old lady’s interference in his affairs. Nor would he contain anger beneath a mask of cheerful unconcern. Briefly, Margaret wondered if she ought to tell him what their grandaunt was up to, but before she had thought the matter through, Lady Celeste herself entered the room.
She was dressed becomingly in flowing pink silk, an afternoon frock nipped in just under her small breasts, and cut high to the throat and long to the wrist. The upper part of each sleeve was slightly puffed, and there was a narrow ruffle edging the neckline. Lady Celeste greeted the earl with an easy smile, but Margaret realized she was watching him measuringly, as though wondering if he meant to take her to task.
“His lordship has brought Timothy a pony, Aunt Celeste,” Margaret said, her eyes twinkling. “Wasn’t that kind of him?”
Lady Celeste looked at the earl. “Uncommon kind,” she said slowly. “Turning over a new leaf, Abberley? Thoughtfulness don’t seem to be your long suit.”
He refused to be offended by her words. “I merely fulfilled an intention the boy’s father had,” he said. “It is nothing.”
Lady Celeste seemed about to agree with him, before an arrested look in her eye told Margaret that she had remembered there might be shoals ahead. Instead, she muttered something nearly amiable, then asked if he would care for tea.
“His lordship doesn’t drink tea, ma’am,” Margaret said with a laugh. “Perhaps Moffatt can find some of Michael’s sherry if Jordan hasn’t drunk it all.”
“I’d prefer Madeira,” his lordship said when the order was relayed to Moffatt.
“At once, sir.”
When they had been served, the conversation continued desultorily, but nothing was said about the tenant farms or the condition of the Abberley estate. His lordship took his leave half an hour later, promising to give the orders regarding the new pony at the stables, and Margaret looked accusingly at her grandaunt.
“You ought to have told him, ma’am.”
“Fustian, he’ll find out soon enough. I’ve placed a number of orders in Royston in his name. Someone will send him a reckoning soon enough.”
They saw nothing of his lordship the next day or the next. Nor yet the next. But on Friday, just as Lady Annis was wondering what was keeping Moffatt with her tea and Margaret was beginning to become bored by both her ladyship’s conversation and the bit of embroidery in her own lap, his lordship entered the drawing room in such a way as to remind her forcibly of the way in which Timothy had burst into the same room some days earlier, demanding to know about the pony.
Before the earl could speak, Lady Annis snapped, “Good gracious, Abberley, where are your manners? And where is Moffatt?”
“I didn’t wait for him,” Abberley retorted in the same tone before turning his fierce gaze upon Margaret. “I want to speak to you and to Aunt Celeste. Right now,” he added harshly, making it clear that he would brook no argument.
6
“A UNT CELESTE HAS GONE for a drive,” Margaret said more calmly than she felt. Her heart was pounding, for he looked furious, and she was a little afraid of that look. Even Lady Annis had not dared to say another word in the face of it.
Abberley glowered. “Gone for a drive, has she? Meddling again, no doubt.”
“What on earth is he talking about, Margaret?” Lady Annis asked, reaching for her salts. “Abberley, I wish you will not speak so loudly. You have already startled me so that I’m sure it will be hours before my nerves recover. Not that you consider that, of course. You do not even have the civility, sir, to inquire after my health.”
Abberley ignored her, so Margaret said with more gentleness than she might otherwise have employed, “Pray, do not distress yourself, Annis. Clearly, his lordship is annoyed about something, but it has nothing to do with you. Of that I’m quite certain.”
“And so you should be,” muttered his lordship wrathfully. But he turned at last
She was dressed becomingly in flowing pink silk, an afternoon frock nipped in just under her small breasts, and cut high to the throat and long to the wrist. The upper part of each sleeve was slightly puffed, and there was a narrow ruffle edging the neckline. Lady Celeste greeted the earl with an easy smile, but Margaret realized she was watching him measuringly, as though wondering if he meant to take her to task.
“His lordship has brought Timothy a pony, Aunt Celeste,” Margaret said, her eyes twinkling. “Wasn’t that kind of him?”
Lady Celeste looked at the earl. “Uncommon kind,” she said slowly. “Turning over a new leaf, Abberley? Thoughtfulness don’t seem to be your long suit.”
He refused to be offended by her words. “I merely fulfilled an intention the boy’s father had,” he said. “It is nothing.”
Lady Celeste seemed about to agree with him, before an arrested look in her eye told Margaret that she had remembered there might be shoals ahead. Instead, she muttered something nearly amiable, then asked if he would care for tea.
“His lordship doesn’t drink tea, ma’am,” Margaret said with a laugh. “Perhaps Moffatt can find some of Michael’s sherry if Jordan hasn’t drunk it all.”
“I’d prefer Madeira,” his lordship said when the order was relayed to Moffatt.
“At once, sir.”
When they had been served, the conversation continued desultorily, but nothing was said about the tenant farms or the condition of the Abberley estate. His lordship took his leave half an hour later, promising to give the orders regarding the new pony at the stables, and Margaret looked accusingly at her grandaunt.
“You ought to have told him, ma’am.”
“Fustian, he’ll find out soon enough. I’ve placed a number of orders in Royston in his name. Someone will send him a reckoning soon enough.”
They saw nothing of his lordship the next day or the next. Nor yet the next. But on Friday, just as Lady Annis was wondering what was keeping Moffatt with her tea and Margaret was beginning to become bored by both her ladyship’s conversation and the bit of embroidery in her own lap, his lordship entered the drawing room in such a way as to remind her forcibly of the way in which Timothy had burst into the same room some days earlier, demanding to know about the pony.
Before the earl could speak, Lady Annis snapped, “Good gracious, Abberley, where are your manners? And where is Moffatt?”
“I didn’t wait for him,” Abberley retorted in the same tone before turning his fierce gaze upon Margaret. “I want to speak to you and to Aunt Celeste. Right now,” he added harshly, making it clear that he would brook no argument.
6
“A UNT CELESTE HAS GONE for a drive,” Margaret said more calmly than she felt. Her heart was pounding, for he looked furious, and she was a little afraid of that look. Even Lady Annis had not dared to say another word in the face of it.
Abberley glowered. “Gone for a drive, has she? Meddling again, no doubt.”
“What on earth is he talking about, Margaret?” Lady Annis asked, reaching for her salts. “Abberley, I wish you will not speak so loudly. You have already startled me so that I’m sure it will be hours before my nerves recover. Not that you consider that, of course. You do not even have the civility, sir, to inquire after my health.”
Abberley ignored her, so Margaret said with more gentleness than she might otherwise have employed, “Pray, do not distress yourself, Annis. Clearly, his lordship is annoyed about something, but it has nothing to do with you. Of that I’m quite certain.”
“And so you should be,” muttered his lordship wrathfully. But he turned at last
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