Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 04] - Love's Duet (24 page)

Ridgley introduced Whitthurst. Bodwin, his eyes very keen, was
delighted to welcome the brother of so lovely a lady. The Viscount, his
own eyes missing little of this elegant gentleman, took an immediate
and intense dislike to him and therefore bowed with rare formality.

Once inside, Sophia was unable to conceal her amazement. The
enormous central hall swept from front to back of the house. The floor
was of white marble inset with rounds of sparkling green stone
scattered haphazardly across the white expanse. To the right, a
beautiful staircase spiralled upward, the delicate tracery of the iron
railing, which was painted the same soft green as the round discs in
the floor, rising through all the upper storeys to the roof. In the
deep well hung a gigantic chandelier, the sunlight waking a thousand
miniature rainbows from countless prisms. On each side of the front
doors, windows soared to the ceiling and were so closely set in this
central area that the wall was predominantly of glass. The far end of
the room repeated the pattern, thereby preventing the huge area from
becoming dark and forbidding. Looking up, Sophia discovered the ceiling
to be magnificently carven, the center rising to a lovely dome
intricately gilded and inset with superb oil paintings.

"My… heavens!" she gasped. "It is a palace!" And realizing the ghastly inadequacy of her present wardrobe, she could have sunk.

"It is, is it not?" beamed Lord Phineas, pleased by her
perspicacity. "Though a palace lacking a Queen, I fear." His eyes dwelt
upon her with a hunger that brought Whitthurst's brows sharply
together. "I knew, my dear boy," Bodwin went on, taking the Viscount's
arm as though he sensed his reaction, "that your beauteous sister would
appreciate my home. Especially after that dismal Priory, eh, ma'am?
Perhaps it was not kind in me to invite you here directly. But then,
every man for himself! To the victor, eh, Captain? Being a—er—former
military man, you can certainly appreciate that!" He led them toward
the stairs, Whitthurst flashing a fulminating glance at Sophia as their
host prattled on happily. "How pleased I am that you were able to come.
When Damon sent me word, I could not wait until Ridgley left but sent
the carriage especially for you both. And now I have the honour of
entertaining the reigning toast
and
a hero of Waterloo!" The
Viscount flushed, glanced back at Ridgley, and was treated to a low bow
and a broad grin as that worthy sought entertainment elsewhere. "You
shall have to tell me all about it, my lord," said Bodwin. "Never have
had a firsthand report, and it must have been such a magnificent
spectacle! Though they're saying now Wellington bungled, as usual, and
it was more a defeat than a victory!"

Sophia cast an appalled look at her brother's suddenly pale
features. Their well-meaning host could scarcely have managed so many
wounding remarks had he tried.

Whitthurst stiffened, opened his mouth for a scathing comment, but
was drowned in the tide as Bodwin rambled on, eventually apologizing
for having chattered like a magpie and saying as they reached the top
of the first flight, "You must rest, for I can see you are far from
well, poor fellow. And you will both be wanting to view your rooms.
There'll be no noise to disturb you
here
, of that I can
assure you! Later, I shall insist upon showing off my home. I am vastly
proud of it, for it's one of the finest in all England, I do believe.
But you must stop me if I become verbose upon the subject!"

Whitthurst summoned a smile that Sophia was afraid might cause his
rigid countenance to crack and, becoming very aristocratic—a demeanour
that would have warned his friends—politely lied that he was not in the
least
tired and would enjoy to see the house now. Dismayed,
she could do nothing but join in these sentiments, and Bodwin joyfully
conducted them on a "brief tour.

An hour later, they had still not seen all of the mansion, and
Sophia had exhausted her supply of superlatives. Bodwin, however, was
as full of words as enthusiasm. He had lectured on many paintings,
carvings, and objets d'art contained in a bewildering succession of
drawing rooms, lounges, and salons. They had been conducted through an
overpowering music room containing an ornately carven and gilded
harpsichord, a harp, and numerous smaller instruments. They had viewed
at least four dining rooms beside the breakfast room; a study; a huge
library; weapons room; game room; gymnasium, and a long gallery
containing his lordship's collection of the more precious works of art,
together with a splendid array of antique jewelery. Shy-eyed,
impeccably neat maids were everywhere, and there seemed to be an
inordinate number of footmen standing about: tall, well-built men,
splendid in livery of a dusty green satin that matched the stair
railings.

