Miss Delacourt Has Her Day (4 page)

Ginny had no reply. She was no longer attending to Lucinda, for there in the doorway, his face as white as his cravat, stood Anthony.

Anthony had never been so happy to arrive at Wembley House, in spite of its being the scene of many an unpleasant lecture from his grandmama. He had never been so eager to see Ginny, to talk with her and share his hopes and dreams for their future. He had never been so full of dread when he opened the door to the drawing room and heard that goose, Lucinda, tell Ginny about his long-distant past.

One look at Ginny’s face, pale in the afternoon light, told him everything he needed to know. He strode to her side and took her cold hand in his.

“Ginny, please do not assume!”

She opened her mouth to say something but snapped it shut again when Lucinda jumped up from the sofa and ran to his side.

“Look, Eustace! It is Sir Anthony!”

“Yes, my flower, I see him,” Lord Avery soothed.

“Why, we were just discussing you!”

“So I heard, Lucinda,” Anthony said coldly.

“La, sir, but you are to call me Lady Avery now. Or, my lady. That would do, as well.”

“I am quite aware of your change in status and title, Lady Avery,” he said. In point of fact, he was more than well enough aware of everyone’s change in status-Lucinda’s, his, Lady Derby’s-and he was sick unto death of it. Drawing Ginny to her feet, he said, “Come sit with me on the sofa, my dear, and I will tell you what has happened”

“Oh, famous!” Lucinda said, clapping her hands. “I wish to hear all about it!”

“Not you, Lucinda,” Anthony insisted.

“Well! I never!” Lucinda cried and flounced across the room. It was, unfortunately, the side of the room opposite the door, and Anthony was having none of it.

“Ginny, wait right here until I can get rid of that peagoose “

“Peagoose?” Lord Avery shouted. “That is my lady wife you are insulting. I will have you know she is in a delicate condition and is not up to your brand of spitefulness.”

“Delicate condition?” So soon? He turned to look a question at Ginny, but her eyes were too full of her own lack of answers to address his. Besides, Lucinda had just fainted into a puddle at his feet.

“Oh, my poor darling!” Lord Avery cried, kneeling to crouch at her side. “You, Crenshaw, are a beast! I should call you out for this!”

“You, Avery, are a nincompoop, and I should have put a bullet into you when I had the chance last week!”

Lord Avery’s mouth opened and shut like that of a fish gasping its last gasp, and his chin began to wobble.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Anthony commanded. If he never again saw a grown man cry, it would be too soon. “As for you, Lady Avery,” he said, addressing the prone figure at his feet, “do you have an inkling what it means to be in a `delicate condition’?”

Indignant, Lucinda propped herself up on her elbows. “Of course I do, silly! It’s what all the new brides say. First they say they are in a delicate condition, and then they say they have never been happier. Not many of them faint, but I decided I would be the fainting kind long before my come-out. Only I didn’t have a come-out because I got the pox and-“

“Enough!” Anthony roared, grasping her by the elbow and jerking her to her feet. “Avery, your wife is not increasing! Rather, she could be, but it is too soon to know, and somehow I rather doubt the two of you have enough wits between you to start so much as a fire”

“How dare you!” Lucinda cried. “I do know how to make a fire. I have watched the chambermaids do it any number of times. And as for that other horrendous accusation, I don’t believe I have ever been so insulted in my life!”

“My apologies, Lady Avery. I didn’t mean to imply that I believe you to be a liar.” What he thought of her was far worse and not the least polite to say aloud.

“Liar? Who is calling whom a liar? You, sir, called me fat and old!”

Anthony was completely nonplussed. Had everyone gone mad? If he lived to see such a benighted day ever again, he would poke out his eyes. “Uh, I, that is..

“Lord Crenshaw does not think you are fat, Lucinda,” Ginny said, rising gracefully to her feet. “He was merely pointing out that the meaning of the words `delicate condition’ imply you are increasing.”

“But, Ginny,” Lucinda pouted, “only the old, fat girls are enceinte. Surely you have noticed.”

