Chapter 26

The Countess' Machinations

Inevitably, the shroud of insanity had evaporated in the nick of time and Lord Stokeford was hauled back to the cold reality by an unrelenting force. A groan escaped from him, and he jerked his head and wrenched himself away from Caroline as though he was scorched. “Forgive me!” he exclaimed, his tone unintentionally harsh. “I didn’t — I shouldn’t have pushed you on the wall and — God, what a clumsy fool I am!”

These were hardly the words of love Miss Davis had been expecting in so magical a moment. Realizing that the moment had been cruelly put to an end, she suffered a sharp stab of disappointment, and there was a pained look and bewilderment in her eyes. She was certain he felt a tendre for her, else he wouldn’t gaze at her in that way, or imprisoned her in his arms like some ardent lover. But now, observing his grim face and the severe line of his pursing lips, her certainty wavered and her mind jeered at her that perhaps she’d been indulging her fancy too much.

Afraid that it would wreck immeasurable havoc to him merely by gazing upon them, Stokeford dared not look at the pair of soulful green orbs that seemed to hurl too many unspoken questions at him. How he would like to fling cautions to the wind, encircle his arm around her warm figure again and kiss her breathlessly — but that would mean betrayal to Laurie. That he’d come too damed close to the very thing he’d sworn never to commit filled him with self-disgust.

“I should’ve restored you to your cousin when she’d looked for you,” he went on gruffly. “Besides, this is most improper.vWe shouldn’t be tarrying here in the balcony for long. Deuce only knew what had possessed me to — to pounce on you like a curst lout.” When no answer was returned, Stokeford demanded in an impatient tone: “Well, ma’am?”

“You tried to kiss me,” she replied flatly.

He was taken aback by her no-nonsense tone. “It would be to my everlasting discredit,” he said, shamefaced. “I hope you’ll forgive me, and believe that I regret — what I’ve done, which is reprehensible beyond permission.”

She turned away and bit her trembling lip. “O-Of course I forgive you, sir. I’m sure it was not your intention to pounce on me like a — a lout, as you said.”

Stokeford walked closer behind her. “Caroline, if I’ve impressed upon you that I — I’m engaging your interest, I am truly sorry. But I beg you not to take any heed of it. It was a moment’s mad impulse, that’s all.”

Smothering a sob that had threatened to escape from her lips, she took a deep breath and faced him again, tears shining in her eyes. “Lord Stokeford, h-have you ever been— in l-love before, I wonder?” she managed to ask, though her voice pathetically shook.

In a voice like icicle, he said: “I am happy to apprise you, ma’am, that I have not, nor will ever be.” And, as though to worsen the blow, he added stiffly: “Such emotion is beneath my touch, and I believe the same goes for those of my kind.”

For a while she searched that handsome face of the man whom she’d come to care for so much, hardly believing that it was the same man who was now piercing her heart with his cold, uncaring words. “I see,” she said. “Then I pity you and your kind, my lord. For a heart that does not love knows little kindness and compassion.”

“Very true. As you may observe, Miss Davis, our kind cares little beyond the sphere of our pleasure and desires,” the Earl remarked, his lip curling.. “However, since you display such a very well-versed mind about the subject of love, I wonder if it doesn’t go against your grain to let some gentleman kiss you when you do not feel the slightest tendre for him?”

At this, her eyes flashed, and the little chin jutted out defiantly. “If you mean of ‘some gentleman’ is Mr Beaumont, at least he did not pounce on me like a lout, and said such horrid things after k-kissing me!”

He meant differently, of course, but remembering that particular incident, his temper flared. “Of course not! How could he say anythingat all, when you all but swooned thereafter? And I must say you’d chosen a nice timing to fall directly in my arms, instead of Laurie’s!”

“Oh! Oh!” she sputtered, flushing to her roots. “How ungentlemanly of you to remind me of — of my embarrassment! It would do you good to have your ears boxed, you horrid, horrid man!”

“Try if you could, you imp!”

Hurt and furious, Caroline strode towards him purposely, two small hands forming into fists on her side. She was checked, however, when a new voice interrupted them. “So this is where you two have been skulking!” it said. As though two guilty children caught red-handed, they nearly jumped, and were confronted by Cedric’s questioning gaze.

