Laura Matthews (11 page)

“There is no chance of that, Lord Pontley,” she laughed. “This is by far the best proportioned room, though I am inclined to think the dining room will look very smart because of its tall windows. It might be best, when the house is shown to prospective tenants, to remove the draperies there altogether. That may cause some consternation, because of a tenant realizing that he will need to provide them himself, but it must be better than ruining the effect with those sun-bleached, tattered rags.”

“I take it you think the draperies should be replaced.”

“Well, of course they should, but I am not going to do battle with you on that head, I promise you.”

Peter could not resist interpolating. “You have done more than enough, Glenna. I am persuaded Lord Pontley had no intention of your working day and night to restore his house.” He threw a belligerent glance at the viscount.

“None whatsoever,” Pontley countered genially. “I believe Miss Forbes and I have come to an agreement on that score whereby she will see those items she feels essential taken care of without further projects on her part.”

“I should hope so,” Peter murmured.

Glenna turned laughing eyes to Phoebe. “You must tell Lord Pontley, my dear, how I have worked my fingers to the bone, and ruined my eyesight reading late into the night one of those dusty books from the library. Dull stuff, that, with not a moment’s leisure for trips and excursions. Why, when Captain Andrews came I had to lock myself in the library to keep from being dragged away to see some wretched castle, and only allowed myself to be persuaded in order to offer you chaperonage."

Phoebe, entering into the spirit of the discussion, proclaimed, “And not a moment to spare for a walk on the beaches at Minehead or the lonely paths on the moors. How have you borne it, Glenna? No time to play the harp or ride your little mare or entertain your friends.” She waved an encouraging hand to the Carmichaels, who were also still in residence, and they assisted her with a list of activities in which they had participated.

Under this onslaught Peter looked uncomfortable for his championing of Glenna, but Pontley’s lips twitched ruefully. “We are agreed, then, that Miss Forbes has found time to enjoy herself in spite of her hardships. I hope she will continue to do so.”

Dinner was announced and, to Peter’s chagrin, Pontley offered his arm to Glenna, and was not rebuffed. It was only natural under the circumstances but still he chafed under Pontley’s behavior, which seemed to him autocratic and callous. Peter was well aware that his own manners were more polished, his address more refined than the viscount’s would ever be. There was a roughness about his manner not only in the features, but in his actions, which Peter condemned from his own viewpoint of social elegance. It was a Westlake tradition to attend to the niceties of behavior and he gallantly escorted Phoebe into the yet unpainted dining room.

Now here Peter knew he excelled. His conversation was amusing and his knowledge of London society vast. Fortunately he received a steady stream of letters which kept him current with the latest gossip, and since Glenna had been absent for so long, he regaled the company with stories he felt they would enjoy. The facility with which he wove a tale was every bit as clever as the notes he had fired off to Glenna during her illness, and he was rewarded by seeing her laugh frequently. He could not be entirely comfortable with her puffy features, and rather wished that she had not emerged so soon from her retirement, but he was aware that the condition was temporary, and largely his fault.

“And I have at last discovered why the younger Stafford girl did not make her come-out this spring,” he declared triumphantly, unaware of the stiffening of Pontley’s face or the anxious glance Glenna cast at him. “They say she is a very highly strung girl and that her parents felt a sojourn with her sister in the country would be beneficial, but from what Carstairs wrote, I
think—”

"Peter,” Glenna interrupted firmly, “you are forgetting that Lord Pontley’s aunt is related to this young lady. I had much rather hear what your mother has to say of the imminent arrival of King Louis’s brother and whether there will be a reconciliation between the Prince of Wales and his father.”

Since Glenna had very little interest in either of these topics, and Peter was momentarily struck dumb, Phoebe turned to Pontley to fill the breach. “I must tell you how much we enjoyed our trip on board Captain Andrews’ ship, my lord. We had delightful weather, except for one storm, and found the experience quite exhilarating. Captain Andrews was everything that was kind and has been so thoughtful as to call on us to see how we go on.”

