Encounter with Venus (20 page)

“Yes, you do. It had something to do with the sit-outs with my friends. What was it, George? He must have told you, his best friend.”

“But surely you don’t wish me to betray a confidence,” he pleaded weakly.

“Yes, I do, if that is what it will take to end this nightmare.”

George sighed in defeat. “He has the idea that you paraded your friends before him in order to pass him on to one of them,” he said. And to himself he added,
Forgive me, Bernard, but I’m too distracted to know quite what I’m doing.

“Pass him on?” Harriet peered at him with a sudden intensity. “Did he mean that I wanted him to
pursue
one of them?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” George muttered.

“What a ridiculous notion! If I wanted him to pursue some other girl, why would I have—?” She stopped herself and, her eyes fixed blankly on George’s face, slowly rose from the chair.

“What is it?” George asked, his attention caught. “Has some solution occurred to you?”

“Perhaps,” she said absently, making her way to the door. “I have to go home and think about it.”

He rose to see her out. “Won’t you tell me what you’re thinking? That’s the least you can do to console me for betraying his confidence.”

She shook her head. “No, I won’t tell you. But George—” Suddenly she gave him a brilliant smile and patted his cheek fondly.
“Dearest
George! Don’t look so glum. It’s possible that Bernard will soon be very thankful for that betrayal.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

As she left Chadleigh House, Livy was astounded at the agitation of her feelings. Why, she asked herself, should she become so upset merely because she’d seen George kneeling beside a lovely young woman? She herself had no designs on him. The very idea of it was ridiculous. Even though he’d kissed her once in a moment of weakness, he did not think of her as an object of desire. She was like a maiden aunt to him—a maiden aunt whom he’d grown fond of, perhaps, but no more than that. She’d known that from the first. Therefore, why should she be cast down, when he was showing a perfectly normal interest in a woman his own age? Or was she even younger? Livy had not actually caught a good look at the girl. She wondered why the girl was weeping, but truly it was no business of hers.

She entered Leyton House, hoping to get to her room unseen. Once there, she would be free to—what? Throw herself on the bed and weep? That would be an utterly jingle-brained indulgence. Quite beneath a woman of her mature age and sensible disposition. So she was half pleased when Kelby approached and informed her that Lord and Lady Leyton were expecting her to join them for tea. There would be no weeping just yet.

She handed Kelby her cloak and bonnet and went down the hall to the sitting room. To her surprise, there was another guest having tea with them. “Look who’s come especially to see you,” Felicia greeted.

It was Horace Thomsett. He immediately put down his cup, got to his feet, and came across the room toward her. Livy remembered him as being a too-stout, overbearing bore, but the man coming toward her seemed different. In the country, he’d always appeared to be stuffed uncomfortably into his hunting clothes or evening attire, his face red and his manner uneasy, as if he were out of place. Here in town, however, wearing a well-cut, dark blue coat and a tastefully striped gray waistcoat, he looked impressive and self-confident. “Good afternoon, Miss Henshaw,” he said, lifting her hand to his lips, “I’ve been so eager for a chance to see you again.”

“We’ve been chatting about his brother’s betrothal,” Felicia said as Horace led Livy to a chair. “Horace tells me that the happy couple is quite excited about my dinner party.”

“You must give your brother my congratulations,” Livy said.

“You can tell him yourself, at the party,” Felicia chirped happily. “Beatrice and Algy getting married! I can’t believe it actually came about. And to think that it was all my doing!”

“All your doing, indeed,” Leyton sneered. “What a boastful creature you are, my love! Taking credit for the workings of fate. As if all that’s required to make a match is to ask some couples to come for a visit.”

“Very well, then, I won’t claim full credit for it,” Felicia said, calmly pouring a cup of tea for Livy, “but you can’t deny I played a part. Here, Horace, be a dear and pass this teacup to Livy.”