“Milborne!” Stokeford ejaculated from the edge of the balustrade, then added somewhat lamely: “Why— how— er, were you looking for us, by any chance?”

“By any chance? By Jove, but that’s rich! Here I am, charged by Lord March to look for you half an hour ago, wondering where have you dug a hole and bury yourself into when I could have been sitting at a card table long since! A grand time you’ve cost me, Stokeford!”

“But Lord Stokeford could hardly dig a hole in here Cedric, let alone bury himself with that arm of his,” pointed out the lady.

“As for you Caroline,” Cedric went on, ignoring these flippant observations. “Why must you needs dally with Stokeford in a balcony that could hardly give you a respectable space from each other, deuce take me if I know! The garden should be the ideal place, or the conservatory.”

“I’m not dallying with him!” she returned indignantly, her cheeks very hot. “How could you be so vulgar, Cedric?”

Stokeford, sharing Miss Davis’s sentiments, put in direly: “I have a mind to pull that impudent tongue of yours out of your empty head, Milborne. By God, so I have!”

Abashed, Mr Milborne beg their pardons and belatedly pointed out that they shouldn’t be here in the first place, because it was not at all the ‘thing’.

“How proper of you to remind us of propriety,” the Earl said sardonically. “You should have said that earlier instead of making ribald suggestions like taking ourselves off to the garden or conservatory!”

“Why, but I see no harm in refreshing ourselves in the balcony,” Caroline declared airily, but wrinkled her nose after a moment as she looked out at the garden. “Speaking of conservatory, I think I saw a couple entering it a while ago. Furtively, you know,” she added with a meaningful look.

Cedric yawned. “There! I’d say they’ve more sense than you two have. No, don’t look daggers on me! Dash it, the fellow is just — er, making an observation.”

“Then I suggest you keep your worthless observation to yourself,” recommended Lord Stokeford between his teeth. “And this conversation has become fatuous I do not care to prolong it.”

“So it is, by Jove! I couldn’t abide silly talk myself,” agreed Mr Milborne with bald contradiction. “Caro! You tiresome chit, Sophie and Miss Moore have been looking for you high and low. Run along now, there’s a good girl. I gather they are still in the dinning room below.”

“I am not tiresome!”

“Hah! Tell Sophie that — I’d like to see her face!” he said tartly.

Eyes twinkling, she flashed him a mischievous smile. “My dearest cousin will not ring a peal over me, Cedric, if that’s what you expect,” she replied confidently and made a mock curtsy. “I shall leave you now to your devices, gentlemen.” Sensing Lord Stokeford’s gaze, she could not forbear to throw one last glance at him over her shoulder before leaving. The wistful look she gave him made his heart contract painfully, knowing that it would definitely haunt his dreams tonight.

It did not also elude the attention of Cedric, and when he turned to look at the Earl, the full realization seemed so astonishing that for a moment he could not find his voice. “Egad!” he exclaimed at length, his eyes widening at the other man. “Stokeford, never tell me you’re truly — ”

“Don’t say it,” he said sharply.

“But it’s incredible! I’ve the slightest suspicion at first — ”

“Damn you, Milborne. I say, have done!”

His strident tone caught him off-guard. For a while Cedric dazedly stared at the ramrod back of the Earl. “What heat, man. Very well,” he returned equably. “I’m sure you’ve your own reasons why —” a pensive pause followed, then he continued triumphantly: “That’s it then! But I’m a slow-top not to realize it at once. Giving way to your beloved cousin, aren’t you? Lord knows, Beaumont’s dashed too smitten with Caroline he could hardly see anyone in his horizon except her. But no use wearing the willow, my lord.” He added ruefully: “Some of us are dealt a bitter hand when it comes to love and — well, we shall have to put up with it, I suppose.”

Lord Stokeford whirled around, his face as hard as flint. “You presume too much, Cedric Milborne,” he pronounced in a frosty tone that should signal warning to the other man, then stalked off without another word. Sighing, Mr Milborne shook his head and followed quietly behind. Poor fellow, he thought. What with his latest duel, his injured arm, to say nothing of his heartache, Cedric foresaw that the Earl of Stokeford would undoubtedly succumb to a fit of the blue-devils for a while.

