The Wedding Game (23 page)

Oh, well, she thought, vanity's only human. She would have to rely on the protective wall of her sisters.

The party was already assembled in the great hall when she came down the stairs, and her gaze was immediately and unwittingly drawn to Douglas, who stood talking to Max and Gideon, who must have just arrived. As if Douglas sensed her look, he turned towards the stairs and a slow, appreciative smile curved his mouth. He made as if to move towards the stairs and Constance stepped quickly in front of him.

“You and Laura will enjoy a Boxing Day ride through our Hampshire countryside, Douglas.” She smiled at him over her sherry glass.

“Yes,” he agreed vaguely, watching over her shoulder as his quarry was lost in the embraces of a pair of elderly ladies at the bottom of the stairs. She seemed to shimmer in that lustrous velvet dress, he thought. “Uh, yes,” he said. “I'm sure.”

“I believe Laura is a most accomplished horsewoman,” Constance persevered. “I only hope we can find a horse in our stables that will suit her exacting standards.” She turned to include Laura Della Luca in the conversation. “Laura, I seem to remember your saying you had an Arabian mare, I believe.”

“Yes, indeed. I am very fond of riding. Of course, the Italian countryside, particularly in Tuscany, is wonderful. Such delightful hill towns to explore and of course the vineyards of Chianti. Utterly unparalleled.”

“Of course,” Constance said. “But I like to think that the New Forest has its own delights.” She turned to give Douglas an assessing glance. “I think one of my father's hunters will be up to your weight, Douglas.”

“Oh, it will be lovely to ride out together,” Laura said, with a gracious smile at Douglas. “A delightful excursion,
Dottore.
And we can discuss decorating. I am determined to look at your apartments on Wimpole Street as well. I'm certain they would benefit from a woman's touch.”

Douglas's eyes snapped back into focus. He blinked at Laura. This was assuming a little too much. “I find them quite satisfactory as they are,” he stated.

“Oh, that's because you don't see them with a woman's eye,
Dottore,
” Laura trilled, patting his arm, fixing him with her pale gaze. “When you see what I've done with your offices, you will know exactly what I mean.”

Douglas gazed rather wildly about him, looking for salvation. Chastity could not provide it. She had now inserted herself between her brothers-in-law and was talking animatedly to a child, who seemed to have a great deal to say for herself.

But it came in the form of her other sister. “Douglas, let me introduce you to Miss Winston, Sarah's governess,” Prudence said, coming up to them with a woman whose plain but pleasant countenance radiated intelligence and humor. “And this is Signorina Della Luca, Mary.” She gestured to Laura. “Miss Winston is a mine of information on Italian culture, Laura, I'm sure you'll enjoy talking with her. You speak Italian fluently, I believe, Mary?”

“I would hesitate to make such a claim, Lady Malvern,” Mary said quietly with a modest smile. “I speak it adequately.”

“Oh, well, one could only lay claim to fluency if one has lived there,” Laura said, regarding the governess with some disdain. “I don't imagine you've done
that, Miss . . . uh . . . Winston, is it? Unless you were in service with an Italian family, perhaps?”

It was a very deliberate attempt to put the governess in her place and while Mary showed no obvious discomfort Douglas felt a flash of anger on her behalf. Disdain crossed his eyes as he looked at Laura, her rather small pinched mouth and colorless complexion not helped by a white taffeta evening dress that made nothing of her sticklike figure. Once again he caught himself wondering if the obvious advantages she would bring to a marriage of convenience were worth the irritations of her company. And once again he told himself that they need spend very little time in each other's company. Laura would not want a uxorious husband, just a useful one.

He was a shrewd judge of character and had met Laura's type many times before. She would be quite happy going about her own social business, arranging practical matters for him to suit her own purposes while leaving him to the total absorption of his work. A woman like Chastity Duncan, on the other hand, would demand much more of a husband. She would want an engaged partner, a sympathetic and stimulating companion . . . a passionate lover. His blood stirred at the reflection and he thrust it from his mind. He had had time enough in the last couple of hours to acknowledge that that impulsive kiss had indeed been an aberration. It merely muddled the clear-sighted vision he had constructed of his needs and his future. Chastity would be a good friend, and if there was a frisson of sexual attraction beneath the friendship, that would merely be a bonus. There was no room in his life for emotional entanglements—he'd learned that lesson long since.

