Joan Wolf (8 page)

She stared at his set face for a moment and then her lips began to quiver. “What a terrible thing to say to me,” she said in a shaking voice. “I am
not
a bully.”

Linton could never bear the sight of a woman or a child in tears. “Stop it, Maria,” he said irritably and then, as she began to cry in earnest, he went across the room and put his arm around her. “I am sorry,” he said resignedly, patting her shoulder. “You are not a bully and I will be nice to Lady Caroline.”

“Th-thank you, Philip,” she said, wiping her beautiful green eyes. “And I promise not to nag you. I—I miss Matt, you see, and that makes me crabby.”

He looked at his sister’s bulky figure and real contrition smote him. “I’m a brute,” he said. “Invite as many girls as you want if it will amuse you.”

“It won’t amuse me if you’re not around to see them,” she sniffed.

He sighed. “Ria, I have every intention of getting married. I know my duty. But give me the freedom to pick my own wife. Please.”

Quite suddenly she capitulated. “All right. I promise never to mention the word marriage again— provided you are nice to Lady Caroline.”

“I have said I would be,” he replied patiently.

“Fair enough.” She grinned at him mischievously. “I won’t have time for you in a year or so anyway. Annabelle will be making her come out and I shall have to be on the watch for a husband for her.”

“Heaven help London’s bachelors when you descend on them in earnest,” he said comically, and escaped from the room as she picked up a pillow and made as if to throw it at him.

Chapter Ten

Brown is my love, but graceful;

And each renowned whiteness

Matched with thy lovely brown

looseth its brightness.

—
ANONYMOUS

Linton met Lady Caroline when he came down for dinner. The company was to assemble in the blue drawing room and Linton was the first one down. He was standing in front of a painting by Angelica Kauffmann when a young girl came in alone. She stopped when she saw him and he smiled reassuringly. “You must be Lady Caroline. I’m Linton, you know. Do come over to the fire where it is warmer.”

The girl came toward him, a shy smile on her face. “How do you do, my lord. Mama wasn’t ready yet so I came down by myself.”

“Quite right,” he replied. “I detest waiting around myself. My sister tells me you and Lady Eastdean arrived yesterday. I trust you have been made comfortable?”

She flushed a little and replied eagerly, anxious to reassure him that they were very well taken care of. Caroline was indeed a beauty. She reminded him of a winter rose, so fair and delicate with her golden curls and pink and white face. The eyes she raised to his were the same color as his mother’s, dark blue, almost violet. At this moment his sister came into the room, followed by his niece Annabelle. “Uncle Philip!” the girl cried delightedly, and ran across to kiss him.

“Are you indeed grown-up enough to join us, Belle?” he said, smiling down at her.

She raised her chin. “I am sixteen—almost.”

He looked struck. “So you are. And getting prettier every day, if I may say so.”

She sparkled back at him, a younger more radiant version of her mother. “Of course you may say so,” she assured him, and they laughed at each other, the family resemblance between them momentarily remarkable.

They had dinner in the family dining room. When the rest of the party—several aunts and uncles and assorted cousins—arrived tomorrow they would be using the great formal dining room in the north wing, but for tonight Lady Linton had put them in the more intimate room she knew her son preferred. Lady Caroline sat on Linton’s right and conversed with him with a sweet seriousness that was peculiarly pleasing. By the time dinner was over Linton had decided that his mother was right—she was a very nice child.

He was true to his word and went out of his way to be kind to Lady Caroline. The assembled Romneys might have overpowered an army, he told her humorously, and if she felt herself overwhelmed she had just to say so.

“Oh, no, my lord,” she had replied with her sweet smile. “I can’t ever remember having such a good time. Your family is such fun. And Lady Maria has always been so kind to me.”

He looked at her, his eyes full of blue lit-up laughter. “Maria enjoys helping people,” he said, the gravity of his voice in vivid contrast to his eyes.

“I think she does,” replied Lady Caroline. “She might rather overwhelm one at first, but I can never forget what a good friend she was to mama and me when my father died.”

