Corey McFadden (12 page)

“Unhand my sister, sir!” came a shout from behind.

Unfortunately, Julian and Elspeth both started at the same time, butting their heads together.

“Harry, my boy! It is customary to knock before entering a room,” Julian said, wincing, as he turned to face his accuser.

“You—you are a cad, sir!” the boy declared, standing his ground. “I—I challenge you to a duel!” he announced, his young voice ringing with righteous indignation.

“Uh, no, actually, Harry, that’s not quite the right thing to do here,” Julian said, stepping prudently away from Elspeth. He cast a look at her and noted that she was still pressed against the bookshelf, her face flaming scarlet.

“It isn’t?” Harry responded, looking less sure of himself.

“Well, no. You see, a gentleman and a lady might have a few moments together to—that is, it is not inappropriate for a gentleman and a lady to—Elspeth, help me!” Julian cried in sheer desperation.

“Harry, go away and hold your tongue!” Elspeth snapped.

“Shan’t! I will not leave you alone with this—this rake!”

“Oh, hush! Do you want the whole house to hear you?” she hissed, stepping forward menacingly.

“I’m only trying to protect you, Owl Eyes,” he said, pouting a bit and looking hurt.

“Yes, thank you,” she said, obviously trying to sound calmer. “But I do not need protecting from Mr. Thorpe. He is a gentleman, and I trust him to behave like one at all times.” The glare she threw at him suggested quite the opposite. Julian gave her a large, abashed grin. It didn’t seem to help.

“He wasn’t acting like one just now, El. He was kissing you,” Harry muttered darkly.

“Hush, dear. Mr. Thorpe was just—just expressing a—a kindly affection. Don’t speak of it again, please,” she continued, hurriedly, noting her brother’s skeptical look. “Now, what did you want, dear?”

“I came to tell you that Caroline is....”

“Caroline is what?” came a waspish voice from the door. “How dare you come in here and bother Mr. Thorpe? Get out of here! You’re not even allowed in these rooms, you dirty little brat!” Caroline sailed into the room, glaring about, her baleful gaze coming to rest on Elspeth. Harry took two steps to the rear of his sister, but otherwise stood his ground. “And you, cousin,” she continued, her tone dangerous. “I think you must be very thick-witted. I think you have not heard a word I’ve said all morning.”

“Actually, Caroline—and good afternoon to you, too, by the way”—Julian said, stepping forward and making a perfunctory leg in her general direction—“Miss Quinn seems to have heard a good many words, all of them sheer nonsense. She’s been quite upset by something that simply has no truth to it whatsoever. Silly stuff, wouldn’t you agree?”

Caroline said nothing, meeting his eye, her look furious. Finally, she turned away disdainfully. “Well, far be it from me to care if she wishes to make a complete fool of herself,” she said dismissively. “I’m sure that’s what I get for trying to help a penniless distant cousin. I’m ready to go now, Julian,” she announced regally.

“Are you ready, Miss Quinn?” Julian asked pointedly of Elspeth.

Caroline whirled around furiously. “Elspeth is not going. She has—the headache,” Caroline declared triumphantly.

“Well, some fresh air will be quite the thing then,” Julian said amiably. “You’ll need a wrap, Miss Quinn. It’s breezy today.”

“Oh, I don’t think...” Elspeth began.

“Elspeth, remember what I’ve told you,” Caroline said at the same time.

Julian watched them both. Caroline stared imperiously at Elspeth, who stared back in appraisal.

“I’ll just get my wrap, then, Mr. Thorpe,” Elspeth said finally, turning a grim smile on him, and moving toward the door.

“I’m going too. I’ll be the chaperone,” Harry announced with a certain manly pride in his voice.

“You’ll do no such thing, you awful little beast!” Caroline cried, turning to vent her wrath on the boy. “I told you to leave the room, didn’t I?”

“Actually, that’s an excellent idea, Harry. With you along, no one can raise an eyebrow, as your cousin seems to so fear for your sister. Get your cloak, my boy, and meet us in the street. You’ll see my carriage right outside. Wake up my coachman, will you, sir?”

Harry just grinned as he quit the room.

“Julian, I have no idea what you think you’re up to, but I swear....”

“I’m ‘up to’ nothing at all, Caroline,” he interrupted. “If you’d just calm yourself, we could all have a pleasant outing. Now, why don’t you get a cloak and we’ll be off? Half the day is gone already. In the country I’d’ve done a day’s work by now.”

