Chapter 22

Mr Beaumont Makes His Move

Miss Caroline Davis had never been so mortified in her entire life. Had she known she stood in peril of male impulses, she would have retreated the instant Mr Beaumont came within a few paces from her. But such manner, as improper as it was unexpected, she’d never thought he was capable of; and it was with vague disappointment to have found that for all their warm, easy friendship he’d tried to take advantage of her in the end. With her head still reeling from an unpleasant blend of throbbing and shock, Caroline was uncertain whether to feel relieved or upset of the fact that it was Lord Stokeford who had discovered them in so compromising a situation. One glimpse of his dour countenance was enough for her to be positively sure he’d witnessed all, and she wished that the floor would swallow her whole right now.

With an effort she gathered all her scattered sensibilities and tried to breach the lingering silence. But the lingering effect of that kiss was such that she only made a mull of what might have been a less implausible explanation by stammering, “L-Lord Stokeford! I — we w-were just — that is — ”

“So I’ve gathered ma’am,” snapped his lordship with unnecessary force that made her flinch, and drew a protest from his cousin.

“See here, Stefan! There’s no need to use that tone to Miss Davis,” Laurie retorted, bravely holding the smouldering gaze with his own grave, steady one. “You can vent your spleen on me, for God knows how much I deserve it. But upon my honour, it was never my intention to — ,”

“Very true I’m sure,” he interrupted, his lip curling. “But you should address your pretty speech to Miss Davis cousin, and not to me.”

Laurie gritted his teeth. “I’ve intended to do so, cousin.”

Caroline gaze at them with horrified dismay. It seemed that the quarrel which had been brewing for several days was about to come to a head. Despite Mr Beaumont’s infamy however, she didn’t wish to add the night’s predicament to the breach, and the very least she could do was to avert trouble as much as possible. She felt dizzy, and her nerves were already frayed, but she managed to say placatingly, “Please, that is not what you think, my lord. I shouldn’t have — ” She broke off, for all of a sudden the room seemed to spin, and her legs had gone wobbly. Then, from the farthest corner of her mind she thought she heard Mr Beaumont cried her name, but the succeeding sounds became quite muffled to her ears as darkness descended upon her.

Cursing softly, Lord Stokeford sprang forward to catch her swaying form in the nick of time. A troubled look came to his frowning eyes as he peered at the pale little face. He gently patted her cheek, slipped a hand on her forehead. “By God, but she’s feverish. Laurie, run along and bring March and that duenna of hers here — quick! And for God’s sake make as little stir as possible.” Laurie nodded and rushed to the direction of the ballroom while Stefan carried his burden to a gilded divan whichstood againsta wall in the dimmed hall. The furniture being short of size, he was obliged to settle Caroline into a sitting position, letting her sag against his chest as he sat beside her. After a moment or two he felt her stirred, and heard a soft whimper, “Want… to… go home. Please I — go home…”

“And home you shall be, Miss Davis, but we’ll send for your chaperone first,” he replied, and wounded a strong arm about her. She breathed heavily and whispered, “That… you, Lord Stokeford?”

“Yes. I’m afraid you’ve contracted a fever, brat.”

“So silly… of me to — to swoon,” moaned the afflicted. This self-chastisement somehow brought a faint smile to Lord Stokeford’s lips, but he answered gravely that he had rather thought she was not the swooning type. There was no answer from her again.

The hall was warm, and the lack of sufficient light added much to his own discomfort. Whether it was with deliberation that this part of the house had been deprived of the benefit of candlelights, and intended for the disposal of those who sought private diversions, he didn’t know. For some depraved mind it might serve very well indeed, but for a gentleman with a fainted lady in his arms no place could have been more unsuitable. He could only hope that no thoughts of trysts had intruded the minds of some guests just yet. If they were to be seen huddled in this intimate fashion, there would surely be the devil to pay. His face darkened as the scene at the balcony flashed in his mind. One imbroglio was enough for tonight. The sooner they removed from here, the better; but since he scarcely knew where they could repair to in private, Robert’s assistance was certainly required. Knowing his friend, Stefan was certain he knew this house like the back of his hand.

