Chapter 17

Miss Davis Meets the Countess

Little was seen of Mr Beaumont for the next few days, but speculations about the dire circumstances in which he’d sustained injuries were rife among the circles of his acquaintances. Their conjectures varied, but to the less imaginative minds it was hard to conjecture anything at all. For them it was inconceivable that the young Beaumont could be embroiled in a fight, for his was the most amiable of dispositions — who, pray, would stir quarrel with such an agreeable gentleman? The few who knew the real story were careful not to drop any hint at all; the rest who didn’t were left to devise their own versions. In desperation to glean the exact details, one nosy fellow had actually gone so far as to seek Lord Stokeford for them, but no sooner had he uttered Mr Beaumont’s name than he’d been interrupted by a blistering reply to mind his own bloody business. Several people who’d witnessed this exchange were of the same mind that it was a piece of foolhardy to ask the Earl of anything— most of all the troubles— that concerned his family, and it would be well-advised to drop the subject whenever he was nearby. The advise had been heeded well, and people gradually lost interest on the subject.

Meanwhile, Miss Davis had been a prey to anxiety for Mr Beaumont’s condition after that dreadful night at Vauxhall. As was expected, the incident provoked a pother among the Suthertons and her relatives, and it took great pains to calm their frayed nerves. Caroline had seen fit to omit the part of Cedric, but told the rest of her story with remarkable lucidity, while Aunt Emelia listened with a threatening fits of the vapours, interrupting her with plentiful gasps and interjections to the end. She was grateful for the Suthertons, of course, but to Mr Beaumont she felt prodigiously indebted. Why, such heroic conduct was rarely found in the youngsters nowadays; to be sure, any ordinary young man would have acted less! The discussion was ended with a severe admonishment delivered to her niece, but when she’d retired for the night, Mrs Winscott could not but be pleased a little. She’d begun to nurse hopes that her niece might be making a brilliant match yet, and that encouraging thought somehow brought her an undisturbed sleep, however disagreeable the night had turned out to be.

No such notion crossed Miss Davis’ mind though. Few days passed by, and Mr Beaumont’s promise to call on her was yet to be fulfilled. Aunt Emelia had been expectant for this visit, but when the young man did not seem inclined to put appearance anytime sooner, her anticipation diminished. She contented herself instead with the diversion offered by Mr Milborne who, unlike Mr Beaumont, had given every inclination to grace their drawing room with his presence every day. Caroline wasn’t at all pleased about it, but her resentments against Cedric were checked when it became apparent that his presence was the kernel of Sophie’s exuberance.

This gave her some food for thought. She did for more than once try to tell Sophie of Cedric’s clandestine meeting in Vauxhall, but the words were prevented the instant they reached the tip of her tongue. Her mind was often in a muddle whenever she was assailed by conflicting thoughts. Would I tell Sophie? Of course! Do not let her be hoodwinked by pretenses! She frowned at this. And if they weren’t entirely pretenses? It is obvious that Cedric is smitten with Sophie! Her subconscious made a derisive snort. Lud, no gentleman whose affections are solely fixed for one lady would even seek to dally with another! Why, it would be unscrupulous! But then, what do you know about men and love, Caroline? Nothing… Nothing…

Yes, she thought mournfully, she knew next to nothing about men and love, so why bother to interfere in her cousin’s — or in fact in anyone’s — own romances? “And what of yours, Caroline? You’ve been quite busy with other people’s that you’ve seemed to forget your own heart,” she reflected disapprovingly while taking a stroll in Hyde Park one afternoon. Too abstracted to admire her surroundings, she walked while prodding the ground with the tip of her parasol, and since her eyes were downcast, she didn’t glimpse the rider in claret coat and biscuit-hued breeches drew near to her.

“Miss Davis?”

She glanced up distractedly, but her face broke into a smile all of a sudden when she saw a familiar face. “Lord Stokeford! Good afternoon!” He swung down from his mount and patted the bay’s neck. “Good afternoon. Why are you alone?”

“Oh, no, I’m not! I was careful to bring my maid with me,” she said with an irrepressible twinkle in her green eyes. “She’s walking behind me, you see, and does not bother to make haste.”

