Amanda Scott (12 page)

“And when I told them back at the house,” he said, “that the fool fish had jumped right onto the shore in his enthusiasm to snatch a mosquito out of the air, and that
that
was how my uncle chanced to catch it, Uncle Tom picked me up, threw me over his shoulder, and carried me straight back here, where he pitched me, fully clothed and screeching, into that icy pond.”

Diana joined in his laughter, then made a saucy face at him when he warned her sternly but with his eyes still reflecting his laughter that he didn’t wish to hear that tale repeated to a ballroom full of interested listeners.

He chuckled again, then eyed her more narrowly. “Are you warm enough with just that light jacket?” he demanded.

“Yes, Simon.”

He regarded her doubtfully, and she waited for him to say more, but beyond muttering that he hoped she didn’t make herself ill all for the sake of following a stupid fashion or two, he didn’t.

“Afraid I shall leave you in the lurch to support Lady Ophelia and the marquess through the coming festivities, sir?” Diana asked, teasing him.

“You’d best do no such thing, Diana mine, unless you want to see your wretched husband clapped up in Bedlam.”

“Rory and Susanna would help you,” she told him.

“Help me to Bedlam, more like,” he retorted. “No, thank you, I prefer your assistance.”

Having thus successfully introduced his brother’s name to the conversation, Diana decided Simon’s mood was receptive enough for her to attempt to follow through on a half-promise she had made her brother-in-law. Lord Roderick had no independent income of his own but was wholly dependent upon his father and his brother for his finances, a fact that, he assured Diana repeatedly, did not sit well with him. Though he admitted when pressed that the marquess made him an adequate if not generous allowance and that Simon was usually willing enough to “tip over the ready,” as Rory put it, whenever he outran the constable, he also pointed out that Simon more often than not offered an unwelcome sermon with the money, and insisted that the entire situation had become loathsome. Moreover—and here, Diana realized, was the crux of the matter—the Comte de Vieillard had demanded, not unnaturally, to be reassured of Lord Roderick’s capability to support Mademoiselle Sophie before he would permit an alliance to be made between them.

“And how can I possibly give the old man such an assurance when Papa could as easily cut me off on some whim or other as not?” he had demanded. When Diana had assured him that she could not imagine the marquess doing such a thing, Rory had said, “Perhaps not, but the possibility does exist, and you know it, so long as I have no proper income of my own. If only Papa would give me the opportunity to prove myself!” He had gone on then to assure her that if such an opportunity came into his hand, he would promptly cease his irresponsible ways and become a paragon of every virtue. Though Diana was not by any means certain that he would succeed in that final endeavor, she knew he meant well, and she was determined to help him.

She eyed Simon carefully, and since he showed no sign of bristling at the mention of his twin’s name, she dared to introduce the subject of that gentleman’s precarious future. However, she decided an oblique approach might answer better than an outright demand for his assistance.

“Does Susanna have money of her own, Simon,” she asked curiously, “or will the marquess provide her dowry when she marries?”

“She will have an independence,” he responded readily enough, though he glanced at her searchingly. She did not generally display such curiosity in matters that did not concern her. “My mother left her fortune to any daughters she might have had.”

“And Rory?” she asked, emboldened by the fact that he had not reproved her for her curiosity. “Will he always have to depend upon the marquess?”

“He will be left several of the unentailed properties when Father dies,” Simon said more curdy than before.

“Not until then? Your father has a little rheumatism, Simon, but it is scarcely like to kill him. He may well live another twenty or thirty years.”

“Indeed, I hope he may do so,” Simon replied coolly.

“Well, you know I wish him no harm,” she said, her indignation rising at his tone, “but surely you cannot expect Rory to hang on his sleeve—or upon yours, either—for so long as that. Why was he never pressed into some sort of occupation, for heaven’s sake, the church or the military?”

With an involuntary crack of laughter, Simon demanded to know if she could actually envision his dandified brother in a country parson’s black coat reading the Bible each Sunday to a flock of pious parishioners.

“Well, perhaps not,” she conceded, a smile hovering upon her lips at the thought.

“I should think not! Why, ’tis all Aunt can do to get him to family prayers three or four nights out of a week when he’s at Alderwood.”