“I had heard from him that the passage went well, and that he found the company of two young ladies most welcome.” He did not miss the faint blush which arose on Phoebe’s cheeks, and turned to Glenna. “It is not often he is provided with concerts on board ship, ma’am, and he expressed an uncommon appreciation of your playing of the harp. I had thought perhaps you would swathe it in rags and oilcloth to preserve it from the elements.”

“I had intended to, but Phoebe cannot restrain pinching at me about it ever since I stuffed it in the chaise to take to the vicarage. No damage resulted from the sea breezes."

“Perhaps you would honor me with a performance this evening.”

The request, however natural, took on added significance when his eyes held Glenna’s so intently. It occurred to her that he might be mocking her, for she had not forgotten the occasion on which she informed him that she was aware that her playing was one of the reasons he had offered for her. “I should like to oblige, sir, but my hands are still too swollen to do so with comfort.”

“Of course. Another time.”

Peter had by now recovered his equanimity and was not content to remain a bystander to the conversation. He was just as glad that Glenna would not be playing, as he had no real interest in music, though he was proud of her accomplishment and willing to reflect in her glory from it. With the dexterity of years of social practice, he unobtrusively regained the attention of his audience and began once more to lead the conversation gracefully into topics on which he was by far the most knowledgeable person in the room.

After dinner, while the Carmichaels walked in the garden, the other four played a few desultory hands of whist, but Glenna could see that Pontley’s casual game did not mesh with Peter’s avid involvement in his cards, and she suggested that she might show the viscount about the house to enumerate her plans for the color scheme of each room. Phoebe caught the look of annoyance in Peter’s eyes and challenged him to a game of cribbage, to which he reluctantly acquiesced.

Glenna’s obvious enthusiasm for her projects amused Pontley, but it also forced him to compare the mature decision with which she attacked them to the childlike, unsubstantial eagerness of Miss Stafford. There was a fairylike fragility about the latter which begged for a man’s protectiveness, but Pontley could not look on Glenna’s puffed countenance without a twinge of—what? He refused to delve more deeply into his reaction.

"I thought the library should be painted a soothing color,” Glenna was explaining, “and yet the books are so dark and heavy, don’t you think? So I have chosen a cream, with a darker trim to emphasize its lightness and yet harmonize with the volumes. Does that seem a good idea?” She glanced up at him as he stood holding the branch of candles, his eyes again fixed on her face in such a way that she drew a sharp breath.

Before she could fully realize his intention, he had set the candles absently on the desk and, holding her shoulders gently, bent to kiss her. Glenna made no attempt to withdraw from him, but neither did she respond, though it was with an effort. “You...you must not do that. It is most improper to go about kissing young ladies,” she gasped, her color heightened.

“Yes, I imagined it would be,” he replied gravely, “and I have no doubt your friend Peter would strenuously object.” He drew his fingers gently over her face, as he had earlier in the day.

“It is I who object. You have no right to kiss me.”

“No, but I once had and did not take advantage of the opportunity. I had a desire to rectify that mistake.” When she did not speak he added, “Now your face has become blotchy again."

Glenna’s hands flew to her cheeks and she turned away from him. “Why are you tormenting me? What have I done to lead you to believe I will tolerate your wretched behavior?”

“Nothing, I promise you, Glenna. You must consider it a momentary aberration and forgive me if you will.” In spite of his words, there was no note of apology in his voice, and he casually retrieved the branch of candles. “Your plans for this room sound well enough. Shall you show me the bedrooms next?”

Now she was sure he was mocking her, and along with a flash of anger she was overcome by a hysterical desire to giggle. In a choked voice she replied, “I shall show you nothing more, Pontley. Go away and leave me alone."

“Very well. Look at me, Glenna.” He waited until she hesitantly faced him. “I am leaving for Lockwood in the morning and will not see you before I depart. Rest assured I am pleased with the progress of the renovations here, and sincerely thank you for your efforts. From now on I wish you will not work so hard but enjoy yourself as I had intended. The funds for the kitchen will be arranged so that that work may be done, and I hope you will see that additional windows are let into the existing structure there. No one should have to labor in such a hole.”

