Энни Бэрроуз – Regency Mistletoe & Marriages: A Countess by Christmas / The Earl's Mistletoe Bride (страница 8)
It was during the second remove that the General remarked, ‘I am surprised at you for bringing that person here, Bella,’ motioning at Helen across the table with his fork.
Aunt Bella bristled, while Helen just froze. She had felt uncomfortable enough knowing that she had made such an error of judgement about the station of the man who had turned out to be her host. And in then betraying her consternation by standing there gaping at him like a nodcock. Now, since the General had one of those voices that carried, several other conversations at the table abruptly ceased, and she felt as though once again everyone was staring at her.
‘Are you?’ replied her aunt repressively. ‘I cannot imagine why.’
‘I suppose nothing you do ought to shock me any more, Bella,’ said the General witheringly. ‘You still enjoy courting scandal, do you not?’
‘Even if that were true,’ Aunt Bella replied with a tight smile, ‘which it most emphatically is not, no true gentleman would even touch upon such a topic in company.’
Helen had the satisfaction of seeing the General flush darkly and shift uncomfortably in his seat.
But it was outweighed by the fact that she could also see her aunt’s hands were trembling.
There was a moment of tense silence, punctuated only by the genteel clink of sterling silver cutlery on porcelain. Then the lady at the foot of the table drawled, ‘The mutton is exceptionally well presented this evening, Bridgemere. You must compliment your cook.’
‘I shall certainly do so, Lady Thrapston,’ said the Earl dryly, ‘since
For some reason this comment, or perhaps the way it was delivered, made the haughty woman look quite put out.
Lady Thrapston, Helen noted with resentment as she recalled the way Aunt Bella had been neglected upon her arrival, could in no way be described as elderly. She was so stylish that if people did not look too closely, they might take her for a fairly young woman.
There was another uncomfortable pause in the conversation before a few of the younger men, led by a gaudily dressed youth who sat at Lady Thrapston’s right hand, began to discuss the day’s shooting.
Though the atmosphere had lightened to some extent, Helen was mightily relieved when the meal drew to an end and Lady Thrapston signalled to the other ladies that it was time to withdraw by the simple expedient of getting to her feet.
Helen hurried to the doorway, and waited for her aunt to catch up with her there.
‘I am in no condition to go to the drawing room and face any more of that,’ said her aunt in an undertone. ‘Not after the shock of discovering my odious brother is here!’
They left the room arm in arm, and were ascending the first set of stairs when Helen said, ‘Would you mind very much if I were to leave you for a little while?’
Aunt Bella’s brows rose. ‘You surely do not want to face that drawing room without me?’
‘No!’ She barely repressed a shudder. ‘I most certainly do not!’
She chewed on her lower lip, wondering how much to confess to her aunt. She did not want to add to her worries by admitting she had mistaken Lord Bridgemere for one of his footmen and called him an impudent fellow. She cringed as the scene flooded back to her in all its inglorious detail.
‘I have decided it would be a good idea if I had a word with that secretary fellow, that is all…’ she began. She wanted to see if she could arrange an interview of her own, through his secretary, and get in an apology to Lord Bridgemere before he spoke to Aunt Bella. She would hate to think that her behaviour might prejudice him against her aunt in any way.
‘Oh, Helen, what a good idea! I would be so relieved to learn exactly when I shall be able to speak with Lord Bridgemere. I do not think I shall rest easy until I have laid my case before him. And you are such a pretty girl. I am sure you could persuade the young man to arrange for me to see His Lordship before my brother has a chance to turn him against me. I could not believe he would be so unmannerly as to attack me like that over dinner! It shook me, I can tell you.’
Helen had never felt more uncomfortable than to hear the erroneous assumption her aunt had made.
Yet she did nothing to correct it. It would mean making too many explanations, which she was not sure would be helpful to anyone.
Fortunately it took quite some time to run Mr Cadwallader to ground, by which time Helen had managed to regain her composure.
Though he had dined with the guests, he had retreated almost immediately afterwards to a small book-lined room in the servants’ hall.
‘I am so sorry to bother you,’ she said, knocking upon the door and putting her head round without waiting for him to reply, ‘but I was wondering if it would be possible for me to have a private interview with His Lordship. As soon as possible. At least…before whatever time you have arranged for him to speak with my aunt.’
Mr Cadwallader looked up from the pile of papers he was working on and frowned.
‘Miss Forrest, is it not?’ He flipped open a leather-bound ledger and ran his finger down the page at which it opened. His brows shot up.
‘Miss
‘Yes.’ She nodded.
‘It appears His Lordship has already anticipated your request. He has your name here for seven o clock tomorrow morning.’
‘He has?’ She swallowed nervously. What did that mean? And was it a coincidence that he had her name down for seven? The approximate time at which she had run into him on the backstairs that very morning?
Forcing a smile, she said, ‘Good. Wh…where shall I…?’
‘Oh, you had better come in here, if he wishes to speak with you that early,’ said the young man, snapping the book shut. ‘His Lordship always comes down first thing to see to business before—’ He pulled himself up, as though he had been on the point of committing an indiscretion, rose to his feet, and ushered her to the door.
Helen racked her brains as she returned to her room, but could not come up with any reason why he should have decided to arrange a meeting with her that boded anything but ill for her and her aunt. But at least she could see what he might have been doing on the backstairs. Those stairs were probably the most direct route from his secretary’s office to his own room. He had probably been on his way down to that office, to see to whatever business he needed to get out of the way before…whatever else it was he did all day when he had a houseful of guests. None of whom, to judge by the set of his face at table, were any more welcome to him than she was. Her aunt had hit the nail on the head when she had described him as a man of solitary disposition. It was not only the plainness of his clothing that set him apart from the rest of the persons gathered about that table. An air of complete insularity cloaked him like a mantle.
And all she had accomplished during the two altercations she’d had with him had been to put herself at the head of the list of people who annoyed him. Oh, bother! Why was she always letting her temper get the better of her? And why did she have to have lost it with him, of all men? It was her French blood, her aunt would have said. She always blamed her French blood whenever she got into mischief.
She spent another rather restless night, and was pitched even deeper into gloom when she studied her reflection in the mirror the next morning. Somehow she felt that she would have a better chance to make her case without those awful dark smudges beneath her eyes.
But there was nothing she could do about them. She would simply have to appeal to the Earl’s sense of fair play and hope that the General had not managed to turn him against her aunt at some time during the preceding evening.
If her own behaviour had not already done so.
She managed to find her way back down to Mr Cadwallader’s office without a hitch. As she summoned up all her courage to knock on the door, she reflected that at least her experiences here were good preparation for her new role in life. She was having plenty of practice at taking backstairs, and haunting servants’ quarters!
‘Come in,’ she heard the Earl say from behind the closed door.
She stepped into the room, turning and shutting the door behind her swiftly before anyone saw her. For some reason she did not want anyone to know she had arranged this interview. Not that there was any risk from the rest of the house guests, none of whom were early risers.
But one of the servants might have seen her, and…Oh, bother it all! She spun round, lifted her chin, and faced the Earl, who was sitting behind his desk, idly twirling a pen between his long, supple fingers. What did it matter who saw her come here? She had every right to speak to the man…
Besides, he had been the one to send for her, had he not? Or would have if she had not spoken to his secretary first.
Lord Bridgemere made a motion with his pen towards the chair which was placed in front of his desk, which she interpreted as a signal to sit on it. On rather shaky legs she walked to it, and sank onto it gratefully, placing the candle she had used to light her way down on the floor by her feet.