Three Weeks With Lady X(38)

There was nothing disappointed in the Duke of Villiers's eyes when he  looked at Lady Xenobia. Well, there wouldn't be, would there? She was  brilliant, and there was something luscious about her beauty spot, for  all that Lala's mother insisted it was vulgar.

Lala dutifully followed Lady Xenobia across the room, consumed by the  feeling that this party would be even worse than the season. At balls,  one didn't have to engage in true conversation, because the next dance  was always about to begin. She simply smiled prettily at her suitors,  while they rattled on about whatever they wanted: willies and Doges, for  example. Not dogs, doges. Whatever they were.

She had just greeted Lady Adelaide, who was sitting beside Lala's  mother, when the door opened again and that nice butler announced, "Lord  Brody."

The gentleman had tousled hair and piercing blue eyes underlined by dark  shadows, which suggested to Lala that he'd stayed up all night. Doing  something naughty, no doubt.

Like Mr. Dautry, he was not the type of man with whom Lala wanted to associate. No matter how striking he was.

Sure enough, Mr. Dautry went over and pounded him on the back by way of  greeting, as men did with their friends. Lord Brody started laughing; he  was probably the clever type as well. Mr. Dautry said something in that  smoky voice of his, and Lord Brody replied, "horny as a peach-orchard  boar," a comment that she didn't understand at all.

So Lala turned back to Lady Adelaide, her mother, and Lady Xenobia. It  was easy to follow their conversation, because her mother never allowed  an audience to go to waste. At present she was detailing her  palpitations and what the doctor said about them.

Mr. Dautry's drawing room was as elegant as that in a royal palace. Lord  knows how many servants were employed on the estate: she'd seen several  footmen, and one had to assume that any number of maids were about as  well.

As a child, she had dreamed of living in a smallish house with a picket  fence and a little kitchen garden. Like every one of her dreams, that  had smashed against the rocks. Her mother-notwithstanding her objections  to Mr. Dautry's base birth-was obviously impressed by Starberry Court,  and thrilled to be rubbing shoulders with the Duchess of Villiers.

Lala would have to marry Dautry and live in this perfectly frightful  museum of a house, crammed with fancy furniture and servants.

Dautry was bringing his friend across the room toward them. "Lady  Rainsford, Lady Xenobia, and Miss Rainsford, may I present an old friend  of mine, Lord Brody? Lady Adelaide, I believe you have met this  reprobate before."

Lord Brody dropped back and made his leg, bowing to Lady Adelaide, whom  he greeted like a favorite aunt. As he bowed to Lala's mother, she  became girlishly vivacious, recounting the time when they met before.  "In fact, you shared a meal with my darling daughter!" she said.

Lady Xenobia showed no overt signs of being awestruck to meet a future  duke, but Lord Brody was obviously intrigued by her. He bent his head to  the side, as if he saw something he'd never seen before.

Lala knew why, too. Lady Xenobia was astonishingly lovely, with more  hair than Lala had imagined one woman could have, all of it piled on top  of her head. Plus, she'd painted her lips, and with her beauty mark,  and the way her upper lip formed a perfect bow . . . She was probably  the most sensual woman Lala had ever seen.

Her mother's sharp elbow dug into her side. "Why are you staring at Lady  Xenobia?" Lady Rainsford hissed. "You're making a fool of yourself!"

Lala turned hastily back to the conversation about palpitations, only to  find that they had moved on to talk of female ailments. Her mother  dated all her problems to the birth of her two daughters.

Mr. Dautry, Lord Brody, and Lady Xenobia were having such a lively  conversation that they kept breaking into laughter-even Mr. Dautry, who  usually looked as if he never smiled, let alone laughed. After a bit,  the duke and duchess joined them and all five stood about being clever,  while Lala sat, hiding her bottom in a chair and thinking about how  she'd like to plummet through the floor into the wine cellars.

"The blood!" her mother said, fanning herself. "You would not believe the blood!"

