Lady Caraway's Cloak, page 5
Oh, the balls! The crossing of the hallowed portals of Almack’s! Unlike other young ladies of her age, she suffered none of the anxieties and paroxysms of fear in this regard that she might have—Serena had promised to procure her vouchers and she was perfectly certain that this would transpire.
The Lady Serena, she knew, was sublimely competent. It also helped, of course, that she was on foremost terms with all of the great patronesses of the age. Even the Princess Esterhaczy had once graced Caraway with her presence, though naturally not as often as the likes of Sally Jersey, whose husband had been on intimate terms with the late earl.
No, Miss Julia Waring was not at all concerned about her entrance into society, only that she might not have quite so many dance partners as she might. But such fears were all perfectly natural, and did not in the least blight her overall sense of anticipation. She was excited, as all young maidens are at that particular age and stage in their lives.
Her head was full of dreams of dashing young men, who would look into her eyes, whisk her across dance floors, fight for her favors (but only in the most gentlemanly fashion and if they dueled over her, naturally no one would actually get hurt, save perhaps for a dashing scar or two). The minutes passed into hours but Miss Waring hardly noticed, so absorbed was she in her happy, absurdly nonsensical thoughts.
It was only when the dinner gong struck and there was still no sign of Serena, that she cast aside her stitchery. All but the bodice was now complete and that, she thought, she might leave to a seamstress. She ventured out into the gardens. There was still no sign of Serena, but she did not worry unduly. Her aunt—no, she could not think of Serena as her aunt!—was often late, caught up in estate business and such.
It was a wonder to her how much Serena knew, and what an interest she took. It was admirable, for sure, but certainly more a man’s work than a lady’s. Still, Serena was no ordinary lady and Julia could not help but feel thankful for that. She might not suffer spasms at the thought of Udolpho in a Castle of Otranto, or share any of her enthusiasms for the Minerva Press novels, but she was truly the best—the very best—friend a young lady could have. And she had the added cachet of taking her to London! Miss Waring wanted to hop on her delicately slippered feet but she restrained herself, not wishing her mama to have an apoplexy if she happened to cast her eye out of one of the tall, lead glass windows above her head.
Captain Adam McNichols, in the meanwhile, was wishing—politely, of course—his own mama to damnation. Or, if not to damnation then to perdition at the very least, for it appeared, from her conversation, that she had proposed on his behalf.
It seemed incredible, but apparently Mrs. McNichols—who naturally only wanted the very best for her handsome and eligible offspring—had decided that Lady Serena was not only a diamond of the first water, but also wasted in spinsterhood.
Apparently it was Adam’s first task to rescue her from this ignoble state—a state that his mama deplored, and could only believe that Serena deplored, despite her maidenly protestations to the contrary. After all, as Miss Julia Waring confided, Serena had even considered taking to mob caps! It was unthinkable with such a wealth of lustrous copper hair. Short, but that could be remedied, of course. No, it was all perfectly clear. Adam simply must rescue her from her impending doom.
“No, no”—she held up her hand imperiously. “Before you protest, Adam dear, it is not purely pity on my part, else naturally I would be marrying you off to all the spinsters of the neighborhood and that, of course, can not be—” Adam was slightly gratified to hear this pronouncement, but not much, for his beloved mama continued.
“No,” she insisted, “Lady Serena’s own perfection makes the match so necessary. Oh, she’s kind and heavenly and a beauty and perfect in every way, save for the occasional lapses into discourse more suitable to males. But doubtless you could soothe the bluestocking from her nature—I know how persuasive you can be with females!”
Mrs. McNichols knew nothing of the sort, for Adam had advanced his influence with and knowledge of females considerably since he had set sail on The Albatross three years before. Still, his mama could know nothing of this—to his secret relief—so he remained silent on this score, and chose instead to rail at her with regard to her preposterous matchmaking activities.
“Mama, how could you speak for me?”
