Country Flirt (4 page)

Monteith looked down the table and examined Samantha closely, with a smile lighting his dark eyes. “I have been rather remiss in that respect,” he said.

“That you have,” Lord Howard warned him. “A lad your age should have had his nursery started long ago. I’m sure the vicar here will agree with me that a man’s purpose for being on the earth is to get married and raise a family.”

“None of us would dare to disagree,” Monteith said, “and I expect that by the time I am
your
age, Uncle, I will have done what I was put here to do.”

“Aye, you may sneer at me if you will, laddie, but there is a difference in our situations. You are the eldest son, born into your wealth and position. I had my fortune to make. A man don’t get a million pounds in the bank by hampering himself with a wife and family. And in India, you know, the choice of ladies was severely limited.”

Lord Howard continued for some time in this vein. Most of his auditors heard not a word after the magical phrase “a million pounds.”

When he finally fell silent, Lady Monteith beckoned the footman. “Fetch some champagne, Rutley,” she said. “We must have champagne to welcome his lordship home from abroad, into the bosom of his family.” Then she smiled benignly down the board. “Howard, my dear, tell me more about that magazine fruit seed you brought for our conservatory. We shall root out the oranges tomorrow and plant it. Such fun!”

Lord Monteith leaned toward Samantha and said in a low voice, unsteady with laughter, “You shan’t have to purchase
La Belle Assembl
é
e
next year, Sam. Mama will give you a copy from her magazine tree.”

He looked, expecting her to riposte. Her eyes were riveted on Lord Howard. A peculiar little smile lifted her lips. The future suddenly looked wildly interesting, with this untamed and exotic animal running loose in town. After a moment, she turned to him. “Pardon me, did you say something, Monteith?”

“Nothing of any account,” he replied. His disgruntled expression told her he was peeved, but she was too interested in watching Lady Monteith’s shameless about-face to bother with Monteith at that moment.

Chapter 4

It never for a moment occurred to Lord Howard that his family didn’t know to what famous heights he had risen. In India everyone knew Burra Sahib Lord Howard. Rather than vex him, Lady Monteith’s brusque manner told him she was the same proud woman she had always been. He respected her for it, and when her manner warmed so noticeably at the tail end of dinner, he assumed she had been bowled over by his stimulating presence. After a few glasses of champagne and a million playful questions about India, the ladies retired to the saloon to leave the gentlemen to their port.

It was, unfortunately, impossible for Lady Monteith to give full rein to her joy with Clifford Sutton’s sisters in the room. She confined herself to lesser exclamations of delight and amazement.

“Can you believe it?” she asked. “A million pounds, and he as close to an ape as makes no difference.”

Mrs. Tucker, the younger Sutton lady, said, “There is a prime parti for some lucky young lady! He likes them young, Irene. Why, I do believe he was casting lures in Miss Bright’s direction.”

Mrs. Jenkins, the elder Sutton lady, was made of more clever stuff. “We must take him to call on Cousin Alvinia Morrison,” she mentioned.

Lady Monteith quickly assessed the situation and came to her own conclusions. Lord Howard was not a day less than fifty-five. He was only a year younger than her own late husband. A man of that age, especially one who had been subjected to years of the pestilence and fevers of India, was no fit husband for anyone. He must remain single, and he must remain at Lambrook Hall, where she could keep an eye on his million pounds. What a boon for the younger boys, Teddie and Bert. Monty must discover where they were visiting and order them home at once.

“Whomever he marries,” Mrs. Bright said, “I hope she doesn’t survive him, for I don’t doubt he’ll put in his will she must perish on his funeral pyre.”

“Such a whimsical sense of humor as he has.” Lady Monteith smiled. Already it had darted into her head that but for Howard’s dread of widows, she might make a pitch for him herself.

Mrs. Russel listened and added her mite. “We should get our heads together and find him a wife, ladies, or we will have havoc in the parish. There is no denying he is a little
—” She intercepted a scathing glance from her hostess and began to mumble. “So long in India. Only natural, I’m sure, but he
did
say ‘my son,’ Irene, and he was not married.”

“The son is dead
—thank goodness. Excuse me, ladies. I must see to his apartment.”