But these reflections didn't dull his anger at Laura's discourtesy. He turned his shoulder to her and said warmly to Mary, “Would you say that there were any real similarities between Latin and Italian, Miss Winston? I'm an indifferent classicist, at least outside medical terminology, but I've always wondered if there's any connection. In the way that modern Greek is easily traced to ancient Greek.”

“An interesting question, Doctor,” Mary said.

“Oh, I don't believe there's any similarity at all,” Laura stated.

Douglas pretended he hadn't heard. He took Miss Winston's arm and drew away from Laura, engaging her in conversation. Laura looked a little surprised, as if wondering what had happened. Constance and Prudence exchanged a speaking glance and with a word of excuse abandoned their guest to her own opinions.

The sound of singing from the driveway beyond the front door provided welcome distraction. Jenkins crossed the hall with stately step and flung open the door, letting in a blast of freezing air. Caroling voices rose in the joyful verses of “Good King Wenceslas” and the house party trooped to the door to listen.

“Merry Christmas,” Lord Duncan said, flinging open his arms. “Come in, come in.” He was in his element, greeting the adult carolers by name, shaking hands, chucking children's chins. His daughters watched with pleasure. It seemed their father had at last returned to himself, embracing the ancient traditions of the lord of the manor with his old fervor.

Douglas stood with Mary Winston as they listened to the carols. The fine single malt in his glass was frequently replenished by Jenkins or one of his several assistants and the warmth of the occasion seeped into him. His suspicion bordering on contempt for these privileged English aristocratic traditions was blunted by the obvious good humor and general pleasure taken by both lord and tenants. He couldn't discern the slightest hint of social condescension on the part of the Duncan family. The daughters were helping to serve the carolers with mulled wine and mince pies, chatting cheerfully to everyone. It seemed as if they knew something personal about each one of their singing visitors.

Chastity, he noticed, was particularly concerned with the children, often kneeling down to talk to them so that she was at their level. She was smiling her lovely glowing smile, her large green-gold eyes filled with warmth. And try as he might, he couldn't take his eyes off her. Once she looked up and caught him watching her. A slight flush tinged her cheeks, then she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head and turned away, reaching a hand to another child.

It would be quite natural for him to go over and join her—she was his hostess, after all—but he couldn't leave Mary Winston without someone to talk to. It would be insensitive, particularly after Laura's discourtesy. The child he had seen earlier bounced across to them. “Hello,” she said. “I'm Sarah Malvern. I think you're Dr. Farrell.”

“You think right,” he said with a smile.

“Is this your first Christmas here? It's mine too. I think it's going to be wonderful. We have the carols this evening and then dinner, only I'm not to stay up for dinner, but Mary and I will have dinner upstairs, roast chicken like everyone else. And I'm not to go to midnight mass, but I don't mind that, I don't really like going to church anyway, but we'll have to go tomorrow after breakfast. And then we have presents before Christmas lunch and then everyone will play games all afternoon and there'll be a cold supper because the servants will have their Christmas dinner in the servants' hall, so we have to serve ourselves. I can be downstairs for supper because we'll play more games afterwards, Aunt Chas says. Sardines and murder in the dark.” The child gave a delicious shudder.

“And then the next day, Boxing Day, we're to have the hunt and I'm going to hunt with Daddy and Prue. And then all the neighbors will come in for the hunt breakfast, except that it's not at breakfast time but in the afternoon when everyone gets back, and then Lord Duncan will give the servants their Christmas boxes.” She paused and drew what Douglas thought was probably her first breath since the recital had begun. “That's why it's called Boxing Day,” she said.

“Sarah's excited,” Mary said unnecessarily. “This is her first real Christmas.”

“Well, we've had Christmases before,” Sarah said seriously now and suddenly rather less childishly exuberant. “But it's always been just Daddy and Mary and me.” She smiled up at Mary. “Not that it wasn't lovely to be with you and Daddy, Mary, but a big party is different, isn't it? It's a real family affair. All these aunts and guests.” She waved an expansive hand at the assembled company.

