fairly dragged me into his curricle whilst Nana tossed a few conciliatory coins to the two lovely rioters, and they bore me off to the Ale and Drum.”

“A good thing, too. Those two furies appeared set to do violence to poor Carey in another moment,’’ Lord Heather-ton said thoughtfully.

“Such is the result of my enviable charm,” Mr. Underwood said with a modest cough.

Viscount Weemswood tilted a mocking smile in his friend’s direction. “It is hardly a source of envy to me, Underwood. You may keep your honeyed tongue and amiable countenance. For myself, I vastly prefer to conduct my little
affaires d ‘amour
in the privacy of my own quarters or at the lady’s apartment.”

“The open street does seem a mildly outlandish place to put an end to one’s amours,” Lord Trilby said.

“The circumstances left much to be desired,” Mr. Underwood agreed feelingly. “I was never more taken aback in my life than when Nancy appeared outside the shop. It all left me a bit blue-deviled, as you may imagine. However, once I had left the Ale and Drum, where, I may add, I made my rash declaration that I wished to leave town, I was quickly made more cheerful by stumbling upon the fair Melinda. What a beauty she is—great sloe eyes and the most delectable mouth!”

Lord Trilby glanced at Lord Heatherton and the viscount for clarification. “The fair Melinda?”

“Nancy’s sister,” Viscount Weemswood supplied blandly.

Lord Trilby’s brows lifted incredulously. “The same Nancy who was expected to be still abed?”

“The very same,” the viscount said, not bothering any longer to hide his sardonic amusement.

“Good God! Carey, I suspect you to be quite mad,’’ Lord Trilby said.

“No, no! I am simply unable to refrain from passing by a pretty face,” Mr. Underwood said, laughing.

Viscount Weemswood pointedly ignored Mr. Underwood’s rejoinder. “So we believed also, my lord, when Carey met us for luncheon and declared his intention to meet the fair Melinda the same afternoon. Believing Carey incapable of preserving himself, Nana and I conspired to whisk him safe out of harm’s way.”

Lord Heatherton nodded, his eyes doleful. “Aye, we were honor-bound to do it. Mind, it was a near-run thing, for Carey would have it that he did not want to luncheon on the outskirts of town, but Sinjin persuaded him that it was the very place, and off we went.”

“You see how I am treated, my lord,” Mr. Underwood said simply. “I never received my luncheon.”

Lord Trilby nodded, amusement prominent in his eyes. “Quite reprehensible, indeed. I am persuaded that you did not accept such barbarity in a tame fashion.”

“Carey threatened to leap from the phaeton,” Viscount Weemswood said. His teeth flashed in the swiftest of smiles. “I was obliged to spring my horses.”

Lord Trilby laughed, understanding that Mr. Underwood had not dared to jump from the swift-moving carriage.

“He drove like a veritable devil, Miles. Nana and I were in fear for our lives more than once when we chanced upon other vehicles and Sinjin hardly paused, but swept past with but an inch to spare on either side.”

Lord Heatherton rocked on his heels. “It was a most splendid example of driving.”

Viscount Weemswood made a mocking bow in acknowledgment of the compliment.

“Quite! But fool that I was, I shouted that I did not think Sinjin could make that sharp turn at the crossroads. Sinjin simply gave that strange smile of his, dropped the reins, and let his cattle have their heads. The hair was raised up on my head, I can tell you,” Mr. Underwood said.

He reflected a moment, then said fairly, “You would have done it, too, Sinjin, but for that coach coming unexpectedly round the corner. Lord, weren’t those passengers rattled when we flew under the coach horses’ noses!”

Viscount Weemswood laughed with Mr. Underwood, and even Lord Heatherton smiled reminiscently.

“I take it that is where you took the toss into me snow, Carey,” Lord Trilby said.

“Oh, aye.” Mr. Underwood waved dismissively, having let go of his staged indignation. “But that was of little moment. Would you believe it, my lord? The coachman bawled only an inquiry after Sinjin’s horses, and when assured that none had suffered more than a sprained hock, he whipped up his jobbers and left us to make our way on foot to your door, leading the horses, of course. One of the back wheels of the phaeton was splintered, and we had to leave it.”

“It was the rudest thing I have ever experienced,” Lord Heatherton said with a heavy frown. “I am in half a mind to report the man for willful malice, for after all, it is not as though Sinjin had locked wheels or some such thing.”

Mr. Underwood made a derisive sound at the very idea that the viscount would have been so careless. “Sinjin is the consummate whip even at his most disguised. Of course there was no question of clumsy driving.”

“I am overcome by such fulsome praise,” Viscount Weemswood murmured, his peculiar smile appearing.

“It is an edifying tale indeed,” Lord Trilby said. “Of course you are all welcome to accept my humble hospitality until you feel the urge to return to town or at least until Sinjin’s phaeton has been repaired, but I warn you that Walmesley is deadly dull at this time of year. I have even found the hunting to be somewhat indifferent.”

“Then what is it that drew you so abruptly away from town, Miles?” Viscount Weemswood asked curiously.

Lord Trilby’s reply was never uttered, for the door opened and a lady glided into the room. She checked at sight of the gentlemen, who all rose hastily to their feet at her entrance. With the exception of the earl, the gentlemen stared open-mouthed at the unexpected vision of beauty.

