Lord Iverbrook's Heir Part 23

Sir Aubrey had still not emerged from his chamber when, early the next morning, Lord Iverbrook set off for Iver Place.

"Keep an eye on him for me, Hasty," requested his lordship from his seat in his curricle. "And the other

eye on Selena. I do not wish to hear when I come home that she has been abducted."

"Do you think he is plotting?" asked Delia eagerly.

"I don't trust him. Selena, you are not to leave the house with him on any pretext."

"As you wish, my lord." She curtseyed and dimpled at him, her curls shining in the pale October sunlight.

"I mean it! Let's be off, Tom, before she openly defies me."

He blew a kiss to Selena as the greys trotted sedately down the drive.

Selena walked down to the river. A few late roses bloomed among the Michaelmas daisies and autumn

crocuses. The great oak was golden now, its leaves falling in slow spirals to float away downstream, following Hugh. In a mood of gentle melancholy, Selena returned to the house. In a couple of hours John Peabody would be coming to see her. She had scarcely thought about farm business for several days and she must have clear instructions ready for the bailiff or nothing would be done right. At first it was difficult to concentrate on winter wheat and hedging and ditching, but as usual the details soon absorbed her. There were buildings in need of repair before the weather deteriorated, honey to be taken from the beehives, and Addlepate's Acres must be ploughed and sown to good gra.s.s.

By two o'clock she had seen John Peabody, brought her accounts up to date, and written some letters. She was sealing the last of these when there was a knock on the door and Mr. Hastings's round face appeared.

"My dear Miss Whitton, you have been closeted in the library long enough! I am in need of fresh air; will you ride with me?"

"Willingly. I expect Delia will go too."

"She is gone out for a drive with Mr. and Miss Russell."

"And you stayed behind?"

"I promised Hugh to keep an eye on you. I should not dare to leave the house without you!"

"This will never do. Have you been sitting in the hall, watching the library door for six hours lest I should escape you, like a cat at a mousehole?"

"Certainly not. Dimbury has not yet forgiven me for the depredations on my wardrobe caused by my boat ride the other day. If I were so lost to propriety as to crouch on the floor like a cat at a mousehole, I daresay he would leave me."

"Thus effectively destroying your reputation at a blow?" Selena laughed. "Have you eaten luncheon, sir?"

"Yes, I joined Lady Whitton. She will not make a love philtre for me, either."

"If I understand you aright, Mr. Hastings, I hope you will use no love philtre, nor any other persuasion

until Delia has seen a little more of the world. And perhaps I ought to warn you that she is looking for-now how did she put it?-a man who is as romantic as he looks."Mr. Hastings grimaced. "I qualify in neither. And young Clive is the image of a hero in a novel.""She has known him forever and he has quashed her flights of fancy time without number."

"I shall encourage them! But do not fear, I'll not press my suit yet awhile. Shall we go?"

"Unlike you, I have not eaten. Allow me a few minutes to change my dress and visit Cook, and I will be with you."

They rode into Abingdon, where Mr. Hastings had an errand to perform.

"Lady Whitton mentioned that she is running short of oil of sweet almonds," he explained. "If I may not court the daughter, I must needs court the mother. Besides, it is time I expressed my appreciation for her hospitality."

He was doomed to disappointment. It would have to be sent for, said the grocer, to Oxford or even to London.

"What else do you have?" asked Mr. Hastings. When the grocer shrugged and spread his arms expressively, he started wandering around, sniffing and poking in bags and barrels. "I've never been in a grocer's shop before," he confided to Selena. "Fascinating place. Just smell these spices. Does your mother grow these?"

"Most of them grow in the tropics, I believe."

"I'll get some. If she can't use 'em, Cook can have 'em. Incidentally, Miss Whitton, are you aware of that little romance?"

"Cook in love?" Selena was startled. "You must be mistaken. She has been with us since before I was born and never had an admirer to my knowledge."

"Cook and Hugh's Tom," confirmed Mr. Hastings. "I asked Dimbury and instead of denying it he went all prim and proper on me, really pokered up, so I'm ready to wager on it. Hi, boy! Let's have a pound of this, what is it, nutmeg, and one each of turmeric, c.u.min, cinnamon, cloves, coriander, cardamom- deuced if they don't all start with a C!"

"We usually sell them by the ounce, sir," said the grocer's boy, awed. "I'll have to ask Mr. Turney. They 're ever so expensive."

"And they are used in very small quant.i.ties," Selena added as her companion looked alarmed. "They lose their flavour quickly."

"Very well, an ounce of each of them." Mr. Hastings recovered his poise. "Don't want to waste the stuff. Besides, we are riding and we don't want to carry a lot of parcels."

"We can deliver it, sir."

"No, I'll take it. Present for a lady. Just tie 'em up nicely, my dear fellow."

The package disappeared into the capacious pocket of his riding coat without producing a bulge large enough to spoil its line. They turned homewards across the fields.

"Past quarterday," explained Mr. Hastings sheepishly. "I'll have to go up to town to pick up my allowance when Hugh gets back. I'll be sorry to leave, dashed if I won't. Never thought the country could be so amusing."

"You'll always be welcome at Milford, Mr. Hastings, as Hugh's friend if not Delia's suitor. You have known Hugh forever, have you not?"

"Since Harrow."

"Was he a good student? He has a good memory for Greek myths."

"Only the scandalous ones, I'll be bound! Oh, beg your pardon, Miss Whitton. Shouldn't have said that."

Selena waved aside his apology. "Phoebe once described him to me as a 'wild and reckless blade.'"

"No, ma'am, did she? I say, that's going too far! An out-and-outer, up to every rig and row in town, but never going beyond the line, I do a.s.sure you. Always welcome everywhere, especially by the matchmaking mamas. Hugh's had more caps set at him than any man I know and never cared a fig for any of ' em. Dashed if I thought he'd take my advice."