But no sooner had these thoughts occurred to him than his worst fears were realized. When he saw a couple discreetly slip out of the ballroom, he muttered something under his breath and instinctively leaned against the wall, wishing that the darkness would save them from discovery. He began to feel uneasy as they started to sashay along the hall. Meanwhile, blissfully unaware of the other occupants, the lady gave a small, delicious giggle at something his beau had whispered to her. The Earl continued to regard them with wary eyes, but when he caught a glimpse of the lady’s countenance through a ray of moonlight from the tall window they had passed, his first reaction was that of relief, and then annoyance. “Marianne!” he hissed as they came nearer.

Miss Carstairs started, and since her eyes had by this time adjusted to the dark, she perceived him at once. Shocked and much scandalized by the sight of her cousin cuddling a lady, she let out a small, indignant shriek, darted an accusing finger at the limp form leaning on him, and launched a tirade against shameless hussies eager to catch an Earl under their clutcheswhile she walked purposely towards them.

“If you make another screech again, I swear I’d not have two minds to throttle you!” forestalled his lordship savagely. This dire warning went unheeded, for the moment Marianne had recognized the still, pallid form, she embarked on yet another hysterics. “Oh, oh my God! My dear Caroline — ! Oh, Stefan what have you done to her? I vow I’ll never forgive you — ”

The Earl, wondering how he’d deserved such a veritable pea-goose for a cousin, was provoked into a blistering reply, “Good God, stop acting like you’re in a damned melodrama! I haven’t done anything to her. She’s only fainted not dead, so bring your theatrics somewhere else!” The forgotten beau, a young man who strongly betrayed a partiality for dandyism, evinced a faint interest at them. He was about to peer at Caroline through his quizzing glass when Lord Stokeford checked this action by asking, with thinly veiled snarl, “And pray, what is your business here sir, might one ask?” Wherefore the young man flustered, mumbled his apologies and asked, out of instinct rather than solicitude, if he could be of any service.

“Yes, we’d be much obliged to you if you remove yourself away from here at once, for I can scarcely see how gawking can be of any use at all!”

“Oh yes, please Mr Everette, go away, do! We don’t need your help at all, although it is kind in you to ask,” put in Marianne, her would-be romantic escapade entirely forgotten.

“And be sure to keep your tongue between your teeth about this, or you’ll answer to me,” added Stefan direly. Mr Everette, not anxious to court trouble that was the Earl of Stokeford, said something incoherent, bowed, and retreated from the scene with less grace than was wont in a gentleman of his mien. Stefan turned to his cousin. “Lord, Marianne, you’re getting a dashed sight too flirtatious these days. Who’s that spineless coxcomb anyway?”

“If you think him spineless, I should inform you cousin that nearly everyone acts like that when they come across you,” Miss Carstairs told him. There was a worried frown on her brows. “Oh dear, whatever has happened? I was very sure she’s feeling poorly, but when she danced I thought she was looking better. Look how pale she is, the poor darling!”

“She’s feverish. We must remove her somewhere more comfortable than this curst stygian hall, and let her lie down for a while.”

“Yes, of course but why didn’t you do so earlier? Why stay here? And come to think of it,” her brows knitted, “Why are youalone with her, Stefan? I rather thought you’d repaired to the card room.”

“A nice figure I’d cut if someone were to see me prowling about, carrying Miss Davis!” he answered irritably. “I hardly know the place, and what’s more I don’t intend to spend the night answering your questions, Marianne. Now make yourself more useful and find Laurie. I’ve sent him to look for Robert and Miss Davis’ duenna, but he’s taking a blasted time at it.”

“Well! You could at least have the courtesy to use the word ‘please’ when sending someone on an errand in that peremptory fashion!” retorted the lady, very much piqued. “Why don’t you go yourself, you grumpy thing? I daresay Miss Davis will be far more comfortable with me!”

Lord Stokeford struggled to keep his fast losing temper, but was spared the necessity to retort by frantic footsteps of Miss Moore, who was prancing in a pace that was very remarkable in her age. In a twinkling of an eye she reached their side, and lost no time in bewailing her afflicted charge.

“What took you so long?” he demanded of his cousin, preparing to lift Caroline again.