Lord Stokeford looked over her and saw the Abigail scurrying towards them. “Perhaps, now that she’s seen me, she would walk a little faster.”

“I daresay— oh, goodness, here she is! Lucy, you may fall a little behind, don’t worry.” They began to walk. Lucy, with a wary eye on the Earl, obediently kept a respectable distance away from them.

“I see that Miss Winscott’s not with you today?”

“No, she makes a visit to the milliner this afternoon,” she explained. A worried look crept on her face. “I— I hope Mr Beaumont is well?”

“Yes,” the Earl replied impassively, “Yes, I believe he is recuperating.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I— I do not see him these days.” Miss Davis relapsed into a brooding silence. Lord Stokeford glanced down at her, and perceived at once her lack of high spirits. He edged a little closer, and asked in an undertone: “Something’s bothering you, brat? You are unusually silent that I begin to fear you’ll bore me to tears yet.”

Caroline couldn’t help but smile on that pet name. Oddly enough, coming from Lord Stokeford it sounded very naturally on her ears. “Why, sir, do you find me amusing when I am loquacious? I thought you detest my idle chatters!”

“No, I did not say I detest it. In fact I like it better when you are animated, because your face seems to brighten all over.”

Miss Davis’s gazed up at him in surprise. She wondered how a man could deliver a compliment while appearing rather impersonal. She opened her mouth to speak, but failed to think of a suitable reply, and closed it again.

“Well, brat?”

“As a matter of fact, sir, there is something that’s troubling me,” she sighed. “I’ve been thinking of it since that horrid night at the Pleasure Garden.”

“Whatever it is, you may unburden yourself to me.”

“That’s very kind, my lord,” she gave him a tentative smile. “Now that I think of it, this might somehow interest you, too.”

The Earl regarded her briefly, delicate brows gathering in a slight frown. “Indeed? Pray, tell then.”

Miss Davis let out another heavy sigh before saying: “I hope this will not annoy you, but it is about Cedric — Mr Milborne,” she searched his face for any signs of annoyance, and surely there it was, written across his face in a trice. “Well, sir, that night at Vauxhall, he was there too, you know, and what’s more, I— I’d seen him with a lady.”

“A lady,” Lord Stokeford was inwardly suspicious. “Who might this lady be, do you know?”

She shook her head regretfully. “I haven’t the slightest idea. All I know is that she’s his — er— lover!” she whispered the last word with emphasis. Lord Stokeford’s brows creased anew. “And how did you know that, brat?”

There was a slight hesitance before the sheepish reply came: “Well, I— I followed them to a ruined temple, where they hid themselves. Surely, that quite suggested something?”

“By Gad, followed them—!”

“Oh, pray, hush, sir! Hush!” Caroline threw a quick glance over her shoulder to check her maid. Lord Stokeford followed her sight, but it turned out that Lucy seemed oblivious to the two pairs of eyes. “Heavens, do you want that to reach my Aunt’s ears by tomorrow? I’m sure I don’t!” she rebuked slightly, but the Earl paid it no heed. “Miss Davis, do you remember what the lady looked like? Or even just her dress?”

Her brows furrowed. “No, I’m sorry! All I remembered was an enormous bonnet that hid nearly half of her face. Perhaps you have someone in mind to whom you have a suspicion?” Lord Stokeford, with nonchalance, quickly disclaimed this.

“Oh, I see,” she bit her lip, and continued: “I hate to tell this to you, sir, but it appears that my cousin has— has a growing tendre for Cedric! As for Cedric, he has been assiduous in engaging Sophie’s attentions — and feelings, for that matter!— more than ever. Do you know that he calls on us almost every day, and shamelessly fawns over my cousin? It extremely vexes me, after witnessing his — his loose behaviour at Vauxhall! But to be fair, perhaps I am letting my judgement be clouded by that one single episode,” she reluctantly allowed, and darted the Earl a questioning gaze. “Are — are men always like that? I mean, why you men are so inconstant as to your feelings?”

Lord Stokeford drank in the guileless green eyes that stared wide at him with open inquisitiveness. “I don’t know, Miss Davis,” he returned softly. “But then, men are quite different from one another. Sometimes one has to look past all the appearances to know what is really underneath.”

