Lord Will & Her Grace (5 page)

William smiled and removed his hand. "Pardon
me. No offense was intended."

Miss Somerset turned her attention to the
table. Everyone else was seated. Her expression, when she realized
he had outmaneuvered her by stalling, was delightful. She sent him
a glance that could have melted a snowbank and stiffly sat in the
chair beside him, assuming an uncompromising, rigid posture.

Mornington had placed Miss Owens to his right
and his elder sister, Felicia, at the foot. Anna Mornington looked
annoyed at finding herself between her sister and Miss Owens. Soon
enough the younger sister engaged the attention of her tablemates
with mindless banter.

"Miss Somerset," William asked in low tones,
"may we dispense with your falsehoods at the draper's? For I wish
to know if you have been successful in your pursuit of a pair of…
well, a pair of pantaloons."

"I thank you for your interest, sir, however,
it should be of no concern to you."

"Ah. Quite right. It's just that I feel
compelled as a gentleman"—William arched an eyebrow—"to offer the
services of a tailor down from London tomorrow."

"Thank you for this news, my lord. I'll
arrange for his services myself when I'm next in the village." She
picked up the water goblet, and took a long swallow, giving him
time to admire the long, slender line of her neck.

"I see I've not explained properly," William
said. "I am afraid the tailor shall be housed here to take care of
my extensive needs."

She glanced at him with surprise. It was
obvious she thought him a hopeless dandy—only concerned with
maintaining the first blaze of fashion. But, perhaps, this would
play to his advantage given her skittish nature and distaste of
fortune hunters.

"But I suppose I could spare him part of the
morning if—"

Like a fish grabbing the bait, she reached.
"If what?"

"If you would return
here
for the
fitting." He unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap with
elegant gestures. "Alas, while I'm most willing to lend the talents
of my tailor to a desperate female, I cannot spare him above a half
hour. You may consider it penance for your prior sin of
dishonesty."

Her cheeks became pink, her muted green eyes
sparked, and her bosom, ah, well, it was most becoming when she
took a deep breath in indignation, as she did now.

"A desperate female? Outrageous. But, then
you are not content unless you are just so. I see your methods.
But"—she smiled—"I'll not give you the pleasure of an argument. I
accept your offer and shall return here tomorrow morning to meet
your tailor, which you
so kindly
offered for precisely one
half hour."

Miss Anna Mornington intruded in their
exchange. "I would like a share in your conversation, if you
please," she insisted petulantly. "The seating tonight is very
inconvenient. Miss Somerset, do tell us the sorts of amusements you
favor. We simply must organize some diversions or Felicia and I
will go mad being away from London in the middle of the
Season."

"Well, actually, I enjoy walking. This area
has an extraordinary stark beauty to it, especially the paths along
the shoreline."

Mornington's sister took on a peevish
expression. "I was hoping you might choose to have a dinner and
some dancing one of these evenings. It has been ages since we have
been to the villa. Not since before Mama's and the duke and
duchess's deaths."

"Anna, that was ill done of you," said
Mornington. "Now you have put Miss Somerset in the uncomfortable
position of feeling obligated to abide by your wishes."

Fortune was smiling on him today, thought
William. All eyes focused on Miss Somerset.

"No, no, that's quite all right, Mr.
Mornington. I would be delighted to devise an evening at Villa
Belza," Miss Somerset said. "I am afraid it is long overdue."

"My cousin was saying just yesterday, when we
received your kind invitation"—Miss Mari Owens cleared her
throat—"that she
longed
to arrange the sorts of
entertainments favored by the former duke and duchess."

The petite Welsh cousin was a skilled liar if
he was forced to hazard a guess. Mornington had not seemed able to
tear his eyes away from the dark beauty all evening. Now William
would not even be able to count on Mornington for rational
conversation. Indeed, his friend wore the same lovesick mooncalf
expression his sisters wore on Will's behalf.

"Shall we say Saturday, next? My cousin and I
would be honored if all of you would join us for dinner and perhaps
some music, if any of you play," said Miss Somerset, hiding her
reluctance.

"Oh, how wonderful!" Miss Anna Mornington
clapped her hands together. "Felicia and I would be pleased to
perform for you."

Oh dear God, thought William, not another
evening of screeching and sonatas missing a number of notes.

Suddenly, the familiar sound of a scrambling
dog whose nails were failing to catch on hard flooring preceded the
appearance of a sausagelike dab of tan and black. An oath not fit
for the polite world escaped a nearby servant's lips when the
creature dodged the man's hands and leapt into William's lap.

Mrs. Tickle carried a shoe between her teeth,
a newly tooled calf shoe,
his shoe
. She dropped it in his
lap, panted and looked up for approval.

The high-pitched garble of Jack Farquhar in
the hall followed before the man himself made an appearance.
Farquhar, bless his heart, was all done up in his most elegant
finery for his evening off. Varying shades of pistachio were being
put to the test tonight. But no, a hint of yellow and white peeked
above and below the satin coat proving that yellow polka dots could
compete admirably with vivid green.

"Oh, Mr. Mornington, ladies, sir," said
Farquhar, bowing as low as his stiff shirt points would allow. "I
say, sorry to intrude."

"Farquhar," William said with an edge.

"Oh yes, of course. Mustn't interrupt the
fine ladies and gentlemen. Where is that sorry dog of mine? Oh,
there you are sweetheart." Jack Farquhar spied his pug and came
around. "There, there, you mustn't make such a fuss when deprived
of the new bit of hide"—the valet glared at William—"
someone
forgot to bring you."

William passed the dog and mauled shoe to his
valet.

