Gayle Buck (7 page)

“Yes, m’lady,” said Mary dubiously. “Will there be aught else, m’lady?”

“Thank you, no. That will be all, Mary,” said Victoria. The maid curtsied and turned her attention to Victoria’s trunks.

Victoria gave a last glance in the mirror and swept out of the room. On her way to the stairs she wondered how much reliance could be placed in the servants’ gossip. Surely it was not such a desperate case with Evelyn St. Claire as the maid had made out. Yet after her experiences with Lord Damion and Sir Aubrey it would not surprise her in the least to discover that another of Charles’s relations possessed a devilish temper. Victoria was fast coming to the conclusion that it was a family trait. At times Charles himself had been wildly unpredictable. Even Harry Belingham, who had been his friend from boyhood, had more than once commented on what he called Charles’s freakish starts.

At the thought of Sir Harry Belingham, Victoria remembered that he did not know of her awkward situation. She had promised to write him and now she could tell him of his parent’s unexpected absence and her own plight. And while she was at it, she would write her banker and her daughter Jessica as well. When Victoria reached the bottom of the stairs she inquired of a footman the location of the library.

Under his directions, Victoria soon found the room she sought. The shelves stretched upward to a high plastered ceiling. Tall velvet-draped windows that Victoria guessed must look onto the garden ran across one wall and a stone fireplace stood at the far end of the narrow room. A snapping yellow fire was laid in the grate and before the welcome warmth were set two highbacked reading chairs. To one side beneath one of the windows was a cherrywood desk and chair.

Victoria went to the desk and discovered all the necessary supplies she needed to write her letters. She seated herself in the cushioned chair and pulled a sheet of paper across the desk to her. Dipping a pen in the inkwell, she began her missive to Sir Harry Belingham.

She briefly explained her situation to Sir Harry, but was careful to keep her tone cheerful. She hesitated over what she should say about Lord Damion and finally decided that it would be best to leave well enough alone. She concluded the letter and lightly sanded it before sealing it in an envelope with wax. She then penned a short note to her banker requesting that funds be forwarded to her at the Crossing and wrote letters to a couple of Portuguese friends. Her last letter was addressed to a Miss Rebecca Webster, who had been her companion on the passage from Portugal and who was now watching over Jessica while residing with her brother, Bishop Horace Webster, only fifty miles away.

Victoria was sealing this last missive when she heard a distant bell. “It cannot be time for luncheon already!” she exclaimed aloud. Surprised, she looked up at the mantel clock and saw that it was indeed one o’clock.

Chapter Seven

Victoria rose from the desk and left the library with her letters, intending to ask a footman to post them for her. She met Lord Damion in the hall, and while exchanging civil greetings, he offered to frank her letters for her. “And I shall make certain that in future there is always a sum in the desk for your use,” he said.

“Thank you, my lord,” said Victoria as she handed the envelopes to him. “I was surprised to find it so late. The morning quite slipped away while I did my correspondence.”

“I, too, have spent a pleasant morning,” said Lord Damion. He put the letters into his coat pocket and then offered his arm to her. “May I escort you in to luncheon, Lady Victoria?”

Victoria accepted his arm and accompanied him into the dining room. Sir Aubrey was standing beside the table. He wore an impatient expression that did not ease when he saw them. “You have certainly taken your rime about it.”

An older woman who was already seated remonstrated with him softly. “Mind your manners, Aubrey.”

Lord Damion held a chair for Victoria and over her head greeted the woman. “Good afternoon, Mama.” He went around the table to bestow a light kiss on her plump cheek. She smiled up at him as he took a chair beside her.

Victoria glanced across at Lady Hortense curiously, recollecting suddenly that Charles had spoken once of his aunt, and with affection. Though gray liberally streaked her soft brown hair, Lady Hortense appeared younger than her years. Victoria decided that her cheerful expression was the reason. She hoped that Lady Hortense was as kind as she appeared. It would be refreshing to meet someone with normal kindness after her experiences with the male members of the family.

“Lady Hortense, allow me to present Lady Victoria,” said Sir Aubrey shortly, taking his seat. He grimaced as he shifted his weight. “Damned gout.”

Victoria nodded respectfully to Lady Hortense and wished both her and Sir Aubrey a good day. Sir Aubrey stared at her with wintery eyes. “Have the decency to refrain from good cheer in my presence, madame.”

