Regency Buck (28 page)

A sardonic smile curled his lips. “I see. I am jealous, I suppose? My good girl, your conquests have mounted to your head. You are not the only pretty female I have kissed.”

Her breasts rose and fell quickly. “You are insufferable!” she said. “I have done nothing to deserve such an insult from you!”

“If we are to talk of insults,” said the Earl grimly, “you will come off very much the worst from that encounter. The insult of informing you that I am not a suitor to your hand is hardly comparable to the insult of ascribing to me jealousy of such a person as Mr. Bernard Taverner.”

“I am very happy to think that you are not my suitor!” flashed Judith. “I can conceive of nothing more odious!”

“There are times,” said the Earl, “when, if I were in the habit of uttering exaggerated statements, I could almost echo that sentiment. Do not look daggers at me: I am wholly impervious to displays of that kind. Your tantrums may do very well at home, but they arouse in me nothing more than a desire to beat you soundly. And that, Miss Taverner, if ever I do marry you, is precisely what I shall do.”

Miss Taverner fought for breath. “If ever you—Oh, if I were but a man!”

“A more stupid remark I have yet to hear you make,” commented his lordship. “If you were a man this conversation would not be taking place.”

Miss Taverner, failing to find words with which to answer him, swung round on her heel, and began to pace about the room in a hasty manner that spoke more clearly than any words the agitation of her spirits.

The Earl leaned his shoulders against the bookshelves, and stood with folded arms, observing her perambulations. As he watched her the anger died out of his eyes; his mouth which had been set in a straight line relaxed; and he began to look merely amused. After a few minutes he spoke, saying in his usual calm way: “Do not be striding about the room any longer, Miss Taverner. You look magnificent, but it is a waste of energy. I will apologize for the whole.”

She came to a halt beside a chair, and grasped the back of it with both hands. “Your behaviour, your manner—”

“Both abominable,” he said. “I beg pardon,
insufferable
was the word. I offer you my apologies.”

“Your way of speaking of a gentleman who is my cousin—”

“Whom, if you please, we will leave out of this discussion.”

She gripped the chair-back more tightly still. “Your indelicacy, the total want of proper feeling that could prompt you to taunt me with an episode in the past which covered me, and still covers me, with shame—”

He held out his hand to her. “That was ill-done of me indeed,” he said gently. “Forgive me!”

She was silenced, and stood looking across at him in a frowning way for several minutes. At last she said in a more mollified voice: “I daresay I may seem to be conceited. If you say so no doubt it is so:
you
should be a judge. But I can assure you, Lord Worth, that my conquests, as you are good enough to call them, have not led me to suppose that every gentleman of my acquaintance, including yourself, is desirous of marrying me.”

“Of course not,” he agreed.

She said uncertainly: “I am sorry to have lost my temper in what you may have thought to have been an unladylike manner, but you will allow the provocation to have been great.”

“I will allow it to have been impossible to withstand,” said his lordship. “Come, shall we shake hands on it?”

Miss Taverner walked slowly across the room and put her hand reluctantly into his. He bent, and somewhat to her surprise lightly kissed it. Releasing it again he said: “I have one more thing to say to you before we forget this conversation. It is my wish that you will not mention, either to Mr. Taverner or to anyone else, this suspicion you have had of Perry’s having been poisoned.” She looked questioningly at him, half-frowning. “You can do no good by giving voice to such a suspicion; you may do harm.”

“Harm! Do you think—is it possible that I may have been right?” she asked in quick alarm.

“Extremely unlikely,” he replied. “But since this indisposition of his has overtaken him under my roof I prefer not to be suspected of making away with him.”

“I shall not speak of it,” she said in a troubled way. “I should not spread such a rumour without positive proof of its truth.”

He bowed, and moved away from her towards the door. Before he had reached it he looked back, and said casually: “By the by, Miss Taverner, can you lay your hand on the lease of your house? I believe I gave it into your charge.”

“It is in my desk at home,” she said. “Do you wish for it?”

“Blackader writes of some point to be argued. It will be necessary for me to glance at the lease. If a servant were sent to London, could your housekeeper, or some such person, find it, and give it to him to bring to me?”

