Midnight at Mallyncourt by Jennifer Wilde

Author:Jennifer Wilde
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781497698352
Publisher: Open Road Media Romance

Chapter Nine

LORD MALLYN stoutly declared that he would be on his feet and downstairs to greet each and every guest when they arrived for the ball. I had no doubt he would. There was absolutely no question about his recovery now. It was merely a matter of his regaining the strength that had been drained out of him during those months of severe illness. The night of the ball was just six days away now, and the old man was looking forward to it with the eager anticipation of a child. He had given orders to have the ballroom completely overhauled, the floor waxed, the chandeliers taken down and cleaned, the gold leaf panels touched up by a crew of artisans who had come all the way from London to do the job. He held conferences with Vanessa about the food and wine, the flowers, the special musicians to be hired for the occasion, and, vain old peacock that he was, had ordered a new suit and waistcoat from his tailor in London, sending minute instructions about each detail of cut and color.

Rapidly recovering his strength now, the old man was more querulous, more dictatorial than ever. This morning he had insisted on going outside to enjoy the sunlight, waving aside all protests, ordering the footmen to fetch a chair. Wearing a dark satin robe and half a dozen rings, snapping orders and making peevish comments every step of the way, he sat enthroned like some Eastern monarch as George and another footman bore the chair down the wide steps and out onto the back lawn. I had accompanied them, and for the next hour and a half kept Lord Mallyn company as he cursed the twittering birds, made insulting remarks about the gardener and, holding my arm, tottered slowly about the lawn, finally saying he was ready to go back up to his room. The return journey had been even more perilous as he refused to sit still. George and his partner almost dropped the chair on two different occasions, and both men were in a state of nervous exhaustion when they finally deposited their ungrateful charge on his bed.

Fortunately, he was too exhausted to have our customary game of cards after lunch, and I was able to fetch my sewing basket and go upstairs to the nursery, a large, rather drab apartment with low ceilings and windows looking down over the front gardens. Seeing me enter, Miss Partridge gave a sigh of relief and went on to her room to read a romantic novel. Lettice was sitting at the largd table, a suspicious look on her face. A strong wind caused the windows to rattle in their frames. A fire crackled nosily in the fireplace.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” she said snappishly.

“You didn’t? I promised, dear. Haven’t I come every afternoon for the past week?”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Well, dear, if you’re going to sulk I can leave. There are dozens of other things I could be doing—”

“N-no,” she said.

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