Her Grace in Disgrace (The Widows of Woburn Place) (9 page)

“Westcott! The man is a
thorough scoundrel, Izzy. I do not know what you were about at dinner,
exchanging coy smiles and fluttering your eyelashes, completely ignoring your
other dinner partner.”

“Evidently the same thing you
were doing, for if you knew that I had abandoned Mr. Hyde-Price, you also must
have disregarded your dinner partners,” Isobel said evenly.

“Never mind that,” Saybrooke
barked dismissively. “Westcott is not to be trusted, Izzy. He cannot have
honorable intentions.”

“Why not? Am I so lost to
propriety that a man would not behave honorably toward me?”

“Not when you behave the way
you did at dinner tonight.” Lord Saybrooke knew the instant he spoke that he
had erred badly. “That came out wrong. You know what I meant.”

Saybrooke saw Isobel’s anger
flashing from her gray eyes in the light of the torches. She did not speak for
some moments. At last she aired her thoughts. “I know what you meant, Lord
Saybrooke. Let me answer your previous question, shall I? If you truly care to
be a friend to me, I would suggest ceasing to impugn my character. That is as
good a place as any to begin.” Isobel’s tone was impressively calm.

“I am convinced that true
friends tell each other the truth and not just what they want to hear. We have
always been honest with each other, have we not Izzy?” Saybrooke reached out
and took Isobel’s hand in his own.

“The truth? I wonder, Lord
Saybrooke that if you believe me to be such a wanton, to possess such a wicked
character, why you would want to be my friend.” Isobel pulled her hand out of
his light grasp. “I am a bit chilly. I think I shall go in now.”

She brushed past him and he
could only follow, inwardly chiding himself for being such a fool.

The next few days were
resplendent with sunshine, good food, and good company. Adelphi was a magnificent
Greek revival mansion commissioned by Mercer’s grandfather, who had tired of
the family’s dreary and decaying castle. It had extensive grounds replete with
two waterfalls and a handful of Greek inspired statues. The gardens alone were
noteworthy, having no less than four scattered about the premises. The group
gathered at Lord Mercer’s home for the sennight enjoyed all the amenities that
the grand house had to offer. There were picnics and archery competitions,
gallops through the countryside and a trip to the ruins of St. Albans Abbey.
Isobel could not remember a happier time. Lord Westcott was all that was proper,
and yet remained steadfastly attentive. Though, ever the gentleman he was
careful not to slight the other ladies in the party. Lady Cynthia, in
particular, demanded his attention more often than Isobel liked, but she, too,
was too polite to show her displeasure. But the few moments that Isobel and
Westcott were able to spend alone together convinced Isobel that Westcott cared
for her. He was thoughtful, witty, self-possessed, but not arrogant. They
conversed easily and enjoyed each other’s company immensely. Lord Westcott
seemed so genuine that Isobel felt a hope surge in her that she might yet have
a chance for happiness.

The rest of the party was not
quite so fortunate. Lady Cynthia was enamored of Lord Westcott and her parents
were enamored of his wealth. Lord Westcott was courteous to Lady Cynthia, but
much to her chagrin, showed a decided partiality toward “Her Grace in
disgrace”.

The dashing Captain Danvers
was surprisingly inclined toward the almost mute Miss Parrish, who in her own
shy way showed a decided partiality toward Peter Collins, the local Squire’s son.
Though not part of the house party, he was invited to join most of the activities
to even the numbers. Mr. Collins was in awe of Lady Cynthia, who considered the
countrified gentleman infinitely below her.

Lady Edgerton was partial to
no one in particular, but flirted with every male in the party. Only Lord Stoughton
seemed disposed to take her flirting seriously and while he was neither young
nor particularly handsome, he was a conquest, and Lady Edgerton made the best
of it. Lady Stoughton, as she had done her entire married life, chose to be
blind to the liaison and concentrated on getting her daughter wed.

