Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 03] (27 page)

“I came back this evening; her governess sat in the corner again, so we were sure she suspected nothing. About fifteen minutes before the butler went for his supper, Mia went upstairs and with the help of one of the housemaids she changed into boy’s clothes. Then she threw her cloak over all and came running downstairs and out to the coach not one minute after the butler left his post.”

There was a tap at the door and this time it was Tinotti, who came in with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Thank you, Tinotti.” Elena stood up as he uncorked the bottle. “You have read my mind. I may not feel very
hospitable toward Lord William, but I do believe we both could use something to ease our nerves.”

“Jealousy can make it difficult to see things clearly, signora.” Tinotti handed her a glass as he spoke.

“Mia is jealous?”

Tinotti looked from her to William. Elena followed his gaze in time to see William frantically shaking his head.

“You think
I
am jealous?” Elena slapped the glass down on the table next to her. “Jealous of William’s attention to Mia?”

It was all she could do
not
to blurt out what she had been doing tonight. That would disabuse them of their ludicrous notion. “Believe me, Tinotti, when I tell you that I am not, and never will be, jealous of anyone who captures Lord William’s attention. Never. He is like a brother to me.”

“Or a nephew,” Lord William suggested. “We are friends, no more.”

Tinotti backed up to the door. “I am sorry I misunderstood, signora. I will leave you to your discussion. Will you want to see Mia?”

“No. I told her to go to bed. I will speak with her in the morning.”
I hope she does not sleep a wink
, Elena thought.
I am not sure I will
.

Tinotti hurried out the door, closing it again.

“Where were we?” Elena asked sweetly as she turned back to William.

William was swirling the wine in his glass, staring at it as though he could read the future in the red circles. Setting the glass down, he put his hands behind his back.

“Mia and I left here and I had the coachman drive us
all around Mayfair. There was a ball this evening, and some sort of bacchanal at one of the bachelor establishments, and the theater was busy, as you know. I made her sit back in her seat, not hang out the window, and explained to her what she could expect at each of the events.”

“Including the bacchanal?”

“It did not look at all lascivious from the outside, more a house lit up like a tree on fire. I know who lives there and the sort of parties he favors. I told her that it was a political dinner party that would be unutterably boring.”

He took a healthy drink of his wine. “Please believe me when I tell you, Elena, that being with me was far safer than what Mia proposed.”

“If you had thought for a moment, William, you would have realized two things. First, you would have known right away that Mia’s plan was a way to trap you into taking her. She is wild but not stupid, and going out alone at night, even dressed as a boy, is unsafe
and
stupid. Second, if you had told me I could have come up with a solution that would not have compromised you or Mia.”

“Yes, I see that and I’m sorry.”

“I do not believe you, my boy. Admit it, you thought it a capital idea and could not wait to show her around London, after dark.” Elena could tell by his rueful expression that she was right.

Finally he shook his head on a sigh. “I can see I was too easily convinced. It was her eyes,” he admitted. “She has that way of regarding a man as though he had it in his power to make her dearest wish come true. Even if it is no more than picking up her handkerchief.”

“You two are alike, you know.”

“Do I look like that? If only I had known.”

“No, your eyes do not make me want to obey your every command.” Though she could think of someone whose eyes did and had. She cleared her throat and her mind. “Both of you want to live life to the fullest, and for the two of you that does not mean anything as tame as playing the violin to perfection or learning to sing well.”

“Yes, you are right,” he said, sobering. “Perhaps it is because we do not have artistic talents to distract us.”

It was nothing so simple, Elena knew that. William had something to prove to himself and to the world. And Mia, well—Mia wanted all she could have, wear, hold, or own. No one but God knew why.

“It is a shame she is not a man, Elena. We could have great fun together.” He took a sip of his wine and it was as though the liquid inspired him. He looked up, back down at his glass, took another sip, then set the glass down. “I could marry her.”

He spoke quietly, as if afraid to say it too loud, not yet sure whether it was an actual idea or brain fever.

“I would not deal you a life sentence, William. I was hoping for a match that would tame her, not set her off like a fireworks display.”

“You mean that you’re not opposed to a match because I’m—” He stopped and changed his wording. “For any reason in particular? I mean, other than your worry that I would not be a good influence on her?” He tried to control his devilish smile, which made him look all the more wicked. “There’s no other reason?”

Because you are short? Because you are a Bendasbrook? A
little voice she did her best to ignore reminded her that once Mia was married, the girl’s behavior would no longer give her headaches.

“William, dearest, you are free to marry her if your heart is involved. But you must wait until June to speak to her of marriage. It will give you time to see how you can influence her, for the better, I hope, and it will give her a chance to experience her Season without any thought of commitment.”

When he would have protested, she held up her hand. “If anyone else comes to me, I will give you fair warning.”

“It would be like her to elope,” he mumbled, but Elena heard it anyway.

“Do not even put that idea in her head.” She went to him, bent down, and kissed him on the cheek. Then she picked up his gloves and handed them to him. “Go home, William. I will talk to Mia and see if I can make her understand how lucky she is to have you on her side.”

Elena rubbed her forehead and the all-too-familiar headache that was starting. “I will have to do it without making it sound like your behavior tonight was anything but reprehensible. It sounds impossible but since that is the word I would use to describe Mia, it may work.”

“Thank you, Elena. Thank you.” He took her hands and kissed both and hurried out the door.

