Love Charade Part 7

"Why? I shall only get wet again." Danielle was painfully aware that she sounded like a sulky child but somehow could do nothing to alter her tone.

"Ah, but you see, you won't," the earl said gently, flipping open his silver snuff box and one-handedly taking a delicate pinch. "We shall travel today by post chaise."

Danny wrinkled her nose disgustedly. "But it's only twenty miles and a little rain hurt no one."

"It will hurt me, my child. I am sorry to inconvenience you, but I really must insist." The long fingers tightened for an instant around the fragile bones of her wrist. "I would like to leave within the quarter hour so you would oblige us both by making all speed todon somedry clothes. Of course," he added pleasantly, "should you find yourself in difficulties in this matter, I should be most happy to a.s.sist you."

Danielle twitched her wrist out of the immediately relaxed hold. "Your a.s.sistance, my lord, will not be necessary," she stated frigidly and went off with as much dignity as she could muster in the direction of their bedchamber.

Linton looked after her with quivering lip. She was definitely going to be more than the Earl of March and his countess could manage alone. His suspicion that the peaceful pattern of an existence ruled only by his own desires and comforts had been permanently destroyed on that sunny April afternoon in Paris was rapidly becoming a certainty.

The post chaise was light and well sprung-an infinite improvement on the heavy conveyance that had accommodated them through France-and they made the twenty-mile journey in three hours reaching My Lord's town house in Grosvenor Square soon after the noon hour. Danielle forgot her aggrieved sullens as they clattered through the London streets. The sights, sounds, and smells of this seething metropolis entranced her. So different was the atmosphere here from the dreariness of Paris with its sense of brooding menace hanging in the narrow, fetid alleys. There was squalor and poverty here too, and the gutters ran malodorously with the soil of the city's inhabitants in the crowded houses rising alongside the cobbled streets, at times almost seeming to touch their opposite neighbor, forming an archway over the narrow lanes. But there was elegance too and Danielle gazed open-mouthed at the quiet squares with their tall mansions, the constant traffic of barouches, landaus, phaetons, curricles pa.s.sing down the broader thoroughfares, their exquisite pa.s.sengers bowing and smiling to acquaintances. She gazed longingly at the riders, briefly glimpsed behind the railings of Hyde Park, and for the first time in months felt an unaccountable urge to be rid of her boy's clothes. But, however did women manage to walk in those wide hooped skirts, those enormous panniers at the side? And the coiffures! Enormous powdered creations, adorned with waving ostrich plumes, stuffed birds, and even more exotic articles. The isolated life of Languedoc had not required the extravagances and fripperies of the fas.h.i.+onable city and indeed was many years behind in fas.h.i.+on-a fact which her mother had frequently lamented but had never repined over. Or if she had, Danielle frowned suddenly, had certainly kept it to herself.

Her companion, guessing fairly accurately at what was pa.s.sing through his ward's mind, watched her open delight and wide-eyed wonder with amus.e.m.e.nt and a degree of pity. It had been an act of near criminal negligence to keep this enchanting scion of a n.o.ble family from her birthright, immured in the fastnesses of a wild, uncivilized backcountry.

The chaise drew up outside Linton House and instantly the enormous front door swung open. A liveried footman let down the steps, opened the door, and bowed his lords.h.i.+p and the disheveled sc.r.a.p of humanity behind him onto the pavement. Danielle hung back, suddenly shy, but the earl took her hand in a warm, rea.s.suring grip.

"You have nothing to fear. These are my people. Just say nothing and do exactly as you are bid."

For once that instruction provided comfort rather than irritation. She followed her guardian up the flight of well-scrubbed steps into an enormous high-ceilinged hall with a wide curving flight of shallow stairs rising gracefully to the floors above.

"Welcome, my lord." A most elegant, black-clad figure moved sedately with measured tread across the gleaming tiled floor to greet them. His gaze flicked across Danielle but the shocked surprise in those calm gray eyes was instantly extinguished.

