My Lord's Lady (3 page)

Sabrina giggled nervously. Tildie, as usual, swept up to the front steps as if she were the queen herself. In the wide oak-paneled foyer, they were greeted by an imposing butler, who was every bit as stern-faced as one might expect.

Georgina wasn’t quite sure what she was feeling. She was happy that at last Sabrina seemed to be enjoying herself. Yet a vague apprehension haunted her. A footman whisked away their wraps before the butler ushered them into a spacious, yet inviting drawing room, its walls hung with a soft rose silk.

That definitely surprised her—somehow rose silk and the formidable Laurentian Wilburforce Cranston didn’t seem to go together. The butler indicated a cushioned bench with scrolled wooden sides in front of the enormous black marble fireplace, where a comfortable fire blazed. Both Tildie and Sabrina sank down, but Georgina preferred to stand, warming her hands against she knew not what.

“I shall inform Lord Vane of your arrival.”

“That won’t be necessary, Foweley.”

The commanding tone attracted all eyes to the doorway where Laurentian—Drat the man! Why couldn’t he have a normal, pronouncable name? And what did his friends call him?—stood, dressed rather formally for an evening at home, in stark black and white. A large diamond winked blue flames within the folds of his cravat.

He crossed to Tildie, taking her hand for a kiss. Sabrina blushed madly when he performed the same over her fingers. Was it Georgina’s imagination that he hesitated ever so slightly before raising her own hand to his lips?

No doubt that odd uneasiness she always experienced in Vane’s presence must have caused a little skip in her heartbeat.

“Will Lawrence and Leticia be joining us soon?” she asked politely, eager to break the lengthening silence.

“They will be brought down for dinner. Lord Amesley is a favorite of theirs,” he drawled coolly, withdrawing from her side to a spirit decanter set out on a sideboard across the room.

“After dinner, my lord, we would so enjoy spending time with the children,” she plunged ahead. “Perhaps a game of blindman’s buff?” She met the mocking curling mouth with a defiant smile. “Have you
never
played games, my lord?”

“Of course he has!” Tildie replied with spirit. “Remember when I taught you jackstraws, Laurentian?”

“It is one of my fondest memories, Tildie.” His voice was sweetened with kindness. “But I fear Lady Georgina is correct.”

His cool gaze made her feel warm, as if she was blushing.

“I’ve forgotten how to play games. Even jackstraws.”

“Jackstraws! By gad, what a novel idea!” Lord Amesley strolled into the room, laughing. “Brings back fond memories of my childhood.” He stopped in front of Sabrina and smiled down at her. “Shall we show them how it is done properly, Lady Sabrina?”

Sabrina sent his a fleeting glance, nodded quickly, and then stared fixedly at the tips of her kid slippers.

Amesley’s boyish charm cracked the air of tension that seemed to spring up, unbidden, every time Georgina was near Vane. She sighed in relief. Really, this wasn’t quite how she had envisioned London—these odd feelings that had jarred her usually jovial nature so dramatically off course.

By the time she had seated herself, out of Vane’s line of sight, Amesley was describing his school days.

“I was a bit of a portly lad,” he exclaimed with every evidence of good humor.

At this admission even Sabrina glanced up in surprise. Truth to tell it was difficult to believe there had ever been a bit of spare flesh on the tall, lean young man.

“Got teased unmercifully from the other boys when I first arrived at Eton.” A deep chuckle banished any notion that he harbored a lingering sense of injustice. “Used to stash food in my pockets to devour later. One day Delacorte found me eating a scone. Snatched it away, knocked me down, and took my store of sweets. By then a group had gathered to watch me trying to wrest them back.”

He smiled at Vane standing with one shoulder propped against the mantelpiece. “Suddenly Forry was there. Never spoken to me before; but, there he was, calmly walking into the midst of that circle of taunting boys. Never moved a muscle. Just dissected Delacorte with words. By the time he’d finished, the crowd was on my side. Delacorte was forced to return my food. He never bothered me again. Nor did anyone else.” Amesley gave one satisfied sigh and tipped a glass of brandy down his throat. “Never have known quite how Forry accomplished it.”

“Quite simple,” Vane drawled, flicking an invisible speck of lint from his impeccable coat. “Delacorte was a bore. Still is. No one liked him. Still don’t. You, on the other hand, were extremely likable. When presented with such a choice, there was only one logical course of action to embrace.”