"I will require a word with you later,
Farquhar."

"
Oui, monseigneur
." The valet adopted
his most formal stance and clicked his heels while bowing.

Farquhar departed while cooing silly nothings
in his pet's ear, but not before everyone noticed him slipping
William's shoe back to Mrs. Tickle for the pug's further enjoyment.
The door closed shut.

"I'm all amazement by the long leash you
allow your man," Mornington said, recovering from shock.

"Yes, well, I suppose I tolerate it because
he allows my leash to be equally long." William would never forget
the number of times he had been unable to pay Farquhar during the
last year and the man's unquestioning loyalty and bravery.

William turned to see Miss Somerset on the
verge of bursting with laughter. Tears filled her eyes and a
delicate napkin covered her mouth.

"You find this amusing, Miss Somerset."

"How could one not?" she said, not trying to
hide her delight.

Well, at least Farquhar had accomplished what
he had not. She was finally at ease and looking as if she was
enjoying herself. And it was a sight to behold, merriment in her
eyes and a charmingly pretty smile.

William turned to see the ever-present
reverent expressions on Mornington's silly sisters. It was not
every day he encountered a female unwilling to preen and flirt with
him. Miss Somerset obviously mistook him for a harmless dandy.

It was insulting.

It was delightfully amusing.

It presented an irresistible challenge and
sparked a devilish idea for bringing about an end to his fiscal
woes, with the added benefit of providing amusement to his stay in
this backwater village on the edge of nowhere.

The early morning of the following day,
Sophie retraced the path of the evening before. There was certainly
no harm in spending a half-hour's time in an upstairs chamber of
Hinton Arms, accompanied by her maid, Mademoiselle Karine. The
tailor would not dare ask her to undress. He would simply measure
her waist and the length to the floor, and she would ask him to
estimate the roundness of her lower limbs.

The imposing thirteenth century stone manor
house, adorned with elegant chimneys and carved parapets, came into
view. A newly constructed Palladian bridge with clusters of
jonquils surrounding the bases provided an elegant passageway over
a narrow section of lake, which fronted the house. Sophie smiled as
she thought what Aunt Rutledge's opinion would be of the idea of
Sophie having a pair of pantaloons made to go fishing. London felt
wonderfully far away, indeed.

Of one thing she was certain. She had nothing
to fear from Lord William, especially this early in the morning. He
was a do-nothing bit of frippery who would surely have
tonnish
, slug-a-bed tendencies. Truly, the man cared for
nothing more than lavish displays of colorful silks, rivaling the
rainbow. And his curious man, Mr. Farquhar, was a strange popinjay
of awe-inspiring proportions.

The Misses Mornington had claimed he was Lord
William's valet, but certainly this could not be so. What man of
the serving class would be allowed such freedom of dress and
behavior? Lord William seemed to be on the most intimate of terms
with his employee.

Yet there was something, that certain
something, Sophie could not quite put her finger on that made her
pause. Perhaps it was the something in Lord William's dark,
flashing eyes that matched his longish dark brown hair. The
intelligence she was sure she had glimpsed in his expression was at
odds with the dimples she had caught sight of once. But they looked
so seductive on his smooth, tanned cheeks that set off his white
teeth when he chose to reveal them.

Sophie shook her head. This was
ridiculous.

And then there was the matter of his hands.
She had not failed to notice the calluses on his palms when he had
removed his gloves prior to dinner. They were hands that did not
match his aristocratic airs, mien and clothes.

They reminded Sophie of her father's hands—
strong, purposeful and capable. She remembered her father's large
palmed hand stroking her hair as she sat in his lap by the fire
after they had spent a fruitful day on the sea, in the pastures or
ministering to the needs of the parish.

She swallowed her sadness and mentally shook
herself. At least she was not as homesick in Burnham-by-the-Sea as
she had been in London. She could essentially live the same sort of
life here as she had had in Wales albeit in more opulence.

Sophie negotiated the gray marble steps to
the landing. There was no sign of activity. Perhaps she had come a
mite early. Karine had appeared half-asleep, trudging silently one
step behind her mistress the entire way. Her French maid seemed to
have little interest in invigorating excursions of any type,
seeming to prefer consuming the latest
on-dits
and a hot pot
of chocolate before a fire more than anything else. Truth be told,
Sophie was a bit intimidated with the petite, calculating
woman.

"Do you think we are too early, then,
Karine?" Sophie said, lifting the knocker and letting it fall.

"Yes," Karine said with her usual Gallic
shrug. "But then, it would have been too early if you had waited
two hours from now." The maid yawned.

Sophie wondered if she would ever be able to
control her maid's outlandish tongue. If it wasn't that her aunt
had insisted the maid had more talent than…

The heavy oak door swung open and within
moments she was being ushered to the tailor's apartment by a young
footman. Karine disappeared in the direction of the servants' back
stairs, chattering with another maid who appeared. Sophie passed a
breathtaking picture gallery containing floor-toceiling portraits
of Mornington ancestors. She and the footman padded along several
corridors and more stairs until he stopped in front of an ornate
door at the end of a long hallway.

He knocked and turned to Sophie. "This be
where the tailor has set out his things, miss. I'll leave you here,
then." He bowed and quickly walked away.

Sophie heard a distinctly masculine voice
from within, which seemed to suggest that she should enter. She
pushed down the brass handle and opened the door.

Good Lord. She inhaled sharply.

Sophie snapped out of shock, closed the door
abruptly and looked around to see if anyone had observed the
spectacle.

She licked her lips and tried to still her
quaking limbs. Heart pounding, she turned and fled down the endless
passageway.