“If I did not, you certainly would not have, and indeed, my dear, you will only thank me for it, for Lady Serena is a model of propriety and goodness, quite apart from being able to produce absolutely the most soothing balm for chilblains I have ever come across ...”
“Mama! If it is chilblains you want a cure for, I can direct you to any number of country doctors who could provide you with your needs. I tell you, I do not require a wife!”
“You are pulling straws with me, son, you know I only mentioned the chilblains as a small aside. Lady Serena is everything you could want in a wife, Adam, besides being of the very first family and possessing a dowry that would quite make you stare! I have taken the liberty of procuring for you a special license, which is no small thing, let me tell you, besides the cost of a new roof for the church ... now where did I put it? Oh dear me, how perfectly silly I am! It is right here with my correspondence. Take it, Adam, before I am such a scatterbrain I forget ...” Mrs. McNichols thrust the parchment on poor Adam, who felt doom was now perilously upon him unless he made a firm and urgent stand at once.
“And did this paragon accept me, Mama? I am merely curious, you understand!”
“Of course not, what have I been telling you? She is the very model of propriety, Adam! She could not accept such a proposal from anyone other than yourself, though naturally she no longer requires parental permission—which is fortunate, since both her parents are long deceased and it was the late earl who was her guardian, but this is all besides the point ...”
“For the first time I perceive you speak some sense, Mama!”
But Adam’s newfound wryness was quite lost on the doting Mrs. McNichols, who in throwing her loving arms about his person, quite destroyed the elegant line of his cravat and cried that she had known how it would be, and that she’d felt all along that it was simply a matter of time before Adam could be brought to her viewpoint.
Upon which Adam, good-natured as he was, compressed his lips firmly and perceived grimly that if it was not his unfortunate duty to actually marry the female, it was at least common civility to speak with her and apologize for his mother’s supreme forwardness.
So he agreed to make all haste to Caraway—in the morning, of course, after he’d had the benefit of an excellent sleep in the featherbed that had been kept specially for his use. He was assured that his dear old bear Griffin was still warming the sheets for him, though he had but recently been patched, owing to the circumstance of some of his stuffing leaking.
Whereupon, with a sigh, Captain McNichols thanked his mama and confirmed that yes, he did indeed remember his childhood toy and that yes, yes, he was thankful that he had been so restored.
He also muttered a heap of piratical epithets into his toast that would have shocked his mama and even his elder sisters, but that, he thought, was a liberty he deserved. Griffin indeed!
“Could that be a gentleman?” Miss Waring rather thought so as she guiltily ignored the third sound of the gong—honestly she did not know why they still bothered, for with her mother’s sick aches and Serena’s jauntering about the countryside the covers were always being held back anyway—and peered across the marbled pillars of the gazebo.
Yes, she had been perfectly correct, it was a gentleman, though strangely damp and not quite ... Julia tried to find the word. He looked wild, and masculine, and highly improper ... though why he should, with such fine boots and a lawn shirt that fitted as though it were molded to his very body ... Julia blushed, for she had not seen so fine a body before, nor such perfectly fitting breeches ... gracious! He was positively indecent, though he must have begun the day with immaculate grace.
Miss Waring had a seamstress’s eye, for she was very fond of needlework, and could see that though the gentleman seemed quite larger than life, his clothes—despite their deplorable, muddied state—were most exquisitely styled and stitched. A gentleman, then, despite alarming appearances.
Lady Serena, slightly to his right—looked very fine herself, in her black velvet riding habit, though why she would not have military style epaulettes when they were all the rage ... was she blushing? No, of course not. Nor was she batting her pretty lashes to show her fine eyes to advantage ... Julia peered a little more daringly round the pillar. She gasped. Serena, in the company of such a paragon, was actually glaring.
Miss Waring tiptoed to get a better view. Yes, her eyes had not been deceptive. Lady Serena looked cross. She was scowling. Very fiercely, too, and the gentleman—heavenly, oh, heavenly—was that a ribbon he sported? It was. Oh, those long locks, soft as silk ... but he looked frightfully annoyed. Gracious, it looked as though he were going to shake Serena. He was! He was shaking her! Should she step out and defend Serena? Whatever could they be talking about?
