Emily Hendrickson (9 page)

“It is nice to hear a young woman so happy for her sister. And you? Are you planning to marry?”

“Like any young woman I wish to marry, but it does not always happen, does it? Some of us are destined to be spinsters, whether we wish it or not.”

“Somehow, my dear, I doubt it is your destiny to remain in spinsterhood.”

He said no more, to Drusilla’s disappointment. She smiled politely at Lord Ives, changing the topic to gardening, something she knew he enjoyed.

In spite of the delicious food, Drusilla was glad when the dinner reached the stage where the marchioness nodded to the women. They rose to leave the room to the gentlemen and their port. Lady Felicia and Miss Knight followed, with Drusilla trailing behind. Sir Bertram had risen to bow the ladies from the room. He firmly shut the door behind them.

“Did I hear that you play the pianoforte?” Lady Felicia inquired in her high-fluting voice.

“I do my humble best. It has been a joy to practice on the fine Broadwood in the drawing room.”

“It is nice to have a worthy instrument. Later on, you shall play and I shall sing. You can accompany me?”

Drusilla gave her a rueful smile. “That depends on what music you select. Would you care to look over what is available here?” She guided the exquisite lady to the stack of music reposed on a table by the pianoforte. It took some minutes to find something suitable.

The time without the gentlemen was usually a dreary interval, and it was no different tonight.

Priddy brought in a large silver tray with the fine china, silver teapot on a spirit stand, with creamer and sugar bowl, and dainty cakes in a silver cake stand. There was also a bowl filled with candied nutmeats. The marchioness summoned Drusilla to pour.

Drusilla poured out the fragrant, well-brewed tea into the fragile cups. A footman carefully offered them to the other women. Lady Felicia flounced over to the sofa, accepting her cup of tea and a tiny cake with a bored expression on her face. When she caught Lady Brentford watching her, she swiftly became the same animated woman who had sat next to Lord Brentford at the dining table.

Well, well, Drusilla mused. It would seem at second sight that the young lady was not all she appeared to be.

Miss Knight sent for her little spaniel, explaining, “He gets so lonesome in my room, I hate to leave him there for long periods of time.”

There was time for gentle chatter before the gentlemen joined them. Lord Osman was the first one through the door, with Sir Bertram right behind him.

“Ah, our fair ones. I trust you have missed us!” Sir Bertram cried, his blue eyes sparkling with pleasure.

“If I know you, there will be a demand for a game of whist immediately,” the marchioness said with amusement.

Not wishing to play cards, for she was an indifferent player at best, Drusilla rose to go to the pianoforte. She now knew the marchioness liked to have soft music while she indulged in her card playing. Drusilla was only too happy to oblige.

“I promised I would turn pages for you, and I shall keep that word,” Lord Ives said quietly so not to disturb the four who were setting up a table of whist.

Miss Knight stood by the door, obviously waiting for her pet to be brought to her. Lord Osman and Sir Bertram joined Mrs. Twywhitt and Lady Brentford at one card table while Lord Brentford, Lord Somers, and Lady Felicia patiently waited for Miss Knight to take her place.

At last the dog arrived and that foursome began their game. All would have been well but for the little dog that kept growling at Lady Felicia.

Poor Miss Knight, who had been exclaiming about what a docile creature he was, turned red at the dog’s behavior. “He always loves everyone,” she said weakly as Binky issued another low growl. She patted the dog in a comforting way, stroking the silky fur and soothing it as best she could.

Drusilla exchanged a look with Lord Ives. “A neighbor of ours has a dog like that. Bites my ankles at every chance, the little beast.” She spoke softly out of deference to poor Miss Knight, but she devoutly hoped the animal would not be turned loose.

“Dogs are sensitive creatures. They know who likes them and who doesn’t.” Lord Ives stood at her side, waiting to turn the page of the Mozart sonata she played.

“I had never thought of a dog as needing to get on the better side of one, but I suppose it makes sense in a way.” She glanced at him, then concentrated on her music. It was better that way. He looked very handsome this evening. She thought him ideal company; a pleasant voice, excellent manners, and above all no desire to scold her for anything. It was a pity that try as she could, the face that kept popping up in her mind’s eye was that of Lord Brentford!

At least two games had been played when Lady Brentford announced it was time for refreshments. “My poor brain needs the stimulant of a cup of tea.”