Fräulein Gutenberg glanced coolly at the three unknowns before her gaze fixed itself on the Earl of Walmesley’s unreadable face. When she spoke, her throaty voice was very soft. “Pardon the intrusion, my lord. Madam thought she left her shawl on the settee.”

There was a sharp crash. Startled, all turned to see the cause of the noise.

Mr. Underwood’s wineglass had slipped from his suddenly nerveless fingers to shatter on the hearthstones. Heedless of the stares of his friends or, indeed, of anything but the lady standing near the door, he enunciated, “Good God!”

Viscount Weemswood shot a keen glance first at Mr. Underwood and then at the earl. Himself not entirely immune to the staggering effect of the lady’s beauty, he could not but realize that others might be even less impervious. “I believe that my previous question has been answered,” he murmured.

Chapter Twenty-one

Lord Trilby was not able to stop the flicker of annoyance that crossed his face at the viscount’s words. Recovering almost instantly, however, he went to the young lady and offered his hand to her in order to draw her forward into the room.

“Gentlemen, this is Fräulein Gutenberg. She has accompanied my great-aunt the Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits on her grace’s latest visit to England. Fräulein, allow me to present to you Lord John St. John, Viscount Weemswood, Mr. Carey Underwood, and Lord Edward Heatherton.”

Lord Heatherton and the viscount had recovered sufficiently to voice the usual pleasantries. Mr. Underwood, however, seemed incapable of speech and merely made a deep bow over the Fräulein’s small slender hand.

After exchanging greetings with the earl’s friends, Fräulein Gutenberg was faintly smiling when she returned her gaze to Lord Trilby. “I should return abovestairs now, my lord. Madam is waiting for me.”

“Of course, Fräulein. We shall see you and the grand-duchess at tea? Very good. Oh, thank you, Heatherton. You have found it. Here is the missing shawl, Fräulein,” Lord Trilby said.

Fräulein Gutenberg accepted the garment from Lord Heatherton, who alone had had the presence of mind to glance about for it and had discovered it draped over one arm of the settee. With a graceful inclination of her head and a softly murmured excuse, Fräulein Gutenberg left the parlor.

“Carey appears to be in a state of suspension,” Viscount Weemswood observed dispassionately.

Their attention thus directed, the earl and Lord Heatherton looked over at Mr. Underwood. He was pale of face and his eyes held a dazed expression.

Lord Heatherton patted him kindly on the shoulder, much as one would do for an old dog caught up in the throes of a dream. “Wake up, Carey. She is gone now.”

Mr. Underwood seemed to come to a partial return of his senses. He sank down into a convenient chair, but looked up agonizingly at Lord Heatherton. “Did you see her, Nana? Pray say that I did not conjure up that vision from the fumes of the earl’s excellent brandy.”

“Brandy which you have shamelessly squandered,” Lord Trilby said. He pulled the bell rope in order to call a servant to clean up the shards of glass and to sponge the stains from the carpet where the wine had splashed. “And, yes, the Fräulein does exist, very much so.”

There was a curious inflection to his voice that the viscount, at that moment the most perceptive of the earl’s friends, found very odd.

Viscount Weemswood looked hard at the Earl of Walmesley, wondering what there could possibly be about the beautiful young Fräulein that had brought that peculiar edge to his lordship’s statement.

Mr. Underwood put his head in his hands, groaning. “Then I am lost, utterly and completely lost.”

“What of the fair Melinda?” Viscount Weemswood asked, shifting his attention from the puzzle suddenly presented him by the Earl of Walmesley with that single betraying comment.

“Who?” Mr. Underwood looked up, and his vague eyes focused briefly. “Oh, Melinda. She is eclipsed,
my lord, by the brightness of my revelation.”

Lord Heatherton shook his head mournfully. “I am persuaded his brain is addled. Perhaps he grazed his head in taking that tumble, Sinjin?”

“Not at all, Nana. Do you not recall? Carey confessed himself ‘incapable of passing by a pretty face.’ I do not think it an exaggeration to say that the Fräulein is no mere pretty face, but a diamond of the first water. It does not surprise me in the least, given our friend’s admitted weakness, that he has once more become the victim of
coup de foudre,”
Viscount Weemswood said.

His gaze rested thoughtfully on the Earl of Walmesley’s face, but if he had thought to discover anything of interest from his lordship’s expression, he was disappointed.

Lord Trilby appeared undisturbed, exhibiting neither undue interest nor boredom in the conversation while he directed the footman who had come in response to the bell’s summons to clean up the remains of Mr. Underwood’s drink.

“A dashed pretty girl,” Lord Heatherton allowed, nodding. The gross understatement provoked laughter from Lord Trilby and the viscount, but elicited only another dull groan from Mr. Underwood.

Somewhat bewildered, Lord Heatherton looked at each of his friends. “Well, is she not? I may be a slow-top with the ladies, but even I could see that.”

“Indeed, Fräulein Gutenberg is quite pretty, Nana. But I pray you to be circumspect with your admiration, my friends. The Grandduchess of Schaffenzeits will look with disfavor on anything which might, however faintly, be construed to be a liberty taken with her lovely protégée,” Lord Trilby said.

“The grandduchess is your great-aunt, I believe you said? Is that perhaps the same formidable dame whom I had the doubtful pleasure of meeting some years ago whilst rusticating once at Walmesley during our Cambridge years?” Viscount Weemswood asked.