“A real family affair,” Douglas agreed with solemnity, hiding a smile as he noticed Mary Winston was also doing.

“Have you had family Christmases before, Dr. Farrell?” Sarah now asked.

“Many of them,” he said. “I have six sisters, you see.”

“Six!” Sarah's eyes widened. “Are they older or younger?”

“All older.”

“Tell me about them,” Sarah demanded.

Mary Winston said gently, “You can't monopolize Dr. Farrell, Sarah. I'm sure other people would like to talk to him.”

“Oh.” Sarah glanced around. “I don't see anyone.”

And neither did Douglas. He still wanted to talk to Chastity; the longer he waited to restore their usual easy manner with each other, the more the awkward memory of that kiss would stand between them, but she was deeply involved with a circle of children and showed no inclination even to glance his way.

“Well, perhaps you should come and meet Daddy and Uncle Max,” Sarah said, taking his hand. “I'll introduce you.”

“I have already met them,” Douglas said.

“Then come and talk to them some more,” Sarah declared. “Mary will come too, won't you?”

“I hardly think that's necessary, Sarah,” Mary said. “You and Dr. Farrell go and talk to your father and Mr. Ensor. I shall go and talk to Lady Malvern's aunts.” She nodded at Douglas, a friendly nod that somehow acknowledged an understanding, and made her way over to the aunts.

“Come along, then, Dr. Farrell,” Sarah said, giving his hand the slightest tug. “Do you know Latin? I'm learning it and I find the grammar really complicated. The order of the subjects and verbs seems so illogical, it drives me mad sometimes.”

Douglas almost laughed aloud. The exuberant, excited child had given way to a remarkable Lilliputian grown-up. He knew the process well enough, having watched his myriad nieces go through the various stages of growing up.

“Daddy, I've brought Dr. Farrell over to talk to you some more,” Sarah announced.

Gideon playfully tugged her pigtail. “You have to be careful around Sarah, Farrell. She's liable to manage you into whatever situation she considers best for you.”

“In that she's not unlike her stepmother and her aunts,” Max observed, taking a sip of whisky. “The Duncans are the most managing family, in case you haven't discovered that for yourself, Farrell.”

Douglas laughed. “I haven't had much opportunity to see them in concert. I really only know Chastity.”

“How did you meet her?”

“At an At Home in Manchester Square,” he said, seeing no reason to conceal the information. “I was looking for someone who I was told would be there.”

“Ah,” Max said. He and Gideon nodded and both became suddenly absorbed in the contents of their glasses.

Douglas frowned slightly, wondering what it was about what he'd said that caused them both to react so strangely. “I happened to meet the contessa and her daughter there too,” he went on, watching them closely. They both merely nodded again and continued to study the amber whisky at the bottom of the cut-glass tumblers.

“And then while I was visiting the Della Lucas on Park Lane, Chastity and her father arrived,” he continued into the studied silence. “Lord Duncan invited the contessa and her daughter to join the party for Christmas and Chastity invited me.” He laughed a little. “Probably because she thought courtesy gave her no other choice since I was standing right there.”

“Oh, none of them do anything they don't choose to do,” Max said.

“Yes, there's always a reason,” Gideon said. “Sometimes it takes awhile to find it, though.” His brother-in-law laughed at this and the two of them grinned.

Douglas felt as if they were sharing a joke to which he was not party. “I can't imagine what reason Chastity would have had for inviting me except simple courtesy and kindness,” he said.

“As we said, dear fellow, it sometimes takes awhile to discover the method behind their madness,” Gideon said, clapping him on the shoulder in a gesture of fellowship. “Ensor and I know of what we speak, I do assure you.”

“I'll bear that in mind,” Douglas said, glancing over his shoulder to see what Chastity was doing. She still seemed absorbed with the child carolers, and her sisters and their father were equally occupied with the adults. With a word of excuse he left the two men and made his way through the crowd to Chastity.

“Poor fellow,” Max murmured. “He doesn't know what's hit him.”

“No,” Gideon agreed with a soft laugh. “I wonder if they've decided to turn his life upside down for his own good or whether he's a Go-Between client and actually asked for it.”

“Let's hope for his sake it's the latter.” They touched glasses in a silent toast and drank.