Read Courting the Countess Online
Authors: Barbara Pierce
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical Romance
Courting the Countess (13 page)
“G’in’ t’die,” the viscount mumbled.
He leaned closer, attempting to understand his father. Scrutinizing him, Mallory noticed the muscles on the right side of his body were lifeless. Not only did his right lid droop, but his mouth was slack also. His breath was a slurping hiss between his lips.
Mallory gave his mother an appealing glance. “I—I do not understand, sir.”
“Dot … rahda die t’en liblike t’is.” He repeated the garbled sentence a second time. He struck his chest with his left fist.
Mallory’s concern escalated. He wondered if Lord Keyworth had been robbed of not only his speech but his intelligence as well.
“Gllma,” he said, growing more agitated by his son’s puzzled expression. Tears streamed from the corners of his father’s eyes. “Gllma, gllma, gllma!” He let his head flop to the left as if the sight of Mallory pained him.
“My lord,” Lady Keyworth said, finally interrupting their reunion. “We have tired you, and your son needs a bath and rest from his journey. I will return to you shortly.” Her grip reminded Mallory of an iron clamp as she guided him out of the room.
“Buckle is efficient. Your bath most likely awaits you in your bedchamber.”
“Mother, is he—is he insane?”
Her expression grew incredulous. “For heaven’s sake, no. Whatever made you think such cruelty?”
“I have no desire to hurt you with the truth, Mother,” Mallory said, positive anything he had to say would accomplish the deed. “The man on that bed is just a shell of my father. He was agitated and spoke gibberish. There is reason for me to conclude that even he does not know what he is saying.”
Lady Keyworth covered her mouth, shocked by her son’s rash conclusions. When she pulled her hand away, her lips were compressed into the thin line he had seen often enough in his life. It indicated that he had managed to disappoint her.
“Mallory, you need to be patient with your father. His right side was injured when he collapsed. The physician said that his speech would improve over time.”
And what of his confused, agitated, damaged brain?
Mallory silently asked. “Then I suppose you understood what he was saying to me?”
Mallory silently asked. “Then I suppose you understood what he was saying to me?”
“Not every word, but his meaning was clear,” she said, daring him to contradict her.
“What was he saying over and over, madam?”
She looked away, not meeting his probing gaze. His mother was silent for a few minutes. Reluctantly she admitted, “He asked you to kill him.”
The chaos and smells of London nauseated Brook. Arriving eleven days after Mallory’s abrupt departure, she was not positive who had bullied her into leaving Loughwydde. Maybe there was no one to blame but herself. One day she was telling the inflexible and boorish Mr. Claeg that she was remaining in Cornwall. Several days later she was riding in the carriage beside her sisters.
Initially, the journey had roused her curiosity. It had been long since she had explored beyond her lands. Passing through the various villages and meeting fellow travelers at the inns they had rested and supped at had fulfilled a longing she had quelled. She had forgotten that once she had craved adventure. Mr. Ludlow’s business had required that he travel often, and he had brought his family along.
Lyon had ruined it for her, she acknowledged. Their honeymoon to Italy had been a private nightmare. Only realizing that she had returned to England carrying his child had eased her pain. At least for a while.
She buried her recollections as she had ruthlessly buried her love for the man some considered a monster. The pleasures and curiosities of her journey faded for Brook as the distance she had put between her and her past shrank. Everyone was so excited about seeing London and making plans, no one had noticed her subtle withdrawal.
Once the wheels of the carriage were rumbling through the congested streets of town, she had worked herself into a state of despair. She had a hundred grievances, but she kept them to herself. The air was too thick and reeked of excrement. The sky was too gray. There were so many people that she thought she might suffocate.
What spared her from entirely breaking down was that she was not returning to the town house she had shared with her husband. The house belonged to Ham as the new Lord A’Court. He and May were welcome to it. Brook could not bear to walk down its opulent halls. Her mother was confused by her decision until Brook had pointed out that without a house filled with chaperones, residing with the new earl would cause undue speculation. Mrs. Ludlow readily agreed. She had convinced her husband to lease a house for them.
The square was older and not as fashionable as Brook’s mother had desired for herself and her girls, but Mr. Ludlow’s calm practicality overruled his wife. Honey and Ivy were too young, in their father’s stern estimation, for the tawdriness of the
ton
. His girls could enjoy the town’s amusements without descending into the muck Brook’s mother was so eager for her elder daughter to embrace.
ton
. His girls could enjoy the town’s amusements without descending into the muck Brook’s mother was so eager for her elder daughter to embrace.
“Are you missing Loughwydde?” her stepfather asked from behind as she observed a hawker peddling her fruit. Several hours had passed since their arrival, and everyone was still occupied with settling into their rooms.
“Some,” Brook conceded when in truth her thoughts were closer to London. She looked up and could hear the muffled argument her half sisters had engaged in about a pair of embroidered stockings. “With everyone out of the house, I would have relished the peaceful silence.” She frowned, listening to one door slam and then another. Next she heard her mother’s determined stride overhead. “Papa, do they ever quit fighting?”
