Fran Keighley Read online

  "I quite appreciate that we may one day reside at Devonridge," Amanda confided to Lyndon at dinner, "but oh, how splendid it is to be home once more! I do trust that your grandpapa and uncle will live for another ten or fifteen years-more! By then, no doubt I shall be ready to take charge of such a household."

  He looked at her, a smile in his eyes. "You are unique, love; most ladies couldn't become a duchess and mistress of Devonridge fast enough!"

  "Most ladies," Amanda retorted with spirit, "have not had my experience of sampling how it feels to have the responsibility of serving as mistress of Devonridge! I should prefer to work up to it gradually, thank you, sir."

  Amanda found it good, too, to change out of mourning back in the privacy of her own home. Lady Mathilda and Eulalia were in full mourning, naturally: black gowns and bonnets and heavy flowing veils. But Amanda considered her relationship sufficiently remote and fresh to be satisfied by wearing a gray or black gown at Devonridge, and to receive callers at Highbriars. Callers were frequent; hoping for confidences from her for gossip had spread like wildfire over the county. Otherwise, she wore colors.

  Welcoming her guests, Amanda proved firmly discreet, and she repeated only the account which the family had decided was the least damaging to Humphrey's memory: the fatal shot had been quite accidental.The season making a hunting accident impossible, instead he had spoken of going out to practice his marksmanship; doubtless the gun had been dropped, firing and striking him. The precise circumstances could never be known.

  Amanda was quite fascinated to discover the variations spread by gossip-that Humphrey had been fatally injured in a duel (Humphrey?!) or murdered by a poacher whom he had caught.

  Suicide, of course, was frequently breathed, since gossip had already spread word of his previous accident. Although Amanda suspected it had indeed been suicide despite the lack of powder burns, she firmly repeated the doctor's words, that the shot was fired at too great a distance for suicide; therefore, the gun obviously must have been dropped, causing a freakish accident. Humphrey had ever been prone to accidents, had he not?

  "My love, I believe we have endured the last such call," Amanda most wearily announced to Lyndon, when he left the retreat of his library to join her at tea. "Or to be precise, I have; am I not a good wife not to summon you to play host? Surely now all possible persons have called."

  "Just you wait; you'll doubtless receive calls from impossible persons." Lyndon's prophecy was pessimistic. "Yes, I do make you my compliments on sparing me!"

  "Well, I'm sure I don't know who more could come." Amanda heaved a sigh, pouring out his tea and passing cup and saucer to him.

  * * *

  Amanda was to find out. Late the following afternoon a closed carriage and pair toiled up the drive and wearily halted on the graveled sweep before the house.

  Peeping out and making a disgusted little grimace-really, it was useless for her to make plans; they were invariably overset!-Amanda realized with surprise that this was no private carriage, but a mud-splashed hired post chaise. No local caller then. This meant its occupants had come from a distance.

  Two horses only; a shabby way to travel, thought Amanda, already used to traveling in style with Lyndon; nothing less than a chaise with four good horses for him on a long journey. But who in the world could be coming to visit by post chaise?

  Her heart sank as the groom assisted the passengers to alight. It was Lady Cordelia, glancing about sharply, with Maria and Eliza!

  Oh, horrors! Coming all this way and arriving at an hour such as this, they would expect to stay at least overnight; Amanda realized that even before she saw all of their baggage being taken down from the roof of the chaise.

  With a gasp, she picked up her gray silk skirts and ran to the study, where Lyndon was engaged in paperwork.

  He looked up in surprise as she burst in on him. "Amanda, what the devil?!"

  "Lyndon, you must support me, I beg of you!" she panted out. "Cousin Cordelia and the girls! Price is admitting them this very instant!"

  After a moment's stare, a grin dawned on his face. "To be sure-has the word yet reached them you're to be a duchess, d'you suppose? If not, I wouldn't for the world miss seeing her ladyship's face when she learns it! Now, sweet, reflect: she can't eat you, and you're in your own home and most elegantly gowned, while they, I never doubt, are sadly rumpled and travel-stained!"