"Thank you, Bedford. I shall be in town only one night to transact some business. The lad is to have the Blue Room. Have it prepared and hot water for a bath sent up. I will also require Petersham in about fifteen minutes and if Mr. Haversham is in the house please ask him to wait on me in my bookroom in one hour. You may bring some Madeira into the library." Still holding Danielle's hand, the earl turned briskly and went through the door held by an impa.s.sive footman into the luxurious book-lined saloon on one side of the hall, facing the street.

Danielle looked around appraisingly. She was not awed by the magnificence of the Aubusson carpet, the delicate Sheraton and Chippendale furniture, the heavy brocaded curtains at the long windows. The de St Varennes chateau, albeit in the wilds, had commanded all the elegancies of life. Neither was she intimidated by Milord's servants, although they carried themselves with a deal more consequence than would have been tolerated under the feudal regime operating in Languedoc. But she was very interested in His Lords.h.i.+p's life-style. He was clearly a man of considerable wealth.

A discreet knock at the door was followed immediately by Bedford with a silver tray on which reposed a cut gla.s.s decanter and two crystal winegla.s.ses. No one was to know the anguish that had wracked this austere gentleman as he wondered whether he was to provide a gla.s.s for His Lords.h.i.+p's extraordinary companion. To do so could be an unforgivable solecism but there was something about the way the earl had been holding the lad's hand, a sort of proprietorial possessive-ness that caused his butler to opine that a lack of courtesy to this unusual guest might be an even more unforgivable solecism. He was much relieved, therefore, when His Lords.h.i.+p made no comment on the contents of the tray.

"Would Your Lords.h.i.+p care for a nuncheon?" Bedford inquired.

"I think not, but you may have a tray sent up to the Blue Room." Linton poured the golden wine and handed his brat a gla.s.s, waiting until the butler had left the room before raising his own in a toast.

"Let us drink to the end of this masquerade, mon enfant. A few more days will see the finish. It is unfortunate that your grandparents have remained in the country for the Season, otherwise I could have restored you to them within the hour."

Danielle was not convinced that this was an unfortunate circ.u.mstance but kept her reflections to herself, merely sipping her wine appreciatively, surprising His Lords.h.i.+p with an informed comment on the vintage.

"You know wine, child?"

"My grandfather's cellar was renowned throughout France. I was interested, so he taught me," she said carelessly. "I am thought to have an excellent palate. Grandpere always trusted my judgment at the tastings."

Linton wondered how many more surprises this brat had up her sleeve. He strongly suspected that he had but glimpsed the tip of the iceberg.

"I am going to leave you for a few hours, Danielle." He held up his hand as she began a dismayed protest. "You will be quite safe. No one will disturb you, I promise. You may take a long bath, have some nuncheon, rest, read a book maybe?"

At his last words her eyes lit up. "I haven't seen a book since February. May I look now?"

"My library is at your disposal, infant."

Danielle roamed the shelves in an absorbed silence, commenting only, "They are well catalogued, my

lord."

"I have an excellent secretary." Her choice fascinated him-a copy of Pliny's essays and Montaigne for, he presumed, a little light relief.

"If you are sure you have enough to occupy you for an hour or so, perhaps you would like to go to your

chamber." His voice shook slightly and Danny gave him a suspicious look.

"Does something amuse you, sir?"

"Not at all," he denied hastily. "But tell me, do you ever read novels?"

"They have rarely come my way," she replied simply.

My Lord preceded her up the stairs, wondering yet again at the effect this wine connoisseur and

bluestocking was going to have on London society. Next Season was going to be most interesting, of that

he was in no doubt.

The Blue Room was a haven of warmth and comfort. A fire blazed in the hearth and candles glowed softly, chasing away the dank, dark afternoon glowering outside the long windows facing the square. A maid servant rose hastily from her knees beside the large porcelain tub at their entrance and bobbed a curtsy.