Rare humor glinted behind his spectacles. “Only when they fall asleep.” They both laughed at his joke. He opened his arms and she willingly embraced him. “I am pleased you listened to your mother. Spending a season in town is just what you need.” He kissed the top of her head and released her.
Drawing away, she asked, “And what do you think I need?”
His gesture was vague. “A new adventure, pretty dresses that have you dreaming of dances and a handsome gentleman for a partner … old friends, new friends … someone to help you discover your smile again.”
“I smile, Papa,” she protested, stunned by his whimsical list. She pasted a smile on her face to force him to retract his complaint.
Mr. Ludlow pushed his spectacles back into place on his nose. He did not return her smile. “Not often. Not as effortlessly as you used to, Daughter.”
She slumped against the window frame. “Of late, there has not been much going on in my life to have me grinning like a loon.”
“Be considerate when you speak of your sisters, Brook,” he chided, coaxing her to laugh. “There, that is what I mean. Perhaps you had some romantic notion of you mourning your Lyon forever, though it is wholly idealistic.”
“Oh,” she said, deflated that her stepfather had reduced her escape to Loughwydde as a step away from sulking. “Is that what I have been doing? Mourning Lyon?”
Realizing he was a man straying away from his expertise, Mr. Ludlow pulled uncomfortably on his cravat. “You are your mother’s daughter. I would not presume to understand the complicated workings of the feminine brain.”
“Papa, I am no longer mourning my husband.” She had stopped shortly after his death. Brook pulled her stepfather’s fussing fingers away from his cravat before the poor man strangled himself. “I was not ready to resume my old life after his death. Two years away from all of this and now I do
not believe I will ever want to be that person again. Am I making sense?”
not believe I will ever want to be that person again. Am I making sense?”
“Of course. You are the most logical of all my girls, including my wife.” Realizing his error, he said, “Though I would be obligated to deny it if ever questioned by my lady wife.”
“A laudable view,” she conceded, secretly amused her stepfather was awed by her sprightly mother’s temper. Brook kissed his cheek. “I would never place you in such an awkward position.”
“Daughter, you have a good heart. It would be a pity if you could not find someone to share it again.” She stared down at her feet.
“Just mull over my words. You are a great deal like me in that regard,” he said with some pride.
He wandered away unnoticed, leaving Brook to wonder when her fears had distorted prudence into stagnancy.
Ham looked up from the book he was reading as his sister walked into the room. The young woman was truly vexed about something. “Do the dowager and Mrs. Byres approve of their rooms?”
“Approving leaves Elthia, Lady A’Court, no room to improve upon her situation,” May said, feeling the strain of Brook’s absence. The old crone, deprived of her usual fodder, had focused her discontent on May.
The earl chuckled sympathetically. “She is our late cousin’s mother, pet. Abandoning her would be cruel. Besides, I need her on my side. Her approval of Brook as my betrothed will still the gossips’ tongues.” He understood his lady’s fears and was trying to anticipate the obstacles of their future together.
May approached his desk. She turned his book around and read enough to discern the subject. Wrinkling her nose, she said, “Ham, are you positive you want Brook for your
countess? As you are now Lord A’Court, the title would lure other ladies of wealth.”
countess? As you are now Lord A’Court, the title would lure other ladies of wealth.”
Her jealousy of his affections being divided was a natural response. “I had asked her to come to town, May. She heeded my request, so I assume she has embraced the idea of being my Lady A’Court.”
“There is something you do not know. After you departed Loughwydde, a terrible storm struck the land.”
He knew of his sister’s fear of storms. “Poor lamb, did you quake beneath your sheets until dawn?”
“No,” she replied, insulted that he had thought so little of her. “I went to Brook so I could extol your impressive merits.”
“Why, thank you. I am undeserving to have you for my sister.”
“There is more. When I went to her bedchamber, her room was empty. Her bed had not a wrinkle.”
“So she was somewhere else in the house.”
“I do not think so, Brother. There is something going on between her and Mr. Claeg. I dare not add supposition to what I know as fact.”
Ham conjured the disturbing image of them entwined in the woods. “What proof do you offer?”
“None.” May bit her lip in dismay. “Except that before our departure Mr. Claeg arrived at Loughwydde and demanded to speak with Brook. He refused an invitation to await her in the parlor. He insisted that she meet him outdoors
and alone
.”
and alone
.”
The way May described their encounter, it sounded suspicious even to Ham. “What happened?” Had he dragged her into the woods again? Did she go willingly?
“Nothing.”
Relieved, Ham was not above some brotherly retribution. “May, you are not making much sense.”
Defensive, she said, “Well, they were not together very long. She returned to the dining room and explained that a summons from his family had called Mr. Claeg home.”
“And?” Ham pressed, losing patience.
“And then Brook agreed to join the family in London.” May shrugged nonchalantly. “I found Mr. Claeg’s return and her agreement coincidental; that is all.”
