Love in Disguise (7 page)

“If you please, milord,” said Fancy quite calmly, “let us continue this conversation in the drawing room.”

The Earl’s lip curled cynically. “If you so desire,” he said curtly.

As Fancy led the way to the drawing room, she was extremely conscious of the Earl’s eyes on her back. The man made her nervous. Not even a full house had the capacity of this haughty lord to make her conscious of every movement she made.

Fancy closed the door behind him and motioned him to a chair. The Earl remained standing. “I am flattered,” he drawled, “that you wish to be alone with me.”

Fancy felt herself coloring up. “I merely wish to keep your angry remarks from resounding throughout my household,” she replied curtly.

“Ah,” said he, eyeing her speculatively. “You expect me to be angry.”

Fancy was taken aback. “Of course. That is - you have every right.” She stopped, aware that his eyes were glittering with suppressed amusement.

“I believe I shall baffle your expectations,” he drawled. “I shall be the soul of affability.”

For a long moment Fancy stared in amazement. Now what was the man up to? “I - I find this affability difficult to countenance,” she faltered. “Why not say your piece about the dog? Vent your anger and leave?”

“I am not angry,” said the Earl, regarding her carefully. “That dog is really a rare creature. It gives me a great deal of pleasure to hear him throw himself against my new mahogany door. He assures me that the door is sound and provides me protection against robbers and such.”

This statement was made in the soberest of tones and Fancy was at a loss as to how to respond. “I am sorry about Hercules,” she said. “I don’t know why he always wants to come to your house. I can’t understand it. He’s never been a dog to run away.”

The Earl shrugged. “Perhaps he enjoys my company. Some people do.”

Fancy glanced at him sharply, but he was regarding her quite urbanely. If he had laughed in that sardonic way of his or if he had been angrily insulting, she could have let loose her own anger. But how could she round on a man who now was making himself so affable?

As she watched he settled into a chair and stretched his long, well-clad legs comfortably. For a moment Fancy hesitated. Then she, too, seated herself.

For long moments there was silence in the room. The Earl seemed extremely comfortable. He looked around him with interest. “Old Cavendish did you up well. I rather imagine this is a Robert Adam house.”

Fancy looked at him in surprise. Whatever was the man talking about now?

“Robert Adam,” said the Earl, as though patiently instructing a child, “was a great architect of the last century. He built a great many houses, including mine. The detail of the carving in the panel over the fireplace, for instance, is quite reminiscent of mine. The design is different but similar. I expect the same craftsman did them both. Note the delicacy of the treatment and the rare beauty of the carving.”

For the first time Fancy really looked at the carving in the panel over the fireplace. What a strange man the Earl was. Imagine a lord taking an interest in architecture. She would never have believed it. It seemed that there was much more to the Earl of Morgane than appeared on the surface.

He gazed up at the ceiling. “Yes, I like this very much. Adam always had a good eye for ceilings. Note how the shape of the ceiling is picked up in the carpet. I believe his ceilings are his most outstanding contribution to the decorative arts.”

He stared upward for another long moment. “And I expect Zucchi did the paintings. And that particular way of tinting in pale blue, green, and mauve to form a soft background for the white relief, that was an Adam innovation. Old Cavendish knew enough to leave beautiful things alone - at least.”

Fancy, who had been gazing up at the ceiling with something akin to awe, felt herself bristling up at this reference to her cousin. “I’ll thank you not to speak unkindly of the dead.”

The Earl raised a dark eyebrow. “A thousand pardons, my dear Miss Harper. I was not aware that you harbored such tender feelings for your kinsman.”

There was something in the Earl’s voice that seemed to carry much more meaning than his words. It was to that something that Fancy responded. “I do not have ‘tender’ feelings for him,” she replied rather tartly. “I never knew him.”

The Earl made no reply to this but he looked plainly unconvinced.

“I do not know
why
he gave me this house, but he did. And I intend to live here - for a long time,” she added defiantly.

Morgane merely nodded in agreement. “I trust you will have sense enough not to ruin the place with the addition of nouveau riche embellishments.’’

