The Dangerous Lord Darrington(6)

'Ah. That explains a great deal.'

She heard the dry note in his voice and added quickly, 'I am aware that  much of what they write is untrue. No one knows better than I-however,  it is not wise to be alone.'

'But we are not-we have Davies here as our chaperon, after all.'

A twinkle of amusement banished the harsh look in his eyes and she found herself responding with a smile.

'So we have, my lord. But there are some hours yet until breakfast and  you should get some rest. You need not be anxious for me,' she added  quickly. 'My maid is coming to relieve me shortly.'

'Then if there is nothing else I can do for you, I shall return to my room.' He stood up.

Intimidated by him towering over her, Beth rose, but even when she drew  herself up her eyes were only level with his mouth. She was momentarily  distracted by the curve of his lips and the tiny lines on each side of  his mouth, indicative of laughter. An entertaining companion. The  thought occurred to Beth and was instantly dismissed. She had no time  for such luxuries.

'Thank you, my lord, for your assistance.'

'It was my pleasure, ma'am.'

With a slight bow he left the room. As soon as the door closed Beth was  aware of a chill of loneliness wrapping itself around her.





Chapter Four



Lady Arabella did not believe in the modern notion of nuncheon and it  was usually close to noon before she left her apartments to break her  fast. By that time Beth had normally been up for hours and busy with her  household duties, but after a night keeping watch in the sickroom she  had slept the early morning away and was roused by her maid coming to  tell her that Dr Compton had arrived to see his patient.



The hour was therefore quite advanced by the time Beth made her way to  the breakfast table. Lord Darrington was already there and appeared to  be upon the very best of terms with his hostess. They were bandying  names unfamiliar to Beth as she came in and she heard her grandmother  sigh.

'Of course I never go to town now and most of my old friends have passed on, so I am no longer in touch with the world.'

'Nonsense, Grandmama,' said Beth bracingly. 'Sophia and I read the London papers to you every day!'                       
       
           



       

'Including the Intelligencer?' murmured Guy.

Beth avoided his laughing eyes.

'But that is hardly the same,' stated Lady Arabella. 'I was telling Darrington he should go to town more.'

'London holds no charms for me,' said the earl apologetically. He was  dressed once more in his fine wool riding jacket and tightly fitting  buckskins, but all traces of mud and dirt had been removed.

'I am pleased Mrs Robinson managed to clean your clothes for you,' said Beth as he rose and held out a chair for her.

'Yes. They were delivered up to me earlier this morning. Please thank  your housekeeper for me. However, I shall be happier once Holt has  arrived with my baggage. I would prefer to wear something a little more  formal-and my own!-before I sit down to dinner again.'

Beth refused to respond to his charming smile.

'There is not the least need for you to put yourself to the inconvenience of staying another night-'

'That is enough, Elizabeth.' Lady Arabella's voice cut across the  table. 'I have invited Lord Darrington to stay with us for as long as he  wishes.'

'But our household cannot be what the earl is accustomed to,' objected Beth.

Lady Arabella silenced her with the wave of her hand and turned again to the earl.

'My granddaughter appears to think we are not good enough for you,  Darrington. I do not know why. The Wakefords can trace their line back  before the Conqueror and my own family rose to prominence in the time of  good King Hal. Your own title, I believe, was not created until the  time of Charles the Second.'

The earl nodded. 'That is correct, ma'am. I am a veritable upstart.'

'That is not what I meant at all,' protested Beth, flustered. 'I was … concerned for your comfort, sir.'

His sceptical look brought the colour flooding to her cheeks and she  was pleased when Sophie arrived to create a diversion. Her young sister  was prettily polite to their guest and enquired solicitously after his  friend's health.

'I have not yet seen him this morning, Miss Wakeford, but I believe he  is comfortable.' The earl looked an enquiry at Beth, who nodded. He  continued, 'I am much in Mrs Forrester's debt. She attended Mr Davies  throughout the night.'

'Ah, then that accounts for her crotchets this morning,' remarked Lady Arabella with no little satisfaction.