Horace handed Livy the cup. “I didn’t come here today to talk about Algy’s betrothal,” he said to her quietly. “I came to ask you to let me take you up tomorrow afternoon for a spin in my curricle. You are a stranger in London, I understand, and it would give me pleasure to show you some of the points of interest.”

“How very kind of you,” Livy said, smiling at him. “Thank you. I’d be delighted.”

Very pleased with himself for having accomplished his mission with success, Horace stood up and made a bow to his hostess. “I’ll be off, then. Thank you, Felicia, for a delightful tea. I look forward to your dinner party. And, Miss Henshaw, I shall be here at two, if that is agreeable.”

“Yes, quite agreeable,” she assured him.

He started out of the room just as Kelby appeared in the doorway, with a rumpled-looking George right behind him. “Lord Chadleigh, my lady,” Kelby announced. “He said you’d have no objection to his coming right up.”

“You
don’t
have any objection to my barging in, do you, Felicia?” George asked from the doorway.

“No, of course not.” His sister threw him a welcoming smile, but her expression immediately changed to surprise. “My goodness, Georgie, what are you wearing? You look positively disheveled.”

George looked down at himself and realized he was still in his bespattered riding clothes. “I was riding,” he mumbled, embarrassed. He’d been in so great a hurry to see Livy that he’d forgotten to change. “I’m sorry, Felicia. I’ve probably tracked mud all over your carpet.”

“Never mind the carpet,” his sister assured him. “You know that I adore you, Georgie, whatever you wear, but I would have preferred you to look more presentable when I am entertaining guests.”

“Never mind the nonsense about being presentable, George, and come in,” Leyton ordered.

George stepped over the threshold and found himself face-to-face with Horace. “Ah, Thomsett!” he said, startled. “How do you do?”

They shook hands. “How do y’ do, Frobisher,” Horace said, forcing a smile. “I was just leaving.” He hoped his smile would hide his aversion to George. He was remembering that George had rivaled him for Livy’s attention during the weekend at the Abbey. Wondering if George’s presence would have an effect on Livy now, he cast her an uneasy glance. As he feared, she was staring—rather nervously, he thought—at the newcomer.

He decided to show the damn fellow that he’d had some success with her. “Tomorrow, then, Miss Henshaw,” he called to her loudly, “at two?”

She glanced up at him. “Yes, of course,” she said with what was, to him, a most satisfying smile. “At two.”

George watched Horace leave, gritting his teeth. He had an aversion to Horace that equaled Horace’s to him.
So,
he thought,
the stuffed prig is still trying to cozy up to Livy. I ought to kick him down the stairs!

“Don’t just stand there gaping, George,” Felicia said. “Come and sit down. Will you take tea?”

“Of course he’ll take tea,” Leyton put in, grinning at his brother-in-law. “What else would he have come here for? Certainly not to hear you criticize his appearance.”

“I didn’t come for tea or for criticism,” George said, nevertheless brushing some dried mud from his knees. “I came to see Livy.”

Felicia looked at him suspiciously. “But I thought... didn’t you just see her?”

“Yes, but not long enough to speak to.” George crossed the room to where Livy was sitting and looked down at her. “Why did you run off so quickly?”

Livy dropped her eyes and stirred her tea. “I didn’t wish to interrupt you.”

“As a matter of fact,” George said, taking the seat that Horace had vacated, “I would have welcomed an interruption.”

“An interruption of what?” Felicia inquired curiously. George didn’t answer but looked at Livy with an upraised eyebrow, as if to challenge her to answer. “Tell me!” Felicia insisted.

“Yes, tell her,” George said, keeping his eyes on Livy’s face.

Livy glared at him. “Very well, since you insist, I shall. Your brother, Felicia, was making an offer to a young lady.”

George hooted. “An
offer?
”

“Well, you were on your knees!”

“Goodness!” Felicia exclaimed, rising from her chair so abruptly that she almost overturned the tea cart. “I don’t believe it. Georgie, is this true? Are you smitten with someone at last?”