Already, Sophia was slightly weary of such a surfeit of ostentation,
and Whitthurst had become very pale, the dark shadows beneath his eyes
bespeaking his fatigue. Bodwin, his attention equally divided between
Sophia and his home, noted her anxiety and at once summoned the nearest
hovering footman and desired him to show the Viscount to his room.
Sophia managed to follow without too obviously betraying her concern.
Entering the magnificent bedchamber, she was less impressed by it than
she was relieved to find Stephen attended by an elderly and apparently
kindly gentleman at chambers who was, Bodwin assured her, to devote
himself solely to Lord Whitthurst. A footman was summoned and
instructed to assist Mr. Byrnes "should he need—ah— help with his
lordship." This last kindly remark brought a painful flush to the
Viscount's handsome features, and it was with considerable relief that
Sophia watched Lord Bodwin beam his way from the room.

She stayed for only a few moments and, aware that her brother was
seething with rage, adjured him to have a good nap, after which she was
sure he would feel better. He cast her a darkling glance; she smiled
lovingly and withdrew.

The housekeeper waited in the hall. She was impressively gowned and properly welcoming, yet lacking that spark called warmth.

Having been silently conducted to the enormous bedchamber allotted
to her, Sophia was again taken aback. In the center, a raised platform
supported an incredible bed. The four posts were of carven ivory, and
it must have required months of painstaking labour to complete the
motifs worked in filigree from top to bottom and the bird that perched
atop each post, wings widespread, its beak holding the edge of a
delicate canopy of white silk edged with pale-pink tassels. The ruffles
and curtains around the bed were also white silk, and the eiderdown was
pink and white in a dainty floral pattern. The decor was pink, shading
to reds, with white accents. In the lower area, three armchairs were
charmingly grouped before the windows; there was a graceful escritoire,
a dressing table and bench, several chests of drawers, and two presses.
The windows were many and wide, opening onto the eastern side of the
house, allowing a pleasant view of the tranquil countryside.

Two maids curtseyed as Sophia walked into the room, They were shy
country girls: one, plump and giggly, was named Constance, and the
other, very tall and lantern-jawed, was Louise. The housekeeper took
her leave, having sternly admonished them that she'd best not hear
anything to their discredit. Sophia assured the alarmed girls that she
was delighted to have the benefit of their services, and they
brightened gratefully. She also told them, however, that they would
have few clothes to care for since most of her belongings had been
returned to Kent, and she had only the few garments in the valise and
bandbox she had brought with her from the Priory.

The maids exchanged surprised glances, then Connie threw open one of
the presses. Sophia was dumbfounded. The rack was crowded with her own
clothes, just as Hettie Adams might have packed them for an extended
journey. She spread the garments and discovered a ball gown she'd never
seen before. It was of dusty blue silk tinged with lilac. Rather
décollette, the heartshaped neckline was edged around with tiny
hand-embroidered flowers of a paler blue, centred by small sapphires
that winked and sparkled even in the dim press. The gown might have
been created especially for her, so perfect were both colour and style.
Touching it admiringly, she felt paper rustle and found a note pinned
inside. She frowned, recognizing that firm scrawl. "My regrets, niece,
that I was unable to find a suitable travelling gown to replace the one
you spread with mud."
(She
spread!) "I trust this poor
substitute will prove satisfactory. Damon. P.S. You'd best try it on—it
is probably a size too small." She choked back an indignant
exclamation. Too small, indeed! The man simply did not know how to be
gracious! And the gown would go unworn, of course! Lovely as it was.
She sighed. It must have cost a fortune.

"Your other things is all unpacked, ma'am," said Constance, opening two of the drawers in a chest.

Sophia saw with delight that her toilet articles and under garments
were, indeed, neatly disposed. So many of the small yet necessary items
she had missed these past few days. "How very kind of Lord Bodwin!" she
exclaimed.

Louise said, "The Marquis of Damon had your portmanteau brought from
Kent, ma'am. His grooms drove all night to get here in time. This
here"—she moved to open the connecting door—"is your parlour, milady."

Sophia followed, arguing fiercely with herself. She had no need to
feel overset with guilt! The wretched Viper had merely returned
articles he himself had most arrogantly snatched away from her.

The parlour was smaller than the bedchamber but no less splendid,
though rather too full of ornaments for her taste. Among these, her
attention was held by the rather insipid watercolour of a farmyard. She
smiled at it sadly and could all but hear the Duke's well-modulated
voice exclaiming, "I thought it was a still life." Again, staring
wistfully at the painting, she sighed.

