Autumn Glory and Other Stories by Bárbara Metzger Page B

anyway.”
    Maybe Thurkle’s dogs would lose the scent in the wet. That didn’t calm the baron’s fury a jot. Now they’d all sit around the fire over at the manor house, joking about Bannister’s drugged dogs and devil-ridden daughter. A laughing-stock, that’s what she’d made him. “Too late, missy, too late. I’ll offer your hand to the first man who asks you to dance at your mother’s ball. Aye, and I’ll throw in that extra parcel of land I was going to add to Inessa’s dowry, to sweeten the pot. She won’t need it, and the poor bastard who gets you will. The first unmarried man, do you hear, missy? And you’ll be there, Irmagard, or I’ll drag you by your hair. And you’ll dance, by Jupiter, for you sure as hell won’t be sitting down.”
    “Papa, you wouldn’t!”
    He would.
    The second time Lord Bannister’s riding crop whistled through the air Winn knocked over a bucket in ’Ledo’s stall, then cursed. Loudly. He kicked the wooden bucket noisily, just for insurance. The baron stormed past him, shouting at the grooms. The viscount waited for the stable hands to busy themselves with their chores, then he sought out the far, unused stall where a slim figure stood shaking.
    He walked in and called “Glory?” She turned away, but he gathered her into his arms anyway, and held her as she sobbed against his chest. He tried to smooth back the damp tendrils of her hair, saying “Hush, Glory, hush, sweetheart.” She kept crying. When he felt the moisture seep through his shirtfront to his skin, he cursed and gave her a shake. “Blast, why did you have to stand here and admit the whole thing? I swear you’ve got more bottom than brains!”
    “And a sore bottom to prove it,” she mumbled against his lapels before raising a tear-streaked face. “But I had to make sure Algie and his father got a disgust of me.”
    Winn took out his handkerchief and wiped at the dampness. “You succeeded then, in aces. You’d think they were made to miss their suppers for a month instead of one day’s sport. You silly chit, though, why couldn’t you just have told that chaw-bacon no? Or let me warn him off for you?”
    “You would have done that for me?”
    “Of course. We’re friends.”
    She took his handkerchief and blew her nose, a loud, unladylike honk that made him smile. “Thank you,” she said when she was finished. “I’ve never had such a friend.” She looked away, shaking out her skirts. “I suppose I’ve made a rare mull of it now, haven’t I? Every gull-groper and basket-scrambler will be scurrying to dance with Lord Bannister’s hey-go-mad heiress.” She waved her hand around the stable. “I’m sure the servants and guests will have spread the word to every fortune hunter for miles around that Papa will come down heavy for anyone taking me off his hands.”
    “Algie?”
    “No, he wouldn’t take me now if Papa threw in the home woods, three tenant farms, and his best sow. Algie does love his dogs. Oh, I’ll die of mortification!”
    “Perhaps your father will change his mind. He wasn’t thinking clearly at the time,” Winn understated.
    “No, Mama won’t let him. She’ll have spasms for sure after this ruckus, afraid she’ll have me on her hands forever. She’ll be too embarrassed to take me about, and Ellie is going on her honeymoon, and Nessie’s going to visit Kelvin’s parents, so she cannot even ship me off to either of them!” Irma started weeping again.
    Winn opened his arms and she stepped into his embrace, dampening the other side of his shirt-front. He held her close anyway, stroking her back. “Hush, little one, it will be all right. Trust me.”

7
    Lord and Lady Bannister opened the ball with the first dance, as was customary. As was also customary with the couple, they spent as little time as possible in each other’s company. After a few bars of music, the baron signaled the hired orchestra to stop playing. He held up his hand and announced his daughter