Nine Buck's Row (22 page)

“Thank you, Mr. Elliot.”

“Try Ted. It's easier to say. Formerly Teddy, but I put a stop to that nonsense when I reached seventeen. Refused to speak to anyone who addressed me by that ridiculous appellation. Aunt Cordelia was the worst offender. She still lets it slip out occasionally. I give her a severe look and sulk until she corrects herself.”

“I think Teddy is charming.”

“For a bouncing boy, maybe, but not for a serious young man.”

“Are you a serious young man?”

“Quite. I already have my life work cut out for me. I'm going to accomplish agricultural marvels. My parents frown—Dad wanted me to become a lawyer, Mother was certain I was destined to become a concert pianist, but I had other ideas. Since I took charge of our tenant farms, they've begun to yield almost twice as much—I say, you don't want to drink that so rapidly. It'll go to your head.”

“You intend to be a farmer?”

“A gentleman farmer. There's a difference.”

“I find that odd.”

He smiled again, and the deep brown eyes gleamed. “That's because I'm in my disguise tonight. The cultured young dandy in embroidered purple vest and fashionably cut suit really isn't me, you see. I play the piano with the verve of a Liszt, I charm the ladies, I decorate the finest drawing rooms, but I'm really just a country boy at heart. It seems paradoxical, I know, but it's actually true. I love the land.”

I was only half-listening to what he said. I was watching Nicholas and the gorgeous creature in red velvet. She had her hand resting on his arm, and he seemed to be amused by something, a wry smile playing on his lips. He was still in love with her. He had to be. No man could ever fall out of love with a woman as breathtakingly beautiful as Valerie. He was bitter, and I understood why now. Losing someone like her would make any man bitter, no matter what she might have done.

“I seem to have lost my audience,” Ted said lightly. “Perhaps you'd prefer other company.”

“Oh—oh, no. You must forgive me. I've been terribly rude. You were saying something about tomatoes—”

“The music won't begin for another fifteen minutes. Would you like to see Aunt Cordelia's gardens? They're quite impressive.”

“With a lot of little nooks and corners where it's private.”

“Very true. How did you know?”

“Your cousin George told me.”

“George is a scoundrel through and through. You can consider yourself lucky you didn't let
him
show you the gardens. You'll be quite safe with me, though, unless I'm overcome by the fragrance of the night-blooming jasmine. Care to risk it?”

I smiled and nodded, and we moved through one of the high French windows, silk curtains swaying on either side. The veranda was as long as the ballroom, with a white marble railing and two flights of curving steps that led down into the gardens. Japanese lanterns hung from the boughs of trees, making splotches of red and gold and blue and green. Flagstone paths wound through beds of flowers and banks of shrubs, and there were fountains, the sound of water gurgling quietly in the night.

We walked down the steps and followed one of the paths, moving further and further away from the house. Ted reached for my hand and held it, and I made no protest. Several couples strolled along the paths, and from dark corners came husky laughter and frequent giggles. The lanterns swayed in the breeze, leaves rustled, and crickets made buzzing, raspy noises between cracks in the tiles.

Ahead of us was a small grove of evergreen trees. Among the shadows a woman in white satin wrapped her arms around a tall man in a dark jacket. He whispered something, and she laughed merrily. Ted shook his head, leading me on, looking amused. Music started playing in the ballroom again, drifting out into the night with rich melody. We started back, taking a different path.

“I'm leaving London tomorrow,” Ted said. “I was looking forward to it, counting the days, but now I regret it.”

“Oh?”

“Surely you can see why.”

“I have no idea.”

“I won't be able to see you again, at least not for a while.”

“What a charming pond,” I said. “Pink and red lilies floating on wet green pads. Look, there's a frog—”

“Dash the pond! Don't you understand what I'm trying to say?”

“I'd rather you didn't say anything,” I replied politely.

“I meant what I said earlier in the ballroom, Susannah. Don't you believe me?”

“You're either extraordinarily gallant or a very accomplished liar.”