Fancy, to whom even the idea of doing such seemed ridiculous, merely shrugged. “I have not yet decided if I shall change the decorations. I merely wanted to get nicely settled before the season began.”

The Earl smiled lazily. “An admirable goal certainly and one you seem to have attained.” He looked around the drawing room with interested eyes. “Yes, I like this room. I trust the rest of the house is correspondingly well done.”

“I have no training in architecture,” said Fancy stiffly. “But I believe it is. I, at least, find it quite a lovely house.”

“So I should imagine,” agreed the Earl. “It must have been something of a surprise to one of your - background.” The Earl’s eyes watched her intently, almost as though waiting for an angry reaction.

Fancy took a deep breath. “Yes, it was,” she replied calmly. “Though Papa and Mama did not exactly reside in hovels, we assuredly never had anything half so grand. At least Mama and I didn’t.
Of course, when Papa was a boy he must have lived in grand places.”

The Earl’s eyebrow lifted again. “How so?”

Fancy blushed. “Papa was of aristocratic blood. He was a younger son and his family disowned him when he wanted to marry Mama. But he did it anyway.”

Morgane’s eyes glittered dangerously. “For love, I presume,” he pronounced cynically.

She would not get angry. Fancy told herself. She simply would not. “Yes, for love. People do marry for that reason. Or so I believe.”

Morgane shrugged well-clad shoulders. “I find myself quite doubtful on that score. Experience has taught me that love is an illusion, a something that callow moon-lings are wont to believe in until they learn better - usually in quite a painful fashion.”

With difficulty Fancy kept her tongue between her teeth. She could not let him know that she had been informed about his past. She did not want to cause dissension between him and Castleford. “I’m afraid I must disagree with you, milord,” she replied finally. “I believe that many people marry because of a real partiality for each other.”

“Perhaps,” answered the Earl, with no great conviction in his tone. “And perhaps they marry for other reasons - like title and money.”

“That is not something I would do,” rejoined Fancy.

The Earl raised an eyebrow but made no direct comment on this. “Are you not a curious advocate for the emotion of love?” he asked.

“Why?”
What was the man getting at now?
Fancy wondered.

“You have told me more than once - in no uncertain terms” - the Earl’s hand rose to his scarred cheek - “that you do not need a man. That the theater is your life.”

“It is,” cried Fancy. “I meant what I said.”

The Earl laughed. It was not a pleasant sound, but cynical, and, Fancy thought, sad in some inexplicable fashion. “You are not being at all logical. First you tell me that love is very important and then you tell me that it is not for you.”

Fancy, though she was aware of the sense of what he was saying, did not want to concede it. “I do believe in love,” she said. “But not for myself. And besides” - she knew her anger was getting the better of her, but she could not help it - “what you offered me was not love.”

Instead of becoming angry, the Earl merely laughed.
“Touché.
I offered you - if I remember correctly - an establishment and jewels. And the price was not high enough.”

Angrily Fancy bounced from her chair. “You are mistaken in me, milord. It was not a question of the price. I am not for sale. Not then. Not now. Not ever.”

The Earl raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Come, come, my dear girl. Are you going to lose your temper when we have been dealing so famously with each other these many minutes?”

For several seconds Fancy fought with an intense desire to throw something at this irritating, top-lofty creature. But a little reflection soon reminded her that if she threw something at the Earl, it would be
her
something. And she undoubtedly would be the loser. She would also give him another opportunity to laugh at her.

With a deep sigh she settled back into her chair. She would not let him goad her into a temper tantrum. It was a very good thing that she had made this resolve, for the Earl’s next statement made her grip the arms of her chair until her knuckles turned white.

“Very good,” said he. “Quite commend-able. You are learning to control that vicious temper of yours. After all, having red hair is really no excuse for behaving abominably.”

Morgane seemed to be waiting for her explosion. Fancy unclenched her fingers and folded them in her lap before she replied. “My temper is no more vicious than yours,” she said evenly. “And I do not throw things.”

Morgane laughed. “Perhaps not, but you want to.”

To this Fancy could make no adequate reply. She would not deny the truth, but neither did she want to admit to it. She decided to remain silent.