“Certainly,” she said. “Hinkson, Perry’s new groom, can be sent for it.”

“Thank you, that will be best, no doubt,” he said.

A hasty step sounded at this moment outside the room, and a gay voice called: “In the library, is he? I will find him: do not give yourself the trouble of coming with me, my dear ma’am! I have not forgot my way about.”

The Earl raised his brows in quick surprise. “This is something quite unexpected,” he remarked, and opened the door, and held out both his hands. “Charles! What the devil?”

A tall young man in Hussar uniform, with a handsome, laughing countenance, and his right arm in a sling, gripped one of the Earl’s hands in his own left one. “My dear fellow! How do you do? By Gad, it’s famous to see you again! You observe I have got my furlough, thanks to this!” He indicated his useless arm.

“How is it?” Worth asked. “Do you feel it as much as ever? When did you come out of hospital? There does not look to be a great deal amiss with you from what I can see!”

“Lord, no! nothing in the world! I’m come home to try my luck with the heiress. Where is she? Does she squint like a bag of nails? Is she hideous? They always are!”

The Earl stood back. “You may judge for yourself,” he said dryly. “Miss Taverner, little though he may have recommended himself to you, I must beg leave to present my brother, Captain Audley.”

Captain the Honourable Charles Audley started, and gazed at Miss Taverner with an expression of mingled dismay, admiration, and incredulity in his bright eyes. He said: “Good God! is it possible?” and strode forward. “Madam, your most obedient! What can I say?”

“You have said too much already,” remarked the Earl in a tone of amusement.

“True, very true! There is no getting away from it, indeed; Miss Taverner, you did not hear me; you were not attending!”

“On the contrary, I heard you very plainly,” said Judith, unable to withstand his smile. She held out her hand. “How do you do? I am sorry to see your arm in a sling. I hope no lasting injury?”

“Not to my arm, ma’am; none incurred in the
Peninsula
,”
he said promptly, taking her hand and kissing it.

She could not help laughing. His eyes began to dance; he said outrageously: “You must let me tell you that in all my experience of heiresses I have never till to-day encountered one who did not give me a nightmare. You have restored my faith in miracles, Miss Taverner!”

“If you expose yourself any further, Miss Taverner will ask to have her carriage spoken for immediately,” observed the Earl.

“Not at all,” she replied. “I am happy to think I do not give Captain Audley nightmares.” She moved towards the door. “You will have so much to say to each other! I will leave you.”

She was gone on the words. Captain Audley closed the door behind her and turned to look at the Earl. “Julian, you dog! you’ve kept her mighty dark! Are you engaged to her?”

“No,” said Worth. “I am not.”

“You must be mad!” declared the Captain. “Don’t tell me you mean to let all that wealth and beauty slip through your fingers! I have a very good mind to try for her myself.”

“Do so, by all means. You won’t succeed, but it may keep you out of mischief.”

“Ah, don’t be too sure!” grinned the Captain. “You know nothing about it, my boy.”

“I know a great deal about it,” retorted Worth. “I am her guardian.”

“Well, upon my word!” exclaimed Captain Audley. “Am I to understand you would forbid the banns?”

“You are,” said Worth.

The Captain perched himself on the edge of the table. “Very well, Gretna Green let it be! My dear fellow, you’re in love with her yourself! Shall I go away again?”

Worth smiled. “Your vulgarity is only equalled by your conceit, Charles. Tell me now, how have things been with you?”

“All in good time,” said the Captain. “First you shall tell me whether I am to hold off from the heiress.”

“Not at all; why should you? I think you may be quite useful to me. The heiress has a brother.”

“I am not in the least interested in her brother,” objected the Captain.

“Possibly not, but I have a considerable interest in him,” said Worth. He looked the Captain over meditatively. “I think, Charles—I am nearly sure—that you are going to become very friendly with young Peregrine, if he will let you. Unfortunately, he does not like me, and his prejudice may extend to you as well.”

“Alas, alas! Why do you want him to like me?”

“Because,” said the Earl slowly, “I need someone to be in his confidence whom I can trust.”