Ted kicked a stone off the path and let go of my hand, frowning. All around us night noises whispered, blending with the music. In the moonlight he looked like a petulant little boy. I smiled, liking him even more. He was delightful. Absurd, of course, but delightful just the same.

“Most girls would have swooned,” he said. “I'm quite a good catch, you know. Twenty-two years old, frightfully handsome, rich, charming. Mothers in four different counties have been trying to snare me for their daughters ever since I was nineteen.”

“Modesty isn't one of your virtues, is it?”

“That's part of my charm,” he said, grinning. “You're really not interested in snaring me?”

“Should I be?”

“Of course you should, idiot. We could elope tonight.”

“You're a preposterous young man.”

“And you certainly know how to deflate a chap's ego.”

“I've no doubt you'll survive the blow.”

“It won't be easy,” he replied. He gave a good-natured chuckle as we walked up the steps to the veranda. “When is your guardian bringing you to Surrey?” he asked.

“Quite soon,” I replied. “As soon as he finishes his research.”

“Then all isn't lost. His estate is just two miles from Roseclay. I'll be able to continue my pursuit. I intend to be very persuasive.”

“Won't you be busy supervising your farms?”

“Farming just takes up a small part of my time. There's plenty left over for more amiable pursuits. Do you realize I haven't danced with you? We'd better hurry before Aunt Cordelia decides to donate my services to one of her frivolous old cronies.”

He grinned raffishly and led me back into the ballroom, his hand holding mine in a firm, secure grip as though he had no intention of letting me get away.

14

We stepped into the ballroom, and Ted led me onto the dance-floor. He was a superb dancer, smooth, polished, expert. His arm around my waist, his hand clasping mine, he propelled me around the room as though I were weightless. Those remarkable brown eyes never left my own. Flat red-brown locks made a fringe across his tanned forehead, and an appreciative smile played on his lips. Gliding, swirling, waves of music swelling around us, multicolored skirts making a kaleidoscope of moving color, we danced, and his intense gaze made me feel like a priceless treasure.

We had three dances together before Lady Cordelia intervened. The music had stopped, and we were standing under one of the chandeliers. I felt dizzy and elated. Ted arched an eyebrow and shook his head in despair when he saw his aunt moving toward us.

“You young rascal!” she cried. “Shame on you! You mustn't monopolize Susannah like this. What a striking couple you make, though.
Every
one has noticed it. Ted, Lady Thruston is simply dying to meet you. ‘Who is that lean young man with the pirate face and dashing purple vest?' she wanted to know. You
must
dance with her. She doesn't have much fun, poor thing, and it would make her evening—”

“What did I tell you?” Ted remarked, lifting his shoulders in a resigned but good-natured shrug. He left to charm Lady Thruston, and his aunt watched him with fond eyes.

“An utterly adorable boy,” she said, “but such an elusive devil! The girls have been after him for ages! Has no intentions of settling down, the scamp. I wouldn't take anything he said too seriously, dear. He's a notorious ladies' man.”

“I can believe that,” I replied.

“Just like Nicky, when Nicky was that age.
He
used to cut quite a figure, I can tell you! Before Valerie, of course. After that—” She shook her head and looked momentarily disturbed. “I do hope it wasn't too painful seeing her again after all these years. I half-expected him to strangle her on the spot, but they seemed to get on smashingly.”

“Have you seen him in the past hour?” I inquired.

“Not for a while, dear. Oh, there's Agatha Larson all alone! Poor woman, a wallflower at forty, but is it any wonder? That dreadful wen—I must go cheer her up!”

Lady Cordelia patted my arm and, purple plumes asway, rushed over to console the pathetic Agatha. The other nephews were occupied, and I managed to slip away from the ballroom unescorted. Fetching a glass of champagne, I wandered to the top of the staircase and stood looking down at the oriental fountain splashing among the colored mosaics and exotic plants. I was weary now, and sad. For some strange reason I was on the verge of tears, and it irritated me. I drank the champagne, much too rapidly, and set the glass down on the bannister.

