Three Weeks With Lady X(37)

That got her attention. "Of course I do!"

"I want to marry someone and not have to go through another season," Lala said, whispering it. "I truly do, Mama."

In the nick of time, sanity poured back into Lady Rainsford's eyes, and Lala awkwardly retook her seat just as the door opened.

"Why, you shall have him, dearest," her mother said, sounding almost like a normal woman.

Lala swallowed hard and climbed down from the carriage. Whoever had  traveled in the other two carriages had already been escorted into the  house. The butler approached and introduced himself, bowing as they  shook out their skirts. Lala liked him immediately, just from the way he  took their measure with a practiced glance and at once paid her mother  lavish attention.

By the time they entered the house, her mother was confiding all the  details of her palpitations, and Fleming was reassuring her that the  village doctor would be more than happy to pay a call every day.

"He is not an untried practitioner," he was saying now, as a footman  took their pelisses. "Dr. Hatfield is well known and respected in these  parts, but also in London. One of the youngest members of the Royal  College of Physicians, as I understand it. I'll take the precaution of  sending a message asking him to pay you a visit this afternoon, Lady  Rainsford, so that we can make absolutely certain that the arduous  nature of the carriage ride caused no problems."

Lala felt as if a ten-stone weight had lifted from the back of her neck.  Fleming opened the drawing room door and ushered in her mother as  tenderly as if she were a day-old chick. It was a measure of what a bad  daughter Lala was that the only thing going through her mind, other than  gratitude, was a bleak guess that if she married Dautry, her mother  would probably move to this house in order to bask daily in Fleming's  gentle ministrations.

At which point Lala would move to Dautry's London house, and everyone would be happy, she thought, pushing away a wave of panic.

She saw Mr. Dautry the moment they entered the room. He was taller than  everyone else, and remarkably male, which gave her a sensation that  verged on dislike. Why couldn't he have been a mild fellow, only a  little taller than herself?

Her feeling of dread grew when she glimpsed Mr. Dautry's father, the man  who might be her father-in-law someday. The duke was wearing a coat of  patterned dark green, which was not extraordinary in itself except for  the fact that it was lined in a misty purple silk that showed in the  coattails and where his cuffs turned back.

She wanted to run from the room, but he was strolling toward her,  followed by the duchess, and there was nowhere to hide. Lady Xenobia  started to her feet as well, stooping to help Lady Adelaide.

Confronted by the entire party, Lala dropped into a curtsy before the  duke, so deep that she almost turned her ankle, then straightened just  enough to turn slightly and curtsy again before the duchess, who wore  the most beautiful morning dress that Lala had ever seen. It was made of  white chambray, with an overdress of pale yellow silk closely fitted  across the shoulders and bosom. Her Grace certainly didn't look like a  woman who had an eight-year-old child. Her figure was exquisite.

She couldn't make herself meet Mr. Dautry's eyes, after she curtsied to  him. Lady Xenobia was there too, so Lala just kept curtsying until she  nearly curtsied to her own mother by mistake.

As they all exchanged greetings, panic started boiling up inside her,  bubbling like molten chocolate in a pot. She didn't want a father-in-law  like this, one whose cold, gray eyes looked her over and obviously  found her wanting.                       
       
           



       

He would be able to deduce that she couldn't read. She knew it.

But he was standing just before her, while her mother informed the rest  of the company about the horrors of their journey. So Lala took a deep  breath and said, "I trust you had a pleasant journey, Your Grace?"

"Very," he said. "I suspect this will seem odd to you, Miss Rainsford,  but when one is the parent of an extremely active eight-year-old boy,  nearly every carriage ride that does not include him is a joy."

"Ah," Lala said. She could think of nothing else to say. "Where is the boy at the moment?" she blurted out.

"Eton."

In the dreadful silence that followed, Lala remembered her plan. "Isn't it awful about Napoleon taking Venice?"

"Awful is one word for it, Miss Rainsford. I was more interested to read  in the Morning Post that in a mere three years the Doge had allowed the  Venetian fleet to dwindle to three hundred and nine vessels. No wonder  Napoleon's fleet took the city. Did you read that particular article?"

Lala gulped. "No, I'm afraid we don't take the Morning Post on a regular  basis," she said. "My mother is quite fond of Bell's Weekly Messenger."

The duke bowed his head, and another silence ensued. Then he said, "My  wife is an inveterate reader of novels; there are evenings when I can  scarcely persuade her to retire to bed, as she is deep in a romantic  tale."

Lala opened her mouth to say . . . to say what? "I can't read?" "I never read?"

Luckily Lady Xenobia turned from the cluster of people surrounding  Lala's mother and cried, "Your Grace, please tell me that you are not  castigating your wife for an innocent enjoyment of novels! I told you  last month that if you would merely embark on the first chapter of  Sicilian Romance, you would soon find yourself trembling in the middle  of the night, unable to stop turning the pages."

"If I am trembling in the night, it has nothing to do with literature," the duke said, giving Lady Xenobia a teasing smile.

Lala blinked, but Lady Xenobia quirked up one side of her mouth and  said, in a mock severe tone, "There is nothing worse than a duke who is  determined to be clever."

"I always think that parents should be seen and not heard," Mr. Dautry  said, looming up at his father's shoulder as Lady Adelaide took Lala's  mother off to a comfortable seat. "Don't tell me that you are telling  Miss Rainsford ribald jokes. I shall disown you."

His Grace's cold eyes warmed when he smiled at his son. Father and son  were nearly identical, except that the duke's hair was more generously  streaked with white. They had the same large bodies, and the same air of  supreme control. As if each knew every muscle in his body and how to  use it.

"A chip off the old duke," Lady Xenobia said, laughing.

Mr. Dautry slung an arm around his father's shoulders and grinned at  her. "Surely you are not implying that I have achieved a level of  elegance akin to dear papa's? You astonish me, Lady Xenobia."

Lala felt ill. How could these people be so informal with each other?  She'd never seen such behavior, and certainly never imagined it happened  in dukes' families. She wouldn't dream of putting a hand on her  father's sleeve, let alone embracing him, or addressing him in such a  jocular fashion. She had never wanted to be elsewhere more desperately  in her life.

"Surely you are not asking for my opinion of your coat?" Lady Xenobia  asked Mr. Dautry. Her eyes were dancing, and Lala had the strong feeling  that there was a private jest between them. The duke was looking from  one to the other, evidently as unenlightened as she.

"I always desire the truth from women, especially beautiful ones," Mr.  Dautry said. "Though I should tell you," he added silkily, "that I have  received little disparagement."

"I am always startled by how naïve gentlemen can be," Lady Xenobia  replied. "In fact, I quite admire your coat, Mr. Dautry. Would it be a  creation of Monsieur Devoulier?"

"I forced Tobias into his workroom for a fitting at age fourteen," the  duke put in, "and now Devoulier simply sends him coats at regular  intervals."

Shoulder to shoulder, the duke and his son looked like an illustration  in Gentleman's Magazine of handsome gentlemen wearing the very latest  fashions. Lala stood beside them silently, her stomach twisting,  listening as best she could for a moment when she might contribute  something to the conversation.

But it was impossible. The subject had changed from men's haberdashery  to a school friend of Mr. Dautry's, a man named Wilberforce.                       
       
           



       

"Oh, Wilberforce," Mr. Dautry said dismissively. "His bark is bigger than his willy."

Lala wasn't even entirely sure what a "willy" was.

Happily, Lady Xenobia said, "On that less than polite note, I shall now  take Miss Rainsford to Lady Adelaide, who is very much looking forward  to chatting with her. Try to behave yourself, gentlemen."