George threw his sister a look of disgust. “I was on my knees consoling Harriet.”

“Oh, is that all.” Felicia sat down again, thoroughly disappointed. “Harriet is always crying on George’s shoulder,” she explained to Livy.

“Harriet?” Livy couldn’t resist asking.

“Harriet Renwood,” Leyton promptly informed her. “She has a tendre for George’s best friend.”

“Oh,” Livy said in a small, shamed voice.

“Yes, oh!” George mocked. “Jumping to conclusions on insufficient evidence is like skating on thin ice. More often than not one ends up thoroughly drenched. But enough of this roundaboutation. I want to know just what was it you came to see me about.”

“Well, it was
not
to cry on your shoulder about being rejected in love,” Livy retorted.

“I’m very glad to hear it. Then what was it?”

Leyton, who’d been observing these two guests closely, cleared his throat. “I just remembered, Felicia, that I... er... have a letter to show you in my study.”

Felicia, who’d found the conversation fascinating, did not like the interruption. “Letter?” she asked. “What letter?”

“You know the one.” Her husband winked at her. “That letter I mentioned at breakfast. Do come along. I’m sure Livy and your brother will excuse us.”

“Oh!”
Felicia’s eyes widened. “Yes. Yes, of course.” And with a quick glance at her brother and her friend, she hurried out of the room on her husband’s arm.

As soon as they were alone, George asked Livy again why she’d called on him.

“It was to thank you,” Livy said.

“Thank me? Good God, whatever for?”

“For the tongue-lashing you gave to my uncle.”

To George, this was completely unexpected. “You want to thank me for
that
?
I thought you’d wish to tear my eyes out!”

“I might have, except that whatever it was you said to him worked a miracle.” She’d been sitting stiffly in her chair, feeling defensive and tense, but she now softened, warming to her subject. “You’d never believe the change in him, George. It’s improved the lives of everyone at the castle.”

“How?” George wanted to know. “What has he done?”

“For one thing, he’s enlarged the staff. He had McTavish hire two footmen, and Mrs. Nicol was permitted to take on an upstairs maid and a kitchen maid. Can you believe it?”

“Well, well, well!” George sat back, stretched out his booted legs, clasped his hands behind his head, and grinned with self-satisfaction. “Amazing! I never would have guessed that a few insulting words—honest, perhaps, but insulting—would have such an effect.”

“Neither would I,” she said.

George basked in glory for a moment, but then another question occurred to him. “But what has the old curmudgeon done for
you
?” he asked.

“That is the most amazing part. He’s been treating me like a veritable princess. You must tell me, George, what you said to him about me.”

“I don’t quite remember. The words just poured out of me extempore. I think I said that he’s been treating you like a bond slave.”

“A bond slave?” She smiled and shook her head. “That was putting it a bit strongly, wasn’t it?”

“Not strongly enough, if you ask me.”

Livy grew thoughtful. “I suppose he’s now trying to make up for it. The more I think about the change in him, the more amazed I am. Do you know what he gave me when I left for London?
Two hundred pounds,
merely for spending money! I’ve never had more than a couple of pounds in my hands at one time. And now I have two hundred!”

George grinned. “From a tightfisted Scotsman, I suppose two hundred pounds is a veritable fortune.”

“It’s a fortune wherever it comes from! And if you don’t think so, you must be wealthier than I imagine. In any case, you can now understand why I had to thank you.”

He studied her speculatively. “Does this mean you are in my debt?”

This was unexpected. “In your debt?”

“Yes. I did something for you, therefore shouldn’t you do something for me?”

“Good heavens, George,” she exclaimed, shocked, “are you asking for a
reward?”

“Yes, I suppose I am,” he said, grinning. “Not in a material sense, of course. I have no designs on your two hundred pounds.”

“I didn’t think you did. Asking for a reward is not what I would have expected of you, George.”