Miss Quinn's Quandary (13 page)

The next thing Larissa knew she was running upstairs. She stopped
in front of Sir Randall’s room. She thought better of standing in the hall to
knock and made straight for her own room to the doors that joined to his
accommodations. She unbolted the lock and rapped upon the door.

The door opened, revealing Sir Randall with a wound, untied
cravat, trailing from his neck.

“I’m surprised to see you take advantage of this entry,” he said
amused. “How nice to see you.” Larissa followed him when he moved back to his
glass to continue his task, taking up the trailing linen.

“Lord Melton has returned.”

“Has he?” Sir Randall murmured without much interest and
continued to work on his cravat. With a few finishing touches, he held the
linen to make a final tug and twist here and there, adjusting the sides.

“And Lady Dorothea is with him.”

At the suddenness of the news, Sir Randall’s hand pulled much too
hard, unraveling the intricate pattern, causing the linen to once again hang
free.

“Did you hear what I said? Lady Dorothea is here.” Larissa stared
at the blank expression on his face.

“It is of no import,” he responded, fingering his limp linen.
“This one’s ruined.” He wrenched it from his neck and retrieved another from
the clothespress and began again.

She stared at Sir Randall, not at his deft, moving fingers. What
puzzled her was his lack of interest in Lady Dorothea. Larissa’s words came out
with great difficulty, but she had to know. “Are you and she not . . ?”

“Yes,” Sir Randall answered in a firm tone. His gaze never
wavering from his reflection in the glass. “She and I are not.”

“What if she causes problems? The two of you were at one time
close.”

“What has transpired between Dorothea and me was over before our
relationship was revealed. I am certain she is not here to make my acquaintance.”
Randall gave a tug here and a pull there, the cravat held its shape. “She
probably doesn’t know we are here. It’s all pure speculation on our part. I
suggest you ignore her and carry on. If she’s on a different floor or in
another wing, we need not see her the entire length of our stay.”

Larissa imagined it might be possible, but something told her it
was highly improbable.

“We meet again, Lady Trent.” Lady Dorothea and her mother entered
the drawing room for tea. “I trust you will not run away this time.”

“I apologize for my behavior earlier. Your presence surprised me
and ….”

Dorothea shook her head. “Please, there is no need to explain.
Our situation may be considered unusual, at best. I am certain we will see our
way through.”

“Yes, it is. And we shall,” Larissa answered, growing confident
but still apprehensive of Lady Dorothea’s manner.

“You left before the Season was over,” Lady
Brookhurst
went on while she poured from the teapot. “You missed the Fortescue rout and
the Lady Shelby’s ball. That’s where Dorothea met Melton.”

It was obvious to Larissa that Dorothea’s mother was more than
pleased with the match. While Dorothea showed no response at the mention of her
admirer’s name.

“Well, I must admit I was feeling a bit out of sorts after the
news about you and Sir Randall,” Dorothea confessed. “After meeting Melton, I
can honestly say it was all for the best.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes,” Dorothea replied and smiled a whimsical smile, raising
the cup to her lips. This convinced Larissa there was a possibility of tender
feelings in her quarter. “He’s a
marquess
, you know.
Very handsome, charming, and very rich. How could I not be enchanted with him?”

Was that not similar to what Larissa had told herself about Lord
Fenton?

“We are to stay in the same house. I hope we will become fast
friends. I do not see for the world why not.”

“I suppose you’re right. There are only the three of us ladies
about,” Larissa said.

“That’s right, and we shall become very close after a week or two.”

“Why, yes,” Larissa agreed, finally accepting Dorothea’s
explanation. “I can see that we might at that.” She picked up her hoop and
found her needle.

“What are you working on?” Dorothea asked.

“Just a bit of embroidery.”

“How lovely it is.” Dorothea lifted the edge to admire the
pattern. “What are you planning to do with it?”

“Frame it, or perhaps make a pillow. I’ve not yet decided.”

“It would make a lovely cushion, I should think.”

Larissa held it at arm’s length, imagining it as such. “Perhaps
you are right.”