Stokeford felt dejected indeed, but he was careful not to betray it before the sea of faces that greeted him in the ballroom. For the next hour or so he only saw glimpses of Caroline as she talked with her friends, skittered around, and laughed at some remarks whispered to her by Laurie. If anything, it seemed that she'd already forgot what had transpired between them in the balcony. Stokeford was not deceived, however. Once or twice their gazes met, and he knew at once that her eyes were not in accord with her soft, smiling lips. Suddenly the sight of her was too much to bear, and, fibbing excuses to his hostess and to his friends, left the ball and went home.

The sleepy lackey who’d opened the door for him perceived at once that his lordship was in dour humour. This belief further strengthened when the Earl issued an order that a bottle of cognac be sent to the library. When Philips materialized in front of him, Styles the footman shook his head. “His lor’ship’s at it agin an’ no mistake, Mr Philips! Allus like that — lookin’ black like the devil hisself tonight an’ t’morrow’s bosky as he couldn’t remember his name.”

“What is his lordship’s orders?”

“Cognac, his lor’ship’s fayvreet. What else?”

Philips was silent. Then, to the lackey’s surprise and relief, he declared grandly: “Very well, then. Let me fetch the cognac and I’ll bring it to his lordship.” Moment’s later he crept silently inside the library and found the Earl not in a tempestuous state, but in a contemplative mood, staring blindly at the fire, his figure slumped carelessly in an angle on the armchair.

Stokeford looked up at the faint sound of glass colliding gently against another glass. “Come to scold me, Philips?”

“I hope I am not so presumptuous as to overstep the bounds, my lord,” the butler said primly and put his burden on a polished mahogany table. “Much as we beg you not to overtire yourself, your word is still our command. I hope,” he filled the glass half-full of cognac and handed it to his lordship, “that all went well in your evening, my lord?”

As the glass hovered at his lordship’s lips, Philips was assailed by a fleeting apprehension. Lord Stokeford had a good palate, and he knew very well if his drink was watered, as was the case right now. The concerned butler had merely thought it prudent that his lordship should indulge very little in alcohol, seeing as his not fully recovered from his injury, if only he could be made to realize it. He breath a sigh of relief as Stokeford carelessly tossed his glass and did not seem to taste anything odd about it. However, just as when Philips felt the confidence that his perfidy went unnoticed, his lordship frowned heavily and the butler waited breathlessly of his next words.

“My evening — dull and uneventful, I’d say,” remarked Stokeford indifferently. “Except that I’d been nothing short of a sensation, for there seemed to be scarcely a pair of eyes that left me since I’d entered the portals of the ballroom.”

“Then it certainly wasn’t uneventful, my lord, if I may say so,” the butler replied, feeling relieved once more. “Another thing, my lord. I heard from her ladyship that Lord Mislington has come to town.”

Stokeford jerked up and a new frown descended upon his brow. “Did he visit?”

It was an unwelcoming news for his master, Philips knew. He said in a colourless voice: “No, my lord. Though I fancy he will, and soon.”

His lips tilting into what seemed like a grim smile, he murmured: “Beyond no doubt, Philips. My beloved uncle’s fastidious when it comes to family ties. Pour me another.”

The next morning was drab, grey clouds drifting rapidly in the sky, depriving London of its sunshine. Hardly an ideal weather to take a ride, but Lord Stokeford, who’d passed a far from restful night, found it suitable to brood over gloomy reflections in the sparsely peopled Hyde Park. He urged his bay to a trot and rode fairly at ease despite with only one arm at disposal, and was unmindful of the few appreciative glances of the ladies as he passed them by. They seemed like hazy, faceless visions immaterial to him, for his mind conjured up the one little face with huge green eyes he’d come to adore so much, and never would his lordship look the other way.

He hated himself for being callous to her last night. Dared he believe that she returned his feelings? A hopeful voice within told him that there might still be the chance for his own happiness, that it was his for the taking only if he would try. But his practical mind overrode these urgings by stating the harsh truth that by doing so, he would certainly ruin Laurie’s own chances. He sighed. ‘Oh, Caro, my dearest imp,’ he thought ruefully. ‘What a pretty coil your lovely person has contrived to trap me.’

