Chapter 20

Growing Feelings

If Mr Beaumont had been distressed by their present estrangement, Lord Stokeford had naturally had every reason to feel the same. In the past week they’d managed to avoid one another in clubs and social gatherings. Laurie had ceased to visit in Upper Brook Street, a circumstance which the Countess found strange, and tactlessly asked her son about it in one occasion. She was met with a stony silence, and, in a fit of pique because of this incivility, she declared, in acerbic tone, that she was not at all surprise if he’d contrived to alienate Laurie as well, for he had a remarkable way of making himself disagreeable to everyone. Lord Stokeford bore this criticism in silence, but when he repaired to the solicitude of library to seek some solace from his favourite book, he reflected that what his mother had said was scarcely far from the truth, and his spirits sank lower still. There were a very few occasions when he and Laurie fell into disagreements during their younger years, but he never imagined that there would come a time when their differences could engender a detachment. Even Robert, whose tact could be matched to that of a diplomat, had been futile in talking them out of their rift. Stefan was not angry with Laurie; indeed, he longed to be reconciled with him. He only feared that his words had cut deep into him, and that his apology might be rejected.

He called on the Winscotts one afternoon, half-expecting to see his cousin there. Upon learning from the butler that Mrs and Miss Winscott had gone to Bath, he was rather surprised, and wondered for a moment what could they possibly want to do in such a humdrum place. The butler coughed discreetly and said that if my lord would like to know, Miss Davis did not come with them, and was in fact in the premises at the moment. The Earl had hoped to find her alone, but when he was ushered to the drawing room, he was a little disappointed to discover that she was with the Suthertons.

She received him with her usual warmth. “Lord Stokeford! It is nice to see you! I regret to say, though, that my Aunt and Sophie has gone out of town.”

“So I’ve been apprised by your butler,” replied the Earl. “I — er, merely wished to find how do you go on, but since you’ve other visitors I won’t stay long. Perhaps I’ll call on you again in another time.”

A small, insisting hand prevented him from leaving. “Oh, but please, do stay!” urged Miss Davis. “I’m sure you are acquainted with Miss Sutherton? This is her sister-in-law, Mrs Sutherton! We’ve just finished tea but if you would like it, I’ll send for another cup.” The Earl declined this offer, and exchanged polite how-do-you-dos with the Suthertons. After a few minute’s chatter in which Lord Stokeford took little part, the Suthertons, promising their hostess to call on her again soon, took their leave of them.

“For how long will your relatives be away?” asked Lord Stokeford.

“About a week perhaps. My aunt’s mama-in-law who lives in Bath has taken ill, you see, so they were obliged to go there. Aunt Emilia was in a state of agitation over her poor condition, and insisted on leaving the town without any delay.”

“I see. But surely they cannot leave you here alone?”

“Oh, no! Of course not!” she replied, smiling mischievously up at him. “Consider, sir, how my Aunt would spend her sojourn in constant dread of whatever larks I might be making on her absence! Besides, it would be most irregular to be left here all by myself. She has temporarily engaged a chaperon — and a very dear creature! — to look after me while they are away. Her name is Miss Moore, but you cannot see her right now because she had a little headache, and I insisted on her taking an afternoon nap for a while.”

“I can readily sympathize with your Aunt, brat,” said the Earl wryly. “However, I trust this Miss Moore to be quite up to the task of curbing your recklessness, and thereby preventing you from falling into some scrape.”

“She is, though it is most unjust of you to think that of me!” She threw him a dark look. “You know, I’ve not fallen into one scrape these several weeks now, and I should like to point out to you that I am not reckless.”

With this, he could not bring himself to concur. “If wandering alone inside hedge mazes at night, or capering about the rowdy Vauxhall without company is not being reckless, then I shall admit I do not have a particle of idea about the word.”

“Well, perhaps I am, a little,” she reluctantly admitted.

“You most certainly are,” Lord Stokeford firmly agreed. After a slight pause, he suddenly asked: “Will you consent to driving out with me to Richmond Park? I fear Hyde Park will be overflowing any moment soon, and I dislike driving in such a squeeze.”