“The men have gone coursing,” Dorothea announced. She retired her
porcelain set onto the tray and remained standing. By her manner it appeared
she did not intend to remain. “It seems we ladies are to fend for ourselves.”

“Why couldn’t they have brought us along?” Larissa complained.
Beside the fact that she could not ride, it was the principal of the thing.

“Well, dear, if you are in a delicate condition, you shouldn’t be
riding at all,” Lady
Brookhurst
was quick in
answering, giving Larissa a quick glance at her midsection.

“
Maman
, please,” Dorothea scolded. “Do
not listen to her, Lady Trent. You shall see, we ladies shall make due.”

“Well, I’m on my way to see Lady
Iversly
,”
Lady
Brookhurst
excused herself.

“
Maman
, you cannot go alone,” Dorothea
complained.

“Fustian, my dear, I shall have Regina ride along with me and you
two have each other for company.”

Later that afternoon, Dorothea entered the music room just as
Larissa finished playing. “You play very well,” she complimented. “I do not
believe I have heard anything finer in any London parlor.”

“You are very kind to say so. Do you play?”

“Yes, not the pianoforte, but the violin. It should prove quite
diverting to play together while we share this vast, empty house, don’t you
think?”

“You and I? Playing duets … together?” Larissa reflected.

“Duets are usually comprised of two playing together.” The smile
on Dorothea’s face denoted the remark was made in jest, and with not a hint of
malice. “Pity I have not an instrument at my disposal.”

“But there is a violin.” Larissa rose and moved into the far,
darkened corner of the room. Opening the glass doors, she took the violin and
bow from its case and handed it to Dorothea.

Dorothea plucked the strings to determine the pitch then
tightened the strings on the instrument. With Larissa at the keyboard to play
the appropriate notes, Dorothea had soon tuned the violin and was ready to
play.

After tightening the bow, Dorothea played the scales, limbering
her fingers, showing amazing dexterity. The notes resonated clear and strong—she
could indeed play well.

“Is there a suitable piece?” Dorothea asked.

“There are several drawers filled with music. I should be very
surprised if we could not find one to both our liking,” Larissa replied.

Side by side, they rummaged through the sheaves of sheet music
and found several that would do nicely. After choosing an agreed upon
appropriate selection, Larissa and Dorothea practiced during the remaining
hours of the afternoon.

The next morning, Randall managed a few minutes alone with
Larissa at the breakfast table. The afternoon walks and shared evenings they
had enjoyed had dwindled away with Dorothea’s arrival. His discomfort with her
presence did not compare to that of her newfound friendship with Larissa.

“Don’t you find it odd?” he asked Larissa.

“I thought as much at first, but as of late, I am under the
opinion she is only being friendly. She is ever so nice to me.”

“I would advise you to watch yourself.”

She gave him a hard stare. “I believe you’re envious of our
association.”

He choked on his coffee. “I beg your pardon? Nothing could be
further from the truth.” Randall had resented Dorothea’s interference. He and
Larissa had spent such a glorious time together before the other guests arrived.

But he wasn’t as selfish as all that. He was only speaking out
for Larissa’s good. “I have heard it said Lady Dorothea is not exactly the
trustworthy sort.”

Larissa’s eyes shot open. “Now I know you’re jealous.” She
pointed an accusing finger at him.

He took the hand she had proffered in anger and held it. The look
in her eyes softened, thawing into the customary warm glow with which she gazed
at him for the duration of their conversations when they sat together in the
library.

Randall wished he could hear the soothing caress of her voice
instead of the harsh tones of reproach. Staring into her eyes, he saw her
mirroring his own feelings.

Larissa’s gaze swept to the door and she pulled her hand from
Randall’s. “Dorothea!”

His pleasant memory was lost. With Dorothea’s presence, Larissa
resumed her distant and cool manner. Randall did not know if he would see the
compassionate side of Larissa he so loved ever again.

“Only passing through,” Lord Firth said to all, explaining his
unexpected presence. He had arrived just in time for that evening’s supper and
sat down with Melton and the other guests. The gentlemen did not tarry in the
dining room long and soon roamed into the parlor with their glasses of port in
hand.