Ham leaned his head back against the chair and massaged the muscles at the back of his neck. Unhappy with this latest development, he privately agreed with his sister. He considered it his family duty to protect Lady A’Court from the artist’s machinations.
The figure sitting on the barrel sketching was just the person he was looking for. Crossing the street, he approached the fifteen-year-old from the side. Mallory did not bother calling out, since he would likely be ignored.
Mallory had met Gill in Newcastle Street in front of Astley’s Pavilion six months earlier. Dressed in old trousers and a shirt too large, the filthy youth had tried to sell him a sketch of one of the acts: eight horses performing a country-dance. Taking in the shoeless feet and weather-stained cap that probably covered hair crawling with vermin, he had almost walked away. It was not the slender filthy hand on his sleeve that had stopped him but rather the remarkable talent on the paper. Looking into the kid’s coffee-colored eyes, Mallory recognized a kindred spirit. There was hunger, not only for food but also for art. Since their first encounter, he had tried to feed both needs.
It had taken the great connoisseur of women four days to figure out the talented lad was a girl.
Peeking over the slender shoulder, he glimpsed a fairly accurate rendering of the British Museum. He deepened his voice and said, “I’ll give ye three shillings for it.”
“Just three?” the young artist said, sounding annoyed at being disturbed. When she looked up, recognition swept away the annoyance from the coffee-colored eyes. “Claeg! You’re back!” Hopping off the barrel, the girl hugged him excitedly.
“Good to see you, too, Gill. I thought I would have to search the museum to find you.”
“Nah,” she said, closing her book and gathering up her supplies. “Already been there today.”
Gill had a peculiar obsession for Egyptian artifacts. She spent many hours perusing the dusty collections. According to her, the museum had been bequeathed in 1756 a valuable collection of Egyptian antiquities owned by the late Colonel Lethulier, which his nephew had later added to. The Harleian curiosities included two mummies, Mallory had been told. And soon, much to Gill’s delight, the museum was opening to the public an exhibition of antiquities brought over by the expedition supervised by Sir Ralph Abercrombie. Mallory expected nothing could keep her away when the new building finally opened.
“Been back long?” she asked, falling into step with his casual stride. He had tried to improve upon her appearance once he had learned that she was a girl. Gill had refused. Skirts and frippery were not for her, she had said. Most eyes skimming over her in male togs thought she was a boy and she was left alone. Thinking of his sister, he had wondered more than once what dire circumstances had tossed this poor girl into the streets. Whenever Mallory had tried to get her to talk about her family, she just changed the subject.
“Just a few days.” Noticing her crestfallen expression, he added, “Though this is my first day back on Bury Street. My father has been ill.” After one night, he knew he could not remain in that house with his father begging him for death and his mother displaying stoic dignity. The distance was not so great that Mallory could not visit them whenever he was called.
“Sorry about your da. Is he better?”
He scrubbed his face with his hand. “Not really. The physician said that his recovery would take months, that is, if he recovers at all.”
“Bad luck all around, Claeg. ’Course, who trusts those medical men? A body is worth more to ’em dead than alive.”
“Little girl, you are too young to be so cynical.”
She grinned at him. The flash of humor reminded him that beneath the grime lay hidden a fascinating face. “Age doesn’t necessarily mean sharp, ol’ man.”
“And did I mention saucy?” he added, jogging up the steps and rapping on the front door of his town house. Gill had lightened the tightness in his chest that had developed after he saw his father. Mallory owed her, but getting her to accept his assistance was akin to pulling the tail of a three-legged donkey.
“Leastways once a day when you are about.”
The door opened and his manservant appeared in the doorway.
“Messing, all is well, I trust?”
The servant bowed his head cordially in greeting. “Yes, sir.” His gaze flickered over at Gill and hardened in disapproval. Snubbing the ragamuffin, he said, “Lord Ventris has called twice. Your
Seduction of Cressida
has captured his interest. Mrs. Howsen and Miss Nost have sent inquiries about your return. They each are hoping that you are accepting new commissions. Lady Buttrey has issued a standing invitation for you to view her latest addition to her art collection. And ah, Mrs. Le Maye stopped by. She was rather explicit in her, uh—” Recalling Gill’s tender age, he falteringly adjusted the message by adding “needs.”
Seduction of Cressida
has captured his interest. Mrs. Howsen and Miss Nost have sent inquiries about your return. They each are hoping that you are accepting new commissions. Lady Buttrey has issued a standing invitation for you to view her latest addition to her art collection. And ah, Mrs. Le Maye stopped by. She was rather explicit in her, uh—” Recalling Gill’s tender age, he falteringly adjusted the message by adding “needs.”
Other books
When a Man Loves a Weapon by Toni McGee Causey
Faustus Resurrectus by Thomas Morrissey
Fear of Falling by Catherine Lanigan
Nerd Do Well by Pegg, Simon
Magic Kingdom for Sale—Sold! by Terry Brooks
Runner's World Essential Guides by The Editors of Runner's World
Briar's Book by Pierce, Tamora
The Duchess Who Wouldn't Sit Down by Jesse Browner
Wolfen by Montague, Madelaine