Her face instantly brightened. “Oh! You’ve brought your curricle with you, then? Indeed, I would like it very much! If you please, will you let me — just once! — hold the ribbons — ”

“Certainly not!” objected the Earl flatly. “You’ll overturn us in a minute.”

Miss Davis looked indignant, but only sighed. “I’m sure I won’t, but I will not tease you about it. Will you be so good as to wait here while I change my clothes? And of course, I shall tell — oh, Miss Moore! I’m glad that you’ve come down, for I’ve something to tell you! Are you feeling quite the thing now?”

Miss Moore, having at this point came into a standstill on the threshold, flustered a little at seeing her charge entertaining a handsome stranger. “Oh, yes! But do forgive me, my dear. I do not know you’ve another visitor! Have the Suthertons already left?”

“Yes, and this is Lord Stokeford, Miss Moore, and he’s been so kind as to invite me to drive with him to Richmond Park,” confided the young lady cheerfully.

Having already a fair knowledge about this gentleman through her charge’s unbridled chatters, Miss Moore unobtrusively took a good stock of him. She had an oddity as to her preferences of men, and while other members of her sex favoured more the engaging and ostensibly amiable ones, she found the Earl’s air of sobriety worthy of her approval. He might be a little forbidding at one look, but since she shared Caroline’s romantic propensities, she characterized him as handsome in a dark, mysterious way, and said so to her charge as she changed for a suitable raiment.

Caroline laughed and replied: “I told you, he would appeal to your taste! He might appear to be a little standoffish at the outset, but believe me, Miss Moore, he can be droll when he chooses it!”

“I must own that however jolly I may look, my dear, I have a partiality for a gentleman who act a little less eloquent! Not that I would like to marry one, but even a female such as myself can still have a preference, don’t you agree?” Miss Davis wholeheartedly agreed. “For my part, I detest floridness in manner,” pursued Miss Moore while helping her charge to shrug into her pelisse. “And those silver-tongued gentlemen are likely to regale you with falsehoods for their own ends. Well, that pelisse certainly becomes you my dear, and I wonder if you would match it with that high-crowned bonnet, you would pull off a very pretty picture? I thought as much! As you said, the Earl has been courting dear Miss Sophie this age, but, having seen him now, I really think that they will not suit, my dear!”

“Yes, Sophie told me as much as that,” said Caroline, assessing her reflection in the mirror. “Well, she didn’t exactly put it that way, but the implication was not lost to me. Moreover, it seems that Lord Stokeford does not bestir himself much in his courtship lately, which also leads me to infer that he does not plan to declare himself.”

“No, I daresay not, my dear,” assented Miss Moore and arrested her charge’s eyes with her penetrating gaze. “But I wonder what brings him here today?”

Miss Davis’ gaze wavered at this. “I’m sure I do not know,” she said feebly. Since she did not find any more faults in her appearance, she went downstairs to rejoin her escort again, and a few moments later the pair set out for Richmond Park. At the first part of the journey they maintained a light conversation, but as they reached the outskirts of town where the buildings became sparse until there were none, and the cobbled street dissolved into a dusty lane flanked by green heaths, Lord Stokeford was wholly disposed to his driving, while Caroline busied herself in admiring the locality.

They eventually arrived at Richmond Park. Miss Davis was impressed by the whole stretch of it, and impetuously exclaimed that it was far more beautiful than Hyde Park. “Besides, one can breathe fresh air here, and there is the least likelihood of meeting one’s acquaintances,” she added. The inviting sight of a large pellucid pond reflecting the cloudless sky in the distance prompted her to ask the Earl if they could alight and take a ramble down its bank. Lord Stokeford readily agreed to this, and ordered his groom to walk the horses for a while. Miss Davis, thankful to have been able to stretch her legs, dashed gleefully towards the pond while he followed behind in a leisurely pace, drinking in the sight of her with an odd twist in his lips.

“How wonderful this is! Now that I think of it, we should have brought a basket of food with us,” pronounced Miss Davis thoughtfully.

“Are you suggesting a picnic? We can arrange for it next time if you like,” offered Lord Stokeford handsomely.