“Yes, dear,” she said, taking Lucinda firmly by the shoulders and leading her toward the door. “But you are both young and beautiful. Therefore, you cannot be enceinte. Lord Crenshaw knows this as well as I. Is that not so, my lord?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s it exactly!” Bless Ginny’s heart for getting him so quickly over a patch of very rough ground.

“Now, Lord Crenshaw and I have a few matters to discuss, but thank you very much for your visit,” Ginny continued. “It was so lovely to see you both”

Avery, his face restored to its normal shade of cream, took Ginny’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you, Miss Delacourt! Perhaps Lucinda and I shall attempt a trip to the Continent, after all!”

“How marvelous! Please do write and let me know how you get along. The footman will see you out” And without further ado, the peagoose and the hen were out the door.

Anthony collapsed onto the sofa and sighed in relief. “I thought they would never leave!”

“No matter,” Ginny said with an airy wave of her hand. “I daresay when I am a duchess, I shall be obliged to entertain any number of lords and ladies.”

“True, I suppose you shall, but I was persuaded you cared little about such things.”

“But of course I care! It is the duty of a duchess to ensure social success for the sake of her husband, the duke. There is no point in my waiting until I have a title to be proper and correct,” Ginny said with an overbright smile.

Anthony felt a spark of dismay. “Ginny, what has Grandmama been saying to you?”

“Nothing! That is to say, she has been tutoring me on my duties as your future wife, and I am very grateful.” She returned to the sofa and sat down, forcing Anthony to rise to his feet. He would have momentarily claimed the place by her side he longed for, but she had displayed her skirts so generously, there was but an inch or two left upon the sofa on which to spread his trousers. It was an affectation he had seen employed by Lucinda a hundred times, which was a hundred times too many. Frowning, he remained standing and forced himself to attend to what his beloved was saying.

“As I do not wish to assume anything, perhaps it is best you tell me about Lady Derby,” Ginny said, mild as butter.

No censure, no accusation, no objects being hurled at his head… Anthony felt as if the floor were shifting beneath his feet. The woman before him seemed an utter stranger. Surely her head had not been turned by the prospect of becoming a duchess?

“Miss Delacourt,” he said, longing to call her Ginny but unsure what game she was playing, “it has never been my purpose to keep anything from you.” He paused to gauge her reaction to his words, but her face maintained its former appearance of sweet complacency. “Ah, that is to say, if I had thought it of any import, I would have informed you of my past romantic entanglements.” Oh, Lord, that hadn’t come out right. Surely now she would give him a piece of her mind. And he would be glad of it!

“La, sir, that is all in the past! You were recently betrothed to Lady Avery, but I am not the least troubled by that fact”

“Ginny, it is hardly the same thing! You know my brief attachment to Lucinda was not known to anyone but those of us in the house, and a total sham, to boot” He turned away from her, afraid to see her reaction or, worse, a lack of it, in her face. “It was not so with Rebecca, er, Lady Derby, and if you think others will let the subject die, you are sadly mistaken.”

Now he had gone and done it. In his mind’s eye, he saw Ginny’s adorable face crumple, her eyes shining with unshed tears. He spun about to capture this evidence of her affectionwhy, it had been eons since they had spoken of love, perhaps as long ago as yesterday!-only to come face-to-face with Grandmama.

“Anthony! Pray tell, what you are doing here?”

He was taken aback. “I believe I was expected, as I have been every afternoon since our return to London” An ugly thought occurred to him. “You haven’t had a letter from my uncle, the duke, have you?” He didn’t know how one could possibly have arrived before him, but bad news had a way of traveling quickly. Avery and Lucinda were evidence of that.

“Why? Was there something you wished to confess before I have the whole from my son, the duke?” the dowager duchess asked, murder in her eyes.

Anthony resisted the urge to steal a glance at Ginny’s face. He knew she would see the act as doubt, and he would rather take a bullet, even one from that fop Avery, than have her see him waver.

“Confess? Why, Grandmama, you imply I have done some thing unwarranted. I would, however, be remiss if I neglected to inform you of my uncle’s opposition to my upcoming nuptials.” There, it was out, and he was glad of it. “If you must know, I believe he cherishes a hope I will marry my cousin’s widow. Wouldn’t that be a provident solution?” he said with as much nonchalance as he could muster. Surely they would see all what was ludicrous in that statement!