Lady Adelaide looked queasy; she had no children, and she probably  didn't welcome these details. Lala had heard it all before. She had  already decided that if she ever gave birth, she was going to drink a  gallon of laudanum and wake up the next morning.                       
       
           



       

The door opened again, and the butler entered. Lala began wondering if  anyone would notice if she choked due to lack of air and died right  there. Probably not. Though her mother might notice, insomuch as it  would diminish her audience.

When Lala looked up again, she discovered, standing directly in front of  her, the very embodiment of the man she had always wanted to marry. He  wasn't young, but he wasn't old either. His eyes were navy blue, with  wrinkles at the corners that showed he knew how to smile. He was almost  bald, and she could tell with one look that he wouldn't have a hairy  chest. And he wasn't as imposing as Mr. Dautry. He was probably only a  few inches taller than she was.

The butler was introducing Dr. Hatfield and the doctor was bowing and  saying that he would be most happy to treat her mother while she was in  residence at Starberry. In fact, if she agreed, he would like to conduct  a preliminary consultation now.

Her mother's eyes shifted, and Lala could see that she was rethinking  the seriousness of her palpitations; after all, she was sitting with  Lady Adelaide, while a duke and duchess stood close by.

"My mother will not agree to see you, Dr. Hatfield," Lala said,  standing, "because she would never put her health in front of the  enjoyment of others. But I must insist that you do examine her; she had  palpitations all morning in the carriage."

Lady Adelaide bounced to her feet as well, likely happy to be released  from a discussion of childbirth gore. "Our health is tremendously  important after we reach the change of life, don't you think?"

Lala's mother gave Lady Adelaide a look so disdainful that it could have  frozen lemonade. Her ladyship didn't appear to notice, and somehow all  three of them, followed by the doctor, left the room and went up the  stairs. Lala wasn't quite sure why Lady Adelaide was escorting them, but  she was grateful for it; her mother was always more restrained in the  presence of other ladies.

Once they were in Lady Rainsford's bedchamber, Lady Adelaide seated  herself to the side while Lala stood by the bed and watched. Dr.  Hatfield went through the various motions that she'd seen forty or fifty  doctors do in her lifetime. He asked questions, listened to her  mother's chest, and took her pulse.

Her mother talked on and on. Dr. Hatfield had looked at Lala only once,  swiftly, when her mother explained that even though it might lead to a  palpitation that could prove the end of her, her maternal desire to see  Lala settled in life had led to the enormous step of leaving Dr.  Belview's care for a week.

Dr. Hatfield had beautiful eyes and a long, lean face that matched his  lanky body. He was perfect: masculine without being overly so. Watching,  Lala tried desperately to keep her breathing slow and even, because it  wasn't panic she was feeling now. It was something else, something far  more pleasurable.

When the doctor straightened, Lala held her breath. This was the point  at which medical practitioners either ruined everything by announcing  that Lady Rainsford wasn't ill at all, or patted her mother's hand and  told her that she needed rest and good care, then charged two pounds and  promised to return the next day to collect another payment.

She wanted him to be the first sort. But she also wanted him to be the second sort.

He did neither. Instead, he turned to Lala. "Miss Rainsford, what do you think?" he asked.

She gulped. "What do I think of my mother's health?" No one had ever asked her that.

"I find that the most perceptive observers of the ill are family  members. A daughter can understand, better than a stranger, her mother's  condition."

Somehow, Lala found her tongue. "My mother is quite ill," she said  firmly. And that was true. When her mother got that spiraling look in  her eyes and her voice rose, no one could doubt that something was  genuinely wrong.

Dr. Hatfield nodded, his eyes grave, and turned back to his patient. "I  shall visit you again tomorrow morning, the better to monitor your  health, Lady Rainsford. I think you would do best to stay in your  chamber and rest for at least two to three days. I'm afraid this visit  will be far too taxing for your heart."

Lady Adelaide jumped to her feet. "There is no reason to be concerned,  Dr. Hatfield. I will be sure to keep your patient comfortable and happy.  My dear Lady Rainsford, you will join the party in a few days, when you  are feeling stronger."