The Lord Who Sneered and Other Tales (3 page)

When the gong rang for dinner, he emerged dressed in his best black formal evening suit and the most natty neck cloth arrangement at his command only to find the dining room deserted and a single place set at table. Though he was quite accustomed to being his butler’s sole responsibility at many a meal, the absence of the women of the household proved to feel more solitary than when he dined alone at home. With a sigh, he picked up his fork and made his way through the meal, followed by his removal to the drawing room before there came any sign that he was not, save the servants, the sole occupant of the house.

His wait was well rewarded, however, when Mrs. Crenshaw entered the drawing room, and he was once again warmed in the glow of her shining presence. She had confided in him that she had only recently cast off her mourning, but her bright lavender ball gown was a stunning departure from the subdued, lighter-hued gowns she had been wearing the past week. It was cut to perfection from sumptuous satin, the tiny puffed sleeves and bodice overlaid with white lace of a most intricate pattern and brought together at the high waist by a silver ribbon. She wore another in her hair, which was piled high on her head in a labyrinth of gold, and her feet were adorned with silver dancing slippers.

Most eye-catching, after the glow of her face, was the white curve of her neck, graced by a triple pendant of large amethysts. Their brilliance was echoed in the jeweled pins in her hair, as well as the earrings and the cuff of jewels she wore on her wrist. Nevertheless, once he dared look into her eyes, these were all pale shadows in comparison.

“Mrs. Crenshaw,” he breathed even as he prayed his jaw had not, indeed, fallen open upon sight of her. “I am persuaded I have never seen anything or anyone more welcome.”

“I thank you, Mr. Williams,” she replied demurely, her eyes downcast. “Grandmama has requested that you escort me to the ballroom.”

He held out his hand to her, and she looked up long enough to allow him yet another dazzling view of her eyes. “I should be devastated should I not have been allowed to provide such a service,” he said as she took his arm and they walked from the room. Having such a creature on his arm, one whose
exquisite appearance was eclipsed only by the goodness of her heart, was celestial glory, indeed. As they approached the large, double doors to the ballroom, he felt they were the pearly gates and heaven lay on the other side.

A footman played the role of Peter and pushed open the doors to reveal a room blazing with all the colors of the sun. Enormous arrangements of red and yellow roses paired with sprigs of autumn leaves, as well as clusters of late heliotrope and dry lavender, were placed on tables and pillars all about the room. Baskets of melons and squash in the same hues placed in drifts of orange and yellow leaves brightened the corners of the room where the light of the chandeliers, groaning under the weight of scores of blazing candles, did not quite touch.

On a long table, winking in the glow of the candles, as well as the two massive fireplaces, one at either end of the room, was a row of sterling silver punch bowls, each more elegant than the last, interspersed with platters of punch cups and crystal champagne goblets.

“It would seem the Dowager considers dancing thirsty work,” he remarked.

“No, it is I!” she insisted. “That is to say, I expect our guests to feel quite thirsty. I don’t intend on dancing enough to require much in the way of punch.”

“Why ever not, Mrs. Crenshaw? I am persuaded you shall be asked to dance every set.” She most assuredly would if he were free to claim each one.

“Oh, no, I think not. I am so recently out of mourning and my family will be present. I am already in the Duke’s black books, and he would not be best pleased to see me enjoying myself overly much.”

He bent to better look into her face. “But you enjoy dancing, do you not?”

“Oh, indeed, yes!” she said as her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. “That is to say, should I be asked, I would most certainly enjoy dancing a set or two.”

“Then let me be the first to claim one. Would it be precipitous of me to ask for the first?” It seemed an eternity before her reply and his heart hammered so in his chest that he felt sure she could
hear it as well as he.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Williams, I should be delighted.” There was nothing out of the ordinary in her answering smile; the same warm smile she had graced him with every day since his arrival and that, to his great disappointment, offered no indication as to how she felt about giving away her first dance to plain Mr. Williams.

Before long the Dowager entered the room, and the other guests began to arrive. The orchestra struck the music for the first set, a lively contra dance, which did not allow for much conversation. Instead, whenever Theo could drag his attention away from Mrs. Crenshaw’s graceful form, he considered her reluctance to dance and how he might contrive a means to stay by her side once the set had commenced. However, they were only a few minutes into the set before his thoughts were checked by a commotion at the entrance to the ballroom.