But do you love her? That was what Elena really wanted to know. Or do you see her as someone who would accept you because you can offer her jewels, clothes and, oh yes, a wild adventure or two?

If they married, someday Mia would be the Duchess
of Bendas. Too far down the road. Much too far. First Elena had to decide how to handle her ward and whether she should hire a new governess after she dismissed this one. No, that was an easy enough decision. She and Tina would do their best between them. No stranger coming into their lives at this late date could begin to understand or change the girl. She was almost eighteen, held back from her time in society by the deaths of her father and her guardian. Any girl would be restless.

Mia was not “any girl,” but a unique combination of charm, stubbornness, and petulance. Nothing would change that. A decent night’s sleep might help Elena come up with a compromise that would make Mia happy and keep the rest of them sane.

She sipped the rest of her wine and stared at the Canaletto painting, but her mind was on neither. Instead she relived her afternoon and decided that the chaos of the evening was a fair price to pay for the hours before it. Later, she dreamed of the hours to come in the perfect house on St. German Street, in the pale blue bedroom, in the great lake of a bed with an amazing man beside her.

M
ERYON WENT DOWN
to breakfast late. He’d slept well and was feeling better than he had for months. He hoped Elena had slept well too. Now that he had seen her with her hair down, it was a challenge to think of her anywhere but in bed, with her hair falling around her shoulders, not quite covering her breasts.

If he hoped to avoid his family he chose the wrong time for his meal, though it appeared that the three of them had been at breakfast for some time.

Michael and Gabriel read the paper. Lynette was still eating, but nearly done.

They all greeted him with varying degrees of good humor. Gabriel wasted no time in complaining about the paper’s account of the Parliamentary debate of the last three days running.

“Spare me the details, Gabe. I heard it in person,”
the duke begged, taking a long drink of the coffee the footman poured, imagining Elena drinking from her mug and wishing they were sharing breakfast.

“Why do you not speak against the continuation of the Seditious Meetings Act? It is ridiculous that you must have a permit for more than fifty people to gather. What about organized fistfights and horse races?”

If this were Elena arguing with him over the breakfast table he knew exactly how he would end the discussion.

“What is so funny, Meryon?”

Gabriel’s narrowed eyes reminded Meryon that his brother had a temper, and he pushed Elena to a cozy corner of his mind and spoke in a calm, rational way, momentarily horrified that he would have to spend the rest of his life setting a good example for his siblings. “Gabe, I choose not to speak now because I agree with the prevailing view that the Seditious Meetings Act be allowed to expire. There are other issues that concern me more than what is currently being debated and I want the lords’ attention when I do speak. One way to ensure that is to keep quiet until I have words I want them to listen to.”

The footman brought him a plate filled with eggs, some beef, and mushrooms. Meryon ate through Gabriel’s continued argument, mostly with himself, regarding the consequences of endless discussion on a pointless issue, when more pressing subjects like the budget were awaiting their attention. “There are people everywhere out of work, hungry, looking for a way to buy food for their families.”

“I am well aware of that.” Now was not the time to tell Gabe about his plans for a program to support
orphans and widows. Meryon knew this mood and only one thing would help dispel it. “Tell me, Gabriel, are you angling for a round at Jackson’s today?”

At that invitation Garrett lowered the paper, eyeing the two men with interest. Lynette abandoned the last of her toast and looked from one to the other. Her gaze settled on her husband. The staring contest ended when Gabriel gave his wife a rueful shrug and she went back to her breakfast.

“I’m sorry. I know you give fearsome thought to your votes and I suppose some debate is essential.” Gabriel gathered his thoughts for a moment. “I am tired of the way we complicate simple things with pointless debate or antiquated assumptions.”

Antiquated assumptions
. That is at the heart of his anger, Meryon realized. Someone had insulted him. Or Lynette. Yes, someone had insulted Lynette. She watched her husband with an expression of love and a little heartache.

Gabriel pretended to return to his paper. Meryon watched Lynette stare at the raised page for a moment. Then she took a sip of her tea and spoke. “He is upset because we were not invited to present our work at the Royal Academy of Science. The letter of rejection was in the post this morning.” Leaning a little closer to her brother-in-law, she went on. “There is also the possibility that they consider the work more art than science.”

“Which is entirely reasonable,” Meryon agreed, “but it should at least be considered by a larger audience. The fact is that the artists will always suffer setbacks.” He sat back in his chair. “You should talk to the Signora about
this. Yes, her field is music but there must be similarities. She has nothing kind to say about critics.”

Gabriel gave his brother a look that would have melted ice. “Thank you for your unsolicited advice, brother, and do tell us,” he paused until he was sure he had everyone’s attention, “how was your evening?”

Garrett began coughing and Lynette made a sound of disgust but all three watched Meryon for his answer.

He gave his brother no more than a smile. He would have restrained that if he could. His evening had been wonderful, so perfect that he could not imagine today would be better, but he was going to try.

Meryon applied himself to his eggs before he spoke again. “When shall we meet at Jackson’s? Sometime before four o’clock. I have an engagement then. Garrett, are you with us?”

T
HE HOUSE ON
St. German Street was exactly what Elena needed, quiet, blessedly quiet, with no young woman alternately crying and threatening, no servants fretting, no Lord William to refuse at the door.

Seating herself in a chair with a view out the front window Elena accepted the tea that the maid offered and waited, not at all disappointed to have a few minutes to compose herself before Meryon arrived.

The duke drove his cabriolet down the short drive not five minutes later.