"Your advice?"

"That's right. Wouldn't take it about a coat or a horse, but 'Marry her, my dear fellow,' I said, and here he is, betrothed."

"You advised him to marry me?"

"Don't know if you've noticed it, but he's a determined fellow, Hugh, once he's made up his mind about something. Says he's going to abolish slavery, he'll abolish slavery, all right and tight. Says he's going to be guardian to his heir, come h.e.l.l or high water. 'Easy,' says I, 'marry her.' And here we are. He's within ame's ace of being guardian to his heir."

Mr. Hastings rattled on. He had lost his audience, and Orion was left to pick his own way along the muddy cart track. Selena rode in a daze, stupefied, unaware of her surroundings until they reached the Manor.

She parted from Mr. Hastings politely, and went upstairs with an unseeing look that left him feeling distinctly uneasy.

The emptiness within her expanded until it was hard to breathe. It hurt her throat. Dry-eyed, she mechanically took off her riding habit and hung it in the wardrobe.

Phrases pa.s.sed through her memory.

"I mean to obtain custody, by hook or by crook."

"It will be best for Peter."

"I am marrying you for your family." She had thought he was joking when he said that.

How easily he had hoaxed her! How ready she had been to believe that he loved her! Confused and humiliated, she pressed her hands to her burning cheeks. It had all been a plot, a scheme thought up months ago to wheedle her into giving up control of Peter. Mr. Hastings had suggested "Marry her," and the n.o.ble Viscount Iverbrook had promptly set about laying siege.

How dare he!

Selena flung on the first gown that came to hand and ran down to the library. It was the work of a moment to pen a note to his lordship, declaring their engagement at an end. A few angry tears fell on the paper; she blotted them savagely, smearing the ink, then folded, sealed, and directed it.

If she put it on the table in the hall, to be taken to the post tomorrow, it might miss him. Jem must ride with it, leaving at once. But no, Jem was needed in the stables since that detestable man had taken Tom Arbuckle with him. It was typical of his unfeeling, inconsiderate ways.

Ten minutes later, Selena was on her way to the village, striding down the lane in a mannish way that would have shocked Lady Anne Russell. Behind her scurried Polly, a last minute concession to the proprieties, who looked none too pleased at being hustled out into the dusk.

Mr. Liddell, landlord of the Royal Oak, was "right flambusticated," as he later told his wife, when Miss Whitton marched into his inn at the busiest time of day. He left half a dozen farm hands calling for ale and hurried to greet her.

"Evening, miss!" he boomed. "What can I do for you today?"

"Good evening, Mr. Liddell. I want a letter delivered by morning to Iver Place. It's just this side of London. Can you send your ostler's boy? I'll pay you for his time and the horse, and there will be a tip for him if it arrives in time."

"Right you are, miss." Selena winced as the innkeeper raised his voice to a bellow. "Alf! ALF! Go fetch Ted here and step lively, mind! If you'll just step into the parlour, miss, you can give young Ted his instructions and he'll be off right away. Can I get you anything, miss?"

Selena declined. She and Polly went into the parlour, an oppressively overfurnished room hung with purple velvet, which was Mrs. Liddell's pride and joy and where the Royal Oak's rare visitors of Quality were invariably incarcerated.

In a few minutes the stableboy appeared, bashfully wiping his hands on his smock. Selena gave him directions to Iver Place, handed over the letter, and followed him out of the room.

As she paid the landlord, he asked anxiously, "The little master's not sick again?"

"No, he's very well, thank you."

"Ah!" said Mr. Liddell with a knowing look. As she left, she heard him telling his wife in an attempted whisper, "Our Ted's off to Iver Place, Maisie, with a love letter from Miss Whitton."

"Isn't that nice now?" came Maisie's answer, loud and clear. With heightened colour and an aching heart, Selena hurried home.

Chapter 18.

That evening, Selena's forced gaiety alarmed everyone. Mr. Hastings, afraid that his unthinking words were to blame, was so alarmed that he confirmed his resolve to depart for London in search of his quarterly remittance.

"I owe Iverbrook fifty guineas," he pointed out, "so I'd best be gone before he returns. You can tell him he will be paid when next I see him."

"He will not mind!" cried Delia. "I am sure you need not fear that he will dun you. Won't you stay a little longer?"

"I'll see you next spring in town, shall I not, my dear Miss Delia? I expect to waltz with you at Almack' s."

"You will always be welcome at Milford Manor, Mr. Hastings," said Lady Whitton.

The sparkle in Selena's eyes suggested to him that his welcome in that quarter had been withdrawn. "Thank you, my lady," he said. "I hope to visit you again. However, I really must leave tomorrow morning. Who knows but that my man of business will send the money back to my father? I have never before waited so long past quarterday to avail myself of it!"

Later that evening Lady Whitton, becomingly attired in a dove grey peignoir and frilly nightcap, tapped on Selena's chamber door, opened it, and peeped in.

"I think we had better have a little cose, my love," she suggested.

"Oh Mama, I am by far too sleepy to talk tonight," Selena answered, yawning hugely.

"In the morning then, dear. Goodnight and sweet dreams."

Lady Whitton retired to her chamber shaking her head, and Selena tossed and turned for hours before

falling into a troubled sleep.

She woke late and went downstairs with dark rings shadowing her eyes. Her mother and sister had already breakfasted, Bannister informed her, and Mr. Hastings and Sir Aubrey had not yet descended.

"I wonder if Cousin Aubrey will put in an appearance today," she said uninterestedly. "I suppose Mama

has told you that Mr. Hastings is leaving?"