She just stared at him, expression incredulous, then turned on her heel and left the room. Idly, Julian walked over and picked up the slim book Elspeth had dropped. He scanned the spine. It was Cicero’s
Oration Against Catiline
.

Chapter Seven

Edgar was not happy. The weight of one hundred pounds felt as if it were evaporating from his pocket, farthing by farthing. The small party strolled among the grape arbors of the new vineyard at Claverton, seemingly happy, unless one got close enough to observe the tense postures and tight lips. Whatever perversity of spirit had possessed Julian to attach himself like a limpet to the country cousin, and, worse, to let the little brother tag along like a wart on the heel of one’s foot? Caroline’s fingers dug like claws into his own arm. The chit was livid, there was no doubt about that, but after one or two vague rebuffs, she made no further effort to cut Julian from the herd, instead trailing along behind, glaring daggers into his back.

Wesley Ames had elected to stay behind with his wife, and was snoring on the blanket before the rest of them had strolled beyond earshot.

“That was quite a delicious repast, wasn’t it, Miss Quinn?” Edgar ventured finally, abhorring silence.

“Indeed,” was her terse reply. Well, the chit could at least make some effort. Why, he had put together the entire outing with her own best interests at heart. Actually, his own interests stood to gain as well, if only Julian had not decided to play such silly games. Was the man trying to make Caroline jealous? If so, he might well be succeeding admirably, if her angry demeanor was any measure. Surely the man could not be seriously interested in the country cousin? The girl was pretty enough, of course, but a man did not choose a wife on looks alone, and
on dit
had it that the girl was near penniless, of the Lesser Quinns, as Caroline had put it. Nor was the country cousin a particular wit. She seemed oblivious to the latest gossip, and, worse, she and Julian had had the most stultifying conversation over the picnic luncheon, nattering on and on about canals, apparently terribly important to trade in the cousin’s corner of England, although why anyone but merchants themselves would care to know anything at all on the subject was beyond his own comprehension.

Julian must be humoring the girl in order to secure Caroline’s attention. There could be no other explanation. Still, Julian had made no effort to seek out Caroline today, and had, indeed, spent more time talking to the tiresome boy than to anyone else of the party except the country cousin herself.

Edgar picked up the pace a bit, curious as to what the two could be discussing so assiduously. “The vineyard shows signs of producing a good wine. The recent yields have been quite promising, I understand,” Julian was saying. Good God, did these people have no idea how boring they were? Now Edgar glared at Julian’s back as well. Here was a man who had everything one could want in life—social position, plenty of scratch and a fine-looking face and form to go with it. Not to mention the wit to carry it all off. Julian Thorpe lacked nothing God or family could provide. There were times, particularly when the creditors became more wolverine than human, when Edgar felt he could hate Julian for all that he had, all that Edgar himself lacked. Well, there was one thing Julian needed and that was a wife. Something pitiful, ne’er-do-well Edgar could help him with. Julian needed a wife and had lots of money. Caroline needed a husband and could spend lots of money. It was a match made in heaven. But creditors being the howling, craven curs that they were, Edgar would have to find a way to move things along, and right quickly, too.

As if reading his mind, Caroline gave a little cry and went tumbling down, pretty little feet flying among lacy petticoats. “Julian!” she cried faintly, but she needn’t have bothered. Ever the gentleman, Thorpe was already on his way back to her. On a suspicious impulse, Edgar checked the path where Caroline had taken her fall. As he had guessed, it was as smooch and level as glass. The clever little minx. While Julian busied himself over Caroline’s prostrate, moaning form, Edgar bent down, finding immediately what he sought, beside the path. Quickly he pried the rock loose, then shifted to stand over the hole it left. It was clear this rock had lodged on that spot since the Romans, but no one else need know that.

“Oh, Julian, I tripped on a beastly rock. I believe it’s my ankle,” Caroline said, pouting prettily. “I don’t believe I’ll be able to walk on it at all.”

“Well, I’ll have to carry you then,” obliged Julian.

“Oh, I say, look here!” Edgar called, holding up the rock. “Caroline, you must have slipped on this. Nasty, sharp thing. It was right in the middle of the path. I’m sorry I didn’t fall over it first and save you the discomfort.” He stole a glance at the country cousin and was amused to note her giving him an appraising look. She was a quick-witted little thing—he had to give her credit for that—for all the good it would do her. Which was none at all.