Only because she’d been watching so intently did Georgina catch a faint shadow in Vane’s—Forry’s—eyes. Forry. What an unusual name. She’d never heard anyone use it with Vane before. Somehow it made him seem more human.

Truly, who was the man? His nature was a mysterious contradiction; he seemed remote from the world, yet she had seen evidence of his kindness.

“Dinner is served.” Foweley stood in the doorway.

Vane appeared anxious to quit the room; he presented his arm to Tildie and swept her out. She followed with Sabrina, each of them taking one of Amesley’s gallantly presented arms.

As promised Lawrence and Leticia were waiting, standing behind their places. Vane’s son was dressed in a scaled-down replica of his dark formal wear, and Leticia was in a pink frock, which made her cheeks glow like ripe apples.

In fact, to a mother’s keen eye, both children appeared flushed. It was a trifle warm in this small dining parlor, and she felt she mustn’t overstep her bounds again.

The highly polished table was sized so she and Lawrence were seated on one side, and across, Amesley was flanked by Sabrina and Leticia. Vane sat at one end with Tildie in the place of honor at the other.

Georgina smiled into the little boy’s stern face and resisted the urge to brush back an errant curl of red-brown from his forehead. He was so like his father. How she’d love to see him run and play.

“Are you feeling well, Lawrence?” she asked softly.

Immediately he stiffened his shoulders and sat up even straighter in his chair. He looked at her with his father’s blue eyes, and blinked. “Yes, I am quite well. Thank you, Lady Sherbourne.”

His children possessed beautiful manners, she conceded that to Vane. But, as course followed course, she noticed that both the children merely picked at their food. Even Letitia, the livelier twin, became progressively quieter. And this was supposed to be a treat!

What had the man done to make his children so unhappy in company? Once again, she had to fight to keep from saying something totally out of place. She determined to stop worrying as Lawrence dutifully held her chair when they were finished. Impulsively she reached out to reassure the young man that his manners had been perfection. She touched his hand, then lifted her hand to his forehead.

“Goodness child, you’re burning up!” she exclaimed.

“I beg your pardon, my lady,” Vane remarked with what Georgina regarded as maddening calm. “Is there a problem?”

“I should say so! Your son is burning with fever!”

Vane crossed the room in two strides and peered down at the boy. “Are you unwell, Lawrence?”

Responding to his father’s commanding voice, Lawrence again stiffened his spine.

“I am fine, sir.”

“No he’s not, Father! And neither am I!” Leticia’s high voice caught on a sob. “We both felt ever so sick, but didn’t want to miss the party.”

Sabrina rushed to the little girl’s side and knelt to press a hand to her forehead. “Oh, Mama, Leticia also has a fever.”

“A physician must be called at once, Laurentian!” Tildie ordered.

With a flick of his head, Vane sent Foweley hurrying from the room to do just that.

“And these children must be tucked snugly in their beds,” Tildie continued with authority.

Instinctively Georgina moved to help, but Vane’s cool stare stopped her in her tracks.

“I will attend to that chore myself,” he stated simply. Reaching out he clasped his son’s hand and calmly retrieved his weepy daughter from Sabrina’s arms. “Amesley will escort you into the parlor. I will join you there as soon as I am able.”

Feeling rather like a schoolgirl put in her place, Georgina obeyed his dictate as obediently as Foweley had. She sat quietly in the parlor, lost in thought, and sipped the tea hastily brought by a maid. Sabrina and Tildie conversed in low tones in the window embrasure.

The clink of crystal as Amesley poured himself a brandy finally broke the long silence. “Poor little tykes,” he murmured, staring down into the amber liquid. “I hope it isn’t serious.”

“I have my suspicions,” Tildie sniffed, turning from the window. “But we must simply await the doctor’s verdict. In the meantime, while I have you to myself, I wish more answers about Vane! What really happened to the boy at Eton that he is taking such great pains to hide from me?”

Accustomed to Tildie’s straightforward nature, Georgina hid a smile as Amesley’s mouth dropped open in shock. Curious to hear the answer herself, she leaned forward as he paced in front of the fireplace.

“Madam, you are just as Vane stated!” Amesley shook his head, a charming smile curling his mouth. “I can’t tell you much. By the time I arrived, Vane was well on his way to being the nonesuch he is today.”

