Marjorie Farrell (3 page)

Gareth was not overestimating his worth to the earl. They worked extremely well together, and Gareth had a decided edge on the earl in communicating with enlisted men. They quite naturally achieved a balance between themselves, the one for conveying unpopular orders, the other for making sure they were carried out. The earl was well-loved and approachable up to a point. But a general needed to keep his men’s respect as well as affection, and Gareth was able to listen to the men with sympathy, while not diminishing their respect for the Beak. They also worked well together on strategy: the earl’s tendency toward reserve carried over into decision making. He was less likely to be reckless when recklessness might have carried the day. Gareth, on the other hand, needed a check to his natural tendency to choose the immediate solution to a problem. And though neither would have admitted it, they filled for each other the role of father and son. Gareth had inherited his energy and insouciance from his mother, not from his reclusive scholarly father. The earl needed his best qualities, those which his father had not appreciated or understood.

And so, expecting a warm welcome on Clarges Street, and forgetting his appearance, Gareth was surprised to be met by a suspicious, stubborn footman, who would not open the door more than halfway and who refused to let him in. Of course, there was nothing to do but push the door open and demand to see the earl.

“His lordship is still asleep,” gasped the footman, staring at this stubble-faced fellow who claimed to be an officer and who smelled riper than a Stilton cheese.

“I need to speak with him this morning,” growled Gareth, and then became aware of the woman coming swiftly down the stairs to the hallway.

She was dressed for riding in a severely cut, midnight blue habit trimmed with black velvet. The blue of the cloth matched the blue of her eyes, and Gareth found himself looking up at her frowning face, which affected him more than any dimpled smile he had ever received from a young lady. His years in Spain and Portugal had taught him that dark beauty could outshine even the most perfectly complected blond. But the combination of blue eyes and black hair made his legs feel shaky. He felt for a moment that he could look through into her very soul. Gareth was stunned out of his customary humorous detachment and wondered if this is what the poets had been describing as love at first sight. Then he noticed her nose, which although softened in a woman’s face, loudly proclaimed the frowning goddess to be the Beak’s daughter. Gareth could not help grinning up at her, and Arden, who had felt drawn out of herself, almost responded to the sheer enjoyment in that flashing smile, when she took in the rest of him.

“William, who is this, and how did he get in?” she demanded.

The footman, convinced that his words would result in himself following the stranger out the door, hesitated, and Gareth jumped in.

“A gentleman, despite my looks, my lady. An officer and a gentleman,” he said, again flashing his impudent grin. Arden felt herself respond, which annoyed her more.

“Captain Gareth Richmond, madam, late of your father’s company and carrying dispatches for him. I apologize for my appearance, but my trunk was lost somewhere between Portugal and here, and I have had no time to get to a tailor.”

“Why should I believe you, sir? Would an ‘officer and a gentleman’ force his way in the way you apparently have?”

“Here are the dispatches, madam,” Gareth answered, growing a little impatient with the lady’s haughty tone and gaze. She continued to survey him from the steps, causing him to look up at her. She needs someone to bring her down a step or two, he thought.

Arden examined the seals on the papers Gareth had handed her, and satisfied that they were indeed authentic, directed William to show the captain into the morning room and then summon his lordship.

“My father had intended to sleep late this morning, but I assume these are urgent, or you would have waited until you could clean yourself up,” said Arden, wrinkling her nose.

Arden sounded as if she was addressing a lower level of being, instead of one of Wellington’s officers. Gareth was furious, and wondered if fury were another symptom of love at first sight. As far as he knew, the poets had not spoken about that. He wondered whether she were like her father in more than appearance. The earl at least acknowledged human frailty. He doubted this lady ever did.

As William led him down the hall, he turned to see Arden continue downstairs, evidently intent on riding and apparently unconcerned by the arrival of an urgent message from the Peninsula, which, she might have surmised, could summon her father back.

“Here you are, sir,” said the footman. “I am sorry to have refused you entry.” Now he was worried that he would lose his job for not letting the captain in.