As though fate had heard his inner thoughts, it smiled upon him, and the lady that had dominated his mind suddenly came within his sight as he took a bend on the lane. There was Mr Clayton with Sophie walking beside her, and following closely behind them were Caroline and her abigail. Stokeford, inwardly sending a small thanks above for this opportunity, steered his mount towards them, then slid from the saddle. He shook hands with Mr Clayton, who’d politely inquired after his health, then exchanged pleasantries with Miss Winscott. In the corner of his eye, he observed that Caroline looked ready to shrink, for she faltered in her steps and seemed hesitant to join them.

Having received a fuming glance from her maid, Lord Stokeford was nonetheless successful in monopolizing his quarry, and before the reluctant Miss Davis could escape he was already beside her. “Good morning, Miss Caro. I trust you slept well last night?” he asked coolly. It was apparent that she did not, for the eyes she lifted to him were a little puffy, and there were dark smudges beneath them. He felt a sudden pang of guilt.

Nose stuck up in the air, Caroline answered as disdainfully as she could: “Very well, my lord, thank you. And you?”

“Truth be told, I’d a deuce of a night.” He leaned closer to her and said in an undertone: “You look a proper hag, brat.”

Miss Davis glared at him, but her indignation was short-lived. It was too hard to resist when the deep blue eyes were smiling down at her. Biting her lips to stifle an answering smile, she looked away. This was the same man who’d cost her a hearty bout of tears in her sleep, who’d been cold and had said few unkind words to her last night; but much as she wanted to give him a set-down, she couldn’t — not when he was in his teasing mood, which was very rare. ‘I shall give him his due at all events!’ thought Caroline resolutely. “I am aware of that, my lord,” she replied meekly, which was the truth. “I can only hope that the sight of my frightful appearance in this otherwise lovely background does not ruin your morning.”

To her satisfaction, she heard him grunt. “I didn’t say frightful, if you recollect,” retorted his lordship with a touch of irritation.

“Then how should a ‘proper’ hag look like if not frightful?” asked Miss Davis, all innocence.

One corner of his mouth twitched, but Stokeford bent her a stern look. “You’re an impertinent young woman, Miss Caroline Davis. You would do well to remember that it is an unbecoming trait for a Lady of Quality.”

“If you mean a lady of your kind my lord, pray disabuse your mind of that notion. I do not flatter myself to be one of them.”

All the traces of humour suddenly vanished from his eyes. “I should have known you’d throw that in my teeth if I gave you the opening,” he said tightly, and walked ahead to catch up with Mr Clayton and Sophie. “Pray excuse me, but I beg to have a word with your cousin in private, Miss Winscott. Will you mind if I take her around for a while?”

Much disconcerted by his abrupt manner, Sophie nodded and said faintly that she did not mind in the least. “Goodness me,” she said, her brows knitted as the Earl strode away. “I wonder what my cousin has said to put him out?”

“I have no idea that they’re in friendly terms,” replied Mr Clayton softly. “It had occurred to me that Lord Stokeford’s not the kind of man to —er, enjoy the female company much, though apparently I am mistaken.”

“No, he doesn’t have a lot of female acquaintances. It’s an odd friendship he’d struck with my cousin, to be sure. It had all started when Caroline had this fancy to ‘assist’ Lord Stokeford in — er, winning me, you know, though she didn’t guess at that time I knew very well what she was about!”

Mr Clayton smiled down at her laughing countenance. “No, really? But everything did not go well as she planned, I take it?”

“No, poor dear. Her match-making sadly went awry, and I am to be blamed for that, I’m afraid. At one point, I told her I was a little daunted by the Earl — you must’ve observed that he could be formidable and ill-tempered at times!— and she’d given it up in the end.”

“I believe he could,” agreed her suitor. “But for all of that, he’s an honourable man and that compensates greatly for his, ah, less agreeable traits. However,” he added, looking tenderly at his adored lady. “I should be thankful that your cousin was not quite successful in her match making; otherwise, you wouldn’t be here beside me, my dear Miss Sophie.”

His adored lady blushed and averted her gaze. “Yes — yes, indeed.”

“Do you not think,” mused Mr Clayton after a fleeting silence, “that they might make a match of it?”