Amanda Scott (14 page)

“There, there, Amy, quietly, if you please. Ladies do not shriek in drawing rooms,” she said, allowing herself to be well nigh strangled by her niece’s fierce hug.

“I’m so sorry, Lady Ophelia,” Lydia said, moving to make her curtsy to that lady. “She has no manners to speak of as yet, and Diana is quite her favorite relative, you know.”

“Indeed, my dear, I shan’t refine too much upon it,” said her ladyship, looking down her nose. “Ah, here is Figmore now. Figmore, do see that Lady Ethelmoor’s nurse is shown immediately to the nursery wing with the children.”

John’s expression threatened to become mutinous, but Diana saw Lord Roderick bend to speak into his ear, whereupon the boy immediately became more cheerful and was able to shake hands with his host and make his bow to Lady Ophelia with his dignity unimpaired.

“What on earth did you say to him?” Diana demanded in an undertone a moment later as the children made their exit and Lady Ophelia ordered the long-awaited refreshments.

“Merely that I’d see he didn’t suffer untold boredom this week. Promised to take him shooting if nothing else appears on the horizon to interest him. Daresay Uncle Tom will bring his offspring, but they’re mostly female, as I recall. Won’t be much good to young John.”

“Well, it was kind of you to offer to take him out,” Diana said. “I did talk to Simon. It’s no use, Rory.”

“Figured as much. I’ll come about, though. See if I don’t.”

His attitude worried her, for she could think of no way by which he might win his point with either his twin or the marquess. There were other arrivals during the afternoon, including Lord Thomas Warrington and his lady, some twenty years younger than Lord Thomas, and their three daughters, all or whom were still relegated to the nursery or the schoolroom. Diana had little time for quiet reflection after that before it was time to change for dinner, but she managed to change quickly, checked to see that Susanna was still in good spirits, and then went downstairs in case any of the guests might be wandering about unattended. No one was in the great hall when she came down the stairs, but she discovered the marquess at his desk, making an entry in his journal.

“Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. I am intruding.”

“Not at all, Diana. Come in, child.” He was dressed in evening attire, satin knee breeches, a frilled shirt, an intricate neckcloth, and a dark coat. He wore his wig tied in a little silk bag at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon, and he removed his spectacles as she approached, laying them upon the desk. “Very tiring, all this entertaining, don’t you think?” he asked, smiling.

“Oh, no, sir, I’ve become accustomed to it, you know,” she told him, taking a seat in the Kent chair across the desk from him. “Despite anything Andover may have told you, I really do enjoy all the festivities. I scarcely know what to do with myself when there is no company about. Nor does Andover, for that matter.”

“You two should take a month or two to get to know each other,” recommended the marquess with a slight smile. “I daresay with all the gallivantin’ you do, you’ve scarcely become acquainted. People don’t these days. Noticed it often.”

Diana regarded the old man a little wistfully, wishing suddenly that she could open her heart to him, that she could tell him exactly what had been happening between his son and herself, but the moment passed as quickly as it appeared, and she found herself telling him a rather naughty piece of gossip instead. The marquess quite enjoyed the tale, and the two of them talked amiably for some fifteen minutes before it occurred to Diana that the opportunity was a perfect one for pleading Lord Roderick’s case.

“Sir, may I confide in you?” she asked, eyes innocently wide.

“To be sure, child, I should be honored.”

“Well, it is nothing at all to do with me personally, but I think Lord Roderick is a little afraid to mention the matter to you himself, you see, so I thought perhaps…well…” It was not so easy as she had thought it would be, Diana realized when the marquess’s eyes began to narrow much as Simon’s did when he was annoyed. Odd that she hadn’t noticed before how alike their eyes were.

“You were saying…” the marquess prompted, his tone not nearly so inviting of confidence as it had been only moments before.

“Only that Lord Roderick wishes you would place more reliance upon his capabilities, my lord,” she said quickly. “I know it is none of my affair, indeed, I do, but I thought that perhaps, since you are so near to him, you know, you might not see things as clearly as someone else might, so if I could just explain the matter to you, perhaps you might see your way clear to helping him prove himself.”