Lady Monteith went after the housekeeper. “The small yellow room tucked under the eaves is no longer sufficient for Lord Howard, Mrs. Gaines. Put him in the best guest suite.’’

“Lord Monteith already told me, before his lordship’s arrival.”

“Before his arrival! Then he knew all along and let me make a cake of myself. Wretched boy!”

“Where am I to put all his slaves?” Mrs. Gaines asked. “He brought a dozen servants home with him. All wearing bed sheets. They must do their own laundry, milady. I have only the one dolly.”

“Put them in the attic. Oh, dear! You must bring the elephant’s foot and the swords down to the saloon. Get them now, Mrs. Gaines, before he joins us.”

There was a very undignified scrambling around of servants depositing Indian lumber about the Rose Saloon, where it looked as out of place as a dog in church amidst the elegant traditional furnishings. There was no time to hang the assorted swords. Four of them stood against the marble fireplace, crossed on either side of the grate. An Indian blanket was tossed over the best cut-velvet sofa; knives and brass pots were scattered at random.

Samantha watched in amusement. “A pity you gave the stuffed cat away,” she mentioned. “Lord Howard might miss it.”

“Bother! You’re right. He’ll certainly be asking for it. I wonder who bought it.”

“Mrs. Armstrong,” Samantha told her.

Before more could be said, the gentlemen came trooping into the saloon to join the ladies. Lord Howard’s rough voice was easily distinguishable above the more polite accents. “So they rode all night and were at Lob Lob Creek before morning,” he said in his carrying voice. “They got into sampans, and the prostitutes came right on board, for the Chinese are very strict about that sort of thing, you know, unlike India. It was the only place...”

A pretty maid hustled past the group as they crossed the half, and Lord Howard’s attention was distracted. “There goes a saucy little stern if I ever saw one.” He smiled and nudged Monteith in the ribs.

Reverend Russel wiped his brow and wondered how soon he could leave. He had never before had the job of upbraiding a millionaire for his libertine ways. It was not a chore he looked forward to with any pleasure.

Lord Howard stopped at the doorway and looked all round the Rose Saloon. “It is just as I remember it,” he said. Then he stepped in and picked from the table a knife that Lady Monteith hadn’t found time to display more artfully. “Ah, Irene! I am happy you kept my
creese
safe for me. This knife nearly killed me. I kept it to remind me of my mortality. A band of banditti attacked me one night in a dark alley. I wrestled this
creese
from one of them and stuck it between the bleater’s ribs.”

“Really, Lord Howard!” Mrs. Russel said weakly, and looked to her husband.

“Self-defense,” he explained. “It was my money or him.” He strolled to the fireplace and picked up a scimitar to flail the air a moment.

At fifty-five years, the nabob was still a handsome man. All the ladies except Mrs. Russel were struck by what a dashing figure he cut, with his weathered face and reckless manner, as he narrowly missed shattering priceless objets d’art.

Samantha heard a low voice in her ear. “Quite a corsair!” Looking up, she saw Monteith had strolled along beside her. For perhaps the first time in her life, she hadn’t been aware of his presence when they were in the same room.

He took up a seat beside her, and while Lord Howard performed for the ladies with the scimitar and
creese,
showing them how one was held in the teeth, the other in the hand, they talked.

“Did you know what he was like, Monty? Your mother said you’d met Lord Howard in London.”

“I was very much surprised with his manners this evening,” he assured her. “In London, he behaved rather badly, I fear.”

“As opposed to his genteel performance here?”

“Precisely. I shan’t be able to show my face at the Green Room at Covent Garden for another decade. A certain Mrs. Grimes took umbrage at his proposal
—or do I mean proposition?”

“Probably the latter. You
did
say
Mrs.
Grimes.”

“There was a ring involved, at any rate. A great lump of diamond the size of an acorn. I wonder if Uncle brought his jewelry collection to the Hall with him. He showed it to me in London.”

Lord Howard was performing a particularly lively lunge at an invisible enemy. Samantha watched, smiling, and didn’t reply. When the invisible enemy lay dead on the floor, she turned to Monteith. “What were you saying?”

“I fear I have done Lambrook a bad turn, bringing Uncle here.”

“Whatever about the others, / thank you, Monteith. He will be a very lively addition to our circle. Unlike yourself, he plans to make a sojourn of it. When will you be off?”

