My Lady Original by Elise Clarke

Author:Elise Clarke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Escape Publishing

Chapter Eleven

Happily unaware that she had a deranged Kentishman about to take her in hand, Lady Hermione left Lincolnshire the day after Sandy because she’d really had enough. If one were to have common sense then one would not stay in a place where one was being made miserable, although she lied to Mrs Swires that Annabel needed her. This she did in private, the sniggers at her sister’s name leading her perilously close to slapping someone.

It was time to face another lot of music.

It didn’t take long.

‘What the devil is all this about you and that Darenth fellow?’ roared the Earl of Glenfaba the moment his third daughter crossed the threshold to the room where he and Mr Beltring were attacking the wine. ‘All over Brighton, all over home, is he after you, hey? Does he want you? I wouldn’t mind you taking him if he asked. Hey, and why hasn’t he asked?’

‘Hello, Papa. Because it’s a stupid story and he doesn’t want to, I should imagine. Hello, Mr Beltring.’ She beamed at Lord de Waare’s most embarrassing uncle, who winked at her in the dirtiest manner going.

‘Rubbish! Of course he does! It wouldn’t be all over town otherwise, would it? Well, well, if he’s shy I’ll have a word with him.’ He wasn’t shy, sighed Lady Hermione, it was just a stupid practical joke. ‘I don’t believe it. Fellow like that. Probably making eyes at you. Leading you on. Damme, I won’t have it, Hermione! Leave it to me!’

‘Father, when I want him I’ll drop a glass slipper at his feet. Or turn into a pumpkin; either will do. Until that point, please do spare him. I’m sure he’s far more annoyed by it than I am. I’m a designing wretch; he’s the drippy little pansy.’

Lord Glenfaba looked surprised by this, his bushy eyebrows rising. ‘Thought he was one anyway. Pretty fellow, wearing yellow in public.’ He broke off as his daughter began making gurgling sounds of shock and laughter that put her beyond speech, although fortunately Lord Darenth’s masculinity was saved by Mr Beltring.

‘What, Jack Darenth? He’s no pansy, he’s just got strange taste. He can have it with a face like that. Mind you, thought he’d improved recently. Still, he can knock down Tam on a good day so he can’t be that bad! Don’t you want him, miss?’ Gurgling under control, Hermione shook her head. ‘Ah, you’d rather his little Scots friend, wouldn’t you? Well, well, I think you’ve the right of it. He’s got a deal more sense, young Sandy, or he had until yesterday. Nice lad. Shame what happened to him.’

‘What?’ asked Lord Glenfaba, the worse for wine and struggling to follow this as his daughter, charming in blue-striped muslin, sat down with her gaze fixed on Mr Beltring. What, she asked, ignoring the rest of that speech, had happened to Sandy yesterday?

‘Passed out on Piccadilly,’ Mr Beltring exaggerated, to get a shriek from Hermione at last.

‘He did what? But that’s not possible!

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