Sherri Cobb South (5 page)

If it had been Lord Waverly’s ambition to shock his host, he achieved it with this request. “Why the deuce would I want to saddle meself with your bad debts?” demanded Sir Ethan.

“I swear you will have every farthing back at whatever rate of interest you choose. Only say you will do it! God knows you can afford it,” he added bitterly.

“I’m not a cursed moneylender!” objected Sir Ethan. “If I do as you ask, it’ll be as a courtesy to Miss Colling. There’ll be no interest.”

“Rendering me all the more beholden to you,” drawled Waverly. “Lord, how you must be enjoying this!”

“Believe me, I take no pleasure in throwing good money after bad,” protested Sir Ethan. Then a smile touched his lips, and he added, “But I can afford to be generous. After all, I won the lady.”

Chapter 4

Wedding is destiny,

And hanging likewise.

JOHN HEYWOOD,
Proverbs

Lord Waverly did not see Lisette again until breakfast the following morning, by which time Sir Ethan had held a protracted conversation with his wife. Once she had recovered from the shock afforded her by the news of the earl’s impending nuptials, Lady Helen instructed her abigail to select one of her own gowns suitable for a lady of Lisette’s tender years (this from one having attained the ripe old age of five-and-twenty) and to alter it to fit her shorter figure.

And so it was that Lord Waverly, resolved to do his duty, entered the breakfast room and found himself confronting a slip of a girl in a high-waisted white muslin gown, its high neck gathered into a lace ruff which framed a piquant heart-shaped face. A matching ribbon was threaded through cropped black curls, and though her dark eyes sought his without bashfulness, a telltale flush tinted her cheeks.

“Ah,
milord, now I am a girl again,
oui?”
she cried gaily, rising from her chair to bob a curtsy in his direction.

“It would certainly appear so,” he replied, then devoted his attention to the task of filling a plate from an assortment of silver chafing dishes on the buffet.

There were only three at breakfast, Sir Ethan having eaten early and departed for town on a financial matter known only to himself and his guest. Lord Waverly, after helping himself to buttered eggs, kippers, toast, and marmalade, sat down between Lisette and Lady Helen and put forth a number of polite but meaningless queries as to the quality of their sleep and their expectations for the morning’s weather. The meal passed in desultory fashion, Lady Helen being too well-bred to voice any of the questions her husband’s confidences had raised, until at last she rose from the table, announcing her intention of visiting the nursery.

“Oh, may I come, too?” Lisette begged. “How I should like to see again
les enfants!”

“And I was hoping you would explore Lady Helen’s gardens with me,” Lord Waverly remarked regretfully. “Cannot your nursery visit wait until later?”

“By all means, take Waverly about the gardens,” Lady Helen beseeched Lisette. “Charles is quite surly in the mornings, and William will not touch his breakfast so long as there are guests to entertain. You may play with them later, after they have eaten.”

And so with his hostess’s permission, Lord Waverly took Lisette’s arm and led her into the carefully manicured gardens bordering the eastern side of the house.

“I do like Lady Hélène, do not you?” Lisette confided cheerfully as they made their way down a flagged walk toward a splashing fountain. “She is very beautiful,
n’est-ce pas?"

“It would not be seemly for me to pass such a judgment on another man’s wife,” the earl returned noncommittally.

Lisette, however, had no such qualms.  “
Moi,
I think she is beautiful. And it was very good
of Monsieur
Brundy to let us stay.”

“Beautiful though she may be, Lady Helen would, I feel sure, point out to you that her husband is properly addressed as Sir Ethan.”

Lisette, it seemed, had no very high opinion of her host’s proper designation. “Bah! It is a name impossible to pronounce!”

Not for nothing had Lord Waverly spent four years among the French. “The English ‘th’ escapes you, does it?” he asked, cocking a knowing eyebrow.

“The French do not poke out our tongues when we speak,” Lisette pronounced loftily.

“In the case of our host, such a gesture would be entirely appropriate,” drawled the earl.

“You do not like
Monsieur
Brundy? I thought him very nice.”

“To be sure, he is a paragon among men,” agreed Waverly with a marked lack of enthusiasm.

“Although,” added Lisette, her white brow puckered thoughtfully, “I do find his speech of a strangeness.”