He looked a little rueful. “That is the problem with my sister,” he said frankly. “Just when you are ready to murder her for her overbearing ways she turns around and does something so damn
good
that you’re left with nothing to say.”

She twinkled up at him. “I like her. And I like Annabelle and the boys.”

“Yes. Well I have to admit I like them too. Do you and Annabelle care to ride with me to the Harley farm tomorrow?”

“I should love to,” answered Lady Caroline delightedly.

* * * *

Maria was true to her word as well and made no attempt to hector her brother, although she watched him shrewdly. She had been very pleased with herself for thinking of Caroline Shere for Linton. The girl was totally unspoiled, beautiful with a touch of gentle seriousness about her that Maria thought would appeal to her brother very much. At first she watched with satisfaction as he went out of his way to be a gracious host to the young girl, but as the week went by a cloud began to darken her magnificent green eyes whenever they lighted on her brother’s disgracefully good-looking face.

“I don’t understand Philip,” she complained to her mother. “He can’t hope to find another girl as sweet and as beautiful as Caroline, yet he is letting her slip through his fingers.”

“I thought he was being very attentive to the child, Maria,” responded Lady Linton. The two women were in Lady Linton’s private sitting room where Maria had run her mother to earth in order to air her grievances.

“Oh, he is being charming!” Maria replied bitterly. “He treats her as if she were Annabelle’s age—and his niece to boot. Really, mother, I could shake him.”

Lady Linton put down her embroidery. “Leave Philip alone, Maria,” she said, and there was a ring of authority in her voice.
“He will marry when he is ready to.”

“And when will that be?”

“When he has fallen in love, I expect,” came the firm answer.

Maria’s eyes fell. “They have been after him for years, all the mamas with their pretty little daughters. He could marry anyone—and it is not only the earldom.
He is just so damn handsome, and
nice,
that girls fall in love with him constantly. But he has never shown any serious interest in anyone.”

“He has not found the right girl,” replied Lady Linton.

Maria sighed. “I suppose you’re right, mother. You needn’t worry about me nagging him, at any rate. From now on I plan to leave him strictly alone. If he doesn’t like Caroline Shere he will have to find another paragon by himself.”

Lady Linton raised her eyebrows. “Do you mean that, Maria?”

“I do.” Lady Maria’s eyes flickered a little before her mother’s shrewd look. “I know how far I can go with Philip, mother,” she said in a low voice.

“And you have reached your limit?”

“Yes.” A rueful smile flitted across Maria’s face. “He almost lost his temper with me. I had to resort to tears. The last time Philip lost his temper with me he was nine years old and I was nineteen. It was an occasion I still remember vividly.”

“So do I,” her mother said drily.

Maria smiled at her tone. “Philip’s tempers are much less frequent and much less noisy than mine. However, they are far more unnerving. When he starts talking through his teeth I know it is time to capitulate.”

“He is so like your father,” Lady Linton said softly.

“Well, perhaps there’s hope yet,” Maria answered with an attempt at humor. “After all, Papa got married.”

“Philip will get married too. It is just a question of his finding the right girl.”

“I suppose so. But I am beginning to wonder what kind of girl
will
make an impression on such a hardened case.”

“That must be for Philip to decide,” said Lady Linton. Then, with a pensive look in her eyes, she admitted, “Shall I tell you the truth, my dear? I had hopes of Lady Caroline too.”

* * * *

Linton was asking himself many of the same questions his mother and sister were posing about him. He even tried to drum up a little enthusiasm for the sweet tempting morsel that was Caroline Shere, but he failed dismally. She was a lovely, charming, delightful child but she did not interest him. He found himself spending more time than was comfortable thinking of a reserved and sensitive face with crystal gray eyes set off by extraordinary black lashes and brows.

He worried about her. In the middle of the joyous festivities of Christmas Day his thoughts went winging back to London. Was she lonely? Did she miss him? The longer he was away from her the clearer it became that he was missing her.

He held out for two more weeks after Christmas. He was to drive his two eldest nephews back to Eton, and he told his mother he would not be returning to Staplehurst.

“But why, Philip?” she had asked, a faint line between her delicate brows. “Maria has been very good lately. And she is leaving for Selsey Place in a few days anyway.”