“But I
can
picture him in a red coat, Simon, or better yet, a blue one,” Diana said quietly. “I think Rory might enjoy a cavalry regiment.”

“He might well enjoy the way he’d look in full dress, mounted on a handsome charger,” Simon agreed, “but if he’s ever evinced the slightest inclination for a military career, I, for one, haven’t noticed it.”

“He’s no coward,” she retorted stiffly.

“Of course not.” His expression was grim now. “I never said he was. I merely said he’d never expressed an interest in following the drum.”

“Then why cannot you convince the marquess to deed over one or two of those properties to him now?” Diana demanded, her temper astir. “It would give him something to do. He wants occupation, Simon, and some control over his own income, for that matter, and it is not right that a grown man—he’s nearly thirty after all—should be treated like a schoolboy.”

“I am well enough aware of his age,” Simon said coldly, “but since you have assured me that you have no interest in him, I should like to know how it is that you’ve become so thick with him as to presume to know his wants and needs.” His eyes had narrowed, and when he looked at her, Diana had the feeling that his gaze was piercing through her, as though he would see into her very thoughts.

“It is not what you’re thinking, Simon,” she said wearily. “I never said I had
no
interest in him, only that my interest was not of a sort that ought to rouse your jealousy. I care for your brother because he
is
your brother, but you must see that it isn’t fair for him always to stand in your shadow. A mere twenty minutes the other way and you would be where he is. Would you be any more resigned to the position than he is, sir?”

“He shows no sense of responsibility,” Simon said. “Had I been in his place, I’d have made a push to prove myself before now.”

“Would you, sir? Would you, indeed?” Her tone was sarcastic, her glance withering. “If you had never been given the slightest responsibility, if indeed you had always been held to be inferior because of a simple accident of birth—for that’s all it was, my lord, he might as easily have been the one born first—would you really have been the man you are today? I think not. Had you been taught to be dependent instead of taught to think yourself a crown prince of some sort, you’d have been as Lord Roderick is. Take care, sir, that between you, you and your father do not push him into doing something utterly outrageous.”

“Enough, Diana!” It was an order, snapped angrily as he reached out to catch Crispin’s bridle and bring both horses to a standstill. “You’ve no business to be putting your oar into what is for the most part my father’s business and to some extent my business.”

“It is mostly Rory’s business,” she said, contradicting him without thought for possible consequences. “You do not listen, Simon, not to him and not to me—”

“I will not listen to more of this prattle, that’s certain enough. You would do better, Diana mine, to remember your place.”

“A mere female, you mean, with no business to discuss men’s affairs? Is that indeed your meaning, my lord?”

“No, it is not. But I am your lord, madam, and it would be as well for you to remember that before you concern yourself with my brother’s so-called needs.”

The anger had reached his eyes, and his voice was ominously calm now, so she knew she had pushed matters as far as she dared. With a little grimace, she reached out a hand to touch his arm.

“I am sorry to have annoyed you. That was not my intention. Nor is it my intention to run away, sir. You need not hold Crispin’s bridle.”

The muscles in his jaw relaxed slightly, and he did release the bridle. “You do know how to stir the coals, sweetheart,” he said ruefully. “To think that I promised myself that I would not quarrel with you this morning.”

A smile trembled upon her lips. “A foolish promise, Simon.”

He agreed, then suggested that they ought not to keep the horses standing in the chill, and the moment was past. Diana made no attempt during the rest of their ride to return to the subject of Lord Roderick’s difficulties. She knew that to do so would be most unwise, particularly since she had promised Rory that she would say nothing to Simon or to anyone else about his wish to marry Mademoiselle Sophie.

No doubt both Simon and the marquess would disapprove of the match, since Rory had assured her that the marquess, at least, wished for him to marry well. Unless there was some truth to the tale of the Beléchappé treasure, Mademoiselle Sophie would have scarcely a penny to bless herself with, let alone a proper dowry, and the marquess didn’t hold with foreigners any more than Lady Ophelia did. Rory had confided to Diana that he hoped further acquaintance with the comte would convince his parent, at least, that the family was a respectable one. Diana, not knowing the marquess well enough to form an opinion on that head, and unable to discuss the matter with Simon, could only hope that Lord Roderick knew what he was about.