Lord and Lady Doncaster were
wavering between Lord Pelton and Lord Saybrooke. Both were handsome, titled
men, but Pelton’s fortune was much greater and he was an earl to Saybrooke’s viscount.
But Saybrooke seemed the steadier of the two, which the harried parents of the
impetuous Lady Joanna counted in Saybrooke’s favor. Lady Joanna, however, had a
preference for neither of the gentleman. She was intent upon one task; to make
herself distasteful to every eligible male by being opinionated, painfully
frank, and in general, extremely obnoxious. Her campaign proved largely
successful, except in one quarter. Lord Pelton, a reputed womanizer and
gambler, was captivated by the little minx. He had no interest in the milk and
water misses that simpered and giggled their way through season after season in
London. Lady Joanna was magnificent! However, Lady Joanna not did notice Lord
Pelton’s partiality, assuming her machinations would put off any man in his
right mind.

All three Hyde-Prices had
their hearts set on Lord Saybrooke. The outwardly cherubic, but inwardly
conniving Lydia Hyde-Price was doing everything in her power to fix his
interest. Where Lord Saybrooke went, there went Miss Hyde-Price. Despite his
every effort to avoid her, she was able to maneuver a way to be at his side.
She was determined to have him. However, Lord Saybrooke had a decided
partiality in another direction – the Reverend Parrish. He and the vicar spent
many an hour debating good naturedly about life, religion and philosophy. While
the two men disagreed on almost everything, they heartily enjoyed the exchange.
Lord Saybrooke, to his delight, discovered that not even the devoted Miss
Hyde-Price could endure more than a few minutes of the lofty dialogue. Other
than Parrish, Saybrooke had no desire to socialize with anyone save Izzy. And
after their argument in the garden on the first night, Izzy had studiously
avoided him. So, if Mr. Parrish was not available and there was no activity
planned, Saybrooke took solace (and refuge from the onslaughts of Miss
Hyde-Price) in Lord Mercer’s well stocked library.

Following the three days of
sunshine came three full days of inevitable spring rain. Lady Mercer did her
best to amuse her guests with games, music and an abundance of food. On the
evening of the second day of captivity, however, the overfed and under
exercised guests began to be restless. Thus, when Lady Joanna announced that
she had written a short play, a farce, that they could perform on the following
evening, it was greeted with a great deal of enthusiasm.

“Those of us who want to
participate in the play,” Lady Joanna told them, “can rehearse during the day
tomorrow. Jenkins, the head gardener has assured me the rain will continue.”

“If that is true, then count
me in,” said Captain Danvers.

Lady Cynthia wrinkled her
lovely nose, as if she had smelt a foul odor. “One day of rehearsal? You could
not possibly have a play of any merit with such a short rehearsal time.”

“It is an amateur theatrical,
Lady Cynthia, not a Drury Lane production. I wrote it two hours today while I
was supposed to be resting. It is simply a lark, something to do.” Lady Joanna did
not try to mask her exasperation with the stiff-rumped Lady Cynthia.

To everyone’s shock, Miss
Parrish spoke up. “I think it sounds like such fun. I am not much of an
actress, but I would like to try.”

“Of course, Miss Parrish.
Anyone who would care to join in is welcome. I can always rewrite parts to suit
the actors. We can give a performance in the evening, after dinner for those
who do not care to act.” Lady Joanna said decisively.

Lord and Lady Stoughton
looked like thunder. Amateur theatricals may be accepted in some circles, but
clearly they believed the activity to be improper in the extreme. Lady Cynthia
was plainly torn until she saw the look of disapproval on her parents’ faces. “I
do not think it would be dignified. I shan’t participate,” she pronounced with
hauteur.

“Of course it is not
dignified! That is why it will be such fun.” Gasps of disapproval and
half-hidden smirks and giggles followed Lady Joanna’s outrageous statement.

“Joanna!” cried her outraged
mother.

Lord Pelton rushed to cover
the awkward moment, giving Lady Joanna a cheeky grin. “I, like Miss Parrish,
admit I am no Kean, but I am game to try.”

The cast was soon formed,
Lady Edgerton, anxious for the limelight, offered her services while her
husband snored beside her. Miss Hyde-Price also agreed to participate, hoping
that the absent Lord Saybrooke who had escaped to the library after dinner,
would be struck with her beauty and poise and propose on the spot. Mr. Collins,
despite his beloved Lady Cynthia’s refusal, decided he did not want to miss out
on the fun. Isobel initially demurred. Lord Westcott, jovial from an abundance
of port, objected.