“Save for certain denizens of the East End whom you will not meet in the best circles, the whole of London finds his speech of a strangeness. But I did not bring you out here to discuss Lady Helen’s husband.”

For the first time, Lisette seemed self-conscious and ill at ease in his presence. “Non?
Pourquoi,
then, did you bring me here?” she asked uncertainly.

Lord Waverly seated himself on a stone bench and drew Lisette down to sit beside him.

“This adventure has not ended as we planned, has it, my child?”

Lisette knew not what reply to make, but pleated a fold of her borrowed gown with fingers that shook.

“Now that your grandfather is out of the question, have you given any thought to your future?”

“I—I could give lessons in the French language,” Lisette suggested.

“Impossible!”

Up came Lisette’s pointed chin.
“Mais non!
I have spoken French all my life!”

“My dear girl, any prospective employer has only to look at you to see how unsuitable you are for a teaching post.”

“And you, do you have a better idea?”

“I believe I do.” He took her small hand and cradled it gently between his larger ones. “Lisette, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Lisette snatched her hand away and leaped to her feet. “It pleases you to mock me, milord!”

“I assure you, I was never more in earnest. I have never before offered marriage to any woman. What makes you think I would do so now in jest?”

“V
raiment,
you cannot wish to marry me,” she said uncertainly.

“I am afraid that what either of us wishes has very little to say to the matter. I warned you from the outset that I was not a suitable escort for you, but I am not such a blackguard as to leave you without protection in a strange country.” He realized that, as a proposal of marriage, this declaration left much to be desired, and added more gently, “Come, Lisette, we have been through a great deal together, and understand each other very well. I can think of no reason why we should not be very happy together.”

“None at all,” Lisette said sadly, “except that you—that we do not love each other. But if you think it best, milord, then I will marry you.”

Waverly took her hand and raised it to his lips for a chaste salute. “I will not insult your intelligence by proclaiming myself the happiest of men, but I swear I shall never give you cause to regret your decision.”

Lisette was spared the necessity of a reply by the timely arrival of a liveried footman.   This individual, upon discovering that he had interrupted a
tête-à-tête,
coughed, cleared his throat, coughed again, and informed the earl that Sir Ethan had returned from town and was at present in his study, where he awaited Lord Waverly’s convenience.

“We shall speak more of this later,” Waverly told Lisette, pressing her hand briefly before following the footman inside, leaving his affianced bride alone in the garden.

Thus left to her own devices, Lisette walked slowly over to the fountain and stood there for a long moment, gazing down at her reflection in the water.

“I am sure I must be the happiest girl in all the world,” she declared aloud in her native tongue, then gave vent to her joy by bursting into tears.

* * * *

Lord Waverly went straightway to the study, where he found his host absorbed in examining sample swatches of printed cotton cloth.

“Well, Brundy, what of it?” asked the earl, closing the door behind him.

Sir Ethan looked up. “You’ll be ‘appy to know you can move freely about Manchester without being clapped into debtor’s prison,” he reported.

“Happy, indeed,” drawled Lord Waverly. “It has always been my ambition to cut a dash among the denizens of the industrial North. To what extent, may I ask, am I indebted to you for this achievement?”

Sir Ethan named a sum which, while high, was not nearly so exorbitant as the earl had expected.

“No more than that?” he asked. “I must admit, that is the most welcome piece of news I have received in almost a fortnight. If you’ve no objection to housing Mademoiselle Colling for a few days, I’ll post to London and arrange for repayment.”

Sir Ethan cleared his throat. “Er, I’m afraid it won’t be that simple.”

“Now why, I wonder, am I not surprised?” Waverly mused. “Well, go ahead, man, give me the worst.”

“Your debts would’ve been much ‘igher, but for the fact that your possessions were sold at public auction shortly after you decamped for the Continent. If you go to London, you’ll ‘ave to put up at Limmer’s, for your ‘ouse there ‘as been stripped to the bare walls.”

Lord Waverly raked his fingers through his hair, disarranging his ebony locks. “Damn! And my principal seat, Waverly Hall?”

“I believe your steward was able to salvage most of the heirlooms, but little else.” He paused slightly, then added, “For meself, though, I’d ‘ave put me blunt into making the estate profitable again, rather than throw it away on a lot of mouldy old portraits of me forebears.”

