Tallie's Knight Part 3

She nodded encouragingly down at him and, bemused, Georgie nodded back.

"Yes, so any damage the puppy has done to your gown you must lay at my door."

"But--' The girl was not paying attention. She bent down to the child.

"Now, Georgie, I think you and my puppy have had enough excitement for one night, but would you do one more thing for me, please?"

He nodded.

"Would you please returner ... Rover--' " Satan," Georgie corrected her.

Her eyes brimmed with amus.e.m.e.nt, but she continued with commendable control.

"Yes, of course, Satan. Would you please take, er, Satan, to the kennels and wash the mud off him for me? You see, I am dressed for dinner, and ladies must not go to the kennels in their best gown."

Her words had the unfortunate effect of drawing all attention to her 'best gown'. There were a few sn.i.g.g.e.rs, which she ignored with a raised chin. Georgie, however, stared at her, stricken.

"What is it, love?" she said.

Guiltily, he extended a grubby finger and pointed at the mud which now streaked her dress, liberally deposited by himself and the squirming puppy in his arms. She glanced down and laughed, a warm peal of unconcern.

"Don't worry about it, my dear, it will brush off when the mud is dry." She ruffled his hair affectionately and said in a low voice, "Now for heaven's sake take that wretched pup and get it and yourself cleaned up before any other accidents happen."

Relieved, the small boy ran off, his puppy clutched to his chest.

"You'll not get off so easily--' began Laet.i.tia, incensed.

"Do you think it is quite safe for you to be out in the night air in a damp and muddy dress. Cousin?" interrupted Tallie solicitously.

"I.

would not want you to take a chill, and you know you are extremely susceptible. " With a stamp and a flounce of jonquil silk Laet.i.tia left the terrace, calling petulantly for her maid to be sent to her at once. The guests drifted in after her, and Brooks began to circulate with a silver tray.

Tallie bent down and gathered up Georgie's scattered flowers. She straightened a few bent stems, gathered the shawl more tightly around her shoulders and stepped towards the French doors, then noticed Lord d'Arenville, who had remained on the terrace.

His expression was unreadable, his grey heavy-lidded eyes observing her dispa.s.sionately. The hard gaze made her shiver. Horrid man, she thought. Waiting to see if there is any more entertainment to be had.

She raised her chin in cool disdain, and marched past him without saying a word.

Chapter Two.

Well, Magnus, how do you like my candidates? Any take your fancy? "

Tallie froze. Partway into writing the events of the day into her diary, she'd run out of ink. She'd slipped down the servants' stair to the library, secure in the belief that the guests were all in the ballroom, dancing, or playing cards in the nearby anteroom.

Concentrating on the tricky task of refilling her inkwell, she hadn't heard her cousin and Lord d'Arenville enter the library. She glanced around, but they were hidden from her view by the heavy velvet curtains pulled partly across the alcove where she was seated.

She stood up to announce her presence, but paused, recalling the shabby dress she wore. If she emerged, she would have to leave by the public route, enduring further sn.i.g.g.e.rs and taunts. She'd had enough of that at dinner. Laet.i.tia, still furious about the way Tallie had confronted her over Georgie and the puppy, had encouraged her guests to bait Tallie even more spitefully than before, and Tallie could endure no more of it.

Lord d'Arenville spoke.

"You know perfectly well, Tish, that my fancy does not run to society virgins. I am seeking a wife, not pursuing a fancy."

Tallie swallowed, embarra.s.sed. This was a terribly private conversation. No one would thank her for having heard that. Perhaps she should try to slip out through the French doors onto the terrace. She edged quietly towards them. Stealthily she slid the bolt back and turned the handle, but it didn't budge--the catch was stuck.

"Well, dearest coz, which one has the teeth, the hips and the placid temperament you require for the mother of your heirs? They all have impeccable bloodlines, be a.s.sured of that."

Tallie gasped at Laet.i.tia's effrontery and waited for Lord d'Arenville to give her a smart set-down for speaking of his intended bride with such disrespect. It was far too late to declare her presence now, and besides, she was fascinated. She edged back behind the curtains and wrestled halfheartedly with the door catch.

"As far as those requirements are concerned, most of your candidates would do, although Miss Kingsley is too narrow- hipped to be suitable."