“Had a hard time finding ‘em,” answered Laurie apologetically. “How is she?”

“In no way better, I fear. She’s passed out again, and I don’t like the look of her. Robert, bring us somewhere private to tend to Miss Davis.”

“We’ll go to my sister’s sitting room. This way.” He went to the wall opposite the balcony, and prompted a gasp of surprise from the ladies when he pushed it open, and revealed an antechamber with black and white checkered floor.

“Heavens, how can you have known that concealed door, I wonder? You hardly live here!” said Miss Carstairs impulsively, momentarily diverted.

“Ah, but you forget that Ainsley and I are cousins,” he explained, leading them to the open entryway of the room. “When I was a boy and the family visited the town for Season, I often stayed here. I know every nook and cranny of this place,” he grinned and amended: “Well, not all precisely, but most of it. Uncle Ainsley had cunning ways with his houses. You could have send for Charlotte, y’know. I’m sure she would never have mind the trouble.”

Stefan scowled at him. “Quite true, but I would definitely mind the trouble she might be bringing by coming into the scene — and with half the crowd from the ballroom towing behind her. A pretty pickle I would have likely found myself in.”

Lord March appeared much struck by this. “By Jove! I wonder why I haven’t thought that. Very perspicacious, dear chap.” They scrambled along a small hall, across which was yet another door. He flung it open. It was an octagon room, painted in dainty shades of pink and gold. A small fire was burning in the fireplace, above which a huge gilded mirror was perched. Three windows, draped with heavily brocaded curtains of white and gold, gave way to a narrow balcony outside. Few paintings hung on the wall, the most notable of which was a brunette standing by the piano with one hand rested upon its lid, her wide smile and sparkling grey eyes bore a striking resemblance of Lord March’s.

Stefan, meanwhile, gently laid Caroline down on a striped-cushioned settee and rested her head on a pillow. Having extracted a vinaigrette from her reticule, Miss Moore waved it under Caroline’s nose with agitated hand. “Poor Miss Caro! I knew I should never have allowed her to come, for she was looking pretty wan before setting out. But she said she was not feeling out of sorts, and that she was looking rather enchanting tonight in front of the mirror! Well, I could have hardly refused when the dear child heart’s set upon it, could I?”

Miss Carstairs returned a sympathetic answer.

“Still, she shouldn’t have come,” declared Lord Stokeford, his voice ringing with authority that for an instant Miss Moore seemed to shrink from him.

Lord March tugged at the bell pull and a few moments later a lackey, smothering his surprise at the assembled company, entered the room. “Some refreshments, if you please — the Madeira, yes. And — er,” he looked askance at Miss Moore. “Will you be wanting anything for Miss Davis, ma’am?”

The old lady smiled gratefully at him. “Oh, yes! If there’s some lavender water and cloth? And a glass of lemonade for my charge, if you please?” The lackey, having received his orders, retreated the room with alacrity. “I’m sure it’s exceedingly kind in you, Lord March,” added Miss Moore, looking anxious. “But will Lady Ainsley not mind at all? I mean, we are intruding on her hospitality!”

“You need not trouble your mind on that head, ma’am. My sister will certainly understand,” replied the Viscount reassuringly. He walked to his friend and drew him a little from the party. “Whatever happened? I believe it’s all still obscure to me,” he said in an undertone.

Stefan glanced at his cousin who was speaking to Marianne and Miss Moore. “Nothing of import, I assure you. We were just refreshing ourselves in the balcony when all of a sudden Miss Davis fainted.”

The Viscount, who didn’t believe a word of this reticent reply, made a face. “You’re mighty tight-lipped, aren’t you? I’ll lay a hundred guineas it had everything to do with Laurie, and nothing with you. Come now, man, out with it!”

“Don’t be tiresome, Robert. You already have the facts,” came his laconic reply.

When the lackey returned, followed by a maid who brought a bowl lavender water and a piece cloth, the conversation came to an end. The gentlemen withdrew to the window with their wine while the ladies continued to minister to the fainted Caroline, exchanging anxious murmurs. At length, Miss Carstairs suddenly exclaimed with relief: “She’s stirring!”

“My dear, do you hear me?”