Melton paced in front of the empty hearth. He shifted the glass
from hand to hand, swirling its contents. “Tell us, Firth, you seem in high
dudgeon this evening. What’s bothering you?”

“I don’t find fault with a fat goose for nothing, Melton,” Firth
grumbled. “A fortnight ago, I was waylaid by a highwayman.”

Lady
Brookhurst
gave a gasp. Dorothea
moved to her mother’s side and took her hand for comfort. Apparently, Lady
Brookhurst
was of a delicate constitution.

“Dastardly deed, it was. Can’t seem to shake it. He dressed all
in black and wore a black
tricorn
, shading the mask
that covered his eyes.”

Lady
Brookhurst
clasped the pearl
strand around her neck and gave a horrific gasp.

In an ominous tone, the
marquess
continued, “That’s what I’ve heard from Lord and Lady
Greenleigh
,
held up last week. Coming up to town, you understand. Stopped them just outside
London. Black waistcoat, black shirt, black breeches, black greatcoat and
Hessians. The only bit of color on him was an unusual stick pin. Gold with
engraved initials, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Initials? What initials?” Firth demanded.

“I believe
Greenleigh
said it was T. R.
F. if I’m not mistaken.”

“T. R. F.? That’s my bloody stickpin,” Firth roared. “By gad, I
want to see that scoundrel swing.”

Lady
Brookhurst
gave a great caterwaul,
slumping into the back of the sofa.

“
Maman
, are you all right? Do get some
sherry, please,” Dorothea asked William. She held the proffered sherry to her
mother’s lips. “Here
Maman
, just take a sip.” This
seemed to restore Lady
Brookhurst
for she looked
quite recovered.

“That’s not the half of it,” Melton added, his eyes bugging out
of his head as he worked his disastrous tale. “He beckoned
Greenleigh’s
daughter near for a kiss.”

“So after he’s taken the riches he wants, he’s after the girls?”
Firth was outraged. He downed his port in one swallow.

“Ravaging the ladies!” Lady
Brookhurst
cried in fright. Again, Dorothea raised the sherry to her mother’s lips for a
medicinal dose.

William gave a polite cough into his fist, trying to hide his
skeptical grin.

“He wears Hessians, you say. Could he be a man of quality?”
Dorothea whispered in the same dark manner.

“How could that be?” Lady
Brookhurst
queried in disbelief. “A real gentleman would never lower himself.”

“My, I certainly hope he can live up to this reputation of his,”
William replied, giving a chuckle.

“It’s not a laughing matter.” Larissa cast him a dark look. “It’s
simply dreadful.”

“What you don’t realize, Lady Trent, is there’s always a
highwayman lurking somewhere. Some get caught, some give it up, and some
continue from year to year.” William eased back in the chair, propped his feet
up and held his glass, inspecting its contents. “Horrid way to make a living.
Far too dangerous for my taste. Bound to get shot one of these days, and if
you’re caught, hanged.”

“They’ve gone without us again,” Larissa huffed in exasperation
the next afternoon.

“You must get used to it,” Lady
Brookhurst
said. “When out and about in the country, the gentlemen busy themselves
out-of-doors, and we ladies must entertain ourselves.”

Larissa had never been to a country house. She did not realize
the activities of men and women were segregated.

“The lady of the house usually attends to such things, but—” Lady
Brookhurst
gestured to her daughter. “Dorothea here,
could step in, could you not?”

“
Maman
,” Dorothea censured in a tone of
disapproval.

“Come now, my dear, you are here at his lordship’s insistence,”
Lady
Brookhurst
pointed out. “The
marquess
is quite taken with Dorothea,” she said to Larissa. “I do not think it would be
too soon to say she is in line to be the next marchioness.”

“
Maman
, please,” Dorothea chided.
“Larissa and I were just on our way out.”

“We were?” she whispered to Dorothea who immediately led Larissa
out of the parlor.

Their premature departure prevented an embarrassing scene from
becoming more so. “We are going driving,” Dorothea announced. “And I shall
drive.”