The quality of Tildie’s disappointment vibrated through the room as she stared at the young man fixedly.

Lord Amesley blinked several times before narrowing his eyes. “There was one rumor I recall,” he offered in consolation. “It was about Vane coming to fisticuffs. But I never had the nerve to ask him. Still don’t,” he declared, pinking slightly.

His embarrassment brought a smile of understanding from Sabrina.

“Ah!” Tildie sighed as if his vague recollection had clicked everything neatly into place in her mind.

The parlor doors swung open. Immediately Georgina’s eyes flew to Vane’s face. It was as implacable as ever, though his skin did seem tauter across his high cheekbones. After Vane came a short rotund gentleman, who could only be the physician.

“It’s measles,” the doctor proclaimed without preamble. “I’ve quarantined the house. Sorry for it, but must stop this deuced epidemic! Beg pardon, ladies.” He nodded at Vane’s stoic countenance. “I shall return tomorrow when the spots will be at their peak.”

Georgina could only wonder at Vane’s calm acceptance. What was behind his cool eyes as he studied them all? Did he truly feel only detachment, even for his children’s plight?

“It seems our little gathering will be of longer duration,” he drawled, flicking a glance to Amesley. “I apologize for any inconvenience it may cause you.”

“Rubbish, Vane!” Amesley declared, clasping his friend’s rigid shoulder. “I’ve needed a repairing lease. Couldn’t have chosen better companions than my godchildren and these delightful ladies.”

“Nicely spoken, Lord Amesley,” Tildie beamed at him in approval. “In truth, the circumstances could hardly be better. Georgina and I have just seen Sabrina through just such a bout. I’m sure between all of us, your dear children couldn’t be in more capable hands!”

“Gracious as ever, Tildie.” He walked over to the sideboard and poured himself a generous glass, then set it down, apparently forgotten, and crossed to the fireplace.

To Georgina’s searching eyes, he did appear to relax slightly.

“For now, I believe we should retire,” his naturally deep voice resonated with confidence. “I’ve sent messages to your servants. As soon as your belongings arrive, they will be brought to your rooms. Foweley will show you upstairs to the rooms I’ve selected.”

Ever vigilant, Foweley appeared to usher them out.

“Lady Sherbourne, may I speak to you alone for a moment?” His words stopped her on the threshold.

Quickly she stole a glance at Tildie, whose pleased countenance disquieted her. She twirled abruptly to walk back to where Vane had taken a wide, almost defiant, stance before the black marble fireplace.

She thrust up her chin and glared challengingly back at him. “Yes, my lord?”

There was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. That fact pleased her for some odd reason.

“I wished to thank you, but it seems I can’t even do that without irritating both of us,” he drawled. “Why do you suppose we can’t rub along, Lady Georgina?”

The sound of her name on his lips spun tension between them, making her feel uncomfortably vulnerable.

“I’m not sure,” she answered slowly, “but that’s of no importance now.” The words tumbled over each other with her nervousness. “The important thing now is the children. Tonight could be difficult, I know from experience. I’ll sit up with them if you’ll allow me.”

He shook his head, his gaze locked on her face. “No, I will perform that duty myself. I want to be near my children if they need me.”

Not detachment after all. Perhaps there might be a basis for friendship in their odd relationship, after all. Eager to settle her thoughts in private, she nodded once and turned abruptly away.

Foweley was waiting to lead her up the staircase and down a carpeted hallway.

“This is your room, my lady. Your daughter is next to you, and Her Grace is across the hall.”

She paused just inside the pretty cream and white bedroom, deciding whether to go to Sabrina or Tildie first. Curiosity won out. Why had Tildie worn such a self-satisfied smile when Vane called Georgina back to him?

She tapped lightly at Tildie’s door, then entered without waiting. Tildie was buried in the deep chair that faced the blazing fire. She did not glance around, even when Georgina clicked the door shut.

As Georgina drew closer, she heard Tildie’s pleased humming and caught that same look of pleasure curling her mouth:

“Tildie!”

She glanced up dreamily. “Ah, child, how was your comfortable coze with Vane! Pleasant I trust.”

Georgina gasped, her hands flying to her throat in shock. It finally all clicked into place in her own mind! Reaction caused her to collapse on the low stool near the fire. “You
are
matchmaking! But not for Sabrina—for me!”