“I daren’t trust the Public Enemy amongst my family and friends without me here to control him. I shall make a sojourn after all.”

To save her saloon from complete annihilation, Lady Monteith suggested another round of champagne.

“Not for me, thankee,” Lord Howard said, and set the sword back against the grate. “Rich food always makes me bilious. I shall have a glass of cold water and go up to bed.”

“Are you not feeling well, dear Howard?” Lady Monteith asked. The edge of hope that tinged her solicitude was hardly noticeable.

“It is my old complaint acting up on me. Dyspepsia. If ice water don’t cure it, a glass of soda water will. If you will just ask that saucy little serving wench of yours
—the one with the red curls—to bring the water to my chamber, I will make my bows now.” He bobbed his head and left.

“I’ll attend to it, Mama,” Monteith said, and went to inform his butler the maids were not to go near Lord Howard’s room, but if one of the footmen would be so kind as to take him up a glass of soda water, he would appreciate it.

As soon as the guest of honor was safely beyond earshot, Lady Monteith began hinting Clifford and his sisters away, to allow her a good coze with the Brights, who were her particular bosom bows. One must have someone to discuss the matter with, and she knew Monty was not the one. After half an hour, she had accomplished her aim and could settle in for some blunt scheming.

She ordered a fresh tea tray, and the ladies sat with their heads together, while Monty lounged idly in his chair, listening.

“I wonder if this dyspepsia thing is likely to be serious,” was Lady Monteith’s first remark.

Her son smiled his enigmatic smile and clucked. “One would almost think you hoped so, Mama,” he chided.

“This is no time to be satirical, Monty. The man is worth a cool million. He’ll snap up the first lady who will have him, and Teddie and Bert may kiss the fortune goodbye. It is our duty to try to secure it for them. Howard has strong family feelings. I’m sure his fortune will be left to the family if we can prevent his marrying an outsider.”

“A pity he dislikes widows, or you might toss your bonnet at him yourself, Mama,” her disobliging son sneered.

“I swear he had an eye for you, Nora, till he found out you had been married,” Lady Monteith said to Mrs. Bright.

“You may be sure I have no interest in a gentleman of his kidney!” Nora exclaimed in shock.

“Nor he in a lady past twenty,” Monteith added. “You must have noticed it was Sam he was ogling.” This was taken as a joke. It was too farfetched to take seriously. Everyone but Samantha laughed aloud. She smiled, but there was an edge of smugness in her look.

“If Lord Howard’s age did not make him ineligible for me, you may be sure his character does!” Samantha exclaimed. “He had a son in India.”

“But he is dead,” Lady Monteith added happily.

“That was long ago and in another land,” Monteith added satirically. No one paid him any heed.

His mother continued. “Imagine the old fool building a house for that Jem woman. I wonder who else he has squandered his money on.”

“I believe it is his jewelry he scatters upon the females, not money,” Monty told her. “He has a fabulous collection of jewels, Mama. He took a handful of rings to the Green Room at Covent Garden last night.”

The lady turned quite pale. “You never mean it! What on earth did you take him to the Green Room for? You know what sort of creatures he would run into there.”

“I expect that is precisely why he filled his pockets with gems. I didn’t exactly take him, however. There was no keeping him away. I merely accompanied him in the role of watchdog, and limited his gifts to one.”

“We must under no account let him return to London,” Lady Monteith said firmly. “Here in Lambrook there is no one to give his rings to. Or, at least, we would hear of it and bring it to a stop pretty quickly.”

For no reason she could put a finger on, Samantha’s thoughts turned to Mrs. Armstrong.

“He’s hell-bent on marrying,” Monteith said thoughtfully. “It was all he talked of yesterday afternoon.”

“A man doesn’t go to a Green Room at the theater to find a wife,” his mother pointed out.

“A last bit of a frolic before he was caught in parson’s mousetrap was the way he described it,” Monty told her. “I felt his frolics were best played out in the city. He’s serious about marriage, Mama, and what we should do is import some of our spinster cousins to have a go at him.”

Lady Monteith considered this a moment. “If I could be sure Edith is past her breeding years, I’d invite her,” she said. “She always claimed Teddie is her heir. The Russels will be at him to get married and settle down.”