The earl nodded. 'He has set the leg, but I fear Davies cannot be moved for a while yet-' He broke off as a door opened.
'I am so sorry to be late, Grandmama!' said a pretty, musical voice. 'With all the excitement no one remembered to collect the eggs, so I told Cook I would do it, and then my gown got so muddy I was obliged to change it!'
Beth stepped forwards.
'Sophie-let me present you to the Earl of Darrington. My sister, my lord.'
She watched as Sophie made her curtsy to the earl and was relieved when they showed no more than polite interest in each other. In Beth's eyes Sophie was uncommonly pretty, with her dark-honey curls and pansy-brown eyes, but she was only eighteen and had not yet enjoyed a season in town. Beth was afraid that the sudden entry into her world of a handsome and attractive peer of the realm might well cause her to lose her head and her heart, a complication that Beth could well do without. She listened as Sophie enquired politely after the health of Mr Davies and commiserated with the earl upon his soaking.
'Such a pity that Beth only kept Forrester's old court suit,' she said, eyeing the elaborate coat with disfavour.
'I would have borrowed a lackey's raiment if one could have been found to fit me. The alternative was to keep to my room until my own clothes are dry.'
The smile that accompanied these words startled Beth, for it softened the earl's rather sombre features and warmed his eyes. She felt again that delicious tingle running through her.
'Ah, such elaborate garments are not seen much now outside London, more's the pity,' sighed Lady Arabella. 'But something plainer might have been more comfortable for you, my lord. Beth my dear, could you not find something of Simon's for the earl?'
'They would not fit, Grandmama.' Beth caught the earl's look of enquiry and added briefly, 'My brother, sir. It was his wrap I gave you.'
'He died eighteen months ago,' added Lady Arabella.
'My condolences, ma'am. Was he-?'
Beth turned quickly to her grandmother, interrupting him.
'Here's Kepwith to say supper is ready for us. Shall we go in?'
Lord Darrington came forwards to offer Lady Arabella his arm.
'We keep to the old ways here, my lord,' she said as he led her into the dining room. 'An early dinner and supper at ten. At my age I do not want to be eating dinner in the evening and supper at midnight, as I believe is quite the fashion now in town.'
'But that makes perfect sense if one is at a ball, Grandmama,' put in Sophie. She smiled across the table at the earl. 'Not that I have yet been to a ball-a real ball, that is. But I shall do so next year, when Beth takes me to London.'
The earl turned toward Beth.
'You go often to town, Mrs Forrester?'
'No, I have never been. I-'
'Beth hasn't been away from Malpass for years,' put in Sophie. 'Except to go to Ripon to stay with her friend-but next year she has promised to take me to London for the Season. Of course, she will be Mrs Radworth by then-'
'Sophie!' Beth's knife clattered to her plate. 'Pray do not chatter on so. Lord Darrington does not want to know all our business.'
'But it is no secret,' stated Lady Arabella. 'Do you know Miles Radworth, Lord Darrington?'
'No, ma'am. I have not had that pleasure.'
'He has a property in Somerset, I believe, but he is currently renting a house in Fentonby. He came to bring us news of my grandson's death.' Lady Arabella stopped, her old eyes suddenly dimmed.
'I am very sorry, ma'am.'
The earl's words hung in the uncomfortable silence, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the soft padding of the butler as he walked from chair to chair, refilling their wine glasses. Beth was about to speak when Lady Arabella rallied and began again.
'My grandson was drowned at sea, you know. In the Bay of Biscay. He had been making the grand tour. It was very good of Mr Radworth to come all this way to tell us.'
'And it was not all bad news,' added Sophie brightly. 'He took one look at Beth and fell violently in love!'
'Indeed?' The earl's grey eyes rested on Beth.
'Yes.' Sophie nodded. 'And they are to be married.'
'Then I offer you my congratulations, Mrs Forrester.'
'Thank you.' Beth uttered the words quietly, keeping her eyes lowered.