“I suppose you’re right, though I own I know so little of your sex, sir,” she reflected, a distant look descended on her face. “After all, I am not out in the world for quite a long time. Perhaps Sophie knows more, because she’s such a worldly creature, and she’s always surrounded by her admirers. I— I am not a beauty like her, you see, and men wouldn’t really bother to flock around me — well, not that I ever wanted them to, for it must be excessively tiresome — but you see, my point, sir, is that there’s so little — ”

“You might not be a beauty like your cousin,” put in the Earl briskly, “but I personally think that you are lovely in your own way, Caroline, if somewhat cheeky and impish, at times.” His lips twitched at the corners, and his face softened. “I always think you a fascinating little thing, you know, and— well, this might be beside the point, but if I may say so, you have the most breathtaking eyes I’ve ever beheld.”

In that brief moment, Miss Davis’ breath was suddenly caught, and everything else faded in the background. It was still Lord Stokeford, but for the first time, she was seeing him in a very different light. He made the world believed that he was a cynic, and never a lady’s man, but what he’d just told her might as well have come out from a professed romantic. A blush was shamelessly spreading across her face, but she held that blue eyes unwaveringly. “I believe,” she said slowly, breathlessly, “that you’ve just — complimented me for — the second time, my lord.”

“I believe so, yes,” his lordship murmured, staring enigmatically down at her. There seemed to be no other words coming forth; Caroline finally tore her gaze away, and bit her lip. On they walked, and it was with some effort that she steered the conversation back to the main topic, just to breach the awkward silence. “You— you might wonder why I dwell too much on this, sir, but if you understand, my part is only to spare my cousin of unhappiness which I am sure would arise from a broken heart. There’s nothing that could break a girl’s spirits more devastatingly than that, you know.”

“I know.”

“Still, I am in two minds about divulging it to Sophie.”

“Apparently you are,” his lordship agreed placidly.

“If I was to tell her that, I’m sure I would feel monstrously wretched, because in doing so, I might be endangering her chance of happiness, and I do not want her to be unhappy!”

“I’d say,” he murmured.

“Perhaps it’s wise to keep her in the dark about Cedric’s affair after all.”

“Very wise, indeed.”

Miss Davis almost stamped a foot in exasperation. “Oh, I wish you would say something, and stop being so provoking with— with your monosyllables!” she exclaimed, nettled. Stefan tried all his might to hide his amusement while looking down at her. Lord, what a picture it is when she pouts, he thought. “I beg your pardon, Miss Davis,” he apologized in a grave voice.

“Pardon me, sir, but why do I have this odd feeling that you are laughing at me?” she impetuously demanded.

His brows knitted. “What gives you that impression? Certainly not!”

“Well,” she made a brief study of his sober countenance. Two dimples peeped at the corners of her mouth as she told him naively: “You don’t, but your eyes certainly do.”

It was his turn now to blush. Dash it, why this knack of catching him off his guard? he thought with some annoyance while he averted his eyes and rested them on his horse for a few moments. When he finally turned to Caroline, there was a slight frown on his brows. “Perhaps, Miss Davis, it’s better not to tax yourself in thinking about the whole thing at all,” he told her a little sternly. “Miss Winscott, I believe, is a young woman who doesn’t want for sense, who knows her own head, and who, it seems to me, is not easily overruled by emotions which — I admit — I find remarkable. With these estimations, I’m sure she can manage her own affairs, and until Mr Milborne does another—er, indiscretion, perhaps it is wise to keep your sentiments to yourself for a while.”

“I suppose I must concur, sir. I ought not to meddle too much,” her face was clouded once again. “But what of you, sir?”

“Since you’ve just told me everything that could dash the hopes of even the most adamant of your cousin’s suitors, I might as well consider giving up my suit,” he affected a dark, hurt look, but Caroline, far from detecting the mere jest in it, became truly mortified, and exclaimed, a little upset: “Oh no! No! I didn’t, sir—! I mean, I’m not telling you all of this just to — to dissuade you from courting my cousin! Indeed, it — it is— the shabbiest thing to do! I wouldn’t—!” Too flustered, her gloved hand unconsciously stole on the Earl’s forearm, and lingered there for a while.