“Oh, yes, please! And we shall bring Sophie and Lord March and Mr Beaumont with us! Yes, I think that is a lovely scheme indeed, and I cannot wait for Sophie to come home and tell her that,” she heaved a blissful sigh. “You know, when we arrived here, I’ve nearly had a wave of nostalgia, and a sudden wish to go back to the country — to my home,” she confided wistfully.

“You said your home is in Hampshire, yes? Will you tell me something about it?”

Miss Davis turned to him with some surprise, but was rather pleased by his question. “Well, my home is not really grand, nor it is situated in a locality as beautiful as this,” she began. “It is amidst a sylvan and rather untamed surrounding, but it still has its own charms. My bedroom window overlooks the wood where I take my rambles — especially after a tiresome lesson with my elderly governess. In spring — ”

“It seems to me that you've taken the fancy of walking alone,” remarked the Earl drily. “And I strongly suspect that you are in the habit of sneaking out from one of your tiresome lessons!”

Her dimples pepped at the corners of her mouth. “I couldn’t help it! If you met my governess, then you would understand! But you are interrupting me, sir! Now, shall I go on? In spring, the woods are filled with bluebells that you can lie down upon them, as I always did, and I could sleep there for hours and hours. During the hunting season, my father often brought me with him to shoot pheasants. I remember that time when I tried — sneakily, of course — to shoot some too, but I made a poor job of it. How Papa had scolded me when he heard of it! I was no more than fifteen, you know,” she smiled brightly at the memory.

“You were such a handful back then, weren’t you?” remarked Lord Stokeford, amused. He picked up a flat stone and threw it in such a way that it bounced off the water three times before it sank. Suddenly diverted, Miss Davis instantly demanded how did his lordship do that?

“Just a flick of the wrist. Laurie and I used to do it when were boys, and even engaged ourselves in a stone-skipping competition,” he said, and gave her a somewhat smug look. “I always won, and took every shilling he wagered in every bout.”

Her eyes twinkled at his own. “And I’m sure you felt mighty puffed up about it! I cannot begin to imagine that poor Mr Beaumont was nearly beggared just because of — of throwing some stones! You are very close, aren’t you?” No sooner had she uttered this tactless remark than she regretted saying it.

The laughter died out from his eyes as he responded: “We are, but something has altered between us lately that I fear we won’t be as close as we were before.” It seemed that he was not inclined to share his troubles to her, and that made her feel somewhat disappointed. She wisely steered their conversation to a more cheerful course. However, as they walked further down the bank, someone called out Lord Stokeford’s name, and when they turned around to discover who it was, a soft curse escaped from his lips. The last people in all London he wanted to see right now were purposely striding towards them.

“Good afternoon! I hope I see you well, Stokeford? Rather surprised to see you here in Richmond. Very fine weather, eh?” said Lord Giles pleasantly enough, and the Earl managed to return a civil answer. Beside him, Lady Mathilda was eyeing Caroline with a faintly malicious smile, then reverted to Lord Stokeford and asked with unbecoming innocence: “Are you here for a picnic party as well? But I do not see Miss Winscott and Mr Beaumont!”

“No madam, we’re not,” replied Lord Stokeford frostily. “You must by now perceived that we do not come here as picnic-goers; merely that I’ve invited Miss Davis to drive with me down here. I hope that will satisfy the curiosity which I have no doubt you are harbouring the moment you’ve clapped your eyes on us.”

The lady, hiding her indignation under a brittled laughed, said with false nonchalance: “Dear me! How can you say so, my lord? Indeed, I harbour not an ounce of curiosity at all! Only that one cannot help but find it odd not see you with your usual—er, companions! Well, then, we shan’t detain you long. Come Giles, we must go back to our friends!”

When the pair was already out of earshot, Miss Davis remarked: “I’m not sure what was that all about, but I just don’t like the way she smiled at me; in fact, I don’t like her at all.”

Lord Stokeford, who knew Lady Mathilda as one of the worst gossipmongers in town, assented to this. “A sentiment which I wholeheartedly share. You can never find a more odious pair of busybodies than she and that Penningbrooke woman. Ten to one she’ll be telling tales about us to her precious friends,” he said indifferently.