“Do not, I beg of you, forget those ratafia biscuits,” Lord Osman declared.

Sir Bertram added, “I must confess a partiality to your cook’s seed cake.”

“We shall have both. And, Cordelia, do something about Binky, dear. Perhaps the dog wishes to go out?”

Miss Knight, who had relaxed her hold on her pet, smiled and was about to comment, when the animal leaped from her lap and dove under the table to attack Lady Felicia’s ankles.

Lady Felicia screamed and kicked out. “Nasty beast!”

The terrified dog dashed madly across the room, where she spotted someone she knew. Drusilla. She immediately jumped up to what she expected would be an accepting lap.

Drusilla froze, her hands in midair. Liquid sable-brown eyes beseeched her.

“What can I do?” Dru whispered to Lord Ives. She carefully placed a hand on the dog, stroking it to calm it and trusting Miss Knight would shortly rescue her.

The dog smiled—she would swear it did—and settled down in her lap as though anticipating a snooze.

“Binky, you bad puppy!” Miss Knight cried as she hurried across the room, only to halt at the sight of the dog draped on Drusilla’s lap.

“Here she is,” Dru said quietly, hoping not to disturb the animal. She had no wish for nipped ankles. She offered Miss Knight an encouraging smile.

“Look, he likes Miss Herbert! I have never seen him take to someone like this! My dear girl, it is truly marvelous.” Miss Knight eased her little dog up in her arms, earning a lick on the cheek for her efforts.

“I think I need a cup of tea as well.” Mozart forgotten, she rose from the piano to be joined by Lord Ives. The hot tea was more than welcome.

Miss Knight handed Binky to one of the footmen to be taken for a walk. She apologized profusely to Lady Felicia, who returned a strained smile while rubbing her ankle.

“I do hope I am able to walk without difficulty. My skin is so tender. I am not accustomed to such things.”

Since Drusilla had endured nipped ankles, she couldn’t censure Lady Felicia too much. She thought she might have been just a bit more stoic about it. One thing was clear—Lady Felicia had a temper, and she didn’t like dogs.

Chapter Six

“She is a lovely creature, is she not?” Lady Brentford declared in ringing tones once Drusilla had escorted her to her room and helped her ladyship arrange things to her liking.

“Indeed, ma’am. Lady Felicia is pink-and-white perfection.” Dru made no comment on the temper and the kicks at the little dog. After all, she on occasion had a flare of temper, and she certainly wasn’t fond of the neighbor’s spaniel. But she hadn’t booted it.

“She assuredly is,” Lady Brentford said in the fondest of manners. “Although, I must say, she shouldn’t have kicked little Binky.” She frowned, as though mildly vexed.

“Well, as to that, nibbling on her ankle likely did not endear the dog to her.” But Lady Felicia could have simply shooed the pup away using her hands. It wasn’t necessary to kick the animal.

Dismissed for the night, Drusilla made her weary way to her room. While this job was not difficult, it was very tiring, particularly since Lord Brentford arrived. He had a way of making Dru feel uneasy. Or something. She preferred not to consider the feelings he stirred in her.

She went into her room and walked across to the dressing table, where she proceeded to take down her hair. She was brushing out the tangles when she heard a snuffle. Whirling about, her brush in hand, she stared at her bed.

“Binky! What a fright you gave me.” Dru replaced her hairbrush on the table and stared at the small spaniel. “What are you doing on my bed? And how did you enter?”

Soulful brown eyes stared unblinkingly back. Not so much as a woof was offered. The dog’s expression would have melted a heart of stone. Dru’s sensitive organ felt pity for the poor dog, doted to death by Miss Knight. He probably had escaped one way or another.

Dru uneasily searched around the room. “Well, if I make no mistake. Miss Knight will want you in her room immediately. I don’t want to think of the hue and cry raised should she realize you are gone missing.”

She scooped the dog up in her arms and opened the door with difficulty. Edging around it, she pattered over to Miss Knight’s room. She rapped on the door while coping with the wiggling spaniel.

“Binky! Whatever are you doing out there?” her owner demanded softly.

“I have no idea how he found his way into my room, but when I came in, there he was, cozily ensconced on my pillow.” Dru scratched under Binky’s chin. The pup clearly enjoyed the attention.