“I will not remain calm!” came a voice Theo thought he knew only too well. “I am a countess, and I shall be as unruly as I please!” This overly-loud pronouncement was followed by, first, a profound hush, then a mumbled speech from person unknown and, finally, a cacophonous wail from an infant, one who was unaccountably, and without a doubt, present in the room.

“Mr. Williams, I do believe your cousins, Lord and Lady Avery, have arrived,” Mrs. Crenshaw pointed out. “I can hardly credit it, but it would seem she has brought along her baby! What shall we do? I fear Grandmama will have an apoplexy.”

Theo hadn’t an idea as to what was happening, but it was a chance to remain by Mrs. Crenshaw’s side, so he took her arm and they followed the sound of Lady Avery’s voice.

“I do not throw tantrums over trifles, Sir, I can assure you! I saw a ghost in the graveyard next to the church we passed on our way up the drive, and if I say there was a ghost, you may rest assured there
was
a ghost!” Another shriek from the baby followed, one more resounding, if possible, than the last. Theo took a cup of punch from the table as they passed by and held it out to Lady Avery, whilst Mrs. Crenshaw attempted to take the baby from its mother.

“Lady Avery, you must have had quite a turn. See here, your cousin Willy has some refreshment for you. Might I take your darling baby so that you might have a drink?”

Lady Avery turned to look on them with suspicion but relaxed when she saw the deference in their manners. “Why, yes, you may. His name is Herbert but do not say so aloud; for some reason he cries when he hears it.”

“I prefer to call him Harry, myself,” Lord Avery said in a voice not meant for his wife’s ears. “Isn’t he a capital little man?” he asked with the air of a man whose confidence had been bolstered by one too many post-dinner brandies.

“Yes, indeed, he is the very picture!” Mrs. Crenshaw said as she took in the sad, little infant dressed in a miniature evening suit rather than the long batiste gown worn by every other infant in the realm.

Theo handed Lady Avery the cup of punch which she drained almost instantly. “I should like another!”

“I shall acquire one for you, my flower!” Lord Avery said and he lost no time in making his escape.

“So this is little Herbert!” said a lovely woman with dark hair who approached on the arm of the most dashingly dressed man in the room. “Anne, do allow me a turn at holding him if you tire.”

Mrs. Crenshaw laughed. “You have enough of holding babies with your own little boy.”

“Yes, but I am persuaded he is much happier without such tight-fitting clothing. Poor darling!” the dark-haired lady said as she leaned over to peer into the red face of the infant Anne held in her arms.

“Mr. Williams,” Mrs. Crenshaw said, “may I make known Her Grace’s grandson, Sir Anthony, and his wife, Lady Crenshaw?”

“Yes, of course,” Theo said as he took the lady’s hand and bowed over it. “And, Sir Anthony,” he added with a shake of his hand. “I have oft’ heard the name fall from Her Grace’s lips.”

Sir Anthony smiled. “I fear my wife and I have proved a sad disappointment to dearest Grandmama. However, I am to understand you and Roxanne are compensating for our absence to admiration.”

“You must find the means to keep baby Herbert at Dunsmere,” Lady Crenshaw said with a fond look for her husband, “and only then shall Her Grace be satisfied enough to forgive you.”

“Well,
I
shall not forgive you,” Lady Avery interjected. “And, I am still waiting, I will have you know, for my second cup of punch.”

Without a word, Sir Anthony steered his wife towards the dance floor as Lady Crenshaw looked over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows at Anne in apology as they went.

“Well! I have never been so insulted in all my life!” Lady Avery exclaimed.

“Perhaps I might prove to be of service,” Theo said in desperation. “I am persuaded my cousin shall appear with your punch at any moment. Why don’t you sit here on this very comfortable sofa,” he said as he took her arm and led her to one side of the room. “Here you might bounce your son on your knee,” he added as he took the baby from Anne and handed him over to his mother, “while Mrs. Crenshaw and I brave the graveyard in search of your ghost.”

“Oh, Willy!” Lady Avery said as she attempted to clap her hands around an armful of baby. “You are brilliant! Do be sure to return before the ball is over so that I may learn what you discover.”