“Indeed.”

Neither word nor tone was at all encouraging, but Diana, now that she had taken the plunge, was determined not to be daunted. Leaning a little forward in her chair, she said, “Yes, sir. Lord Roderick truly wishes to mend his ways, you know, and I think if he but had some responsibility of his own—a bit of property to look after or the like—he would soon prove to be as capable a man as Simon is.”

The marquess had been growing more obviously indignant with each word she spoke, and Diana expected some sort of explosion to occur the moment she stopped speaking. Instead, his attention suddenly drawn by something behind her, the marquess gave what seemed, most oddly, to be a sigh of relief. Even as she wondered at this strange reaction, the hairs on the back of her neck seemed to stand on end, warning her as the marquess’s oblique glance had not, that split second before Simon spoke from the doorway.

“Will you excuse us for a few moments, Father? There is a small matter requiring Diana’s immediate attention upstairs.”

“To be sure,” the marquess replied politely, his eyelids drooping, hooding the expression in his eyes. But Diana was almost certain she had seen a glint of sympathy, and the sight did nothing to reassure her as she got slowly to her feet and turned to face her husband.

He stood in the doorway, dressed for dinner in creamy knee breeches and a dark coat. His neckcloth was neatly but not ornately tied, and he wore a simple watchchain across his plain, green silk waistcoat, as well as white unclocked stockings, and ordinary neat black shoes. His appearance, compared with that of many other men of his time, was unremarkable, but Diana would no doubt have thought he looked very handsome had her attention not been caught by the look in his eyes. His general expression was bland, but his eyes told her all she needed to know. He had overheard her conversation with the marquess, and he was not at all pleased. In fact, if she got out of the forthcoming interview with a whole skin, Diana told herself, meekly passing Simon and moving toward the grand staircase, it would be a miracle.

Even meeting Lydia and Ethelmoor on the stairway did nothing to help her, though Diana made a feeble attempt to persuade Simon that whatever task awaited her upstairs could just as well wait until after dinner, since their primary task was to see to the well-being of their guests.

“Aunt Ophelia and Father will do the honors,” he said quietly, too quietly, she thought. “My father is in the new hall, Ethelmoor. Madeira and sherry have been laid on there, as well. We’ll join you shortly.”

“As you wish,” Ethelmoor replied with a sharp glance at Diana. She met his look directly and was not particularly pleased to note dawning amusement in his expression. “Come, Lydia,” he said then.

They met several other guests on the way, but Simon, albeit polite, was determined and, willy-nilly, Diana soon found herself in her own bedchamber, alone with him. She turned toward him as he shut the door, but the defiance in her expression faded quickly in the face of his open anger. “Simon…my lord, please…” she said hesitantly. “I know you said I must not interfere, but I could not help myself. His lordship, your father, was in such an amiable frame of mind that I simply had to do my possible.”

“You
had
to, Diana?”

“Yes,” she insisted. “You must try to understand, sir. I was not merely defying you. Truly, I was not.”

“Then, I should like to know just what you were doing, since I warned you most specifically only this morning that you are not to meddle in affairs that do not concern you.”

His calm fury was more unnerving than his usual blustering anger, and Diana was not at all sure she knew how to deal with it. The loudly scolding, fiery-tempered Simon was more familiar to her, and she had long since learned that however much she might dislike his scolds, they were generally harmless. In his present mood, she was not at all sure she could trust him not to become physically violent. Lord knew, even gentle husbands had been known to beat their wives for defying them, and Simon was not a man one would generally describe as gentle. Moreover, she could scarcely go on pretending, even to herself, that she had not defied his express order.

“All right,” she said after a long pause. “I did defy you, sir, and I’m very much afraid that no matter what you choose to do about it, I shall probably defy you again.”

She could scarcely believe she was saying the words. They seemed to come from someone else entirely. Was she crazy? She watched Simon closely. If she was still reading the golden eyes correctly, his fury was unabated, but the calm expression on his face did not change by so much as the twitch of a muscle. He merely waited for her to continue, and she was not by any means certain she could do so. This calmness of his frightened her as his rages had never done.

