Never Doubt I Love (20 page)

“Now that is unfair! How may I protest your naughty hound when you are so charming?”

There was only amusement in the rich, husky voice, but Zoe blushed. “Alas, I must learn not to be so bold, but—”

“But, 'faith, 'tis a delight! And I think my little Petite has defended the family honour admirably, so you are not to be embarrassed.”

“You are too good, ma'am. But despite your kindness, I am ashamed of Viking's uncivilized behaviour.”

The small Petite advanced upon the skulking hound, and Viking whimpered and retreated.

Petite was swept up and her mistress said affectionately, “Restrain yourself, my pet! We will not further alarm the large one,
che cosa dice?
Luigi! Kindly make me known to this lady.”

A liveried footman, who had hung back during this lively exchange, now came forward, and announced in halting English, “La Signorina Maria Benevento say her compliments to Miss…?”

“I am Zoe Grainger,” supplied Zoe with a curtsy.

A slender hand was removed from its velvet muff, and Zoe took it gratefully.

“No, but I am in England now, and am
Miss,
not Signorina, if you please. Ah, here comes your woman. And I am sure she would judge this a most improper introduction, so I had best leave you. Do not fret yourself, Miss Grainger. There is no harm done, and my pleasure has been to meet you.”

“And mine,” said Zoe earnestly. “I do hope we shall meet again.”

“Perchance we will. Until then,
arrivederla.
” With a smile and a nod she passed by, the footman following respectfully and the small Petite prancing along with the pride of the victor.

“Miss Zoe!” panted Gorton, hurrying up clutching her cap.

“No, pray do not pinch at me, Elsie. I know I must not speak to strangers. But truly, I could not escape it, and we were introduced most politely. I assign all the blame to Viking, who was very naughty. But I cannot be sorry. Did you see the lady? I never met anyone so lovely; so vital.”

“She looked foreign,” said Gorton disparagingly, making a hurried effort to replace her cap as they walked on together with an uncharacteristically well-behaved hound.

“Why, so she was. Italian, I think, though she had the very faintest of accents.”

“Her complexion was dark, surely.”

“A little sallow, perhaps. But so clear, Elsie! And with such a glow to her cheeks. What a fascinating creature!”

Gorton relented and said, “Ay vow, Miss Zoe, you have not a jealous bone in your body. The lady was likely envying you that lovely auburn hair and your pretty green eyes. But if Ay may make so bold, 'twould be best not to mention your meeting to Lady Buttershaw.”

“Good gracious, no!” agreed Zoe. “Most
certainly
not!”

*   *   *

Cranford was frowning when Zoe walked into the library. He had to admit that she presented a charming picture in a blue cloak worn over a cream-coloured gown, with a blue-and-cream striped petticoat. Conducting her own appraisal, Zoe thought him quite dashing in shades of green, his cloak flung back carelessly from one shoulder, revealing a light dress sword. A tricorne was under one arm, and his hair was powdered and neatly tied back. Her gaze dropped. Aware of it, he stuck out his right leg and shook it defiantly. She suffered an odd little pang to see the short peg-leg; which was ridiculous, since she had teased him into wearing it, and had been fully prepared for such a change.

“Very good,” she said matter-of-factly. “Had you supposed I might swoon at the sight?”

“I had thought you might be ashamed to come downstairs, since you took such an unconscionable time to gather your courage.”

She twinkled at him. “I know. Isn't it silly? I came down twenty minutes ago, but was rushed back upstairs because 'tis expected that a lady will keep a gentleman waiting.”

It was the last response he had anticipated, and his irritation vanished. “What next will you say?” he said with a broad grin. “I think I must carry you off before you commit any more indiscretions!”

He turned to the door and found that Lady Buttershaw stood there.

“Here you are,
dear
cousin Peregrine,” she gushed, clasping his hand as though enraptured at the sight of him. “I will tell you that a parcel was delivered to me this morning. From ‘An Admirer.' And inside was the very loveliest wig!” She giggled and tapping her fan on his knuckles said conspiratorially, “Sly rascal that you are! Well, I shall not delay you further. The weather looks a trifle uncertain this morning, but do not be anxious. We shall see no more rain today, I promise you.”

