Lady Flora's Fantasy (21 page)

"You're forgiven," she replied. "I am not finished yet."

"You're not?"

There went that cynical raise of his eyebrow which she absolutely despised. "There were some things I did that were not, uh, ladylike."

He burst into laughter. "You mean the little show you put on when you climbed atop the coach?"

"I would hardly consider it a show."

"This may come as a surprise to you, but I've been aware for quite some time that ladies have legs underneath their skirts and petticoats." He cocked his head and blithely added, "Yours are especially slim and shapely. I enjoyed the view."

"Oh!" She could feel her face flush crimson. "Here I am, trying to humbly apologize while you—"

"I what?" he demanded, still with that abominable smile on his face.

"You're laughing at me."

"Of course I'm laughing. It's difficult not to laugh when a supposedly bright young lady commits blunder after blunder."

"What blunders?" Her humbleness was fading fast. Just who did he think he was?

"You know what I mean."

"I do not. Pray, sir, enlighten me."

Lynd cast a quick glance at the door. He lowered his voice. "I have already told you what I thought of that exalted, sacred love of yours for Dashwood. What more is there to say except I might suggest you devote some of your time to improving your marriage."

She raised her chin and awarded him an indignant glare. "My marriage is fine, thank you."

Softly he asked, "Are you still 'just good friends'?"

"Of course. Lord Dinsmore is happy with me just the way I am."

He smiled and sat back in his chair, maddeningly relaxed. "If you think that, you don't know men. You're a beautiful woman, Lady Dinsmore. Not only that, you're bright and you possess a great curiosity and courage to try the unknown. Some might interpret your behavior as rash and impetuous, but I admire you for it. Doubtless Dinsmore does, too. I don't know what sort of pact he has made with you, but I'd wager sooner or later he expects more than friendship." Although Lord Lynd's tone was smooth and controlled, she noted a sharp, sarcastic edge had crept into his voice when he said "friendship." He paused, as if aware his composure was beginning to slip. More quietly he added, "You would be well advised to remove your head from the clouds. You'll never find a finer husband than Lord Dinsmore. Can't you look beyond that poor, scarred face? Give him a chance?"

She thrust out her palms in an innocent gesture. "If he wants something more, why doesn't he say so?"

"For God's sake, woman, did you ever hear of pride?"

Before Flora could answer, she heard footsteps and the tap of a cane and the subject was abruptly closed as Lord Dinsmore entered the drawing room.

“Ah, Sidney
,” Lord Dinsmore exclaimed. “Lady Dinsmore has told me how delighted she was with the four-in-hand lesson you gave her.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“No one could teach four-in-hand better than you, my boy. He’s an expert, Flora. If he hadn’t been born to the nobility. I would wager he’d be king of the road by now—a coachman on the Comet or the Silver Streak.”

“That is most kind of you, sir.”

“And I trust you’ll be around to give my bride many more lessons, won’t you Sidney?”

“Of course, sir.”

Flora wondered if it was only she who caught the slight hesitation before Lord Lynd gave his last response.

* * * *

A few weeks later, Flora, dressed in her riding gown, was about to leave her bed chamber and go for a ride on Primrose when Baker swiped a finger across a side table, held it up and remarked, "No dust. Your little chat with Mrs. Wendt has brought results."

"Apparently so," agreed Flora. Baker needn't know how short was the chat. "Now I hope you're satisfied."

"Heavens, no. There is still much at Pemberly Manor that begs for your attention."

Uh-oh, she might have known. "And what might that be, Baker?"
She didn’t have to ask, knowing full well what her finicky lady's maid would spout in her upcoming tirade.