Thompson opened the front door and stood for a moment, speechless
with astonishment. Impatient, Sophia stepped inside. Horatio was about
to set forth on a second vociferous gallop round the Great Hall but,
catching sight of her, checked so abruptly that he skidded and, having
recovered himself, hissed his disapproval and made a mad dash for the
kitchen.

"Lord Ridgley just come a bit ago—" stammered the butler. "He didn't say you was coming, ma'am. I dunno what—"

"He did not know," said Sophia coolly. "I have a message from Lord
Whitthurst for the investors, though I told him the meeting had been
postponed…" She searched his troubled eyes and, receiving no nod,
asked, "It has—has it not?"

A distant roar of masculine voices raised in song, accompanied by the vibrant tones of the harpsichord, answered that question.

"Perhaps," said Thompson uneasily, "if your ladyship would wait in the—"

"That is perfectly all right." Sophia bestowed her bonnet and cloak upon the startled man. "I shall announce myself."

"But—it's a gentlemen's business meeting! You can't— you don't—"

"I can. And I do." She smiled and walked down the hall, her knees rubbery, her heart pounding like a hammer.

She had told Ridgley only that her brother was too exhausted to
return for the meeting and had waved a goodbye to him, betraying no
hint she intended to follow. Lord Bodwin had agreed reluctantly to her
sudden departure. Unable to abandon his other guests, he had insisted
she travel with a guard, two grooms and two outriders, in addition to
the coachman, and she'd promised to return just as quickly as her
message was conveyed to the Marquis. Now, reaching the music room, she
paused and took a deep breath. How she was to brazen it through she
dared not think, but
she
had done the damage, and if—as she
feared—Damon had learned of her vengeance, she must be the one to face
him; he must not be allowed to upset Stephen! She touched the small but
heavy weight in her reticule for reassurance, then pushed the door a
little wider.

Damon was seated at the harpsichord. He wore no jacket; his
neckcloth was loosened and his shirt unbuttoned, allowing a glimpse of
black hairs on his exposed chest. Ignoring this vulgarity, her eyes
flashed to his face. Despite the cut mouth, his pipe was clamped
between his teeth. The left side of his face seemed one large bruise,
and a piece of tape was affixed to his right temple. He must, of
course, have had a few hours rest before his guests arrived, yet it was
remarkable, she thought, that he was able to play resoundingly,
betraying no sign of discomfort, as the investors sang lustily.

Ridgley leaned against the mantle; two gentlemen, arms linked, stood
beside him, tankards waving in time with the music. Another young man
with tow hair and a pleasant, ruddy-complected face, lay on top of the
harpsichord, his cheek propped on one hand, a goblet in the other. A
fifth gentleman sprawled on the sofa was almost invisible, with only
his Hessians sticking out the far end; and sprawled in one of the
armchairs was a bald, heavyset man, eyes closed, smiling dreamily and
crooning something that appeared to have nothing to do with either the
words or music of their song.

"Second verse!" roared Damon. "Oh, the noble Duke of York, he had—"

At this point, the man atop the harpsichord caught sight of Sophia.
His reaction was ludicrous. His jaw fell; his eyes goggled; he almost
dropped his tankard and swung himself off the harpsichord so hurriedly
that he fell and disappeared beneath it. Damon, observing this
performance with amusement, followed his gaze, stopped playing, barely
caught his pipe as it tumbled from between his teeth, and, starting up,
winced, caught at his side, and sat down again.

Bereft of their music, the singers, one by one, faded into silence.
The last to cease his enthusiastic braying was the man on the sofa.
Perceiving belatedly the frozen consternation of his brethren, he
raised an untidy dark head above the back, cried an aghast "Sophia! Oh
gad!" and, jumping up, grabbed for his jacket. There was a mad scramble
of activity. Ridgley rushed to assist Damon in the obviously difficult
process of putting on his jacket, hissing apparent denials of any
knowledge of Sophia's intentions as he perpetrated a ghastly cravat
upon him. The two gentlemen, who'd been standing arm in arm, hurried to
bow and apologize for their "ha… hum… unpreparedness to greet so lovely
a member of the fair sex." They ushered her into the room, all but
trampling the man from the sofa, who claimed her hand and bowed over
it, then dropped a kiss upon her upturned cheek, a surprised grin
lighting his lean features.