By the time they returned to the stables, Simon and Diana were in charity with one another again, and Diana quite happily took his arm when he offered it to her on the way back to the house. Both had forgotten by that time that the Lady Ophelia had expressed a wish for Diana’s company, and so it was that when they entered by way of the courtyard hall, they met that formidable dame emerging from the blue parlor.

“Well, so you have round her at last, Simon,” said Lady Ophelia, lifting her long-handled glasses to peer at Diana as if to be certain of her identity. “No doubt it has escaped your memory, my dear child, but we are in hourly expectation of receiving a number of visitors. I should have thought you would realize I might have need of your support at such a time, but I know how it is with you young people. Susanna is just such another. Laid down upon her bed since ten o’clock with a headache. Or so she says. I was just this moment going up to her to tell her that now is not the time for such foolishness. The child is merely shy, and so I told Marimorse when he first suggested she take part in these festivities. She is too young, I told him, and not yet out. She should not show her face. But he would have it that it was better for her to make her first appearance amongst her family, and I do not set my will against his, for to do so would be most unbecoming in me, and I trust I know my way better than that. But it is as I said, and she will disgrace the family if care is not taken.”

Her ladyship finally pausing to take an indignant breath, Diana leapt into the breach, saying quickly, “I’ll go up to her at once, ma’am, shall I? You will not wish to trouble yourself, not with your guests no doubt arriving at any moment. I’m so dreadfully sorry that I didn’t realize you wanted me. I was certain you would take advantage of the lull this morning in order to recruit your energies by indulging in a lie-in. But I should have known that you would not do so. Do, pray, but tell me what you wish me to do first.”

“First,” put in Simon with a grin, “you are going to change your dress, Diana mine. It would not suit my consequence to have my beautiful wife greeting our guests in her riding dress. Aunt must agree with me.” He turned the grin upon her ladyship. “Do you not, ma’am?”

“Indeed, it would not be suitable for you to be seen in all your dirt, and you must change your clothes, too, Andover, for your papa wishes you to attend him in the hall, you know. At least, I make sure he will wish it, for he will bury himself in his letters and forget to greet our guests unless he is nudged on to do so by you,” she added a little more tartly.

“Then, since I will be in my own rooms, and since they are quite near dear Susanna’s,” Diana said firmly, “I shall attend to that little matter, Lady Ophelia. You need not trouble your head further. I’ll see to it that she is ready to greet the very first arrivals.”

“Well, as to that,” her ladyship said doubtfully, “there is no real reason for her to show herself before dinner if she wishes not to do so.”

“Nonsense,” said Diana briskly, “she may as well begin as she means to go on. And if that,” she added to Simon as they climbed the stairs together a moment or two later, “doesn’t spike her ladyship’s guns, I don’t know what will. I wonder what she did to frighten poor Susanna into a headache.”

“Heaven knows,” he replied. “Are you sure my little sister is ready for all this, sweetheart?”

“Of course she is. It is only a family party, after all.”

Simon laughed. “A family party, Diana? With Lord and Lady Jersey, the Countess if not the Earl of Westmorland, their interesting offspring, Mr. Brummell, Lord Alvanley, at least a day’s worth of the Duke of Beaufort, ditto the Earl of Pembroke, Sir Richard Colt Hoare, and the Prince of Wales, possibly a look-in by York, your family, and God knows who else, I would scarcely call this get-together a family affair.”

“Lord Alvanley sent his regrets,” she reminded him, “and you know perfectly well what I mean. Susanna will do very well if she is allowed to be herself, and I depend upon you to second my efforts to protect her from Lady Ophelia.”

He chuckled. “First you prove to me that you can produce Susanna,” he said.

Tossing her head, she assured him that there would be no difficulty about that. He only laughed again, and she watched him disappear into his dressing room, thinking that she liked his laughter very well, even when—as now—it was little more than the sound of a challenge being issued. Well, she would show him. Susanna would be as wax in her hands. But first, since she had no idea how long it would take her to deal with the young girl, she decided to prepare herself for the afternoon ahead. Lady Ophelia and Simon were both right about one thing—it would never do for her to receive guests in her riding dress.