  With that reminder and Lyndon's presence to strengthen her, Amanda was able to straighten her back, compose her features, and move back across the hall to the drawing room to greet her guests, every inch the assured hostess. Indeed, she began to feel she might even be able to enjoy it!

  "Cousin Cordelia-Maria-Eliza-what an unexpected pleasure!" she exclaimed warmly, if mendaciously. "What do you do in this part of the country? Are you come just to visit us?"

  That would mean a visit of longer duration than if they were on their way elsewhere and made this stop only in passing.

  "Amanda, my dear." Graciously, Lady Cordelia presented her cheek to be kissed, although she looked taken aback by the attractiveness of Highbriars and Amanda's own modishness.

  Amanda imagined that they had visualized her living-if they had given it any thought at all- in near squalor, still clad in her cousins' hand-me-down clothing.

  "Gracious, how well you look!" Eliza said blankly, bearing out this suspicion. "Wherever did you get that gown?"

  "We found country life dull and decided to return to town before going on to a house-party at Billingtons' next month, breaking our journey to visit you," Lady Cordelia smoothly explained. "This is a most neat establishment you have here."

  "Indeed, had you come sooner, you would have found it anything but neat," Amanda replied. "It was in a sad state of neglect, from standing vacant for years, but Lyndon's grandpapa, the duke, felt we might prefer to furbish it up ourselves. It is beginning to take shape now, to be livable."

  "The old gentleman's taken a great fancy to Amanda," Lyndon drawled. "Gave her carte blanche to spend as she pleased, on the house and on her back, and send the bills to him."

  "And do you see much of the dear duke and the young Lyndons?" Lady Cordelia looked as if she had swallowed a bitter draught. "Young Mr. and Mrs. Humphrey must be quite near you in age-or is there ready intercourse between Devonridge Court and Highbriars?"

  Amanda looked shocked. "My dear ma'am, then you have not heard? Cousin Humphrey met with a fatal accident only last week. Most sad! Though I fear we'd been too busy setting Highbriars to rights to see them above once or twice since our marriage." She flicked the skirts of her elegant mourning gown.

  "How dreadful!" Lady Cordelia said automatically, and then in swift realization, "Then the succession...Just so. An accident, you say? How shocking."

  "Quite," Lyndon said evenly, face bland save for a mocking light in his eye. "The family was quite prostrate; Amanda had to take full charge of running Devonridge until they recovered, which she did to perfection, though she tells me she would prefer some years to elapse before she is truly mistress there."

  Long practice at hiding her true thoughts in order to present a front of gracious benevolence enabled Lady Cordelia to adjust to this information, but her daughters were full of amazed exclamations, earning them dagger looks from their mama with, Amanda knew, rapier-tongued lectures to follow in private.

  The entrance of Price and two housemaids with tea provided a welcome interruption. Amanda was able to draw breath and marshal her thoughts, although she feared that her cousins did the same, and she dreaded what was to come. She felt certain that only Lyndon's presence restrained them from asking all of those questions which they were surely burning to express. Lady Cordelia, however, was not to be restrained from clearing one most important point.

  "Mr. Humphrey Lyndon was, was he not, heir to the title after his father? Does he leave sons?"

  "Alas, only daughters survive him," Amanda gravely told her. "Yes, it was this circumstance, among others, which made Lord Devonridge
feel it imperative for my dear Lyndon to wed and start his family."

  That was another bitter draught for them to swallow, and it quite eclipsed the hitherto splendid news that Mr. Horton had finally offered for Maria; in fact, their return to London so quickly was actually for the purpose of holding a party to celebrate the engagement and to select Maria's bride-clothes. However, betrothal to a plain Mister, with no title ahead, by no means compared to Amanda's future as a duchess. It was enough to make Maria discontent with what had had her in transports of joy.

  Eliza greeted the news with more warmth, but that, Amanda knew, was mere sisterly spite because a suitor had offered for the younger Maria and Mr. Weddlesham had still not come up to scratch and spoken to Sir William regarding her.

  "And shall you, too, wear the traditional family wedding gown?" Lyndon inquired with silken sweetness.

