Lord Greywell's Dilemma by Laura Matthews Page A

better with a little guidance in her wardrobe, and with her toilette. She wouldn’t shame you.”
    “There’s no question of that,” Greywell said gently. “I regret it didn’t work out, Sir Edward. Though I think you might have known it wouldn’t,” he couldn’t help adding.
    “‘Hope springs eternal’ and all that.” The baronet sighed as he crossed the room to the door. “There won’t be another occasion when someone with as great attractions as yours offers for her.” At Greywell’s dismissive gesture he grinned ruefully and said, “I’m not talking about your countenance or your aristocratic station, my dear fellow. I’m talking about your plight. That’s what would appeal to her if anything did.”
    * * * *
    Lord Greywell’s plight did prey on Elspeth’s mind. She dreamed of a child wasting away while black-frocked women went about their household duties, ignoring him. The babe lay in a cradle already swathed in black, in a dark room where no one entered. There was a loud clock with a black face and black hands which ticked away the minutes mercilessly, coming ever closer to what Elspeth knew would be unbearable gongs of doom. She woke to the early-morning light in a sweat.
    Was it her duty to marry Lord Greywell and try to save his son? Elspeth felt sure it couldn’t possibly be a duty, even a Christian duty, but the question continued to nag at her. It was true she would have gone if it hadn’t been necessary to actually marry Greywell. Much as she was accustomed to the neighborhood around Lyndhurst, there were numerous things in her situation which bothered her. Having so many of her father’s illegitimate children continually thrust on her notice was unnerving for one of her moral rectitude. And she knew that Sir Edward would go on quite well without her; knew, in fact, that he wished she would leave so he could pursue his pleasures without her disapproving presence.
    Also, there was Mr. Blockley to consider, Elspeth felt, especially since she’d lost her temper and thrown the queen cake at him, that they could no longer be comfortable together, which made her parish work more difficult. Even at Lyndhurst her life did not hold out much promise of regaining its previous precarious balance.
    Elspeth climbed out of the four-poster bed and padded across the carpet in her bare feet. Her room was exactly as she liked it, neither frilly nor overcrowded, the lovely old oak furniture so highly polished it seemed to glow in the pale light. Elspeth drew open the burgundy draperies to find that it had snowed during the night, leaving a sparkling cover over the lawn beyond her window.
    No wonder everything felt so still, she thought, picking up a hairbrush to draw it absently through her loosened tresses. It was probably later than she’d imagined at first, too, with the deceptive winter light, but her maid had not yet come with her standard cup of hot chocolate, so it couldn’t yet be eight o’clock.
    There was a light frosting in the bottom corners of the window, a tracery as lovely as the finest lace. Elspeth leaned her forehead against the cold pane, remembering the times she had eagerly pressed her face to the glass as a child, raptly observing the first snow, the first green bud, the first haying, the first fallen leaf. It was a great pity that daily excitement couldn’t stay with you when you grew up. Elspeth turned aside from the window as her maid entered with her morning chocolate.
    “There’s not so much snow Lord Greywell won’t be able to leave, is there?” she asked.
    “I shouldn’t think so, Miss Elspeth. Three inches, maybe. Only a regular dandy’d be bothered by three inches of snow. His lordship don’t look like a few inches of snow would bother him, now does he? A fine gentleman he is, miss, from what I’ve seen of him.” The girl set the tray down on a bedside stand. “Shall I help you dress now, or should I come back?”
    “Now, please. I’d like to breakfast