Caroline’s lids fluttered, and the green eyes were suddenly confronted by four worried faces hovering above her. She blinked and said feebly: “Yes, but I’m rather… thirsty.”

Mr Beaumont rushed to the table and poured a glass of lemonade. He handed it to her, saying, “Do try to sit up, Miss Davis.” She nodded and drank it heartily. She felt hot, but the throbbing on her head had lessened and her hazy mind started to clear. Her puzzled gaze wandered about the unfamiliar room. “Where am I?” she croaked, and from the corner of her eye she saw Lord Stokeford quietly retire to the window.

Marianne said: “You are in Lady Ainsley’s sitting room, Caroline. How are you feeling now? I declare you gave us a fright!”

“I’m feeling better now.” She smiled weakly at Lord March. “Thank you! I know this is all your doing, and I’m so very sorry for the trouble, my lord.”

“No trouble at all! Very happy to be of service, I assure you Miss Davis,” he said cheerfully. “In fact I’ve done but very little, and it is poor Stokeford who’d carried you all the way here, y’know.” She blushed, and stammered that indeed, it was very kind in Lord Stokeford, all the the while avoiding the Earl’s eyes.

Against all their objections, Caroline insisted on going home. She stood up, but swayed a little as a tide of dizziness assailed her again. “There, you see!” cried Miss Moore. “I daresay you can scarcely able to set your feet firmly on the ground! Pray, Miss Caro, will you sit for a while?”

“But I wish to go home now, ma’am,” she replied weakly, all of a sudden feeling worn out. “Besides, if I linger, there would be a strong chance of them catching my fever,” she added sensibly. To which her duenna, much horrified by this, answered that she was so silly not to realize that. Lord Stokeford offered his carriage for their disposal, and it was agreed that Mr Beaumont were to escort the ladies home, a task which he was only too ready to oblige.

Lord March was thanked again, and Miss Moore begged him to convey their excuses to Lady Ainsley. With one steady arm around her charge, she guided her slowly towards the door opened for them by Mr Beaumont.

The Earl caught up with them, and for the first time during the whole evening he locked gazes with Caroline. His was earnest, and hers was with quiet expectancy. “Will you promise me to get well soon, Miss Davis?” he asked softly.

“I will, my lord and — thank you,” she whispered. Satisfied with this, he nodded and bid them goodnight.

To other onlookers this brief exchange might seem in no way remarkable. But to Mr Beaumont, who’d followed it very closely and who, moreover, knew his cousin more than anyone else in the room, it led him to a startling discovery. There was such an unwonted tenderness in Stefan’s eyes as he gaze down at her as though she was, in fact, much closer to his heart than what he’d wanted the world to believe. And Laurie, by no means pleased with this, pursed his usually quirking lips into a thin, grim line. This night’s episode was not yet concluded, he knew.

* * * * * *

After some vacillating and misgivings, Mr Beaumont had finally decided to call on his cousin the next morning. It was early and the day seemed to promise a fair weather, but there was already an anxious frown on his brows as he drove down Brook Street. Despite his trust that the forthcoming meeting with the Earl would be less disastrous than the previous one, he could not help but feel nervous. He knew how his cousin could be deuced unpleasant, and had an overwhelming power to reduce him into a fidgeting clod. Obstinate pride wouldn’t allow him to waver, however. He’d made a huge blunder last night, but he also needed to defend his character against his cousin’s unjust suppositions. There was only one way to sort this tangle out.

He pulled in front of number five, upper Brook Street feeling almost sanguine, but when a disapproving butler met his eyes, the confidence he’d believed as full-fledged began to totter in the path of decline. One nervous hand tugged instinctively at his carefully tied cravat as the butler ushered him to a small parlour at the back of the house. The Earl was standing by the window, perusing a sheet of paper in his hand. He desisted upon the butler’s announcement, and it was with a considerable surprise that he received his cousin.

Under his unfaltering gaze, Laurie strove to maintain his calm. “You — you might be wondering why I’ve come,” he began jerkily. “I believe I owe an explanation about — er, last night.”

“I own to some surprise, cousin. Pray, sit down. I thought I said last night that you should address it to Miss Davis, and not to me. I hardly see how her affairs could be of any business of mine.”