* * * *

The frosty silence had endured so long Elspeth hardly noticed it now. For the past two days, she might as well have been on another continent as living in this ice-cold household. Even Harry tiptoed about, eyes large and bewildered. He had taken to hiding out in the kitchen, where the two kitchen maids were young enough to recognize a fellow playmate and tolerated his presence with a good-natured cheer.

No one had said she was to attend tonight’s assembly, but then no one had said she was not to attend, so Elspeth dressed now in the dark silence of her room, the single candle casting barely enough light to see by. She pulled on the deep burgundy moiré silk gown, enjoying the cool, smooth touch as it slipped over her shoulders. A lace fichu was artfully sewn into the décolletage, modest even by country standards. She had only a small mirror at her dressing table, but there was a large pier glass in the hallway, so she stepped out to check her appearance. The hallway was no better lit—Aunt Bettina was nothing if not frugal where the
ton
couldn’t see—but there was enough light to make out her reflection. Elspeth settled her spectacles on her nose and peered closely. She had pinned her dark brown hair up higher than usual and would have been pleased with the effect, had a few errant tendrils not asserted their independence. She attempted to fiddle the stuff up again, but gave up in defeat. Perhaps the one lady’s maid they all shared might be along to help her in a few minutes, but Elspeth had the sneaking suspicion that she might wait a long time for that to happen.

She touched the lace fichu lightly, smiling at its delicate intricacy. The deep burgundy color suited her, she thought—not too drab, but not so vibrant as to draw too much attention to herself, something she wished to avoid at all costs. Julian had promised her that virtually no one in the
ton
was gossiping about her, other than perhaps an amused speculation as to how soon she might forfeit Sir Richard’s rheumy eye—but, still, she felt more comfortable in modest, quiet attire. She had no wish to compete with her spiteful cousin.

She heard a gasp behind and turned quickly, in time to hear Caroline, her face mottled red, scream, “Mama, you promised!” Before Elspeth could react, Caroline had turned on her heel and flounced off in the direction of her mother’s room. Entering, she slammed the door behind her, and from within, Elspeth could hear raised, angry voices.

“What’s wrong, Owl Eyes?” hissed a small voice behind her. Harry had crept from his room and now stood behind her skirts, ready, no doubt, to bolt for safety should the need arise.

“I don’t know, Harry,” Elspeth sighed, turning to place her arms around the boy. She regretted having insisted that Harry accompany her on this blighted visit. She had thought to expose him to the gentry and improve his manners to some small extent, but between Caroline and cousin Roderick, she feared he was learning the very worst about human nature. Of course, there was Julian....

Aunt Bettina’s door opened and Caroline issued forth, pausing only to bestow a triumphant smile on Elspeth, before hastening back to her own room and again slamming the door.

“Where are you going tonight, Elspeth?” Harry asked, stepping out from behind her and casting a dubious eye at her gown.

‘To bed, I fear, dear. Just where you should be,” she replied, bending to give him a kiss.

“But you’re all dressed up,” he answered, looking confused.

“I was just trying it on to see how it looked. Now run along to bed, darling.” She heard Aunt Bettina’s door open behind her. “Hurry,” she said, giving him a playful swat. Harry was apparently of like mind with regard to confronting his aunt, and he beat a hasty retreat.

“Good evening, Aunt,” said Elspeth. “I hope you are well this evening.”

“Well, yes, thank you, Elspeth. But I fear there has been some misunderstanding. You see, under the circumstances, what with all the tongues wagging, and you know how awkward that is for poor Caroline….”

“You’d prefer that I not go to the assembly this evening, I presume?”

“Oh, no, no, my dear,” Aunt Bettina said hurriedly. “I do so wish you could. Sir Richard, you know. There are any number of ladies vying for his attention, but he seems quite taken with you. You could do worse, you know...” she trailed off, aware that she was digressing. “It’s just that I feel it would do more good for you to go to ground for a bit, as it were. Out of sight, out of mind...” she broke off again, reddening, as if she’d just realized her words could have more than one interpretation. “That is to say,” she went on, collecting her authority about her, “the tongues will stop as soon as they have other things to wag about. And when you are not present, there can be no gossip about you. Caroline feels so dreadfully for your reputation, you know,” she added, rather lamely.