Stefan became acutely aware of how that innocent touch gave him a very strange sensation, and the sudden urge to clasp that dainty hand into his own was difficult to resist. He gripped hard on his riding crop, preventing himself from doing what his mind bade him to. Confound the devil, he was already thinking like a puppy in the throes of first love! A madness, just like that night at Almack’s, when he’d thought he wanted to kiss her! And to think that he’d actually blushed— blushed, for God’s sake!— at a little compliment by a mere chit, no less! Yes, he thought dourly, he was no better than a green youth, and all of this because of one artless, naive girl, who never even had a shred of idea how her touch precipitated chaos inside his head.

“It’s alright Miss Davis,” his voice was hoarse, “I know you wouldn’t. A mere jest, that’s all.” To his vague disappointment, the hand was lifted all of a sudden. “Oh!” She made a face. “I thought—! Well, I declare sir, that you are a horrid tease!”

“I am, am I not?”

“Yes, and what’s more you do it monstrously well—,” she broke off and regarded him solicitously. “But are you alright, my lord? You look… a trifle queer.”

“Quite,” his lordship replied in an abrupt indifference. This sudden change of mood rendered Miss Davis bemused, and somehow left a touch of disappointment in her. A curricle driven by a pair of chestnuts eventually drew up beside them, and in the next second Sir Wallace’s boisterous voice was heard. “What did I tell you, my dear? Saw that bay from afar, and thought it is definitely Stokeford’s. Well, m’boy, seems rather engaged this afternoon, aren’t we?”

Ensconced beside him was the Countess of Stokeford, with a dainty parasol over her head. “Yes, Sir Wallace. I apprehend that your sight is still as clear as it was fifty-odd years ago,” she declared, and managed to look at her son directly, but without coldness. “Your godfather has been so obliging to me these days, Stefan, that I begin to wonder if you’ve had inspired a spark in him?” Her glittering blue eyes traveled and finally rested on Miss Davis with a mild surprise. They traveled back to his son with some interest.

“Hardly, ma’am,” replied her son and gestured towards his companion. “Allow me to introduce Miss Caroline Davis, cousin of Miss Winscott. Miss Davis, this is my mother, Lady Stokeford. You’ve already made Sir Wallace’s acquaintance, of course.”

Miss Davis made a curtsy and smiled shyly at the Countess. To be sure, she was a beautiful creature, but resembled her son very little. While his eyes were of vivid blue, the Countess’ were pale and bright; she lacked the aloofness that was quite prominent in his son, but there might be something more beneath that serene countenance. Caroline inferred that Lord Stokeford must have favoured more his late father. “I’m honoured to meet you, my lady,” she said politely, and to the elder man, “Good afternoon to you, Sir Wallace! It’s nice to see you again.”

“Cousin of Miss Winscott?” the elegant brows rose. “But of course! I’ve met her in a soiree; such a charming and lovely young lady your cousin is. I’d say my son couldn’t choose any better. Why, I’d always thought he was a hopeless case!” declared the Countess with a small laugh that Caroline found oddly disconcerting. She stole a glance at his lordship, who, unlike his mother, did not find anything amusing in her utterances. In fact, he regarded her with a morose look. “Is she not with you?”

“No, ma’am. She has another engagement this afternoon.”

“Eh? What’s this?” Sir Wallace chimed in, and shot his godson an incredulous gaze, “No, drat it, Stefan, don’t tell me your going to be leg-shackled! Never heard of it, and what’s more I wouldn’t believe it if I did!”

“Believe what you want to believe sir, I couldn’t care less!” his undutiful godson told him with some asperity.

“That wouldn’t do m’boy,” protested Sir Wallace, “Cousins, you say? If that were true, then why are you accompanying the wrong cousin, I should like to know?” A bubble of mirth began to well up inside Miss Davis, but was checked. Lord Stokeford retorted irritably: “I hardly see why should I explain that to you!”

“Lord, what’s put you in a dudgeon now?” the older gentleman complained.