Home > Map of a Lady's Heart(9)

Map of a Lady's Heart(9)
Author: Caroline Linden

A gusty sigh, presumably from Lady Bridget. “Viola, there must be a prince.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t written that part yet!”

This time he coughed so hard to cover his amusement, he felt light-headed. It would serve him right if he fainted right here in front of everyone because he’d been eavesdropping. Justin was glaring at him in incredulous outrage, and by the time Wes fished out his handkerchief to mop his stinging eyes, Mrs. Cavendish was beside him.

“I will ring for the maids to dust,” she said. “I do apologize, my lord, I’d no idea it was so unpleasant in here.”

“Not at all,” he croaked through dry lips. Hoist by his own damn petard.

“Then let me send for a cup of tea,” she suggested. “I could have it sent to your room, if you wish.”

“Yes, Uncle, I do think that would be a good idea,” Justin put in from across the room. “You must mind your health, after our long journey here.”

Wes glared at him as he stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket. Mind his health, indeed, as if he were a feeble old man. He might look deranged after this, but he was not feeble. “Entirely unnecessary, Mrs. Cavendish. Some fresh air is all I need. Perhaps I’ll take a turn in the garden.”

“It’s snowing out, you know,” put in Lady Bridget. “Absolutely pelting down. The doors are probably frozen shut. Tea in the morning room would be far more comfortable.”

“Serena and Mr. Jones are in there,” said Lady Alexandra.

Bridget’s head came up. “Arguing?”

Her sister looked surprised. “No, silly, why would they be arguing? Serena despises him. I think they’re rehearsing lines for your ridiculous play.”

“Farce,” said Bridget.

“A talking swan is ridiculous.” The young man beside her raised his brows, and she gave him a teasing smile. “Yes, Lord Gosling, I know you play the swan. I’m sure you shall do your best, but you must admit it is ridiculous.”

“Not in the slightest,” declared Lord Gosling, executing a gallant bow toward Lady Bridget. “All the best actors have played swans. I hope to give the premier portrayal.” Lady Alexandra and the girl beside her burst into laughter.

Bridget’s mouth thinned. “I shall write something even better for you, Alexa.”

The other girl rolled her eyes at Justin, who laughed indulgently. Wes could see very well what was happening there: Lady Alexandra was lovely, and competition always sparked a man’s spirit. He tried to send Justin a look of warning, but his nephew deliberately avoided his gaze.

“Are we all to get special parts, Lady Bridget? I could fancy being a prince,” Justin said. Casually he propped one foot on the base of the globe beside Lady Alexandra’s settee, and rested his elbow on his knee. Wes scowled at the rakish pose.

“It depends.” Her gaze moved to Wes. “Lord Winterton, what sort of character would you like to play?”

“I?” he asked, startled.

“Yes, I’m considering adding an elderly king, in the vein of King Lear. I expect he’ll have to die so his son the prince can become king. Would that suit you? How would you like to die?”

Justin snorted with laughter. Lady Alexandra smiled, and the other young lady giggled.

“Bridget,” gasped Mrs. Cavendish. “My lord, perhaps you’d like to see the house?”

He ought to stay to keep an eye on his nephew. He burned to search the shelves for the Desnos atlas. He did not want to walk away from all the slights on his age and health without protest or at least a show of vigor. Instead he looked into Mrs. Cavendish’s desperate green eyes and said, “Thank you, I very much would.”

“I hope you feel better, Uncle,” said Justin, as Wes followed her toward the door.

“Have some tea,” added Lady Alexandra. “Cook makes splendid tea cakes.”

“And stay indoors!” Lady Bridget said just as Mrs. Cavendish pulled the door shut behind them with a bit of a bang.

 

* * *

 

Viola heaved a heartfelt sigh and rested her forehead against the door for a moment. It was silent and cool in the corridor, although perhaps it only seemed that way to her. What had got into Alexandra and Bridget?

Never mind—she knew very well. Lord Gosling was nothing short of beautiful, and had the most perfect manners she’d ever seen. Viola suspected the dowager duchess had invited the young viscount in case Serena and Frye never made up their estrangement, but Alexandra seemed to have taken matters into her own hands. Add in the also-handsome Viscount Newton, and things could only get dangerous. Viola devoutly hoped the other young people would join them soon and defuse the subtly competitive air between the two gentlemen.

In the meantime she had to deal with the Earl of Winterton, who had just been insulted and practically ordered out of the library. Bracing herself, she turned to face him.

He had a right to be very put out; instead he was grinning, and as their eyes met, he began to laugh. In sheer relief, Viola gave a gasp of laughter herself.

“I’m sorry,” she began, trying to regain her dignity, but the earl waved one hand.

“For being a sensible adult in a room full of silly young people? I assure you, your offer of a tour could not have come at a more opportune moment.” He made a face. “I could almost feel myself aging and sinking into senility. In a few more moments I would have been relegated to dozing in the corner with a cap on my head, tended by a nurse.”

She laughed. She couldn’t think of anyone less likely to be found dozing in the corner in need of a nurse than Lord Winterton. Today he was even more handsome than before, if that were possible, his blue eyes dancing with mirth. “The young ladies are a trifle high-spirited at times.”

Winterton assumed a tragic expression. “I suppose I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be young and full of life.”

“It looks very tiring,” she replied in the same grave tone.

His grin returned, and the rogue even winked at her. “For those around them, perhaps.”

Viola laughed again in spite of herself. She was astonished at her young cousins’ behavior, and was enormously relieved that the earl wasn’t taking them much to heart. She ought to have guessed that Lord Winterton, who appeared to be an intelligent and educated man, would seek out the library once confined to the house by the steadily falling snow. Tomorrow she would banish everyone from the room. Perhaps Bridget, if left to write her play without the sly goading of her sister, would embrace some form of sense, or at least hurry up and finish the silly thing.

“If you wanted a particular book, I shall have a footman brave the room to fetch it,” she said. “The Kingstag library is exceptional, and I’m sure it can supply something to suit you.”

Winterton stared at her with those blue, blue eyes for a long moment. “I rather fancy a tour of the house, as you suggested. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh,” said Viola in surprise. She’d offered in desperation, to escape before Bridget said or did anything to give actual offense. “Of course not.” She gestured with one arm. “Shall we?”

He fell in step beside her, hands clasped behind his back. Viola tried to ignore the awareness that rippled through her. She had given many tours of the castle in her two years here; the duke and duchess entertained a steady stream of guests. This should be no different . . . but it was.

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