A Season for the Heart (4 page)

But the Stranger was not even looking at her. “What has happened to your cheek?” he asked Pommy sternly. “It looks very much as though some insensitive brute had struck you.”

Ceci closed her mouth with a snap. “I shall bring Mama here to deal with you as you deserve!” she shrilled, and ran out into the hall.

With one smooth dark eyebrow lifted, the man walked over to close the door firmly. “What a virago!” he commented. “Now, Miss Rand, perhaps you will tell me what happened to your face?” Seeing her stand silent, he continued, “Did that charming little monster slap you? As a reward for your journey through the storm to fetch her garment?” He took her chin in strong, gentle fingers and turned her face up for a searching scrutiny. “No, don’t pull away! Let me see your cheek!”

“I thank you, sir, for bringing her cloak,” Pommy managed, keeping her eyelids down so that he might not read what was in her eyes, “but I beg you to go at once, before Ceci brings back her Mama.
She
will rail at you so dreadfully there will be no enduring it! And after you have been so kind as to deliver the cloak which I stupidly forgot!”

Without heeding her anxious remarks, the big man led Pommy to the most comfortable of the chairs and seated her carefully. “You need a glass of sherry to warm you, then a change into dry clothing, and someone to bathe your cheek with glycerin and rosewater.” He gave a sigh of exasperation. “Does no one care what happens to you, infant?”

“My aunt and uncle have been more than generous in accepting the responsibility of such a shatterbrain as myself,” the girl said gloomily. “I am a constant irritation to them all.”

“Then perhaps you should remove the source of the irritation?” The man called Masterson smiled at her wistful little face. “Now I have a suggestion to make. My sister-in-law is an invalid—a very beautiful and fashionable invalid, I must warn you, and not the palsied crone of your imaginings! She swears she needs a companion, but cannot abide the heavy-handed, middle-aged females she has interviewed. She told me precisely what she must have, and I flatter myself I have found it!”

“What—what does she require?” stammered Pommy, fascinated and warmed by Mr. Masterson’s delightful smile.

“She wants a quiet young girl with gentle hands and voice and a compassionate nature; a young woman who is bright and intelligent, with a pleasant manner—” His handsome features took on a coaxing smile. “What do you say, Melpomene Rand?”

Melpomene stared unhappily back at him. It was of all things what she would love to do, for the idea of tending a youthful invalid—probably ethereally lovely, and hiding an aching heart bravely, or, alternately, facing a fatal illness with superb courage—thrilled her Romantic heart. Still, she must be honest with this kind and generous man.

“I am more likely to drive her to an early grave,” she confessed. “I forget things, fall over things, drop things! Somehow I seem to invest the simplest actions with unexpected and unfortunate consequences.”

“Bravo!” smiled Mr. Masterson. “Exactly what Aurora Masterson needs! She is bored to distraction.”

“My aunt will tell you that I am hopeless—stupid, blundering, a constant annoyance to persons of sensibility—”

“I think,” interrupted the gentleman, “that you are very unhappy here, are you not?”

Before Pommy could answer, the door crashed open and Mrs. Henga Rand swept into the room like a ship under full canvas. Her bony nose was thrust forward, and her rather small eyes glared with outrage.

“What is this—this person doing in my house, Melpomene?” she demanded.

The Stranger made her a bow which opened her eyes.

“Allow me to present myself, madame. I am Austell.”

“Austell?” Mrs. Rand looked as though she were smelling something unpleasant. “You told my daughter your name was Masterson. Are you now claiming to be in some manner related to the Earl—?”

“I am Derek Benedict Philip Masterson, Earl of Austell, Viscount Tory, Lord Amberly, etc., etc.” the Earl further identified himself in a bored voice.

“You mean
you
—oh, I do not at all credit it! This is some ridiculous ploy of Pommy’s—”

“I assure you, madame,” said the Earl in a voice which barely disguised his contempt, “Miss Melpomene had absolutely nothing to do with my becoming the Earl of Austell.”

“Austell . . . !” the angry woman spat the name, unwilling to accept the fact that she had presented a very poor appearance before a member of the Peerage. She began to lash herself into one of her dreaded furies, rages she had found useful in controlling her household.