Miss Knight frowned in puzzlement, then accepted the little dog from Drusilla. “Thank you, my dear. I do not understand Binky at all. He never trails after someone else, nor does he fix his attentions on another.”

“He is in a strange house. Perhaps he became mixed up?” Dru backed away from Miss Knight, intent upon returning to her room before someone saw her.

“Of course, that must be it. Good night.” Miss Knight, her precious spaniel once again in her care, firmly shut her door at once, leaving Drusilla standing in the hall.

Turning about to retrace her footsteps, she froze when Lord Brentford appeared at the top of the stairs. “Oh,” she breathed, “please don’t let him look this way.” Deciding that animals had a good notion with remaining utterly still when a predator came into view, she turned into a statue.

Not that she was improperly garbed. She still wore the simple white muslin gown. But a lady, her mother had drummed into her, did not appear before a gentleman with her hair down and tangled about her shoulders. There was a bedroom intimacy implied in such display!

Of course he spotted her. “Ah, Miss Herbert. Is there a problem?” He paused before strolling down the hall.

Dru curtsied and began backing toward the door to her room. “No. I found Binky in my room and returned him to Miss Knight.”

He frowned. “How did the dog come to be in your room?”

“Perhaps he slipped inside when the maid went in to turn back my bedcovers and see to the fire?” She spun around, intent upon reaching her room and her bed as soon as possible. She was too tired to battle wits with his lordship this evening.

“You were preparing for bed when you found the dog? Where was it?”

Dru halted in her retreat to look back at him over her shoulder. What difference did it make? Or was he the sort of man who needed every detail? “He was on my pillow.”

“I see.” He gave her an arrested look.

What might be unusual about a little dog curling up on a pillow was beyond Dru at the best of times, and this was not one of them. Suddenly aware that her hair must seem dreadfully untidy to the impeccably groomed gentleman standing a trifle too close to her, Dru swallowed with care, then offered a tentative smile. “Excuse me. My hair is all a tangle. I was brushing it when I discovered I had a visitor—Binky.” She hastily gathered the long blond tresses together, twisting them into a soft rope.

“I had no idea your hair was this long.” He reached out as though to touch it, then drew his hand back instantly. Probably recalled it wasn’t proper to go about running hands in someone else’s hair. Dru wasn’t certain she would welcome his touch.

“Perhaps I ought to have it cut. It is a bother to care for, you see.” She was babbling. She hated babbling. She backed toward her door, groping for the knob.

“Allow me—I promise I don’t bite.” He reached around her to open the door and thrust it ajar. “And, my dear girl, whatever you do, do
not
cut your hair.”

Dru looked up at the rather stern face and nodded much like one pacifies a child about to have a tantrum. The tangy scent of bay rum teased her nose, and that rich voice of his made her think of the decadent trifle she had eaten. “Ah ... I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He nodded, then backed away from where she clutched the doorknob like a lifeline.

Within a moment Dru whisked herself around the door and into the safety of her room. “Whew!” Although why she ought to feel like that she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that he had a powerful effect on her that try as she could, she couldn’t dismiss.

If only he wasn’t quite so perfect, so utterly handsome and beautifully groomed in the best of taste at all times. What a pity she couldn’t find something to dislike about the man! She couldn’t even fault him for the attention he paid to Lady Felicia. How could an unattached male
not
fall in love with such a beautiful creature? Somehow long blond hair didn’t compare too well with pink-and-white perfection. Dru admired the dark hair that curled about a winsome face with eyes that possessed an entrancing tilt to them. She was magical. Pity that Dru couldn’t like her. But, then, one couldn’t like everyone.

And then Dru recalled that Lord Brentford had wanted to oust her, send her packing. He had only come down to the country in order to vet her, and apparently he had found her wanting—hence the desire to dispatch her at once.

It was amazing, truly, that she was still here when she considered it. Perhaps he thought her useful? Although he had scolded her when she was tired, said she wasn’t a servant. No? Well, she certainly felt like one, waiting on her ladyship all day without respite. She hadn’t asked about time off. She doubted she would receive any. Lady Brentford being as absent-minded as she could be at times, especially if it was something she didn’t want to bother about. Those few snatched minutes in the Garden with Lord Ives might well be the most free time she would have!