'You and your friend are quite far from home, I believe,' remarked Lady Arabella.
'Yes, Davies has a hunting lodge at Highridge. I am staying there as his guest.'
'You must consider yourself a guest here,' came the gracious reply, 'until your friend is fit enough to return to Highridge.'
'No!' Beth coloured, and added quickly. 'What I mean is, surely there can be no need for Lord Darrington to stay. We can look after Mr Davies perfectly well.'
'But I should like to remain with my friend, if Lady Arabella permits,' the earl responded.
'But it is only a few miles to Highridge, and I am sure you would be much more comfortable there.'
'Nonsense, it is more than ten miles.' replied Lady Arabella. 'Lord Darrington must stay here, if he wishes. We have room to spare.'
'But … but we do not have so many staff-certainly not as many as an earl is accustomed to.'
'Oh, this earl is not at all high in the instep, I assure you,' came the mild reply. 'And I am quite undemanding.'
Again that amused glint in his eyes. Beth found it quite infuriating.
'To have you in the house as well as an invalid will create a great deal of extra work, no matter how undemanding you may be,' she ground out.
'I shall send to Highridge for Davies's valet to join us,' replied the earl, smiling in a way that made Beth long to hit him. 'He will be able to nurse his master and look after my very minor requirements. And I am sure that some of the other staff from Highridge would come, too, if they could be of use.'
'There is not the least need for anyone to come,' retorted Lady Arabella briskly. 'Really, Elizabeth, you are behaving very oddly this evening. My lord, I assure you we have sufficient servants to deal with everything that is required. You catch us at a disadvantage today because I gave some of my people permission to go to the market, leaving only a couple of maids and one footman to attend us. I have no doubt the rest are all returned now, but by all means bring your friend's manservant-and your own, for that matter, if you wish-we will find room for them all.'
'Since you do not object, ma'am, I shall summon Peters, who is Mr Davies's valet, and Holt, my groom. I shall not require my own man to attend me, although I will ask him to pack up my clothes and send them over.'
'That will be perfectly acceptable, my lord,' Lady Arabella responded regally, her frowning gaze fixed upon Beth. 'As the daughter of a marquess,' she said pointedly, 'I think I may be expected to know how to entertain an earl.'
'Yes, Grandmama.' Beth looked down at her plate and acknowledged herself beaten. 'I beg your pardon.'
Guy said little for the remainder of the meal; when Lady Arabella announced that the ladies would retire to the drawing room and leave him to enjoy a glass of brandy alone, he bent his mind once more to Beth Forrester's outburst. She had been quite determined that he should not stay. It could only be that she was uneasy with his presence. They lived very isolated here, but perhaps she was aware of his dubious reputation. Perhaps he should not have teased her so. Certainly it had been wrong of him to keep her talking alone in the bedroom, but she was a married woman, or at least a widow, not an ingenuous schoolgirl. He sipped at his brandy. One thing was certain, he wanted to remain at Malpass Priory at least until he knew that Davey was recovering well. He would apologise to Mrs Forrester and assure her that he would in future be the model of propriety. That should ease her mind.
Having made his resolve, Guy drained his glass and made his way to the drawing room, where he was disappointed to find only Lady Arabella waiting for him, the younger ladies having retired. However, she assured him that his room had been prepared and beckoned to the hovering footman to show him the way. With an inward smile Guy bowed over the beringed hand held out to him and prepared to leave. He had been dismissed for the evening.
Chapter Three
Martin the footman showed Guy to his room, a comfortable chamber that bore all the signs of having been a gentleman's bedroom.
'Was this Mr Forrester's room?' he enquired, glancing around him.
'No, my lord, this was Mr Simon's room,' offered the footman. 'My lady wouldn't have anything changed in here after she heard he was drowned and you will find the press still full of his clothes. But Mr Simon was much smaller than your lordship, so the mistress has searched out one o' Mr Forrester's nightgowns for you. And Mrs Forrester said to tell you that your own clothes will be brought to you in the morning.'