The Belligerent Miss Boynton AND The Lurid Lady Lockport (Two Companion Full-Length Regency Novels) (54 page)

Olive Zook, whom he secretly believed to be a lamebrained lunatic, although a harmless enough sort, he left to her own peculiar devices.

Mrs. Whitebread was the only real cloud on Rice's horizon. The woman greatly admired the butler and followed him about the whole day through, looking for all the world like a tongue-lolling puppy, answering all his inquiries with exasperating misinterpretations of his questions. By the end of each day he was hoarse from shouting at her as well as increasingly more certain the daft woman had designs on the bachelorhood he had clung to so doggedly these five and fifty years.

Gilly also believed the housekeeper was nursing an attraction for the butler, which heartily amused her, as Rice was not exactly Gilly's idea of handsome. Not only was he painfully thin, but he had, at her last count, exactly a dozen outrageously long gray hairs spanning the top of his head (carefully cultivated from a slightly thicker side and back growth) in hopes, thought Gilly, of deflecting the sheen reflected from the chandeliers off his otherwise bare skull, and thereby not blinding anyone.

Gilly did find Rice's face interesting. He had soft, baby-like skin that was creased with a fine web of lines, crossing and recrossing each other like veins on a dry leaf, and he possessed the bright rosy red cheeks of a choirboy. Yes, Gilly mused reflectively, there was a certain something about the man that would appeal to a woman like Mrs. Whitebread.

Yet it was Gilly who longed to kiss the man's wizened cheek moments after he had come into the main saloon to announce that Mr. O'Keefe and his sister had arrived on an afternoon visit. Rice had only met the pair twice before, but he had already formed an opinion about them that even his proper manner could not hide.

The Rawlings and their houseguests were all together in the room, playing at cards and commiserating with each other that the rain that had begun that morning showed no sign of abating and allowing them outdoors. The ladies put down their cards and the men all rose politely as the O'Keefe's swept into the room.

"I shan't take your hat, sir," Rice pronounced in stentorian tones, "as you mustn't worry you'll be expected to stay on past the usual quarter-hour allotted such unannounced visits."

Gilly's spirits, which had sunk a little at Rice's first announcement, most remarkably lifted. To show her appreciation, (deciding that actually kissing the man would be a bit too obvious), she shot Rice a dazzling smile and a wink of thanks before the butler withdrew from the room. He winked back at her, so that she was forced to hide a giggle behind her hand.

Rory O'Keefe, looking his usual handsome storybook prince self, did not seem to be insulted when he was left standing, hat in outstretched hand, watching Rice's retreating back. He merely shrugged his broad shoulders before placing the hat on a nearby table and advancing to shake hands with his host.

"Fella's a popinjay," Bo whispered into Gilly's ear before turning his eyes on Glynis and inquiring, "I say, Gilly. Who's the ladybird?"

Now Gilly had to bite down hard on her knuckled fist to keep from laughing out loud. As the introductions were made all around, she watched her new friends carefully, happily surprised at what she read in their faces.

Anne looked at the pair of beautiful creatures with the same sort of flustered surprise she might have shown had two exotic peacocks just then strutted in from the gardens.

Bo, as if his pithy comments had not been enough, was eying the O'Keefe's up and down, his chubby-cheeked face extremely solemn as he seemed to be trying to assure himself the pair of shabby-genteel exquisites weren't about to lope off with the silver.

As Jared Delaney rose to shake hands, towering over Rory and by his own dark handsomeness making the latter look more like a copy than an original, Gilly saw his keen gaze assessing the newcomers. His greeting was civil but restrained, and he was careful to keep himself next to his wife rather than offering up his seat to Glynis.

It was left to Amanda to pick up the conversational ball, complimenting Glynis on her gown and asking Rory how he liked tutoring young boys, as Kevin had mentioned during the introductions.

Gilly watched, amazed, as Amanda asked question after question, and received answer after answer from the flattered pair. The O'Keefe's are being pumped for information, she thought to herself, and Amanda is so masterful an inquisitor, they don't even know they are being picked apart to their very bones.

"Gilly, dear," Glynis said after a bit, interrupting Gilly's amusement, "how terribly, er,
charming
you're looking today. Whatever possessed you to cut off your hair?" The woman gave a delicate shudder. "I don't know if I would have the nerve to be seen in public with hair as short as any man's. But then, with yours being such a very odd shade, I suppose you felt the less there was of it the better, hmm?"