"It is simply not enough." Baker's nose always twitched when she was miffed. It was twitching now. "Much remains in disarray. The servants still are not properly attired. Some of the furniture is quite shabby—have you not noticed? The situation is easily rectifiable since there are some beautiful pieces of furniture in the attic that should be brought down, as well as portraits. And the china
. Why hasn't the French Haviland been put to use, as well as—"

"There simply hasn't been time," Flora interrupted, none too kindly. Her husband, feeling better now, awaited her, along with Lord Lynd and Lady Beasley. She was much more interested in taking Primrose for another glorious morning ride than standing there arguing with her maid. Still, she felt uncomfortable knowing the main cause of her crossness was her own guilt over her indifference to her duty. Since arriving at Pemberly Manor, she had expended very little time toward becoming England's greatest hostess. Instead, she had been riding nearly every day, enjoying herself immensely with Lynd, Lucinda, and her husband on the few occasions he'd been able to get out of bed

The problem was, she'd been so engrossed in riding and four-in-hand she hadn't quite gotten around to restoring Pemberly Manor to its former state of grandeur

Poor Mama will be so disappointed, she thought, her guilt deepening. She could hear her mother now, bragging about her daughter, the esteemed wife of the Hero of Seedapore, who had used the many skills her mother taught her in order to once more turn Pemberly Manor into one of the most beautiful estates in all England.

And she hadn't even started, Flora thought glumly, except for getting rid of the dust. She'd been having far too good a time for herself, but still, it wasn't too late. "Baker, since his lordship is feeling better, I do believe we shall have a dinner party—make it a week from tonight. Only a few guests, ten at the most, including Lord Lynd and Lady Beasley, but we shall make it a formal dinner this time."

"Oh, perfect, madam, there's our starting point." The usually staid Baker actually clapped her hands together in delight. "We shall get out the Haviland, the silver epergne, the—"

"Yes, fine," Flora answered, happy she had pleased her lady's maid. "Do what you think best."

"Of course, your ladyship," Baker answered with such an avid gleam in her eye Flora knew she'd head for the attic post haste, as soon as their conversation was done. "But you had best speak to Mrs. Wendt
." With a sweep of her arm, she indicated the entire mansion. "Everything must be turned out. Rugs beaten, windows scrubbed, chimneys swept, and all that." Her perennial frown deepened. "She's not going to like it."

Flora inwardly cringed. She didn't want to confront the dour housekeeper again, even though Baker was right, the house was still shabby, dust or no dust, and needed a complete renovation. But she was Lady Dinsmore now. She must assert herself, play the part for which she was intended. Her spirits sank at the thought. What was wrong with her? she wondered, unwilling to admit she was having too good a time doing what she pleased. What a heady experience to no longer feel constrained
. In part, she had her husband to thank. But he'd been sick much of the time and it was really Lord Lynd who had filled her days with happiness. How she had changed her opinion of him! When they met, she thought him nothing more than a cynical, difficult man. How wrong she'd been. Lynd's conversation was so engaging she would much prefer accompanying him and Louisa on a ride through the woods than entertaining a gaggle of ladies at tea. There was nothing she enjoyed more than going on a picnic where they sat by a stream, laughed a lot, discussed matters ladies weren't supposed to know about, such as military history and who was running for parliament.

But most of all, she enjoyed driving four-in-hand down a country road, hands firm on the reins, Lynd beside her, enjoying the ride as much as she.

Those terrible dark days she'd suffered through after Richard jilted her were gone. She would never be truly happy and would always mourn his loss, but still, she was fairly content with her life, and knew now she could carry on.

"Well, madam?" Baker asked impatiently.

"Er...yes, I suppose I must speak to Mrs. Wendt again." She brightened. Life wasn't so bad after all. Swinging her arm high, she proclaimed, "Mark my words. Pemberly Manor will rise from the ashes, Baker. We'll see to it, won't we?"

Baker left in a state of delight. And although Flora tried to focus on her upcoming elegant dinner party, and her talk with Mrs. Wendt, she found her thoughts lingered on Lord Lynd. She liked the unpretentiousness of the man. He truly wouldn't care about the elegance of her china. He was kind, too, and thoughtful, and witty when he wasn't glowering at her. How fond she was of their nearly daily rides
. Along with Louisa, of course.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a small commotion in the front entry hall. Moments later, Flora's younger sister burst into Flora's bedchamber, smiling brightly, cheeks a rosy glow.