“I’ve no doubt you would, had you any forebears to boast of,” returned the earl. “Forgive my impertinence, but it strikes me of a sudden that you are remarkably well-informed regarding my affairs.”

Sir Ethan’s smile was wintry. “I’ll not deny I’ve kept a weather eye out for you these last few years. I think you know why.”

“Have no fear! Lady Helen has made her choice, and little though I understand it, I am prepared to abide by her decision. I loved her, you know—as much as I am capable of loving any woman.”

“You’ll forgive me for saying you have strange ways of showing it,” was Sir Ethan’s skeptical reply.

“Ah, but therein lies my fatal flaw, if you will: I am far too fond of my own comfort to sacrifice it for any female. Having judged Lady Helen necessary to my comfort, I could hardly be expected to yield to your legal claim.”

“Be that as it may,” remarked Sir Ethan, “it can’t ‘ave been comfortable for you, getting that chit out of France.”

“Lest you think to credit me with a chivalry I do not possess, recall that I was drunk at the time, and that I had been promised a handsome sum for my pains.” The earl grimaced.  “It seems I am fittingly recompensed, for while I sincerely doubt that the promised reward will ever materialize, it appears the disturbances to my comfort have only begun. I have made Miss Colling an offer of marriage, which she has accepted. I suppose I had best lose no time in posting to London to procure a special license.”

“I’ll go with you,” volunteered Sir Ethan.

“Pray do not trouble yourself,” objected the earl, somewhat taken aback by this gesture.

“ ‘Tis pure self-interest,” Sir Ethan assured him. “If you were to be clapped into Marshalsea, I’m not sure I could resist the temptation to leave you there.”

* * * *

Whatever were the earl’s qualms concerning his approaching nuptials, it must be said to his credit that he did an admirable job of concealing these. When, at dinner, he formally announced to the Brundys that he had made Mademoiselle Colling a proposal of marriage, and that his suit had been accepted, nothing in his demeanor would have led the casual observer to suspect that his feelings toward the union were anything but blissful.

Lady Helen, however, possessed the benefit of several years’ acquaintance with Lord Waverly, during which she had arrived at a very fair estimation of his character. She received the news of his betrothal with considerable trepidation, and the sight of Mademoiselle Ceiling’s shy blushes as she gazed up at her bridegroom did nothing to allay Lady Helen’s misgivings, It was with the express intention of communicating these to Lord Waverly that she seized upon the first available opportunity to engage him in private conversation, leaving her husband to entertain the young Frenchwoman—a task for which he did not thank her, as he and Lisette had the greatest difficulty in understanding one another’s accents.

“I suppose I should wish you happy upon your betrothal, Waverly, but truly, I cannot like it,” Lady Helen confessed frankly, having drawn the earl aside under the pretext of displaying to him a recently completed portrait of herself, her husband, and their progeny.

Lord Waverly cocked one eyebrow. “And what, pray, do you find so objectionable about the match?”

“Need you ask?” she chided.

“I think not. But remember, my dear, you had your chance.”

Spots of angry color suffused her cheeks. “I didn’t mean that
I
wished to marry you!”

“Alas, I am quite cast down.” Lord Waverly bent his quizzing-glass upon the painted canvas. The artist had eschewed the
faux
classical elements so much in vogue and had created instead an intimate family portrait. Lady Helen was seated on a chair with her infant daughter on her lap. Sir Ethan stood at her shoulder with the other girl in his arms, while the twin boys sat on the floor at their father’s feet, playing with a small dog of indeterminate parentage. “I daresay it would be expected of me to compliment you on the beauty of your children, my dear, but honesty compels me to say that they look far too much like their father.”

“If you think to change the subject by goading me to Ethan’s defense, let me disabuse you of that notion,” Lady Helen said roundly. “Really, Waverly, it is not well done of you. Mademoiselle Colling is much too young. She will never understand about your
chères amies.”

Up came the earl’s quizzing glass, which he trained upon his hostess. “I find your vehemence on this subject singularly disturbing, my dear! Pray, what indiscretion has Mr. Brundy committed to engender such strong feelings on your part?”