One swing
, swore Gilly silently,
just give me one clear swing at her and I'll wipe that condescending smirk off her face.

Luckily, whether for Gilly or Glynis it is not known (as coming to cuffs in the midst of a social afternoon would have repercussions for both the attacker and the attacked), Amanda broke in chattily, "Oh, but didn't you know, Miss O'Keefe? Short curls are all the rage in London, thanks to Byron. Have you by chance read his
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage
, Cantos One and Two, which have been published just recently?" Before Glynis could answer, Amanda launched into a short recital of some of the more popular lines, giving Gilly's temper some much needed time in which to cool.

When Glynis spoke again, it was with the knowledge that any further attacks on the young Countess would not be allowed to go unanswered, as these people all, if their momentarily hostile faces upon hearing her comments on Gilly's hair were to be used as an indication of their feelings, were actually prepared to stand allies to the chit.

Since she could not indulge in veiled sarcasm, Glynis fell back on her most reliable ploy, that of being an emptybrained little widgeon who wouldn't harm a fly. She spent the remainder of her visit chattering happily about all manner of trivialities, and pointedly ignored Gilly, while the four men discussed politics and the wars that were now raging on two fronts, Europe and America.

When at last the O'Keefe's had taken their leave, the object of their visit still undisclosed unless Glynis's innocuously put forth queries as to how the fortune hunt progressed ("such a lark for all of us, you know") was at the heart of the matter, Jared asked Kevin point-blank how much he had told the O'Keefe's.

While Gilly blushed furiously, Kevin informed his friends that the O'Keefe's knew Sylvester had set them a puzzle in his Will, but he had not been such a skipbrain as to let them think his marriage to Gilly was anything but a love match.

"Which, in direct opposition to my late great-uncle's hopes, it is. Isn't that right, darling?" he prompted Gilly encouragingly as he lifted her fingers to his lips.

His wife merely nodded. If she had dared to speak aloud, she knew she would have been unable to keep from blurting: "If only it were!"

"Well, I'm relieved to hear you haven't let them in on your private business," Jared went on as he rose to pace the room. "Not that I really believed you would, closemouthed creature that you are. But I wonder, Kevin. Am I imagining it, or did I see an avaricious gleam in Miss O'Keefe's eyes when she said the words fortune hunt?"

"She's a pretty woman," Anne ventured timidly, "but there's something about her that sends prickles up and down my spine."

"Funny," Amanda volunteered. "She made me feel something too, but it was more like an itching in my palm, as if I wanted to strike that sickeningly sweet smile off her face as she got done insulting poor Gilly here."

"Oh, no!" The object of Amanda's concern assured the company at large. "Don't worry about me. I can give as good as I get. Lord knows I've had plenty of reason to practice at it. But I thank you all anyway for jumping in as you did, never allowing our dear Miss O'Keefe the time to toss any more of her poison darts. It was really quite diverting watching you all guiding the conversation away from me each time she tried to steer it back in my direction."

Bo leaned over and patted Gilly's hand. "What friends are for, you know. Blonde, pretty. Don't mean she's an angel. Fella's havey-cavey. Don't know how-so, but a slippery piece of goods, I say."

"Pardon?" was all Gilly could muster in return.

Jared broke in then, first explaining that Bo felt both O'Keefe's to be other than they appeared to want everyone to think them to be, and then went on, "I've seen O'Keefe's sort before. So smooth, so agreeable. I believe if I'd said the sun rises in the West, he would have gone right along with me. A toadeater of the first water if ever I've seen one."

After listening to his friends, Kevin ventured, "You know, I'm surprised at you all. Gossiping about our neighbors like a bunch of old tabbies over their saucers of cream. Glynis is just an ordinary female, a bit envious of my wife's and my good fortune, but only a harmless female indulging in a little friendly dig or two, as females are prone to do."

"Blanche a female too. Harmless as a vial of poison," interjected Bo, wagging a finger in Kevin's direction.

"Who's Blanche?" asked Gilly.

"She was a creature from my husband's chequered past who tried to make a bit of mischief after our marriage," Amanda supplied Amanda.

"Mischief? Ha! Murder, more like," Bo exclaimed, puffing out his chest.