Normally Beth would have laughed off such a comment, but the fact that  the earl was present to hear it made her feel out of reason cross. She  turned to her sister.

'Sophie my love, will you have time to help me today? We need to gather more comfrey leaves.'

'More?' said Lady Arabella. 'But you went out collecting comfrey only last week. Surely you have enough?'

'Rudge tells me the old mare requires another poultice, ma'am,' Beth explained patiently.

'Then let him go and gather the leaves,' retorted her grandmother. 'He  is, after all, the groom-or he could send the stable boy.'

'Really I do not mind going,' said Sophie quickly. 'I know exactly  where to find the best comfrey plants and shall collect a whole  basketful. Then we shall have leaves to dry as well as fresh ones to use  now.' She smiled across the table at Lady Arabella. 'You need have no  fear, Grandmama. I shall be back in time to read the papers to you while  you are resting before dinner.'

'You have both forgotten our guest may need entertaining.'

The earl shook his head. 'Not at all, my lady. I am very happy to amuse myself.'

'Lord Darrington is, of course, welcome to join us on our expedition,'  Beth offered politely but Guy did not miss the look of relief that  crossed her features when he declined.

He said, 'I expect the carriage to arrive from Highridge at any moment  and I propose to take a stroll along the drive to look out for it.'

'Then if you will excuse us, we will collect our baskets and be off. Come, Sophie.'

The two young ladies disappeared, Lady Arabella made her way to the  morning room, declaring that she was going to write her letters, and Guy  was left alone. After assuring himself that Davey was still asleep, he  made his way to the entrance and descended the steep stone steps to the  drive. It was a bright, sunny morning with just a hint of autumn in the  air and it was hard to believe that only the night before he had  followed the farmhands as they carried Davey's body through the rain, up  these same steps and into the house. He looked around him with interest  at the old building. The original refectory with its gabled roof now  housed the main entrance and great hall. Beside the steps was an ancient  arched doorway, leading to the undercroft. Intrigued, Guy tried the  door, but it was locked. Wandering on, he soon spotted the stable block  and made his way across to it. He noted with approval the tidy yard and  quickly strode across the swept cobbles and through the high-arched  entrance to the stables. Inside he found an iron-haired groom inspecting  Davey's bay mare. The man touched his cap when he saw Guy approaching.                       
       
           



       

'Rudge, isn't it?' Guy addressed him pleasantly and nodded towards the mare. 'No injuries, I hope?'

'No, sir, she's in fine fettle. As is your hunter, my lord. We brushed  'em down, fed and watered 'em as we would our own. They was a bit  shaken, but they're both as good as new, now.'

'Well, that's good news.' Guy smiled. 'I would not want to add to your  work when you already have one lame horse to worry about.'

'Sir?'

'Your mistress said this morning there was an old mare needed a poultice.'

Slowly the groom shook his head. 'Not in these stables, my lord. I  check them all every morning and I'd know if there was summat wrong.'

Guy frowned for a moment, then shrugged.

'No matter, mayhap I misunderstood her.' He heard the rattle of an  approaching carriage. 'Ah, that should be Mr Davies's man-and my groom. I  hope you will be able to accommodate Holt in your stables, Rudge? He is  a useful man, and of course he will defer to you,' he added quickly,  making a mental note to talk to Holt before he set him to work.

Guy made his way back to the front drive in time to see his travelling  chariot sweep into view. Holt was riding on the back seat and jumped  down nimbly even before the carriage had stopped. A few words sufficed  to send him hurrying off to the stables and Guy was then free to observe  Peters, Mr Davies's diminutive but very efficient valet, and the  various trunks and bags that he had brought to the Priory.



In a very short time Peters had made himself at home in the sickroom,  unpacking the bags and even finding time to shave his master in  readiness for Dr Compton's next visit. However, Guy would not allow the  valet to remove Mr Davies's borrowed nightshirt until the doctor had  pronounced the patient well enough to be moved. Davey himself, sleepy  from laudanum and irritable from discomfort, swore roundly and wished  them at the very devil, his outburst bringing a rare smile to his  servant's rather austere countenance.