"I hope everything is to your satisfaction, my lord. And if the young gentleman should need anything he has only to ring."

"Thank you." The earl smiled. "It's Molly, isn't it?"

The rosy cheeks blushed scarlet as the girl bobbed another curtsy. "Yes . . . yes, my lord, it is," she stammered in confusion, quite overset by this unlooked for and most unusual recognition. The door closed on her somewhat precipitate retreat and Danielle looked approvingly at Linton.

"That was well done, indeed, milord. Do you know all your servants by name?"

"Alas no, infant," he confessed ruefully. "I cannot claim that credit, merely lucky chance in this instance.

The girl is the granddaughter of my housekeeper and as such was once presented to me."

"But you remembered. I have been wis.h.i.+ng just recently that I had taken the trouble to learn something of

our servants in Languedoc." There was a dispirited note in the soft voice which the earl made haste to

dispel.

"You know what they say about spilt milk, Danielle." He examined the linen-covered tray on the table.

"You have a most delicious nuncheon, brat. I suggest you address yourself to it without delay."

Danielle peered at the baked egg, the bread and b.u.t.ter, roasted chicken wing, and custard tart. A gla.s.s

of sherry and a pot of tea accompanied the repast. "I think your advice is sound, sir." Her eyes gleamed mischievously. "You may safely leave me to my own devices, milord. I look forward to a few hours of luxurious solitude."

Linton laughed. "I will fetch you something to wear after your bath." To her amazement he left through a door in the far wall and she heard an unfamiliar voice from the neighboring room before the earl returned with a velvet robe over one arm.

"You will be quite lost in this, I fear. But it will have to serve in the absence of anything more suitable."

"Who is in there?" Danielle gestured to the half-open door.

"Petersham, my valet."

"That is your chamber, then?"

"Yes." He frowned at her concerned face and then, as comprehension dawned, smiled rea.s.suringly. "I wished you near me, child. I thought perhaps you might be more comfortable too, knowing I was within calling distance. Was I mistaken?"

Danielle shook her head slowly. "No, milord. I find the thought of your proximity most rea.s.suring. This is all a little unfamiliar, you see."

"I do see, infant. Now, you need have no fear that you will be disturbed unless you so choose and I must attend to my business." Yielding to a sudden impulse he laid a gentle finger under her chin, tipping her head and dropping a light kiss on the upturned nose. Danielle looked startled, but made no attempt to draw back. Such caresses had rarely come her way, the de St Varennes not being given to displays of affection, but she decided that this salute was infinitely preferable to her boxed ears of the previous evening.

"You are going to be a most beautiful woman one day, Danielle de St Varennes," the earl said softly. "I am amazingly eager to see the transformation."

The next instant she was alone, one finger absently rubbing the tip of her nose where his lips had just rested.

With immense relief the earl once more placed himself in Petersham's able hands, doing his best to ignore the hurt, disapproving sniffs that accompanied that gentleman's ministrations. The valet's pride had been sorely wounded by his master's refusal to allow him to accompany him on his journey to France and since he was also to be left behind when Linton journeyed into Cornwall, HisLords.h.i.+p deemed it sensible to do nothing to soothe the ruffled feathers at this point. He would only have to repeat the process on his return.

He emerged from his bathing chamber much refreshed and nodded his approval of the coat of blue superfine with silver b.u.t.tons that Petersham had laid ready on the bed.

"The perruque a bourse, I think," he decided firmly, sitting at the dresser mirror to tie the cravat reverently handed to him. Whilst traveling, particularly without his valet, he preferred not to be bothered with the wigs and powder considered de rigueur in Society but in the comfort of home bowed to the edicts of fas.h.i.+on and concealed his own black locks beneath a variety of wigs. As he was adjusting one of these creations with careful fingers under the anxious gaze of Petersham the most unusual sound drifted through the room. The earl's fingers stilled for an instant and the valet's eyes widened. Someone was singing. A pretty, lilting voice, quite unmistakably female, trilled the melody of a very familiar French folk song.