Gareth really looked at him then, and saw, underneath the haughty exterior, a scared middle-aged man, old enough to be his father. He smiled and replied reassuringly that he himself had rather a quick-tempered way of dealing with things, and he had no intention of saying anything to the earl. “I doubt if
I
would have admitted me in this state,” smiled Gareth.

“Thank you, sir. You are all that is kind. I will summon his lordship.”

Gareth had imagined that his wait would be more than a few minutes, for the earl would surely need time to make his ablutions and get dressed. He was surprised, therefore, when only a few minutes later the earl opened the door, his long stride opening his silk dressing gown to reveal his smallclothes. On bivouac, the sight of the Beak’s long hairy legs was common, but Gareth had to smile to himself at the way the soldier took over from the nobleman. A word about dispatches, and James Huntly was all general.

“Gareth, what a pleasure to see you. At least for this moment or two before I read what you have brought me. Then, I suspect I may not be pleased.”

“I have not read them, of course, sir, but I would hazard a guess that they summon you back to the campaign. I am sorry, for I know that you especially wanted to be here for your daughter’s Season.”

“Sit down, sit down, lad,” said the earl, as he ripped open the seals and scanned the papers quickly. He looked up with a harassed expression on his face.

“I was correct, sir? You do have to leave soon? I am sorry.”

The earl gave a short bark of a laugh. “The thing is, Gareth, I don’t know if I am sorry or not.” At that, he really saw Gareth.

“Good God, man, did you come directly from the boat? Have you had any sleep or a bath?”

Gareth grinned. “I got in last night, so I have rested, and, believe it or not, cleaned myself up a bit. But my luggage never arrived, and I had to get to both Whitehall and here this morning. In fact, I had a hard time convincing your daughter who I was.”

“You’ve met Arden, then?” said the earl, with some surprise.

“She was on her way out for a ride when I arrived, my lord.”

“What did you think of her?”

“I was very impressed by her, sir,” replied Gareth truthfully, if diplomatically.

“Impressed, eh? A neutral reply, Captain. Ah, Gareth, I would almost welcome the chance to go back with you, were it not that I leave a failing campaign behind.”

“Sir?”

“My daughter, Gareth, has made a debacle of her first Season. And, what is worse, does not even realize why.”

“She is a very attractive young woman, my lord, albeit unfashionable by English standards.” Not for a moment would Gareth admit to the attraction he had felt.

“Oh, she is well-enough-looking, I grant you, although she looks a bit too much like me, I fear, to be considered truly beautiful. The nose, you know,” smiled the earl. “Although I don’t think it pronounced enough in her case to call it a beak.”

Gareth protested. “You know the title is one of affection, my lord.”

“Yes, yes, but when the Beak and Old Hooky are in one room, I can see it is hard for you young officers to keep your faces straight. Well, I wish Arden had gained an affectionate title, Gareth.”

“You mean she is not an Incomparable?”

“She is known as Lady Arden, the Insufferable.”

There was nothing to say, so Gareth remained silent, and the earl continued. “It seems that the family tendency toward pride has developed full-blown in my daughter. She has a talent for uttering a cutting but apt word or phrase, and has alienated everyone. She has not even received vouchers for Almack’s.”

Given the earl’s position, Gareth knew that Lady Arden had indeed failed, for the voucher should have been hers almost automatically.

“I hate to leave, knowing that I will have to send her to my sister Millicent. And yet, what else can I do? She will never receive an offer now, unless I buy her one from some fortune hunter. I want her settled this year, in case anything should happen to me, but not enough to give her to someone I know only wants her for her money and position. But I cannot go back into the field with any peace of mind now, with her future unsettled. I confess to you, Gareth, that I do not like my sister. If Arden stays with her, she will likely become fixed in her arrogance. She will not be happy there,” continued the earl, almost talking to himself, “but Ellen clearly cannot handle her. Well, well, this is not your concern, after all, is it?”

“Not directly, sir,” Gareth admitted. “But if it will be distracting you during this campaign, I would worry about your safety.”