The Earl cast his glance once more at the ceiling. “Yes,” he nodded. “Even the incongruity of mixing winged sphinxes, dolphins, and griffins with the serrated leaves of the acanthus, the flowers of the honeysuckle, and the long pendant catkins of the Garraya Elliptica cannot mar its beauty.”

He returned his gaze to the fireplace. “If I were you, I should let no one touch that beauty either. That’s a rare white marble he used and the stucco ornaments under the mantel are quite well done.”

Fancy found herself obediently examining the items he had pointed out. Even in her anger she could discern fresh beauties, beauties she had been too busy previously to notice.

The Earl rose from his chair and began to make a leisurely tour of the room, pausing now and then before one of the wall panels that held decorative paintings. In spite of herself, Fancy found that she was twisting in her chair to watch his progress.

He completed the tour of the room and paused before the panel to the left of the fireplace. Then he nodded. “Yes, this whole room is a specimen of Adam’s best work.”

He chuckled. “The man was extremely clever. He couldn’t bear to have his beautiful rooms destroyed by the hanging of a faulty picture. And so, many times he had the paintings themselves designed right into the room. In this way the owner was prevented from destroying the unity of Adam’s creation.”

Fancy, eyeing the paintings, each in its own panel, was forced to acknowledge the truth of the Earl’s words.

“I believe,” said Morgane thoughtfully, “that I prefer the romantic landscapes that grace my drawing room to these classical groups in chiaroscuro. Studies in light and shade, with no regard to color, are interesting, but not as restful to the tired mind as a good landscape.”

“Of course, I have not seen your landscapes, milord,” replied Fancy. “But I find this drawing room quite adequate for my needs.”

The Earl chuckled again. “I expect you do. I collect that great hordes of visitors are not descending upon you.”

Fancy stifled a sharp retort. Castleford had obviously not wanted his visit to be known to his friend and she would respect his confidence. She summoned a smile. “You are quite right, milord. I receive few visitors. But, as I told you before, I do not set up to be a lady. This is a nice house -” The Earl’s eyebrow rose again but he said nothing. “This is a very nice house,” continued Fancy. “Perhaps a little grand for the likes of me. But I intend to stay here and enjoy it. Especially now that I have been apprised of so many of its beauties,” she added, with a mischievous smile. “And, since I do not need my neighbors in order to enjoy myself, I really need not care about their feelings in the matter.”

A glint of amusement flickered in the Earl’s cool eyes. “A selfish sentiment, very admirable for a lady,” he replied. “You are perhaps further on your way to that estate than you suppose.”

Fancy refused to be riled. “That doesn’t signify. I have no wish to be a lady. I find ladies intolerably stuffy and dull. And as for lords -” Fancy shrugged daintily.

The Earl laughed. “Your estimation of our character is perhaps more accurate than we would like to admit. A position in the
haut ton
is perhaps not the enviable thing many people feel it to be.”

This disclosure on the part of the Earl took Fancy somewhat by surprise. She would never have expected the haughty Morgane to say a thing against riches and position, but then the Earl appeared to have many divergent aspects to him.

“I would not know about that,” said Fancy with a little grimace. “However, I do know that I am a working woman and this time after dinner is a time in which I study my lines so -”

“So you would like me to leave,” said the Earl.

“That would be most helpful,” replied Fancy. To her dismay, however, the Earl reseated himself and stretched his long legs with a sigh of contentment.

“I am sorry to keep you from your work,” said he in a tone that evidenced no sorrow whatsoever, “but I believe we have some unfinished business to discuss.”

Fancy felt herself coloring up. “I have already told you -” she began.

But the Earl interrupted her. “I do not mean
that
business. Though I do not yet consider the matter closed. I mean the business of that creature you dignify with the name of dog.”

“Oh!” Fancy fought to regain her composure. What an insufferable creature he was. Always so haughty and disdainful. And so often right!

“I have already said that I will pay for any damages that Hercules has caused.”

The Earl chuckled. “An admirable recovery. You have great stage presence. It would serve you well with an audience.”