"Amy! I thought you were in London."

"I was," Amy declared as she hugged her sister. "But I had to come in person and give you the news."

Armond
. Only one thing could bring such a glow to Amy's cheeks, such a bright gleam to her eyes. Flora knew Amy had been seeing him the past few weeks. Her heart sank as she asked, "The Duke?"

"He has asked for my hand
." Stepping lightly, Amy twirled in a little dance of delight. "Isn't that wonderful news? You must attend me at the wedding."

Oh, Amy, how foolish you are
. Flora suppressed a shudder as she thought of the arrogant, thin-nosed Duke–so cold, so...hard to say exactly, but to her mind, he seemed almost sinister.

Amy gave her a rueful smile. "I know you're not thrilled with my choice."

"Isn't one loveless marriage enough in the family?"

"But who could love me? Oh, you'd never understand, you with all your beauty and charm, whereas I..." Amy drew a resigned breath, seeming to calm herself. Smiling faintly she continued, "I assure you, I am one of the happiest girls in the world. Imagine, a
duke
. I shall be a duchess." Playfully she tilted up her nose. "Everyone must bow and scrape to me and call me Your Grace."

"Not I," Flora replied with sisterly scorn. She grew serious. "As if you cared about rank. What is it, Amy? Were you so unsure of yourself you thought no one else would have you? If that's the case, then you're wrong. Forget the Duke. Tell him you've changed your mind."

"It's far too late for that," said Amy with a rueful grin. "Besides, Mama would kill me." Before Flora could form a reply, Amy dipped into an exaggerated curtsy and said playfully, "My dear, esteemed Lady Dinsmore, do you realize that between the two of us we shall be the most dazzling pair of snobbish aristocrats in all London?"

Flora wanted to reply in kind to Amy's light-hearted remarks, but her heart was too heavy. "If only you had waited," she said wistfully. "I know you would have found someone who sees you for the beautiful person you are."

"If I have any beauty at all, it’s on the inside, but men don't see what's on the inside, do they?" Amy clasped her sister's hands. Her eyes pleaded as she asked, "Can't you be happy for me, Flora? I was never as beautiful as you, or as clever, and, oh my, never as slim." Frowning, she gazed down at her short, pudgy figure. "This is nothing new. All my life, I've thought I would have to content myself with a man who married me not for love but for money."

Flora forced a small smile. "Well, we cannot accuse the Duke of wanting your money, can we?"

"He's rich as Croesus. Doesn't that prove he is at least fond of me? He says he is. Else why would he want to marry me?"

Why indeed? Flora wondered if the Duke might have looked beyond Amy's lack of beauty and seen her for the thoughtful, generous person she was. Not likely. Doubtless the lofty Duke had decided the time had come for him to marry. Pressure from his mother, most likely. Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Armond, no doubt wanted grandchildren, and the Duke, single for too long, had run out of excuses. And who better to marry than Lady Amy Winton, with her generous dowry and impeccable family background? But whatever his reasons, this was no time to dampen Amy's high spirits. The deed was done. There was nothing Flora could do except pretend enthusiasm, offer her support, and hope for the best.

"Amy, if you're sure, then I am thrilled for you." If she had to tell a lie, she might as well make it a good one. "After all, the Duke does have his charms. Mama must be beside herself."

"Oh, indeed she is
! Just think, you caught the Hero of Seedapore and now I've caught the Duke. I do believe Mama is at last content, knowing both her daughters are happy and set for life."

"Happy and set for life," Flora thoughtfully repeated. "I suppose we are, aren't we?" She concealed her doubts, both about Amy and herself.

* * * *

Amy's surprise visit was like a breath of fresh air. Later in the day, after Flora, Amy and Lord Dinsmore had gone riding and immensely enjoyed themselves, the sisters settled across from one another in the drawing room and chatted over tea.