Surprisingly, they did not. Grandmama’s face went deathly white, and the tears he had hoped for from Ginny moments before started in earnest.

His first emotion was one of intense relief. Finally, a sign that she cared! As he hastened to Ginny’s side, he wondered if his selfish reaction meant he was some kind of cad. Taking her into his arms, he let her sob, at great length and with startling thoroughness, into the expensive cloth of his favorite Weston coat as penance for his callousness.

“My poor darling,” he murmured into her ear. “I hadn’t meant to be so blunt. That is, I did mean to say exactly what was on my mind, but I wasn’t wishful to make you so desperately unhappy.” Surely a tear or two would have been more than enough proof of her love for him, but there was no sign that the deluge would come to a stop. What now? He waggled his eyebrows at Grandmama over the top of Ginny’s head.

Grandmama was not so circumspect. She threw her hands into the air and cried, “Would that I knew! Ginny was her usual intrepid self earlier today over luncheon.”

“It’s only that I wish to be the best duchess I can be,” Ginny divulged between sobs.

“Not that again!” Anthony wanted to give her a good shake but fished in his pocket for a handkerchief instead. “Grandmama, what have you said to her?”

“I? What have I said to her?” she gasped. “You are the one who reintroduced that nasty bit of news about your uncle. I daresay the talk about Lady Derby was none too pleasing either.”

“I am referring to this newfound passion to be a duchess,” Anthony demanded, happy to turn attention away from the two most unsettling conversations of his day thus far. This was quickly becoming the third. “She hasn’t been herself since I arrived” The way her fingers crept up into the curls at the nape of his neck was also new, but he thought it best not to draw attention to that bit of impertinence. Grandmama might put a stop to it, and he found he rather liked it. Very much, in fact.

“Yes, well, no doubt we can lay the blame for that in your mother’s dish, as usual. Deborah makes it more than clear she doesn’t have confidence in Ginerva. Not all young ladies are cut out to be a proper duchess, if you must know, Anthony.”

“Since when does Ginny have a care for what anyone thinks of her?” Anthony demanded over the sound of renewed sobbing, but he was not to get an answer, for just then there was a rap on the door, and a Madame Badeau was announced.

“Ah, at last!” the dowager duchess sputtered. “You are late!”

“As you say, Your Grace,” Madame Badeau said with a shrug of her shoulders. “Specialement if by late you mean early and attendu outside this door pour toujours.”

Finally, someone who was a match for Grandmama, not to mention a splendid diversion for Ginny. Anthony felt something akin to glee. How he wished he might tarry and see how events unfolded, but it would not do to remain in the room while his beloved was fitted for her wedding gown.

“I will leave you ladies to your work, then” Gently, he drew Ginny from his shoulder and put a finger under her chin to lift her gaze to his. “Come, come, Miss Delacourt, will you not at least smile for me?” She did not reply, and in the end he was forced to make do with regarding her delightfully upturned nose while discreetly whisking away the teardrop that had made its way halfway down her chin; whereupon there was nothing left to do but depart.

Once the door had shut behind Sir Anthony, Ginny almost fell into another bout of weeping. They all were against her: Anthony’s mother despised her; his uncle, the duke, wished Anthony to marry his cousin’s widow; and Anthony’s rich, beautiful, and eminently available first love had reappeared upon the scene. Nevertheless, she held her tears at bay; a duchess did not whimper like a schoolgirl. At least Grandaunt never did, and she was the most regal duchess Ginny knew. In point of fact, Grandaunt was the only duchess she knew.

As Ginny endured being stabbed with the dressmaker’s pins and forced to stand agonizingly still for lengthy periods of time, she played through her mind every encounter she had had with lords and ladies, the very ones she had so recently disdained for their airs and graces. Now she fairly envied them their ability to take everything in stride (at least in public-perhaps they were as full of colic when in private, as was Grandaunt Regina) and smile demurely in the midst of every storm. Ginny sensed this was a skill she would need in future. Perhaps sooner. Drawing a breath, one that didn’t disturb the multitude of pins speared through the dozens of pleats in the bodice of her mocked-up gown, she asked, “Grandaunt, who exactly is Lady Derby?”