fail to be so. Relentlessly coached in deportment by his mama, Fergus had all his life trod the road of dignity and decorum. One of the things that attracted him to Lady Amabel was her refreshing spontaneity. Between Mab’s mysteriously urgent note and subsequent failure to appear, however, he was beginning to feel ill-used.
“You are a lamb, my son!” Doting looks sat ill upon Lady Katherine’s raddled face. “We will take our leave now, Dougharty. You may tell Lady Amabel we called to see her. A pity the chit didn’t see fit to spare a moment of her precious time. But that is the way with these young girls. In our day we were better brought up!”
Though a trifle out of charity with the subject of this tirade, Lord Parrington was not so quick to censure as his parent. “You are merely tired, Mama!” he soothed, and assisted her to rise. “Else you would realize there is doubtless some good reason for Lady Amabel’s absence, and would not be SO out-of-reason cross.”
Devoted as she was to her sole offspring, Lady Katherine sometimes found his tendency to see the best in everyone extremely annoying. Since this was one of those times, she irritably shook off his helping hand. “I’d like to know what that reason might be!” she snapped.
“Can it be you do not know?” Henrietta was misled into crediting not Lady Katherine’s true sentiment, but her words. “About Marriot?” It was clear from the callers’ blank expressions that they were not aware of the bizarre disappearance of Lord March. Eagerly, Henrietta explained, concluding, “Whether it was a press gang that took him, or French agents, or tinkers, no one can say! We are in anxious expectation of more news—although I expect that when the news doescome, it will be much too dreadful to bear!” She pressed her hands to her bombazine-swathed bosom. “Poor, poor Nell!”
“Faith, I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Disapproval was writ large on Lady Katherine’s ruined face. The inexplicable disappearance of a peer she could not help but consider ill-bred.
This aspect of the situation did not present itself to Fergus, who had exchanged his vision of Mab lighting beacons for one of that damsel tending selflessly to Lady March, understandably disconsolate and prostrate. He had not previously realized this generous side to Mab’s nature. Of course he must forgive her for not putting in an appearance in the solar when her reasons were so pure. “What a good girl she is!” he said.
A good girl? Lady Katherine had no doubt for whom this sobriquet was intended. She took firmer grasp on her cane. “Nothing of this sort has ever happened in our family!” she somewhat unnecessarily pointed out. “Doubtless the explanation will turn out to have to do with a woman. When gentlemen make jack-puddings of themselves, some female is generally involved.” The look she bestowed upon her son clearly indicated the opinion that he was threatened by this ignominious fate.
“Pray give Lady Amabel our regards,” murmured Lord Parrington, oblivious to his mama’s malice, bending in a courtly manner over Henrietta’s hand. “And tell her that I shall engage myself to call upon her again tomorrow.”
“Not tomorrow; I shall require your services then!” To underscore her point, and relieve her burgeoning displeasure, Lady Katherine prodded her son with her cane. Far too well-bred to take exception to this treatment, Lord Parrington smiled ruefully. “If not tomorrow,” he told Henrietta, “then soon!”
CHAPTER SIX
Though Lady Amabel’s reasons for not greeting her callers in the solar were not what Lord Parrington imagined, they were still very sound: first, Mab didn’t realize that she had visitors; and second, she was engaged during that portentous interlude in playing at whist with Lord March. So far as the cards were concerned, as had rapidly become apparent, Lady Amabel’s luck was out.
“You will be wondering why I have run
“You are a lamb, my son!” Doting looks sat ill upon Lady Katherine’s raddled face. “We will take our leave now, Dougharty. You may tell Lady Amabel we called to see her. A pity the chit didn’t see fit to spare a moment of her precious time. But that is the way with these young girls. In our day we were better brought up!”
Though a trifle out of charity with the subject of this tirade, Lord Parrington was not so quick to censure as his parent. “You are merely tired, Mama!” he soothed, and assisted her to rise. “Else you would realize there is doubtless some good reason for Lady Amabel’s absence, and would not be SO out-of-reason cross.”
Devoted as she was to her sole offspring, Lady Katherine sometimes found his tendency to see the best in everyone extremely annoying. Since this was one of those times, she irritably shook off his helping hand. “I’d like to know what that reason might be!” she snapped.
“Can it be you do not know?” Henrietta was misled into crediting not Lady Katherine’s true sentiment, but her words. “About Marriot?” It was clear from the callers’ blank expressions that they were not aware of the bizarre disappearance of Lord March. Eagerly, Henrietta explained, concluding, “Whether it was a press gang that took him, or French agents, or tinkers, no one can say! We are in anxious expectation of more news—although I expect that when the news doescome, it will be much too dreadful to bear!” She pressed her hands to her bombazine-swathed bosom. “Poor, poor Nell!”
“Faith, I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Disapproval was writ large on Lady Katherine’s ruined face. The inexplicable disappearance of a peer she could not help but consider ill-bred.
This aspect of the situation did not present itself to Fergus, who had exchanged his vision of Mab lighting beacons for one of that damsel tending selflessly to Lady March, understandably disconsolate and prostrate. He had not previously realized this generous side to Mab’s nature. Of course he must forgive her for not putting in an appearance in the solar when her reasons were so pure. “What a good girl she is!” he said.
A good girl? Lady Katherine had no doubt for whom this sobriquet was intended. She took firmer grasp on her cane. “Nothing of this sort has ever happened in our family!” she somewhat unnecessarily pointed out. “Doubtless the explanation will turn out to have to do with a woman. When gentlemen make jack-puddings of themselves, some female is generally involved.” The look she bestowed upon her son clearly indicated the opinion that he was threatened by this ignominious fate.
“Pray give Lady Amabel our regards,” murmured Lord Parrington, oblivious to his mama’s malice, bending in a courtly manner over Henrietta’s hand. “And tell her that I shall engage myself to call upon her again tomorrow.”
“Not tomorrow; I shall require your services then!” To underscore her point, and relieve her burgeoning displeasure, Lady Katherine prodded her son with her cane. Far too well-bred to take exception to this treatment, Lord Parrington smiled ruefully. “If not tomorrow,” he told Henrietta, “then soon!”
CHAPTER SIX
Though Lady Amabel’s reasons for not greeting her callers in the solar were not what Lord Parrington imagined, they were still very sound: first, Mab didn’t realize that she had visitors; and second, she was engaged during that portentous interlude in playing at whist with Lord March. So far as the cards were concerned, as had rapidly become apparent, Lady Amabel’s luck was out.
“You will be wondering why I have run
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