“It isn’t Maria, mother,” he replied. “And I think she should stay here, by the way. I don’t like the idea of her by herself at Selsey. Why doesn’t she wait until after the baby is born?”

“I agree with you but there is no moving Maria. All her children were born at Selsey, she says, and this one will be too.”

“As if Matt cared.”

“Maria does, unfortunately. I shall go to Selsey myself in a few weeks’ time. Certainly she can’t be left alone with just the children and the servants.”

He frowned a little. “That will leave nobody here at Staplehurst.”

“Not if you are in London,” his mother agreed gently.

“Well, I shall probably be back before you leave,” he said. “And everything is in order here. Should something come up a message can always be sent to Grosvenor Square. I can be back here in a few hours.”

“I am sure we shall manage, Philip,” his mother told him, and gave him an unshadowed smile. Something was drawing him back to London, and his refusal to confide in her made her think it was a woman. If that was so it explained somewhat his lack of interest in Lady Caroline Shere. Lady Linton was far too wise to question her son. She determined to get her information elsewhere.

* * * *

Matthew and Lawrence were pleased to be going back to school. They chattered unceasingly during the whole drive, thrilled that they were being returned in a smart phaeton driven by their magnificent uncle. “I’ll bet everyone else is sent in a stuffy coach!” Lawrence said scornfully.

“Yes,” agreed Matthew. “I hope Geoff is around so he can see your horses, Uncle Philip.”

“Who is Geoff?” Linton asked his eldest nephew.

“Geoffrey Lissett, my best friend. His family raises race horses and Geoff helps to train them. Isn’t he lucky? He said I might come and visit them this summer if it is all right with mamma. I asked her this Christmas and she said I might.”
He gave a little wiggle of anticipation. “Geoff will love your grays. He is even more horse-mad than I am,” he confided.

But the Lissetts had not yet arrived at Eton to Matthew’s disappointment, and Linton deposited them, gave them both a guinea, put up in town for the night, and left the next morning for London.

Chapter Eleven

O make in me these civil wars to cease;

I will good tribute pay, if thou do so.

—
SIR
PHILIP
SIDNEY

The weeks of Linton’s absence had seemed very long to Jessica. She had written to Miss Burnley and the boys telling them she would not be home for Christmas and giving them an imaginative description of the slow decline of the mythical Cousin Jean. She had written four pages of instructions to Geoffrey telling him what to do about the horses during his weeks at Winchcombe. Geoffrey was only twelve years of age, but he was extremely reliable and competent. Jessica had depended on him heavily all during last summer and he had not failed her.

It was her first Christmas away from Winchcombe, her first Christmas away from her brothers. She knew they would be missing her, and her heart ached when she thought of them but, to her consternation, it was not her brothers whose absence preoccupied her most. It was impossible to deny to herself that she missed Linton. Jessica was not a person who shrank from facing the truth, but she found herself seeking excuses for her inexplicable feelings.

He was the only person she really knew in London, she told herself. Of course she felt lonely and displaced when he was gone. If she had been at Winchcombe with her family, Philip Romney would be very far from her thoughts. When she went home in March she would forget all about him.

* * * *

Linton arrived in London at midday.
He spent some time that afternoon at Rundell and Bridge’s, a fashionable jewelers, and then stopped by Brooks’.
He
found Lord George Litcham there.

“Philip!” His friend looked extremely surprised to see him.

“How are you, George?” Linton replied easily.

“Surprised to see you here,” Lord George said frankly. “I thought you’d be at Staplehurst until the start of the season.

“I felt the need for a respite from my family,” Linton replied somewhat mendaciously.

Lord George rolled his eyes sympathetically. “Lady Maria still visiting, eh?”

“Yes,” replied Linton, ruthlessly sacrificing his sister’s reputation. “I am exceedingly fond of Maria, but ...” He paused eloquently.

“I know,” replied Lord George. “Sisters!”
He had three of his own and knew whereof he spoke. Linton grinned and Lord George continued, “I suppose that means you won’t be giving up Miss 0’Neill for a while.”