Tallie's jaw dropped. Requirements? Candidates? Those young women out there had been a.s.sembled as candidates? Miss Kingsley eliminated because of her hips? Laet.i.tia hadn't been joking when she'd referred to teeth, hips, placidity and bloodlines!

Tallie was disgusted. What sort of man would choose a wife so coldly and dispa.s.sionately? No wonder he was called The Icicle. Mrs. Wilmot was right--he was as handsome as a Greek statue but he obviously had a heart of stone to match. Tallie pa.s.sionately hoped he would select Miss Fyffe-Temple as his bride.

Miss Fyffe-Temple was one of the prettiest of the young lady guests and the sweetest-spoken--in company. In truth she was a nasty-tempered, spiteful little harpy, who took her temper out on the servants, making impossible demands in a shrill voice, and pinching and hitting the younger maids in the most vicious fashion. The below-stairs members of the household had quickly labelled her Miss Foul-Temper, and in Tallie's opinion that made her a perfect wife for the great Lord d'Arenville!

"Actually, I have come to see, on reflection, that my requirements were rather inadequate," said Lord d'Arenville.

Perhaps she was too hasty in judging him, Tallie thought. She did tend to make snap judgements, and was often forced to own the fault when she was later proved wrong.

"Strong hocks, perhaps, Magnus?" Laet.i.tia had clearly imbibed rather more champagne than was ladylike.

"Do you want to check their withers?

Get them to jump over a few logs? Put them at a fence or two? Or ask if they are fond of oats? I believe Miss Carnegie has Scottish blood--she will certainly be fond of oats. The Scots, I believe, live on little else. "

Tallie shoved her fist against her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud. Heavens! To think she would be in such sympathy with Cousin Laet.i.tia.

"Very funny, Tish," said Lord d'Arenville dryly.

"I have no interest in the culinary preferences of anyone north of the border, nor do I wish to concern myself with any additional physical characteristics of the young ladies you selected for me."

Tallie's eyes widened. Laet.i.tia had selected the young ladies? Did he simply expect to choose one? Without the bother of courtship? What an insufferable man! To be so puffed up in his own conceit that he need not consider the feelings of any young lady, a.s.suming she would be flattered enough by his offer!

Well, if a spineless ninny was what he wanted, she hoped he would choose The Honourable Miss Aldercott. Already she showed what Tallie considered to be a very sinister preference for gauzy drapery and sonnets about Death and Lost Love. The Honourable Miss Aldercott had fainted five times so far, had had the vapours twice and made recourse to her vinaigrette a dozen times a day. With any luck, thought Tallie viciously, Lord d'Arenville would think The Honourable Miss Aldercott charmingly fragile--then find himself leg-shackled to a clinging, lachrymose watering-pot for the rest of his life!

"So, Magnus, what other criteria do you have for the mother of your heirs?"

"It has occurred to me that most of your candidates are rather spoiled and used to being indulged."

"Well, naturally they are a little petted, but that is only to be expected..."

"You miss my point, Tish. Most of these young ladies have found it an almost intolerable hardship to come to the country."

"Well, of course they have, Magnus!" Laet.i.tia snapped acerbically.

"Any woman would. Who in their right mind would moulder away in the country when they could have all the delightful exhilaration of London society? Is that your latest requirement?"

"Yes, actually--it is. I wish the mother of my children to reside with the children, and London is no place for a child."

"What rubbish!"

"You know it's true, Tish, for you yourself keep your children here in

the country all year round."

"Yes, Magnus, the children live here all year round, not me. And that

is the difference. Why, I would go into a decline if I were buriedhere for an entire year!""And the children--do they not miss their mother's care?"Tallie had to stifle another laugh at that. Laet.i.tia, a doting mother!

The children would love her if she would let them. As it was, they tiptoed around on their best behaviour during their mother's visits,

hoping to avoid her criticisms and sharp temper and heaving sighs of wistful relief when she left.

"Naturally I spend as much time as I can with my darlings, but I have

my needs also, Magnus. And I have responsibilities as George's wife,and they take place in London, which is no fault of mine. But you neednot think I neglect my children, for I leave them in the best ofcare."