“Good God! why?” demanded the Captain in lively astonishment.

“Peregrine Taverner,” said Worth, with a certain deliberation, “is an extremely wealthy young man, and if anything were to happen to him his sister would inherit the greater part of his fortune,”

“Very well, let us by all means drown him in the lake,” said the Captain gaily. “Plainly, he must be disposed of.”

“He is being disposed of,” said the Earl, without the least trace of emotion in his level voice. “For the past five days he has been inhaling poisoned snuff.”

Chapter XV

The arrival of Captain Charles Audley was a happy circumstance, for the departure to London on that day of Mr. Brummell, Lord Petersham, and both the Marleys had produced all the inevitable languor attendant on the breaking-up of a party. The Taverners, with Miss Fairford and Lord Alvanley, were engaged to remain at Worth over the week-end, but although an Assembly at a neighbouring town, where some militia were quartered, a day’s hunting, and a card-party were promised, there was an insipidity, a flatness, that was hard to shake off. The appearance, however, of Captain Audley banished every feeling of regret for the absence of four of the original members of the party. His gaiety was infectious and his manners, for all their oddity, were so generally charming as to render him always acceptable. His having but just come from the Peninsula made him first in consequence; the ladies hung on his lips, and the gentlemen, in a quieter fashion, were very ready to hear all the information he could give them of the state of affairs in Spain. The only respect in which he fell short of the female expectations at least was his refusal to describe the act of dashing gallantry to which it was felt that his wound must have been due. He would not talk of it, insisted that the wound was not the result of any noble action at all, and beyond learning that it had been incurred at the affair of Arroyo del Molinos upon the twenty-eighth day of October, and that he had been lying in hospital ever since (which Lady Albinia and Mrs. Scattergood were aware of already), they could discover nothing about it. But on any other subject he was ready to converse, and his arrival was soon felt to be an advantage. He paid unblushing court to Miss Taverner, was kind to Miss Fairford, quizzed his aunt and cousin, took Peregrine secretly over to a dingy tavern in the nearest town to witness a cockfight, and was voted in less than no time to be a most amiable young man. He was not above being pleased; he could derive as much enjoyment from making up a pool of quadrille to oblige his aunt as from playing whist for pound points; and found as much to amuse him at the local Assembly as he would have found at Almack’s.

“You are blessed with the happiest nature, Captain Audley,” Miss Taverner said smilingly. “Whatever you do, you are pleased to be doing, and
your
spirits infect everyone else with the same liveliness.”

“If I could not be pleased in such company I must be an insufferable fellow!” he replied warmly.

“You are certainly a flatterer.”

“Only so modest a creature as yourself could think so.”

“I am silenced. Do you find this mode of address generally acceptable amongst the heiresses of your acquaintance?”

“Miss Taverner, I appeal to your sense of what is fair! Is this kind? Is this right?”

“It was irresistible,” she replied mischievously.

“What is to be done? How shall I convince you?”

“You cannot; you are completely exposed.”

“I shall come about again, I warn you. My dependence is all on my brother. If he has the slightest regard for me he must assist me to convince you of my disinterestedness.”

“Dear me, how is he to do that, I wonder?”

“Why, very simply! He has only to sell you out of the three-per-cents and gamble away your whole fortune on ‘Change. I may then offer you my hand and heart with a clear conscience.”

“It sounds very disagreeable. I had rather keep my fortune, I thank you.”

“Miss Taverner, you are guilty of the most shocking cruelty to one wounded in the service of his country!”

“That is very bad, certainly. What shall I do to atone?”

“You shall drive me out in Worth’s curricle,” he said promptly.

“I am quite willing, but Lord Worth might view the matter in a different light.”

“Nonsense! His cattle must be honoured in being driven by you.”

“I wish he may think so, but I believe we shall do well to obtain his permission.”

“You shall be held blameless,” he promised. “You can have no objection to my ordering the curricle to be sent round.”

She wavered. “To be sure, I have once driven it. I suppose if you order it there can be nothing against it. You cannot do wrong in your own home after all.”

He grinned. “We will hear my brother’s comments on that. His greys are in the stable: can you handle them?”