Miss Waring breathed a sigh of relief when Serena slapped him. “Oh, dear,” she could not help thinking, “I wonder whoever he can be?”
Positively mad with indecision, Miss Waring was spared the necessity of taking any step at all by the Caraway footman, who at that moment appeared, soft-footed at her side, and respectfully murmured that the dowager awaited her company in the breakfast room, she having arrived but five minutes since, and mindful of the first remove which might spoil if further delayed.
Miss Waring needed no extra telling, for she was both excellent-natured and rather timid—she had no wish for one of her mama’s famous scolds.
Chapter Five
Serena’s heart fluttered traitorously. She knew she was in more trouble now than she had ever been in her life, never mind the small incident of the pond. Good gracious, if his lordship should even suspect ... And yes, he was as damnably handsome as she had imagined, and his smile was as intriguing as she had pictured.... She had better advance her plan and remove herself from the household at once, before she lost every shred of her usual common sense. Before she was unmasked in front of this man who had no business to be as attractive as he was ... before ...
“Lady Serena! Are you well?”
“Perfectly, thank you! Just wool-gathering, I fear. If you are the Earl of Caraway, I must welcome you at once, my lord, and naturally you shall make your entrance through the grand hallways. I cannot think what can have overcome me to make any other suggestion.”
The earl grimaced wryly. “You have just been at pains to tell me. And on the basis of what you have just said, I think the back entrance plan is the most sensible. I have no wish to endure the dowager’s vapors in a damp shirt.”
“But you cannot ... this is absurd, my lord! You cannot enter your own home through the back door. It is unthinkable!”
“Unthinkable or not, I can, and shall. I have it on the best authority that the dowager wishes to throttle me anyway. I do not wish to be on a back foot when I first renew my acquaintance with her.”
“But who can have been carrying tales about the dowager?” asked Serena, forgetting for a moment her own rich and lively accounts in the letters she had been blithely penning. “I assure you, the countess is everything that is civil when guests are about.”
My lord’s lips twitched. He was a master at reading between the lines. “That may be so, but I nevertheless have the most impeccable sources! Now do be a dear and allow me to enter the portals of my own home in whatever manner I desire.”
“The servants will think it mighty strange in you, sir!”
“I shall take that risk, I think, Lady Serena. Unless ... good Lord, why did I not think on this before? You shall escort me, if you will, to the bailiff’s residence. He will overlook my dubious attire until my baggage arrives. I have certain matters to discuss with him, in any event. It is the perfect scheme!”
Lady Serena paled almost perceptibly, but Lord Robin, accustomed as he was to young ladies paling in his presence—or alternately flushing a rosy red, one would never determine which was likely to occur—did not immediately see anything amiss.
“The—the bailiff, my lord?” Serena, for once, was at a loss for sensible words.
“Indeed, yes! Your Mr. Addington. I have had some most helpful correspondence from him. He is the very man to take pity on me in my present predicament. Does he take the south cottage lodgings?”
“Yes! No!”
“Now what does that mean, I wonder? Yes he does, or no, he does not?” Robin looked amused rather than impatient.
Serena gazed at him wildly, causing a faint furrow of interest to cross his features. He could discern no real reason for the lady’s sudden confusion. But then he had seen it time and time again ... even the most sensible of females succumbed to moments of dizziness.
He could not think why, for he was not overly vain, and though he did know he had an unaccountable effect on womankind, he had not, up until now, noticed the symptoms in the fair lady Serena. He stood by patiently, though, whilst she gathered her wits.
As she did so, he surprised himself by having the sudden impulse to kiss her. He wondered what her reaction would be. Then he frowned, reminding himself that he was no longer Robin Red-Ribbon, captain of The Albatross, but a fusty old peer of the realm.