"Yes, I've noticed that." Lord d'Arenville's voice was thoughtful."Your st.u.r.dy little cousin."St.u.r.dy! How dared he? St.u.r.dy? Tallie was mortally insulted. She might not be as sylph like as Laet.i.tia, but she was not st.u.r.dy!

"You're wandering off the point, Magnus."

St.u.r.dy! Insensitive beast!

"Would you say that any of these young ladies would be willing to live

for, say, ten years in the country? "

"Ten years?" Laet.i.tia's voice rose to a horrified screech.

"No sane woman would agree to that! She would die, rather! Why on earth would you wish to immure anyone in the country for ten years, anyway?"

There was a short silence. Tallie craned to hear, but there was nothing. Suddenly Laet.i.tia laughed--a hard, cynical laugh.

"Good G.o.d, you want a nun, not a wife, don't you?" She laughed again.

"Your father tried that, if you recall, and stuck to it for all of six months, while your mother cuckolded him with every groom, stable boy and tenant farmer in the district. And serve him right, say I. No, you couldn't possibly think that isolating a wife in the country would ensure her fidelity, not after that." She laughed again.

"And if you have any doubts on the matter, dearest coz, ask George."

Lord d'Arenville said stiffly, "My decision is nothing to do with either you or my mother. It is simply that my bride must not mind spending my children's growing years at my country seat with them."

"Well, I wish you'd told me earlier," said Laet.i.tia, 'for I wouldn't have bothered wasting everyone's time with this ridiculous charade. I am very angry with you, Magnus. I should have realised you were not serious about wanting a bride--' "I am quite serious."

"Well, you certainly won't find one here who could accept-- " But I have. "

"You've what?" Laet.i.tia sounded flabbergasted.

"Don't tell me one has agreed to your outrageous terms, Magnus! Oh, I cannot believe it. Who is she? No--do not tell me--let me guess. Lady Helen... no, she is positively addicted to Al- mack's. And it could not possibly be Miss Blakeney--no one so a la mode would agree to be buried in the country for ten years. Oh, I give up Magnus, who is she?"

There was a long pause. Tallie waited with hated breath.

Truly, she could imagine no young lady agreeing to such inhuman terms.

It was a shame his mother had behaved so shockingly, but not all women were like his mother and Lae- t.i.t ia and why should an innocent wife be punished for the things they had done?

Ten years in the country indeed! And would Lord d'Arenville confine himself similarly to the restrictions of country life? Tallie almost snorted out loud. Of course he would not! It was only his poor wife who would be shut away from society, breeding his heirs like a good little brood mare.

"Well, Magnus, don't keep me waiting all day," said Laet.i.tia impatiently.

"Which bride have you chosen?"

Tallie leaned against the doorhandle, eager to hear his answer.

"I have decided to wed--' Suddenly the catch gave, and Tallie tumbled out into the night, missing his reply. Fearful that her eavesdropping would be discovered, she pushed the door shut and slipped away. A little irritated to be denied the juicy morsel of gossip, she hurried towards the kitchen.

Which unfortunate young lady had Lord d'Arenville chosen for his bride? She would find out soon enough, she supposed. Whoever it was, Tallie did not envy her. However, it was nothing to do with her, except that his choice would signal the end of the house party. All the unpleasant guests would return to London, the' children would be released from their unnatural curfew and she would return to the peaceful life she had led before. Tallie almost skipped with joy at the prospect.

When Tallie came down to breakfast the next morning she was surprised to find many of her cousin's guests already arisen. She paused on the threshold, feeling dowdy and unwelcome. Still, she decided, this was her home, and she had every right to her breakfast. Chin held high, she entered the breakfast room.

A sudden hush fell. Tallie ignored it. No doubt they were preparing to make sport of her yet again--the dress she wore was even shabbier than yesterday's. She went to the sideboard and inspected the selection of breakfast dishes, uncomfortably aware of hostile eyes boring into her back. After a moment, the buzz of conversation resumed. From time to time a low voiced comment reached her ears as she slowly filled her plate.

'done rather well for herself. "

'but, my dear, one wonders what precisely she did to ensure. "They were talking of Lord d'Arenville's bride, Tallie thought. He musthave announced his betrothal at the ball. That would explain why somany had come down to breakfast. No doubt those who had not beenchosen wished to make an early start on the journey back to Town.

"And, of course, poor Tish is utterly furious."