"That being neither here nor there at the moment, Bo dearest, I believe Kevin is right about one thing," Amanda said as she busied herself smoothing the pleats of her skirt over her knees. "We are carrying on like common gossips. I say we stop right now—just as soon as I say that Glynis O'Keefe is a born mischief-maker, and as for that brother of hers? Why, if he had just a drop more intelligence, I truly believe he could serve as a tolerable doorstop. Now," she smiled sweetly as everyone else in the room stared at her openmouthed, "let's just change the subject and talk of something more interesting. Kevin? Tell us a little more about this puzzle, please. Perhaps we can spend the rest of this dreary afternoon on a treasure hunt."

Kevin dutifully repaired to the library and came back with a copy of the puzzle, telling his friends of the success he'd had to date in tracking down the endless time mentioned in the rhyme. "There we were," he told them as Gilly looked on, smiling, "acting like a bunch of confirmed lunatics, chasing about like dogs after their own tails, peering into clocks."

"Anodyne? Haven't the vaguest," piped up Bo, as he took a turn at reading the puzzle.

"It's from the Latin, dearest," Anne supplied easily, surprising everyone into looking at her as she explained further. "In Latin it's
anodynus
. It's much the same in Greek—
anodynos
. But, no matter what, the meaning remains the same."

"Anne, my love, you never cease to amaze me," Amanda chortled. "I imagine you have an explanation for us on just how you've come by this marvelous knowledge?"

The young woman bowed her head, nearly overcome by an attack of shyness. "You know how I love flowers and plants and things? Well, many of the names are Latin and, as before I met Bo I was often alone, I began studying the language as a, well, as a diversion of sorts."

"She studied Greek." Jared shook his head as he playfully frowned at his wife. "Tsk-tsk, pet. And to think your only diversions are such mundane things as sketching and watercolor painting. For shame, you slacker you."

"How would you like to be sketched in the style of one of our famous caricaturists, darling? I particularly like the way they draw a person to resemble an animal. In your case, a grinning ape comes most readily to mind," Amanda answered, her smile so bright Jared blinked.

Kevin handed Jared his refilled glass of wine, remarking silkily, "It would seem our Mandy has been too long with your Aunt Agatha, old friend. She's beginning to rattle off set-downs with all the old gal's fire and verve."

"Ah, poor me. My friends, no one shall ever know the trials I must endure," Jared agreed gloomily before, brightening, and winking broadly at his wife, he said, "Yet with it all, married life still holds its compensations. Doesn't it, Mandy?"

It seemed to Bo that his question had been forgotten, and judging from the way Amanda and Jared were making calf-eyes at each other, it was time he brought them all back to the subject at hand.

"Sweetings," he directed his words to his wife. "Anodyne. Explain it. Deuced bothersome. Not knowing, that is."

Anne patted her husband's hand sympathetically. "It means to relieve pain—as with a medicine, I suppose."

Kevin took up the puzzle and read aloud, "'I give you, girl, an anodyne.' All right. It would seem, if the girl is Gilly, as I believe her to be, that Sylvester meant for this rhyme to be a means to easing some sort of pain. Gilly's pain."

"She don't look sick," Bo ventured blankly. "Don't complain." He shook his head. "Brave girl, Gilly. Pluck to the backbone."

Laughing, Gilly retorted, "I'm not in any pain, silly. I think Sylvester meant another type of pain entirely. Amanda?"

"Of course," Amanda cried out, clapping her hands in glee. "He means
heartache!
Oh, Gilly, suppose the fortune is your mother's marriage lines? That would have to be the pain, your poor mother's sad trial. Wouldn't it?"

"Not to mention the heartache of growing up under such a cloud as that of illegitimacy," Anne put in earnestly.

Gilly looked to each of the women in turn. Could it be? Was it possible? But why would Sylvester have hidden the truth all these years, for what reason, to what end? Gilly shook her head sadly. No. If there had been genuine marriage lines, Sylvester would have destroyed them long ago. He certainly would not make some grand gesture from beyond the grave—not unless he thought the truth, coming nearly twenty years late, would inflict pain, not ease it.

While Gilly was mentally examining and discarding her reactions to the idea Amanda presented, Kevin was struck by an awful thought. If Gilly were legitimate, it meant Sylvester could have raised her in the lap of luxury and left her with a private fortune that was one of the largest in the land. He seethed when he thought Gilly might have been spared those long, hard years of isolation and servitude, but he also felt the first flutterings of panic when he realized that if Sylvester had recognized her at birth, she would have had no reason to wed Kevin at all.