She walked with them to the front doors, elaborating upon her skill at predicting the weather, which was so accurate that she would be of great assistance to a mariner. “If you are acquainted with any such persons, Cousin Peregrine,” she said expansively, “you may advise them to consult with me.”

She had turned to face him, her great skirts blocking the entrance so that he was unable to escape without brushing past her, which was, of course, not to be thought of.

“Alas, my acquaintanceship with mariners is extreme small, ma'am,” he confessed. “I've a friend whose brother commands an East Indiaman, but—”

“Aha! Only think how he could benefit from my expertise. I shall insist upon your bringing him to call on me.”

Heartily wishing that she would have done with this trite chatter, he smothered his impatience and said that he was very sure the gentleman would be delighted. “Unfortunately,” he added smoothly, “his ship is at this moment somewhere between Calcutta and Bristol, so the poor fellow has lost his opportunity to consult you.”

Lady Buttershaw declared that she had a fondness for nautical gentlemen, and that she would not dream of denying his friend her advice. Laughing heartily, she said that she would be “monstrous put out” was the captain not brought to see her as soon as he returned to England. “And I will tell you, sir, that 'tis considered a high honour to be invited to Yerville Hall!”

He murmured that he was very sure of it, and made a mental vow that he would have no hand in delivering Derek Furlong into the lady's clutches.

The coach standing at the kennel rocked as the team sidled impatiently, and my lady simpered that dear cousin Peregrine was an audacious flirt, but he must have a care for his horses and not stay here captivating her any longer.

Cranford hove a sigh of relief as she went back inside. Ushering Zoe into the coach, he threw a glance up at the box. Florian's face was lit by a sly grin, and Cranford winked an acknowledgment of the well-timed “touching up” of his team.

The footman slammed the door, Cranford sat beside Zoe, and the coach went bowling along towards Piccadilly. After a silent moment Zoe peeped at his scowl and said, “Lady Buttershaw seemed pleased with you for returning her wig. But I think your visits to Yerville Hall will not be frequent, sir.”

He grunted. “The next time my great-uncle asks me to visit one of his relatives I shall have an ironclad excuse well-rehearsed, and if that fails I'll at once emigrate to the New World!”

“Alas, what a set-down,” she said with a sigh. “And I had so counted upon your asking for my hand this morning.”

He shot her a startled glance, saw the twinkle in her bright eyes, and laughed. “If ever I met such a tease! I hope you have advised her that I am a rejected suitor.”

“Well, of course I have not!”

“Then you had best do so, my good girl, or the next time the lady tries to turn me up sweet I shall tell her to her face that I am betrothed to—” He paused, and finished quietly, “To the most beautiful lady in all England.”

“Oh, pray do not!
Pray
do not! 'Twould place me in the most dreadful position!”

Indignation replaced sadness, and he snapped, “'Twould place
me
in the most dreadful position did I allow that matchmaking dowager to believe I am trying to fix my interest with you! Egad, but now I think on it, the fact she allows me to take you out unchaperoned may well mean she already thinks—”

“No, no!” Zoe seized his arm and said agitatedly, “We have but now met! How could she possibly be so silly as to think you have formed a
tendre
for me? Were I a ravishing beauty, perhaps, but—well, look at me. I am scarce the type of lady to ensnare a dashing young man about Town on so brief an acquaintanceship.”

“No, but Lady Buttershaw is in my opinion
very
silly. She has made up that adamantine mind of hers to find you a husband, and—”

“But 'tis just one of her whims! It can be nothing more. I am not related to her. She has no real interest in whether I wed a cockroach or—”

“Well! Of all the— One instant I'm a dashing young man about Town, and the next—”

“Oh, you know what I mean. I was brought here only to be companion to her sister. Why she should have taken this silly maggot into her head less than a week after I arrived, I cannot think. But she will soon forget it, I know she will. I am very sorry to inconvenience you like this, when you have so many more entertaining things to do, but …
Please,
Mr. Cranford! If you tell her you don't want me, she'll start flinging more of her ridiculous ‘Prospects' at me again! Could you not bear with me for just a little while? I will be very good, I promise.”