“You can be such a bear at times, Aubrey. Pay him no heed, Lady Victoria. He soon quietens if he is not the center of attention,” said Lady Hortense. She feigned not to see Sir Aubrey’s baleful glare. “We are all family, so I shall not stand on ceremony. I am delighted that you are visiting us. Dear Charles was a great favorite of mine and I hope to find a friend in his lovely wife.”

Victoria was charmed by her easy friendliness. “Thank you, ma’am. I truly appreciate your welcome, especially when it is such an awkward time.”

Lady Hortense’s expression saddened and she sighed. “It is difficult on us all, of course, but we shall weather it.”

“How are you holding up, dear ma’am?” asked Lord Damion gently, his eyes on his mother’s face.

She summoned up a smile for him. “I’m doing very well, Damion. I am told that your uncle did not suffer and for that I’m grateful. Sir Aubrey saw to all of the necessary arrangements and the chapel service was beautiful. Reverend Pherson is such a dear, sensitive man,” she said. “I’m now free to remember Robert in better days and to become acquainted with Lady Victoria while she is with us. Do you make a long stay, my dear?”

“I had not planned to, ma’am. I am expected later at Belingham Manor,” said Victoria.

“It could be in Lady Victoria’s interests to be here for the reading, of course,” said Sir Aubrey, shooting a meaningful glance at Victoria as he spooned his soup. She knew that he referred to their earlier conversation. The man had no shame, she decided furiously, and wondered that he dared to bring up the topic before his nephew and Lady Hortense.

Lady Hortense frowned at
her brother-in-law. “Really, Aubrey, you can be so indelicate on occasion.” Sir Aubrey gave a bark of laughter.

“However badly my uncle puts himself, I believe that we can assure my new cousin of some sort of future provision,” said Lord Damion quietly, his eyes resting on Victoria’s face. He had seen her flush and, in an effort to spare her, changed the subject. “Has there been any word of Evelyn and Doro?”

Sir Aubrey’s expression soured. “Oh aye. I heard yesterday. He and that puling girl-child will be here for the reading. Doubtless Evelyn cherishes hopes of Lord Robert’s affections.”

“That is unworthy of you, Aubrey, and I believe you know it,” said Lady Hortense quietly.

Sir Aubrey did not deign to reply. He testily addressed the footman, instructing him to leave off serving the rest of the meal and not to disturb them again until called for.

Lord Damion looked across at Victoria, a glint of humor in his eyes. “Pray tell us about Portugal, Lady Victoria. My mother is positively eaten with curiosity but too well bred to show it.”

“Damion, you rogue!” Lady Hortense laughed. “But it is true. He knows me so well. But truly, you and Charles must have led a most extraordinary life. I cannot imagine ever sleeping soundly with those marauding French over the next hill.”

Victoria laughed, shaking her head. “It was not so bad as that. The French have never come into Lisbon. When the army marches out each spring, those of us who are left behind are anxious, of course, but the best antidote we have found is to keep ourselves employed.”

“It does help when one can remain busy,” agreed Lady Hortense sympathetically. “Did you go about society much, then?’

“Oh yes, but the entertainment is sadly deflated after the military leave. The officers are a merry lot. It is rather dull without them,” said Victoria. “But the Portuguese enjoy life and we soon have picnics and assemblies to attend, besides riding and the coursing of rabbits. I myself am always in the saddle.”

“My dear! Isn’t that rather dangerous with the war? I have heard such tales about the French soldiers,” Lady Hortense said, faintly horrified.

Sir Aubrey snorted. “Nonsense, Hortense. She is more at risk should her mount step in a damned rabbit hole and she is thrown than she is of running into a French patrol that near to Lisbon.”

“I gather that you have an interest in horses, Lady Victoria,” said Lord Damion. He wondered why she should look so startled by his comment “Have you heard in Lisbon if the army’s mounts are at last adapting to the country? I understood that there was some hope that a change in feed was the answer.”

Victoria shook her head. “The stock brought from England still sicken and die in the Portuguese climate, my lord. Indeed, I was informed that the cavalry is yet in dire need of extra mounts. But for most of the army’s purposes the native Portuguese stock will be found to be more than adequate.”

“You are obviously knowledgeable, Lady Victoria,” said Lord Damion, somewhat surprised by the note of authority in her voice.