Peers did not kiss gentlewomen unless they were betrothed. Which brought him, of course, to the conundrum of Adam. This was the lady Adam’s mama had so set her heart upon. An excellent choice, so why, then, did he feel it so keenly?
Why did he so instinctively disapprove? Why was he so set on throwing a spanner in this particular spoke? He could not say. But he suddenly felt the matter fiercely. How flippant he had been when he had granted Adam his consent—and how serious he would be when he withdrew it. Not that Adam needed any further urging, but he would attend to the affair all the same.
“My lord—” Serena struggled with the lie, for it was not in her nature to be dishonest.
“Yes?” Robin, brought back from his musings, still found he wanted to kiss the tip of her nose. It was really perfectly charming and a damnable temptation, being so close, as it was, to his own countenance. He was—despite his excellent physique—built on the slight side, so that, Serena being tall, he was confronted rather too closely with the tip of her nose and her vaguely uptilted lips. Horrifying, really, for one so accustomed to feminine charms. He schooled himself not to obey his impulses. Impulses, he knew, led to nowhere but trouble.
“Mr. Addington has left our employ.”
“He has done what?” The tone was uncharacteristically sharp.
Lady Serena colored, but ignored the annoyance evident upon my lord’s features.
“He left about a week ago.”
“How so? I had no notion that this was his intention!”
“No, indeed, but nevertheless, it is so. I have placed an advertisement in the Gazette for his replacement. I hope that is acceptable, my lord.”
“No, it is not acceptable!” Robin tried not to glower at the Lady Serena, but failed. It was quite unaccountable, really, how much he had been looking forward to making his bailiff’s acquaintance. Indeed, he felt he knew him already. The correspondence that had passed between them was of so intimate a quality that he could almost picture Gabriel Addington, though he had not, obviously, ever had a portrait or miniature. Still, the man’s mind had been so incisive, penetrating and humorous that he had positively longed to make his acquaintance.
“What is his direction, pray?”
Serena gulped. It was hard to make up a good Banbury tale when the recipient was glowering at you balefully—and most unfairly, in her opinion.
“I do not rightly know, my lord. London, I would have assumed, though that is no sure thing, for I believe he had a sister in Bath ...” Serena frantically summoned up this imaginary sibling as interested eyes burned straight through her skin. Or so, of course, it felt.
“You shall furnish me with this sister’s directions directly.”
Oh, how imperious! Serena bristled suddenly, though she knew it was she herself at fault, and drew herself up just a fraction straighter. Her lovely eyes could not quite meet those of the Earl of Caraway, but no one could possibly find fault either with her bearing or with the dismissive gesture of her prettily gloved hand.
“There is no need, my lord. Though Mr. Addington was dismissed, it was not, I assure you, without a character. I feel sure you will agree that there is therefore no further need ...”
But she may just as well have held her breath. My lord’s demeanor, increasingly stern, was now positively incredulous.
“Dismissed? Gabriel Addington was dismissed?” Robin tried not to roar, but truly, he failed utterly.
Serena, both panicked and annoyed by his attitude, did not have a moment to be glad that his lordship should react so. Clearly, he had looked forward to meeting the man she had fabricated with the light-hearted tilt of her pen. She should have been gratified—in other, less heated circumstances she might have been—but for now, she was only terrified of exposure.
“I cannot see what consequence this may have! He was, after all, merely a servant ...”
“I, my lady, do not treat servants so abominably!”
Neither did Serena, but it could not help her case to say so, so she altered her tone to match his and practically shouted that it was none of her concern, and the matter was far beyond the point since Mr. Addington was gone—long gone at that, and there was no way of recalling him.
“That is what you think, my lady! As of this instant, no orders are to be carried out on these premises without my express permission! Mr. Addington, as it happens, was worth his weight in gold, though you might not even be aware that he has not been paid so much as a brass farthing since he has started to do the household accounts! You did not, I trust, reimburse him for a year’s worth of unstinting service to this estate?”