  That put them in a quandary. Not for the world had Maria intended to be married in a hand- me-down, but now a different light was placed on the matter; by wearing it, she could slip into the conversation frequent references to the last bride to wear it, her dearest cousin, the future Duchess of Devonridge. What should they do, indeed?

  Lyndon was surprisingly helpful-to Amanda, not her cousins; she had expected him to remain with them only through tea, but he lingered on, showing every sign of enjoying the company, the entire late afternoon and evening. Amanda, now knowing him so well, might suspect that the enjoyment was malicious, but he didn't parade that fact.

  Indeed, Lyndon made himself so charming, and was such a model bridegroom that Amanda could see Lady Cordelia growing anxious for fear her daughters would succumb to that charm; he was still a danger to impressionable unmarried maidens-especially since they would have to settle for far less attractive gentlemen with inferior prospects to those he now possessed.

  "You will want to freshen yourselves and change for dinner," Amanda stated eventually. "Travel always leaves one sadly rumpled and stained, does it not? Allow me to show you to the rooms my good Mrs. Price was directed to have made ready for you." Those directions included lighting a fire in each bedchamber; Amanda enjoyed making quiet display of the niceties, even the luxuries, of life that she might command. She herself wished to change into her blue evening dress; with the delicate sapphire-and-diamond necklace and earrings which Lord Devonridge had given her just before their return home.

  And so the evening stretched out, a very surface affair, making polite conversation, saying little they felt or thought. To Amanda, who was reasonably certain what her cousins were thinking, that situation was desirable. It wasn't like Lady Cordelia to be all flattering affability.

  "Lord, how long do you think they mean to stay?" Lyndon said, yawning, when at last the party separated for the night, and he and Amanda were behind the closed door of their own bedchamber. "Longest evening of my life!"

  "You were marvelous to endure it," Amanda said warmly, putting her arms about him and kissing him. "A wonderful husband. Eliza is surely quite furious you wed me, and not her."

  "That feeling is not mutual," Lyndon said, with a deplorable lack of gallantry. "Now there's what I call a true antidote-no wonder she's still on the shelf."

  * * *

  His estate business took him out directly after breakfast, the following morning. Amanda thought resignedly that she had already had his support far longer than she had any right to hope. She had to face her cousins on her own now.

  However, the anticipated criticism failed to materialize. Lady Cordelia's thin painted lips were all smiles, and Eliza and Maria had never been more agreeable. At first Amanda was puzzled, then amused as realization dawned.

  She had become an asset, both social and practical, and as such, she was to be courted! By staying on good terms with her, they'd visit Devonridge (invited, or self-invited as on this visit) and it was reasonable to hope she would help Eliza and Selina make better matches than they might otherwise.

  Fate stepped in to lend credence to that hope, for soon Gerald Lyndon rode over to pay a call. Lyndon might consider him dull (and compared to the wild set which had been Lyndon's companions, he doubtless was) but Amanda thought him a very pleasant gentleman and Lady Cordelia and Eliza plainly saw him as a prospective suitor to flatter and court all the way to the altar. Amanda considered they fawned to an embarrassing degree, but she had noticed gentlemen seemed to welcome such attention.

  Gerald had called hoping for news from Devonridge, and once established that this was only a family gathering, he soon inquired, "And Uncle Henry-how has he borne up? His heart-I have been sadly worried, I assure you."

  "Yes, so were we all," Amanda gravely replied. "A doctor was called in and he prescribed a soothing mixture even before Humphrey's body was discovered. And, of course, Uncle Henry was most carefully tended throughout. Indeed, I believe that it was concern for him that enabled Aunt Mathilda to bear up so beautifully. By cushioning the actual shock of the tragedy, he seems to be quite all right."

  "And no further discoveries concerning those circumstances of Humphrey's demise?" Gerald asked keenly. "One wonders how such an accident might occur, but accident it must have been, with suicide impossible, and I believe Humphrey had no enemies. Fortunately, Julian is on improved terms with the family, else-with his unfortunate wildness-he might have been suspected of-shall we say?-rash action."

  Amanda rose, affronted. "Mr. Lyndon!" she exclaimed, eyes blazing. "You forget your company, sir!"