The Earl took the wind out of her sails. “It will be proper for you to address me as My Lord, or Lord Austell,” he instructed her in a tone of calm condescension which Mrs. Rand found to be unbearable. Her daughter, also, it appeared, for Ceci now revealed herself from her listening post beyond the open door.

“Don’t let him gull you, Mama! This is some rig he is running to gain entrance to the house!”

“I thought it was Miss Melpomene who was supposed to have a lurid imagination?” queried the Earl. “At least I have not heard her characterized as vulgar.”

Mrs. Rand gasped, and
faute de miseux
, turned to wreak her vengeance upon Pommy as the prime cause of her discomfiture. “Go to your room, miss! Your uncle shall hear of this, I promise you! It will of course be impossible for you to accompany us to London after
this
! Indeed I think I shall arrange for you to go into service somewhere in this area, for I am sure I cannot be expected to provide any longer for a young woman so lost to all sense of propriety—”

“That will not be necessary,” stated the Earl blandly. “Miss Melpomene has accepted a position in my sister’s household.”

Mrs. Rand retorted with a sneer, “I am sure
you
would find a use for her,
Your Lordship
—if you really are Austell, which I take leave to doubt! A penniless orphan, even though she was a clergyman’s granddaughter, should prove fair game to such a gentleman as yourself!”

Pommy was staring from one to another of the disputants with a wide, horrified gaze. “Aunt Henga, you cannot mean—! I have done nothing except forget Ceci’s cloak! I am deeply sorry to have caused her discomfort—”

“Stop crawling and show a little pluck, young Pommy,” advised the Earl quietly.

“If you leave this house with this
Man
,” threatened her aunt, “you will never be permitted to cross the threshold again!”

Pommy looked from the congested, furious visage of her aunt to the imperturbable countenance of Lord Austell. She straightened her slender shoulders and lifted her head. “Very well, Aunt Henga. I shall pack my things at once. Since I am to be your sister’s companion My Lord, may I have her address in London?”

A sneer twisted Mrs. Rand’s lips. “His sister’s companion, is it? Well, that’s one name for it! Pack your things and get out! I shall send Forte up with you to make sure you do not take anything which does not belong to you.”

“I shall await you outside in my coach, Miss Rand,” the Earl advised her. “With your permission, I shall escort you to Lady Masterson. The journey to London might prove difficult for you, alone.”

Mrs. Rand left the room with a flounce reminiscent of her daughter’s, seizing the stunned Ceci by the arm as she passed her. The two left in the room heard her loud voice as she instructed the butler that the parson’s brat was leaving them for a Life of Sin, and demanding that Forte send someone up to her room to see that she took nothing but what was her own.

Regarding the girl’s shocked face intently, the Earl said, “I think even the life which your aunt mistakenly envisions for you would be better than what you have had to endure in this house, if this is a fair sample of it.”

Pommy bowed her head briefly, unwilling to make a comment. Then she forced her wide green eyes to meet his. “I shall not keep you waiting, Milord. There is not much to pack. But it seems an imposition that you should have to carry me to London in your own carriage.”

“Pack, child,” advised the Earl briefly.

He accompanied her into the hall, which was now empty save for the shocked Forte and one of the maidservants.

“Miss Pommy!” the butler moaned. “What is to become of you?”

The Earl, giving Pommy a gentle push toward the waiting maid, turned his attention to Forte. “I am Austell. Miss Rand will be quite safe in Portman Square under Lady Masterson’s aegis,” he said quietly. “My sister-in-law is an invalid, in need of a gentle and sprightly companion. I am fortunate in finding a young lady of Miss Melpomene’s erudition and quality to attend her. I shall await her in my carriage. Please see that she is not further harassed before leaving.”

This was said in such tones of confident authority that Forte’s shoulders straightened. “Yes, My Lord,” he uttered thankfully. “She will be living in London, then?”

The Earl permitted the familiarity, recognizing the old man’s real concern. “Yes, with Lady Masterson at Number Three Portman Square. Any mail or
good
wishes may be conveyed to her there.” A brief, rather ugly smile touched his lips. “I shall count upon you
not
to furnish this address to your mistress, nor to forward communications which might alarm or sadden the child.”