Miss Davis was aghast. “But she has nothing to tell! Indeed, we didn’t give her something she could be suspicious of, did we? Or impressed upon them that there is — there is something between us. It’s — it’s just absurd!” Despite the conviction behind her voice she could not prevent the color rising on her cheeks, and wished that she had not said something so awkward.

For a moment Lord Stokeford regarded her enigmatically, noting that tell-tale blush. “Is it?” he softly murmured, but when the green eyes turned to him with vague alarm, he added in a brusque tone: “Well, never mind that. Shall we return to the curricle? I think it’s time we must get back and restore you to your Miss Moore.”

“Oh, yes, do let us!” she replied, letting out an audible sigh of relief.

Whatever notions Lady Mathilda might have been thinking about them, she was not wholly inclined to share it with others. But upon meeting Lady Stokeford in a small evening party later that night, she could not forbear to apprise her of what she witnessed at Richmond. Nothing remarkable could be made out of these tidings, but since she knew too well that the Countess, despite her amiable facade, was a trifle high in the instep to countenance her son’s gradual interest to a nobody, she had to lay the facts more explicitly and even hinted her ladyship of her own opinion. If she expected to ruffle the Countess’ feathers by this, she was destined to be disappointed. Lady Stokeford, having shared her son’s disdain to the likes of Lady Mathilda, was very civil enough, but only replied insouciantly that her son’s activities were a matter of no significance to her at all.

It was not entirely true. The information did indeed disturb her more than she would have led Lady Mathilda to believe. That night she went home a little after midnight, and was lucky to find her son in the library. She surprised him by asking if he had a lovely drive down Richmond today.

“Indeed ma’am, I had. I trust Lady Mathilda had been very eager to call that to your attention?” replied Stefan sardonically.

She gave him a rather tight smile. “As a matter of fact she did, and I had to endure a few minutes of her tiresome discourses. However, I wouldn’t have paid her much heed if it weren’t for the young lady whom she saw with you there.”

“I fail to see why you should disapprove of my driving to Miss Davis down to Richmond,” said Lord Stokeford, a little rigidly.

“Well, upon my word!” exclaimed the Countess scornfully. “If that sly chit wasn’t setting her cap at your cousin, and then throwing her handkerchief to you as well whenever Laurie’s back is turned — ”

“She is doing no such thing!” he interpolated with some heat. “Good God, Mother, you should have known better than to credit every word from a malicious tongue, and perhaps find something that will warrant whatever suppositions you have in mind!”

His mother replied tartly: “Let me tell you that I am not bird-witted, Stefan, and I can perfectly understand something that is as plain as day! Why, I wouldn’t waste my breath talking to you tonight and enduring your ill-humours have I not been disconcerted of late of what is going on under my nose!”

“You are very eloquent, ma’am, but pray spare me any more roundaboutations and just be plain as to your point!”

“Only that I am convinced,” said the Countess portentously, “that you are not quite as taken with Miss Winscott as with that little cousin of hers!”

There was a slight pause. After which his lordship, making a bald lie to himself, told her quietly: “I believe you are labouring under a misapprehension, ma’am. My interest with Miss Davis is kept within the bounds of a friendly regard, and nothing more.”

The Countess let out a small, jeering laugh. “Misapprehension, indeed! Lord, Stefan, I know what I saw in those few occasions you were with Miss Davis! Besides, what will Laurie have to say to this? Very likely he would think that you are stealing a march on him.”

“I hope you know me too well to suppose that I’m capable of something so contemptible out of spite for my cousin,” he replied grimly.

“Heavens, no! I know you dote on poor Laurie so much; but as the matters stand between you, I’m sure I cannot blame him. Though I admit I was somewhat surprise that a young lady of Miss Davis’ sort could have captured his fancy. She must be very charming indeed.” When he remained silent, the Countess remarked somewhat blithely: “I see that I’ve given you a great deal of food for your thought tonight, didn’t I?” and withdrew from the library.