Cinderella had come to the ball, but now it was almost midnight. The fairy tale was about to end, and I would go back to Nine Buck's Row and put my gown away and things would be as they were before. I would probably never see Ted Elliot again. That didn't matter. He was young and handsome and irresistibly charming, but it wasn't Ted Elliot whom I was thinking about as I stood gazing down at the foyer below.

Exhausted from too much dancing, too much excitement, flushed and dizzy from too much champagne, I acknowledged the fact that I was in love with Nicholas Craig. It had been there, inside, for some time now, but I had either ignored it or tried to deny its existence. It was an entirely new sensation, immensely bewildering. Was it possible to love someone and dislike him at the same time?

I frowned, irritated with myself. Folly, sheer folly. I couldn't be in love with Nicholas Craig. He was arrogant, aloof, thoroughly impossible. I disliked him intensely … and yet I had felt a sharp pang of jealousy when I had seen him with Valerie. Was he with her now? Had they slipped off together? Were they wandering in the gardens now, surrounded by shrubbery and shadows, discussing old times and planning new ones? These questions whirled around in my head, and I gripped the bannister, steadying myself. The foyer below was a swirl of color, blurring, moving, and I realized that I was tipsy. Very.

It was a delicious sensation. I felt light and airy. The music floated out onto the landing, and I felt that I could float too, completely weightless. I closed my eyes, gripping the bannister tightly, and in a moment the whirling stopped and I could focus clearly, although the airy sensation remained.

There were footsteps on the tiles below, and I saw Sir Reginald Belmount and Nicholas moving toward the staircase, their shoulders brushing against the greenery. So he wasn't with Valerie after all. I felt a rush of elation.

“It's what we've been waiting for,” Nicholas said.

“I'm not so sure,” Sir Reginald replied.

“Proof. I'm sure.”

“Maybe so,” Sir Reginald said, “but still—”

“Still we've got to locate him. Granted. But at least we'll
know
, man, and that's a step in the right direction.”

“You're going to check it out?”

“First thing tomorrow. It shouldn't be difficult.”

They paused beside the fountain. They were speaking in subdued voices, but I could hear them quite clearly. The words meant nothing to me, and I really wasn't paying too much attention. He wasn't with Valerie. That was the important thing. Nicholas looked grim and determined, the way he always looked, and Sir Reginald seemed distressed, his brow furrowed.

“We've got to be very cautious, Nicky. You realize that? Too many people are onto this already. Sir Charles—”

“Sir Charles is a blithering idiot. He's going to mess everything up. Planting that leather apron, concealing evidence—”

“The press. He did it because of the press. If those fellows got wind of this, the Crown would—”

“The Crown will be protected at all costs, Reggie.”

“What about your ward? Does she—”

“Susannah doesn't know anything.”

“Coincidence, what? Being involved the way she is and becoming your ward. Remarkable coincidence. If she hadn't come to Nine Buck's Row—”

Nicholas looked up. He saw me leaning over the bannister. His face turned pale. He seized Sir Reginald by the arm, warning him. Sir Reginald saw me, too, and he looked even more distressed.

“Come down here at once!” Nicholas said sharply.

“I don't think I can,” I replied blithely.

“Susannah—”

“I might be able to
float
down.”

“Christ! Of all the—”

“Thoroughly tipsy,” Sir Reginald said. “She couldn't possibly have understood. Look, Nicky, I'll go fetch your things. You bring her down. I'll send you home in one of the carriages.”

“I don't want to go home,” I called merrily. “It isn't midnight yet. Mice and pumpkins—”

“Christ!” Nicholas repeated.

Sir Reginald chuckled, thoroughly amused. He left the foyer. Nicholas started up the stairs, a fierce expression on his face.

“I'd like another glass of champagne,” I said reasonably. “Fetch it for me.”

“Come along,” he said, seizing my arm in a rough grip and leading me to the stairs.

“They're not glass,” I said, “but I really should leave one of them on the staircase. Don't you think? Ted might find it, or George—”

“You're talking gibberish!” he snapped.

“You think so? You're certainly one to cast stones.
You
were talking gibberish, too, my good man. Just now. And Sir Reginald, too. I couldn't follow a thing you said.”