Victoria hesitated a second. “My father, in addition to serving in the army, bred horses outside of Lisbon. Some of my earliest memories are of the foaling season.”

“This morning the steward mentioned to me that the stable master is concerned about a brood mare that is foaling out of season. Perhaps you would care to accompany me later when I go to inspect her?” asked Lord Damion.

“I should like it very much, my lord,” said Victoria, and went on to ask for particulars of the mare’s condition. Lord Damion repeated what he had gleaned from the steward.

Sitting back in his chair and observing them, Sir Aubrey smiled faintly. He was pleased with the girl. She was going to work just right for Lord Damion. Sir Aubrey was content to let things ride. He turned to his sister-in-law. “Well, Hortense, how is the altar cloth coming?”

Lady Hortense, who had been listening benignly to her son and Lady Victoria, looked at him in surprise. He did not usually express interest in her little projects. “It is coming along very nicely, Aubrey. The design is beginning to take shape.”

“Good, good,” said Sir Aubrey, casting a glance at his nephew and Lady Victoria, who were still discussing horseflesh.

The footman suddenly entered. Sir Aubrey looked up, a blistering reprimand on his lips. The footman hurried into speech. “Pardon this intrusion, sir. My Lord Damion is wanted—”

An angry voice said, “Never mind, I shall announce myself!” The man was pushed unceremoniously aside and the owner of the voice came into view.

Sir Aubrey’s mouth tightened. “Evelyn!”

Victoria realized that this must be the gentleman whom her maid had said was of a violent nature and she examined him with unfeigned interest. Evelyn St. Claire was a young man of stocky build and medium height. He was attired in a wet greatcoat and muddied riding breeches and boots. Observing his flushed face and smouldering blue eyes, Victoria could well believe the maid’s assessment.

“You’re a rag-mannered whelp, sirruh,” snapped Sir Aubrey. “How dare you appear before the ladies in your dirt?”

Evelyn ignored his fathers’ admonition. He acknowledged Lady Hortense with a short bow, but his angry glance passed over Sir Aubrey and Victoria to fasten on Lord Damion. He said abruptly, “St. Claire! You are the one I wish to see.” Dull red stained Sir Aubrey’s weathered cheeks.

Lord Damion chose to appear unaware of his cousin’s discourtesy. “Of course, Evelyn. In a moment. Pray sit down and join us,” he said calmly.

“There is no time, St. Claire. Dorothea and my precious sister-in-law are trapped in our carriage down at the crossing,” snapped Evelyn.

Lady Hortense gasped in concern. “My dear! Are they all right?”

“Yes, for the moment, Aunt,” said Evelyn.

“What happened?” asked Lord Damion. Victoria observed that Evelyn’s tight face relaxed slightly.

“I was riding beside the carriage. We have a new driver. Before I could stop him, the cow-handed fool tried to take the carriage across the low place. It floundered and is now up to its axles,” said Evelyn swiftly.

Lord Damion was rising even as his cousin finished. “Has the vehicle tipped over?”

Evelyn shook his head. “But we could not cut the horses free. Without their weight to act as a counterbalance, I feared that the entire equipage would roll over.” His voice sharpened with ragged fear. “You know how that crossing is after this kind of rain. The water is higher than I have ever seen it. St. Claire, if we linger much longer—”

“I will come at once. Call for horses and the men, Eve,” said Lord Damion. His cousin turned on his heel, setting up a shout in the hall. Lord Damion turned to the others sitting silently at the table. “I expect that we shall return shortly. If you would, Mama, pray alert Mrs. Lummington of our errand.”

“Of course, Damion.” Lady Hortense rose immediately, glad of something to do. She paused beside her son and reached up to place her hand against his hard cheek. “Pray take care, Damion.”

He smiled and placed a quick kiss in her palm. “I always do, Mama.” She nodded and hurried from the room.

Sir Aubrey waved his hand at Lord Damion. “Well, do not just stand there. Go, go. We will see to what needs to be done at this end.”

Lord Damion nodded and left the room. Evelyn met him outside the door, and as Lord Damion joined him, Victoria caught his hurried voice. “. . . she’s in the family way ... insisted upon coming ...”

“Well, well.” Sir Aubrey drummed His fingertips on the table. “Evelyn has managed to make a botch of it, as is his usual custom, and Damion needs must run to the rescue.”