“I quite understand, My Lord,” agreed Forte, much relieved.

The Earl of Austell nodded and walked out to his magnificent carriage. Forte did not close the great front door until the visitor was safely within the vehicle. Then he took the liberty of sending a small glass of sherry up to Miss Pommy to drink before she left Highcliff Manor. While he was at it, he took a revivifying sip himself. Miss Pommy! Whatever had she gotten herself into this time?

Three

Pommy huddled in the corner of the Earl’s luxurious carriage wishing she had never been born. It had been bad enough to leave Highcliff Manor under the sorrowful and apprehensive gaze of Forte. Worse, Aunt Henga had not deigned to bid her goodbye, nor had Ceci or Lydia, and their deliberate absence merely underlined the conclusion they had expressed about her future status. She was, in addition, most conscious of the threadbare and unfashionable condition of her garments, and was forced to admit that she looked a perfect dowd without even a bonnet to cover her heavy braid of hair.

In contrast, the Earl, who had changed out of his damp clothing before coming to Highcliff to pick her up, looked a pattern card of male elegance from the top of his modish beaver to the tips of his gleaming Hessians. There was a faint hint of spicy fragrance about his person, and his immaculate linen would have gained the approval of Beau Brummell himself. But more than the splendid, strong body, lounging so much at ease beside her in the carriage, more even than his handsome, imperturbable face, the Earl’s very presence commanded respect.
He knows who he is
, thought Pommy;
he knows it so completely that he does not need to prove it to anyone in the world.
“I am Austell,” he had said, so quietly. Pommy ached with the need to know herself as well.

At the very moment when she had decided miserably that she should never have embarked upon this insane journey, her companion turned his noble head and treated her to a warm and remarkably comforting smile. “We are having a fine adventure, are we not, Miss Melpomene?” he asked. “I anticipate many interesting experiences, and great happiness ahead for you, my child.”

“If only your sister will not be put out by your foisting me upon her!” fretted Pommy. “She will take one look at my wretched appearance and think you have brought her a scarecrow!”

Lord Austell laughed easily. “Then shall we deck you out in the latest style before she sees you, little one?” He wondered a little cynically if Miss Rand was already picking up the acquisitive ways of her more fashionable sisters.

Pommy soon set him straight. “No, Milord,
we
shall not! I have better than two pounds which my mother left me, and, before I meet your sister,
I
shall purchase a dress suitable to the role of her companion. I only hope,” she added grimly, “that she will give me a trial, and not take me in disgust at the outset.”

“You have too low an opinion of your worth, Miss Rand,” the Earl told her a little sharply. “If you are to go on at all well in Society, you must endeavor to present to the world a more courageous front!”

There was a lengthy silence, broken only by the normal noises of the carriage in motion and its four horses upon the highroad. The Earl, feeling a twinge of quite unaccustomed remorse, was about to speak when Pommy said in a fiercely determined voice, “Milord, you are right! It has only been since I have been living upon the charity of my father’s family that I have held myself so cheap! If only your sister had children whom she might wish me to instruct—for I am sound in Greek and competent in Latin. I have also a smattering of poetic German and a little French—just enough to ask directions or order a dinner.”

“A veritable Athene!” teased Lord Austell. “Lady Masterson has a son, Gareth, whom she cossets more than I like. Perhaps you may give him a taste for his studies,” and he grinned at some private thought.

Pommy, if she had learned anything while living at Highcliff Manor, had discovered that discretion was the only way to self-preservation, so she did not rise to his comments about his young nephew. Better to wait until she had seen the spoiled child before she made promises she might not be able to keep. After all, Lord Austell had hired her to be a companion to an invalid lady, had he not? That much she felt competent to do. She became a little worried when Milord fell into a frowning study. Could it be that he was already regretting his quixotic benevolence in rescuing her from her aunt? Of course! He had saddled himself with a provincial miss, a veritable dowd, and now he was at pains to devise a way to get her into his sister’s home without too much embarrassment. Pommy set her shoulders.