“When the work is finished...will you come to inspect it?”

Pontley considered her for a moment. “No, I think not. Glover should have little difficulty finding a tenant. You are not to leave until you are ready, even after the renovations are completed; stay for a few months to partake of the fruits of your labor.”

“When my commission is complete I shall have no cause, or desire, to stay.”

“Where will you go?”

“I think it cannot be of concern to you.”

“In other words, you don’t know.”

Glenna sighed exasperatedly. “That is not precisely what it means. I have not as yet decided whether to return to Hastings, but I suppose I shall.” She had led him from the room and now stood before the drawing room. “Is my face still...discolored?”

Holding the candles closer, he inspected the puffy cheeks, and touched her lips with a finger. “No. Excuse me to your friends, if you will. I will bid you good night and farewell.”

She nodded mutely as she slipped through the door he held open for her.

* * * *

In spite of the fact that Glenna entered the events of the day in her journal to rid her mind of them, she did not sleep well that night, and awoke to find that Lord Pontley had indeed already left. Although she told herself that she should be relieved, she could detect nothing of that feeling about herself. Instead her nerves were on edge, and much as she tried to attribute it to the fact that her face was still swollen, she was not so easily deceived. Her reflection in the glass was little better than the previous day, but this time she struggled to bring the curls under control, no matter how painful the process.

How could he have wished to kiss her when she looked so ugly? It must have been pity, she realized suddenly, and her face colored with shame. Oh, how loathsome to be an object of pity! His pity! Why, Peter could dance circles around him for grace and charm, for manners and entree into the
haut ton.
And though Peter was distressed by her appearance now, his loyalty to her could not be doubted. Just last night as she had left the room for bed he had pressed her hand and informed her, in a very meaningful way, too, that he was delighted to have her company again. It was not Peter who had wandered off and been smitten by the first pretty face he saw. Peter, Glenna informed her reflection in the mirror, had spent years among young ladies of the first stare, and he had come back to her when the obstacle to their happiness had vanished.

To be sure, Peter had not been constant in the years between, but Glenna could not have wished him to be. As the pain of their parting had lessened, she had grown to expect that he would marry elsewhere, and had been almost surprised each time a letter had come from Lady Garth when it did not contain that intelligence. It had amused Glenna that Lady Garth continued the correspondence, almost as though the older woman had forgotten its original purpose and slid into the habit of exchanging letters, so intent was she on spreading word of any unusual happening in London. Her letters now acknowledged Peter’s renewed interest and she hastened to assure Glenna that memory was short amongst her circle, and that Glenna had not, she hoped, taken too seriously her previous reports of Peter’s flirts. Well, they had come to nothing, after all, had they? Lady Garth pointed out, commenting rather caustically that it was high time Peter settled down. Surely Glenna had not the least need of Pontley’s pity, and she would have been glad to tell him so—in fact, ached to do so.

In an excess of emotion she tugged unmercifully at her hair and refused to stop until she had it completely under control, although her eyes teared and her scalp smarted with the abuse. Satisfied, she donned another high-necked, long-sleeved gown of gray wool and marched determinedly to the breakfast table. Today she would begin organizing the work for the kitchen. The sooner she could shake the dust of Manner Hall from her, the better.

Peter, now accustomed to her unnatural features, greeted her cheerfully with the news that the lord of the manor had taken himself off as abruptly as he had arrived.

“Yes and I am glad of it,” Glenna grumbled. “He does nothing but bully when he is around one.”

Struck with the similarity to his own thoughts, Peter decreed, “Too autocratic by half, he is, my dear, and without the least pretense of understanding a lady’s finer feelings.”

“Certainly not!” she agreed, her face flushing slightly.

“I wonder that you should have been engaged to him at one time.”

“I did not know him so well then,” she returned sadly.

"Ah, well, you have learned better, and have had a lucky escape."