“No, no, once we get back, Captain, I am sure that real victories will drive this small defeat from my mind. Of course, that has been part of the problem,” he admitted. “I have allowed my duties as an officer to overshadow my duties as a father.”

“I’m afraid we won’t be going back together, sir,” said Gareth, anxious to give the earl all his bad news at once. “I have sold my commission.”

The earl was startled and at first distraught by Gareth’s announcement. But as Gareth explained the reasons behind his return, an idea, amorphous at first, began to form.

“You know that my fattier is a scholar of the ancient religions and folklore of Britain. His work takes him away occasionally, and this summer, he has decided to move the whole family to Wales, leaving no one to run the farm. My mother would agree to go only if I were there as manager.”

“Couldn’t she have hired someone?”

“Had that been the only family problem facing me, I would have insisted she do so. But…you may not know this, since the family rarely comes down for the Season, but I am heir to the Marquess of Thorne.”

“Old Thorne, your uncle? Isn’t his wife known as the Methodist Marchioness?”

Gareth smiled. “Yes, my aunt is very eccentric in the way she interprets her obligations as a Christian. At any rate, my uncle is dying, and my aunt wanted me to see him one last time. I am quite fond of both of them, so that became the real reason for my return. I will remain in London for a while and then be off to Yorkshire for a few months before I take on my new responsibilities.”

“I will miss you in the field, my boy,” said the earl vehemently. “I can see why you have to be in England, however.”

“I won’t rest easily, sir, if I think you are distracted by your daughter’s situation. Isn’t there some way to reconcile yourself to her being with your sister? Or someone who has not occurred to you to whom her failure with the
ton
will not matter?”

“The only man I can think of that I would entrust my daughter to is sitting in front of me,” said the earl without thinking.

Gareth automatically looked behind him, hoping that the earl did not mean what he thought he meant.

“My lord,” he started to protest.

“No. Wait a minute, Gareth. The more I consider the possibility, the more it seems the perfect solution. As the soon to be Marquess of Thorne you need to marry, so that you will soon be haunting Almack’s yourself. I desperately need a son-in-law whom I respect. I could leave Arden with you and know that I had at last done my duty as a father. If anything happened to me…”

“Nothing will, my lord.”

“If anything happened to me,” repeated the earl, “she would be well-provided for, and lucky in having a husband for whom I have the greatest affection.”

“But not one for whom she has any affection. We have only met in passing. There is no basis for marriage, and indeed, it would leave the lady with no choice in the matter.”

“Arden has effectively removed her opportunity for choice,” the earl replied slowly. “She needs someone who will not be intimidated by her and someone who has had experience in a wider world than that of polite society. You did not find her unattractive, did you?” asked the earl suddenly, having just thought of the one argument that would carry weight with him. He would never have considered giving his daughter to anyone who could not promise her physical affection.

“No,” answered Gareth. “I must admit that I prefer dark ladies. But you have hardly given me any reasons that I would want to marry her, except your own.”

“You know the worst, Gareth. Arden may be arrogant, but I know she is not lacking in feeling. She had a warm and intelligent mother and, I think, a happy home life until Anne died. And although Ellen was not an ideal substitute, Arden has been raised with love. She just has not had her own human failings revealed to her.” The earl took a deep breath. “I am serious, you know.”

“Yes. And since I hold you in the greatest affection, it makes it all the more difficult to refuse.”

“Then don’t. At least, not now. Will you at least consider the possibility? You could spend this week getting to know Arden better, and if you do not change your mind, then I will resign myself to my sister as her companion.”

Gareth did not have the heart to say no. After all, it was unlikely Arden would agree to this mad idea of her father, even if he found his moment of attraction to be stronger than he thought. In fact, she would probably use her tongue effectively against him, thereby scotching the scheme at the start.

“One thing I would ask you, Gareth.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Two things,” smiled the earl. “First, ignore any insults from her. And second, do not make public your position as your uncle’s heir.”