“My dear Miss Kennilworth,
you cannot mean it. I was about to offer my services, as poor as they may be. I
was hoping that Lady Joanna would have an affecting love scene that we might
enact.”

Isobel flushed a deep red and
stared at her hands in her lap.

“What is this?” came
Saybrooke’s voice from the doorway, having chosen this moment to rejoin the
party in the Museum Room. “Westcott, you forget yourself!”

“Ah, the reclusive vicar has
returned to issue his pronouncements.” Lord Westcott could not keep the sneer
out of his voice. To Isobel he said, “Miss Kennilworth, I am heartily sorry if
I have embarrassed you. I meant it only as a joke to persuade you to join the
acting ensemble. I apologize to one and all if I have offended” He looked around
the room, sincerely penitent.

There was general murmur of
acceptance of his pretty apology. All but Saybrooke looked with favor at the
contrite Lord Westcott, although the smiles on the faces Lord Stoughton and his
wife and daughter seemed a bit forced.

“If you will have me, then I
shall be glad to accept,” Isobel said quietly, careful not to look at Lord
Westcott.

Lord Saybrooke glared at
Isobel and then at everyone in turn.

“Lord Saybrooke, I assure you
there is nothing naughty in my play. Well, not very naughty.” Somehow Lady
Joanna’s assurance did nothing to assuage his ire.

“Really, Saybrooke, are you
such a Puritan that you cannot enjoy a little amateur theatrical?” goaded
Westcott.

“I think Lord Saybrooke’s
convictions are admirable,” announced Miss Hyde-Price. “I have changed my mind
and will not be participating in your little play.”

“Please, do not renege on my
account, Miss Hyde-Price,” said Lord Saybrooke in clipped accents. “I assure
you my convictions do not forbid a bit of harmless play acting.” And with this
he turned on his heels and exited the room.

The party broke up soon
after, the players chosen, the time and place for rehearsal decided. Miss
Hyde-Price did not renege.

Lord Westcott turned to
Isobel, took her hand bowed over it and kissed it lightly. “Miss Kennilworth, I
beg your forgiveness once again for my unseemly remarks. Mercer’s port was so
fine that I imbibed a bit too much and I confess to being a trifle disguised. But
that is no excuse. I would have you know that I would not discomfit you for the
world.” His voice was low, meant only for Isobel.

“Lord Westcott, please do not
distress yourself. To quote the bard: there was much ado about nothing. Truly.”

“You are gracious as well as
beautiful. I look forward to tomorrow.” Their eyes held for a brief moment and
Isobel had to look away, her cheeks flaming.

“As do I, sir. Goodnight.”
Isobel felt like a giddy young girl, full of flutters and blushes.

“Goodnight.” Lord Westcott’s
smile lit Isobel from within. The smile returned to him had a similar effect on
the gentleman.

“Westcott, a word!” Isobel heard
Lord Stoughton bark as she exited the room.

Isobel floated to her room on
a cloud of happiness. She did not even remember Manning getting her ready for
bed. Manning had not known what to make of her mistress during the past few
days. She had never seen her smile so much. And this morning, she was even
humming a tune! Manning shook her head as she walked to her room and a
well-deserved rest.

Isobel lay in her bed for a
long time, unable to sleep. What was wrong with her? She was acting like a
silly school girl. Nonetheless, she could not get Lord Westcott’s charming
smile out of her mind. A book! She needed a book. She had finished the novel
she had brought with her last night, but Lord Mercer’s library contained novels
as well as learned fare. She would just have to go down and get one. Isobel put
on her robe, lit a candle and walked, barefoot down to the library on the
second floor.

She saw no light within only
the flicker of a dying fire, and so entered, her candle casting a faint light
in the large room.

“Hello, Izzy,” drawled a
familiar voice.

Startled, Isobel let out a
muffled cry. “Drew, what on earth are you doing in here in the darkness?”

“Sampling the port.” Saybrooke’s
speech was slurred.