  He smiled apologetically, and made smoothing-down gestures. "Your pardon, cousin, I mean nothing-merely that Julian has been at the bottom of all scandal in the family, making it natural to think of him. Especially as he now gains a great deal. More scandal would be distasteful, and I am thankful we may avoid whispers suggesting this."

  "Then you would be wise not to mention it, sir," Amanda said coldly. "Even here in the bosom of his family."

  Indeed, with Lady Cordelia and her daughters envious, it could hardly be worse, for they would be delighted if Amanda's marriage should turn sour, and would spread speculations concerning this. Well she knew their fondness for gossip

  Amanda's previously high opinion of Gerald Lyndon fell with rapidity; the family had been right to prefer to keep Julian Lyndon as heir, rather than disinherit him in favor of Gerald.

  As if to atone for speaking rashly, Gerald turned his attention to Amanda's guests, discussing with them various persons in London who might be mutually known.

  "I may be seeing you soon in town," he suggested. "I rather think that I will be spending a few days in London soon."

  "Oh, then by all means, you must come to the party we mean to give, to celebrate Maria's betrothal," Lady Cordelia said without hesitation. "Perhaps you are acquainted with her intended, Mr. Horton?"

  "Why, yes, I believe that I am. Thank you, yes, I shall be delighted to join in your celebration." He smiled warmly at Maria.

  They, at least, were highly pleased with him, Amanda reflected. She was not.

  The visit stretched out nearly a week. Amanda began to think her cousins would never leave. Had it been Sally Warrenby or Marianne Nesbitt, the days would have sped past all too quickly. With her cousins, time dragged dismally.

  "You entertain them too well," Lyndon told her, when she murmured as much to him in the privacy of their bedchamber. "Taking them to Devonridge and Nesbitts and to see the shops and sights-you never will see their backs."

  "But it would be so dull for me, sitting home with them," Amanda protested. "More, they keep asking searching questions. Making calls and shopping distracts them."

  "Yes, love, and you enjoy showing them Devonridge and your friends here," he said shrewdly, pinching her cheek. "And the flutter you cause among the tradesmen when you go to shop! No-don't deny it!-you'd be less than human if not. Particularly in view of your cousins' scaly behavior to you. But you're in for a long siege of it, I fear. Tell me-shall I receive urgent word calling us to London? That should rid us of them!"

  Amanda laughed. "Lyn
don, hush-they'll hear you!" She was not entirely joking. She knew the girls eavesdropped, and suspected as much of their mother, whose knowledge often seemed too complete to be guesswork.

  "Then that should rid us of them," he retorted.

  She shook her head at him. "Do behave, sir! Now, Lyndon, they will be leaving soon, I'm sure. Maria would never miss her own betrothal party."

  "Well, mind they don't leave Eliza with you," he warned. "How they ever expect to catch a husband for that one-! They seem quite capable of unloading her upon you, and it would rid them of an ape leader daughter. But it would serve Gerald right if they snagged him for her!"

  Amanda couldn't reprove him for that sentiment; she was no longer in charity with Gerald, after the questions her cousins had asked, due to his indiscreet words. She said only, "I fancy they already have their sights on a gentleman for Eliza."

  "Yes, but is he heir to a dukedom, even several steps removed?" Lyndon asked skeptically. "Watch, if they catch Gerald, how briskly they will set about to remove me from their path."

  "I shouldn't put it past them, if they can without causing talk-at least, without causing talk about themselves," Amanda admitted. "Surely jealousy was at the root of Gerald's remarks."

  "Oh, no doubt. In common with most of my relation, he's thought me wild and godless, just as I've thought them prosy bores," Lyndon said carelessly. "We've nothing in common."

  Taking her cousins to return calls had been a great success, Amanda reflected, as Pym helped her to dress for dinner. Having estimated the probable length of the visit, she planned the days so there would not be idle time for Lady Cordelia to pry into household arrangements, or to advise and question.

  The frequent callers Amanda had received had inspired her: they would return those calls! So Amanda had carefully scheduled, to spread out those calls to fill the length of the visit, and she'd included a shopping expedition.