After the barest hesitation, Linton continued his toilette. "I have often remarked, Petersham," he observed calmly, "that one of your most priceless qualities is a certain gift of deafness-selective deafness. You understand me, I'm sure." His eyes met those of the other man in the mirror.

"Perfectly, my lord." The valet bowed and handed the earl his snuffbox.

Justin made his way down the stairs, reflecting with amused exasperation that he must inform his ward that singing in her bath was, on this occasion at least, a somewhat indiscreet activity.

"Ah, Peter, I am returned to plague you, I fear." He greeted the somber-suited young man, who rose instantly from the desk at his entrance to the book room.

Peter Haversham, the younger son of an impoverished baronet, considered himself very fortunate to have found employment as secretary to the Earl of Linton. Not only was His Lords.h.i.+p a most considerate employer, he was also deeply involved in his country's political activities, particularly those overseas. This involvement was known to few, the earl preferring to cultivate for more public consumption the demeanor and life-style of a leader of the ton, but for the young man with strong political ambitions no better patron could be found. So it was with very genuine disclaimers that Mr. Haversham responded to My Lord's greeting.

"Your business in Paris was successful, I hope, Lord Linton?"

"Depressing, Peter, very depressing-and unexpectedly fatiguing," Linton added with a slight smile. "Will you take a gla.s.s of Madeira, dear boy?"

He poured the wine before seating himself behind the large carved desk. "I have a task for you, Peter, admirably suited to your talents-in particular to your gift for tact and discretion."

The young man bowed, wondering with interest what his employer was about to demand of him.

"A letter to Pitt," Linton went on calmly, "requesting a meeting, most urgently, for this evening. At a time that will be convenient to him, of course, but if you could manage to convey that a relatively early hour would be most convenient for me, I should be obliged to you." An eyebrow lifted questioningly.

"Of course, my lord."

"You are a prince amongst secretaries," Linton murmured. "You will explain to Pitt that I shall have a companion-a young lady-who has some information that he will find invaluable. I see you look startled, Peter?"

"Not at all, sir." The young man made haste to deny the charge.

"You will also convey that this young lady's ident.i.ty must be kept secret, for reasons of her own, but that I will vouch for the truth of her story and the reliability of her information. I beg his indulgence in this regard. . . . You will understand how to put the matter, I am sure, Peter."

"I shall do my best, my lord."

"Yes, I know you will, dear boy. I shall be going into the country tomorrow for a se'enight, maybe longer, so if there are any matters requiring my immediate attention perhaps we could deal with them now." The earl sipped his Madeira thoughtfully, regarding the inscrutable countenance of the young man with a degree of well-concealed amus.e.m.e.nt. He could well imagine the speculation going on behind that broad, intelligent brow.

"You are going to Danesbury, my lord? There are some small matters of the estate that need your attention."

"No, Peter, my destination, I fear, is not to be Danesbury," Linton said uninformatively.

"In that case, sir, there is nothing but some invitations to which I will send your regrets. Do you expect to return for the d.u.c.h.ess of Devons.h.i.+re's ball?"

The earl frowned. "No, I think, Peter, that I shall contrive to be out of town on that day. Regretfully, of course."

"Of course." A gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt flickered in the cool green eyes. Peter Haversham was well aware of his lords.h.i.+p's bored distaste for the "squeezes" of the Season.

"I will leave you to your work, then. Would you inform Bedford that I shall dine at six o'clock in my apartments. He should lay covers for two? One course will suffice as I will not wish to be disturbed."

Peter bowed, imagining the consternation and havoc this message would wreak in the kitchen where its master was already joyously involved in preparations for a magnificent repast to welcome1 His Lords.h.i.+p's return. His artistry had little enough opportunities for creative fulfillment during the earl's absences.