Theo turned to look a question at Mrs. Crenshaw and was gratified to see that she looked back at him with the very same expression in her eyes. Biting back a smile, she assured Lady Avery that they would not be long outside.

“Oh, but I am persuaded ghost-hunting is a lengthy endeavor,” Lady Avery insisted. “How are you to catch a ghost if you don’t lie in wait until midnight?”

“Yes,” Theo echoed, “how?” A means of keeping Mrs. Crenshaw tethered to this side for the evening had neatly fallen into his lap, and he was not about to let it lie fallow. “Perhaps you should get a wrap,” he suggested with what he suspected was a bit of a devilish smile.

Her eyes grew rather large, and he thought for a moment that she would surely object. Instead, she said: “Very well,” in low tones meant for his ears alone. “But you must allow me a few moments before you follow me out.”

Hardly believing his good fortune, Theo took his leave of Lady Avery, whose attention was now wholly taken up with her babe, and went in search of his cousin who had lingered at the punch table a bit longer than expected. “Avery,” he said as he shook his cousin’s hand. “You have a fine son. I hope to have one as fine some day.”

“Oh, had you thought of marriage already, Theo?”

“I hadn’t, truly, until very recently,” Theo said as her brought his own cup of punch to his lips.

“Oh, pish!” Avery said with a flap of his hand. “You have years yet before you need find it necessary to set up your nursery. Take it from me,” he added as he placed a finger to the side of his nose and winked. “Marriage is not as entirely blissful as the poets make it out to be.”

“Forgive me, cousin, but blissful is not the appellation that comes first to mind when I consider your circumstances,” Theo said in hopes that his cousin was too drunk to take offense.

“Eh?” Avery asked, favoring his drink with a cross-eyed stare.

As it was clear that Avery was too drunk, even, for proper conversation, Theo felt free to take his leave and make a circuit or two of the room before he made his way through the double doors and down the stairs to the ground floor where he waited for Mrs. Crenshaw to appear. He had not long to wait before he spotted her at the top of the stairs, a thick cloak over one arm. Perhaps she was as anxious to spend time together as was he. The thought warmed him so that he hardly felt the cold air as they quit the house and started down the walkway towards the chapel.

The air was not only chill, but damp, and tendrils of mist wafted across the moon in concourse with the cries of hoot owls and the rustle of dry leaves scurrying across the path at their feet. It seemed the ideal atmosphere to spot a spook if indeed one existed, a circumstance Theo rather doubted. It seemed a good excuse, though, to take Mrs. Crenshaw’s arm; she leaned into him with such
responsiveness he wondered if she might be afraid. Indeed, the mood was such that he thought it would be necessary for him to cast about for an appropriate topic of conversation and was relieved to find that Mrs. Crenshaw seemed full of questions.

“We have spoken of so much this past week, Mr. Williams, yet I still do not know from where you come. Are you a London bachelor or do you spend some time in the country, as well?”

“I stay in London when I have business in town, but I spend most of my time in the house in which I grew up. It’s in a tiny village near Shrewsbury in Shropshire.” He wondered if the country appealed to her as much as he hoped or if perhaps he should have first mentioned the stately Georgian townhouse he owned in Holborn in the case she preferred city life.

“Shrewsbury! I am persuaded there is not a lovelier spot on earth,” she said, squeezing his arm. “My dear Aunt Simpkins and her husband live very near. I have spent many a happy hour in the vicinity.”

Theo felt a spontaneous smile curve his lips and blessed the capricious moonlight; he did not wish to expose his delight in the case she were just being polite. “Bishop’s Castle is hardly Shrewsbury proper, but it is close enough to visit whenever one chooses.”

She seemed to hesitate for a moment before she spoke again. “Is it a very large house?”

There was no restraining his smile of delight at her leading question. “Large enough to have sheltered generations of Williams’ for more than a hundred years. Currently I share it with my mother who is famous throughout the county for her gentle ways and unparalleled kindness.”

“She sounds absolutely lovely,” Mrs. Crenshaw said in a voice that, in his ears, sounded rather wistful.

“She is, indeed. I have found there are few women who can compare. I have not given up looking, however,” he added and dared to place his free hand to cover hers where it lay on his arm. She tilted her head up at that, but the night was, at that moment, too dark to read her expression. He prayed he had not presumed too much.