She was clinging tightly to his arm, and looking down into her imploring eyes, he could not but sympathize with her. “Poor mite,” he said kindly. “Do not be so put about. She cannot force you to wed anyone you don't wish to.”

“No, but she can send me home in disgrace, and then my step-mama will tell Papa what a hoyden I am and life will be horrid again.”

“You are not a hoyden! You're young and full of—of fun and interest in everything, is all. Your step-mama is likely green with envy because you have such smiling eyes and your complexion is so clear and smooth. Why ever did your father wed such a shrew?”

Zoe sighed. “She is very pretty, and Aaron, he's our shepherd and a darling, says she's got a prime foc'sle and—”

Cranford's shout of laughter interrupted her and she beamed at him hopefully. “Is that funny? What's a foc'sle?”

“The forecastle of a ship, you little rascal! Only he was referring to her—that is to say, he meant she is—er, well endowed. Is she?”

“Rich? No, I don't think— Oh!” The light dawned, and she patted her bosom. “You mean
this!
Yes.” She made an expansive gesture. “Vast! In fact—”

He choked back laughter this time, and threw up an arresting hand. “Never mind! 'Twas most improper in me to enquire. And do not
ever
let anyone hear you use such an expression, or you'll really be packed off home in disgrace!”

“I probably will at all events,” said Zoe, despondent again. “For I seem always to be getting into trouble. I wish I could please Lady Buttershaw. I know she's a dragon, but she really has been good. She gave me all these lovely clothes, and I have a personal maid who is the dearest thing. And they really ask very little of me. All I do is take care of Lady Julia's pets, and read to her sometimes. And she likes me to tell her of my home and my family. Poor little creature, she's had such a sad life, and she is so gentle and kind.”

“Then she will doubtless understand you're not used to Town ways yet. You'll soon learn.” Watching her poke an errant curl under her cap, he thought, ‘Which will be a pity.' The trusting eyes lifted to meet his and he added hurriedly, “Besides, I don't see how they can blame you because you chanced to witness the—er, accident. You had nought to do with it.”

“No, but I wouldn't have been nearby save that I sent Gorton off with her light o'love—which they would not at all have liked. And then I wandered out onto the street by myself, which is not done, they say. Though why it should not be done I cannot think. The streets were made to be walked upon, and London is a civilized city in a civilized country, after all. 'Tis not as though we were in the hills of Spain or Italy, surrounded by wicked bandits—which reminds me of something I
must
tell you, for I think she would be just what you would like—and only look how I caused you to be attacked by the flower seller yesterday. And there was that
awful
thing last night! If they found out about that…!”

In an attempt to untangle these intriguing threads, he asked with a grin, “What happened last night? Did you drop one of the cats in the soup?”

Zoe smiled ruefully. “I was asleep, and Boadicea—she belongs to Attila, you know—well, you don't know, but there it is. Bo came and scratched on my door…” She embarked on the tale of the gentlemen who had almost discovered her in her nightrail, and was relieved when Cranford seemed more amused than shocked. “You may laugh,” she finished, “but I thought they would never leave. And they were extreme vexed, and I'm sure would have been even more so if they'd found me!”

“'Tis very well they did not. Who were they? Your unwitting ‘Prospects' again?”

“No. Not those kinds of voices at all. Much more manly. Firm and strong, the way you speak. Indeed, one of them was quite—frightening. I could tell the others were afraid of him. I'd not want anyone to use that tone to me.”

“Oh? It was a quarrel, then?”

“Not … exactly. I think it had to do with business, and someone who had made them very cross. And they are in the greatest impatience for a lady to arrive. Lady … Oh, I forget her name.”

“So you should. You had no business listening to a private conversation.”

“As if I would intentionally have done such a dishonourable thing!”

“All right, all right. Don't go flying up into the boughs again. To say truth, I'm the one being dishonourable by asking you about it. We must talk of something else.”