“I cannot stand by, it seems,” she said, biting her lower lip. “I would obey you, sir, an I could. But my feelings with regard to the way your brother is treated seem to get in the way of my good sense. Just now, below, I knew I was doing him no good with your father. I could see that in the marquess’s expression. I was merely annoying him, as I seem to annoy you. But I could not help myself. It is the injustice of it, Simon, nothing more. Please, you must believe that if you believe nothing else.”

“You may thank the Fates that you were not subjected to the words my father must have itched to say to you,” Simon said coldly. “The only reason he held his tongue is that he deems it improper to reprimand my wife when I am at hand to attend to the matter myself. But he expects me to say a good many things to you, Diana, and I can think of no acceptable reason why you should not hear them. You deserve more than a scold for this little incident, my girl. You went to my father when you could not get what you wanted from me. How am I to take that, do you suppose?”

His cold anger sent a shiver up her spine, and she could not think how to answer him. She had not realized he would see the matter in such a light and was uncomfortably reminded of a time when, having failed to gain permission from her mother for something she particularly wished to do, she had applied to her father, assuring him that Mama had said his decision would prevail. The subsequent confrontation had resulted in one of the very few times during her childhood that her father had been moved to punish her. Remembering the incident now, she eyed her husband more warily than ever.

“I did not think, sir. To speak to your father in such a way was indeed wrong of me, but I truly did not think of defying you, merely of helping Rory.” She touched his arm. “Please, Simon, do not be angry. I won’t do it again.”

He looked down at her, still stern and apparently unmoved by her gesture. “You will not seek to reopen the subject?”

She hesitated. “I cannot promise that, sir. However,” she added quickly when his jaw tightened, “I will promise to discuss the matter with no one but you.”

His attitude relaxed slightly, though his expression and tone remained stern. “You are determined not to let this matter rest, Diana, no matter how angry you make me? You are not being wise, you know.”

“I cannot help it, sir, I must make you see how unfair the situation is for your brother.”

He looked for a moment as though he wished to shake her, but Diana stood her ground, meeting his look with one just as determined, and at last Simon gave a small sigh. “I will promise to give the matter more thought. But that is all. And in the meantime, you are to keep your tongue civilly between your teeth and to behave in a circumspect manner where my brother is concerned. I will not allow the two of you to provide further substance for gossip in this house.”

His anger was gone, but there was another expression in his eyes now, one that she could not react. He looked tired, even a little sad, but Diana decided she was merely seeing things that were not there in her relief at having disarmed his anger. She was pleased, too, that he had agreed to consider the possibility of taking his brother’s side with the marquess. Marimorse must listen to Simon, and she was quite certain that having moved Simon so far, she would soon convince him to go the extra step.

When they returned to the new hall they found the others assembled there, waiting for Figmore to announce that dinner had been served. It was a small but merry company, and after dinner the men soon joined the ladies in the hall again, where Lydia was persuaded to sing and Susanna was prompted to play a brief sonata on the pianoforte. Since she knew herself to be very well taught, and since she enjoyed playing, she acquitted herself well, and Diana could see her confidence growing as the others begged for just one more piece. Thus the evening passed off well, and the following day a number of other guests arrived, including the Earl and Countess of Jersey, the handsome Viscount Villiers, Sir Richard Colt Hoare, the Earl and Countess of Westmorland, the Lady Sarah Fane, and the Earl and Countess of Trent. Diana practically threw herself into her father’s arms.

“Papa, how I have missed you!” she cried. “And Mama, how delightfully that bonnet becomes you! Oh, how glad I am to see you both. Do, do come in and meet everyone!”

“Diana, love,” begged the countess with a fond smile, “do try for a little conduct. You are a grand lady now, and no longer a madcap little girl.”

“Oh, now, my lady,” said the earl, chuckling as he put his arm firmly around his daughter’s waist, “no need to scold the little puss just because she’s glad to see her papa and mama. Be a dashed sight worse if she greeted us by looking down her nose, y’ know. Good day, Andover, pleased to see you again, lad. You’re looking mighty well.”