Amy's Adventure

Amy's Adventure

Chapter 6

Once Lucy had departed, Sir Lionel invited his unexpected guest to sit. He remembered to offer the viscount a drink, but the man declined.

"I can assume that whatever has brought you here today concerns my daughter Amelia."

"I am afraid Miss Harte has not had too fine a time of it at my home."

"Oh?"

"My cousin has been less than friendly, Miss Harte put herself in grave danger on thin ice when she saved another young lady from falling through, and today she suffered a concussion when my brother had an explosion in his laboratory." He felt guilty by not owning up to his own rudeness, but he did not want to upset or overburden the baronet. Or so he told himself.

"Quite an adventure," Sir Lionel said slowly.

"You could term it so, yes," Linvale dryly agreed.

"And despite all this, you wish to ask for her hand?"

"I am not here to obtain your permission, sir!" the younger man exclaimed. "I am here only to inform you of your daughter's injury! I had thought to escort you to her, and bring her sister to cheer her."

"I see. I apologize for misunderstanding you, my lord. Lucy and I shall certainly make preparations to come to Linvale Hall."

"I thought we could leave on the morrow, sir."

"At first light? An excellent notion. I will give word to my cousin, who keeps house for me, that you require a room for the night." He checked the clock on the mantel and took note of the time. "We dine at six, my lord. I believe there is sufficient time for you to dress for that."

"Yes, thank you." They rose and shook hands.

"I cannot thank you enough for thinking of us."

"It was the least I could do, considering she has not had a good time of it so far. Your presence and that of your daughter might improve matters."

"Are you certain you are not asking for Amelia's hand? Your action seems rather more than that of a host."

The viscount flushed, unwilling to tell this quiet gentleman how guilty he felt and how he thought this gesture might atone for some of what he had done.

"I assure you, I am not. If you will direct me to whomever is to arrange for a room..."

"Oh, yes." Sir Lionel went to the door and called loudly for Cousin Minerva, who was standing right outside in the hallway. "I beg your pardon, Cousin," he apologized when he realized he had not only yelled in her ear, but had hit her with the door. "Lord Linvale will require a room and he will be joining us for dinner."

"Won't you come with me, my lord?" Minerva asked sweetly. "And you must tell me where you are from and how you know the family..."

Marcus had forgotten about the cousin and what his mother had said about her, until now. Far be it from him to ruin all that. Miss Harte did not need any more ammunition against him. And if he needed any more reminder of that, Miss Lucinda could be seen peeking out of a doorway down the hall, drawing her finger across the front of her neck. Marcus found himself actually winking at the chit before turning to her cousin. What was it about the Harte ladies that brought about unwanted reactions in the opposite sex?

"Actually, Lady, er, Miss, er..."

"Miss Blakely," she said with a sniff.

"Er, yes, Miss Blakely. I'm from Sussex. Near Brighton, actually. My mother is an old friend of the late Lady Harte." He had better not fib about the relationship, even as he gave her the wrong location for his home. Miss Lucinda was also in danger of discovery if Miss Blakely was leading him to the doorway she had popped out of a moment earlier, so he took her arm and steered the older lady toward the stairs.

"Miss Harte says you are a model of efficiency," he soothed her when she began to protest that his room still had to be readied. "I've no doubt you have the staff on its toes. I shall be content to wait in the upstairs hall while you and the maids put a room to rights."

"Amelia said that about me?" She preened. "What a dear, sweet girl she is!"

"Hmmm..."

They all gathered downstairs just before six and the baronet gave his guest a generous whisky before his cousin could offer what would no doubt be a very stingy amount. Lucinda was eager to grill the viscount about her sister, but she could not in front of Cousin Minerva. She was, however, grateful to the gentleman for keeping their secrets. She found his information about Sussex extremely amusing, having heard all from her cousin just moments before the viscount joined them in the drawing room, and would have to have her maid spread it around the staff that Amy was in the south. Too bad the viscount had not said Cornwall, but that was expecting too much.

Lucy had no doubt Cousin Minerva would be sending someone down to Sussex to search for Amy and drag her home on some pretext or other, so the further south, the better. She must let some other false clues leak out to those few loyal to her cousin. In the meantime, she had been instructed by her father's valet to quietly pack a small trunk; she and her father were to leave the next morning with the viscount.

Lucy was excited about this, but schooled her features to display polite interest in their visitor and nothing else.

"Tell me more about your home in Sussex, my lord," Cousin Minerva pressed once dinner had been announced and they had all trooped dutifully into the cavernous dining room.

Tonight there were two whole braces of candles, Lucy noted. She had been placed on her father's left, her cousin across from her, with Lord Linvale on Minerva's right.

"But you don't..." the baronet began, sure the Armstrongs were not in the south. Lucy gently kicked her father's shin and he shut his mouth. Cousin Minerva did not seem to notice, as she did not wish to miss a word from their guest.

"Near Brighton, isn't it?" Lucy asked.

"Yes."

"An interesting place, Brighton," Sir Lionel mused. "We used to go sea bathing..."

"Do you like sea bathing, my lord? Are you near the water?" Minerva quizzed.

"Near enough," the viscount truthfully replied. After all, he did live near a pond. "And yes, I do swim."

"Splendid! Not that this is the weather for it, of course..."

"What has Amy been up to?" Lucy asked. Her cousin frowned at her for speaking across the table, but Lucy did not care. There were only the four of them, after all.

"She has been ice skating and she is preparing for my mother's Winter Ball."

"How exciting!" Lucy clasped her hands together and her eyes were shining. Her sister was having such an adventure, she was sure!

"Was not Miss Lucinda invited to this house party?" Minerva said archly, hoping to punish Lucy for her outburst.

"Yes," Lucy answered sadly, appropriately dismayed.

"Perhaps next time," Lord Linvale murmured, playing along.

"And yet there seems to be some problem with Amelia, my lord?"

Lucy sighed. Cousin Minerva was like a dog with a bone!

"She has suffered a concussion due to a ... laboratory explosion," he carefully replied. "I promised my mother I would deliver the news in person."

"How kind," Cousin Minerva said. "And will you stay a couple of days before returning?"

So she could send someone to follow, Lucy thought in disgust. She nodded slowly at the viscount, although she did not think he truly wished to betray their plans, else he would have done so by now.

"I should like that, Miss Blakely," he agreed.

Lucy refrained from blowing out the breath she was holding, but did sag slightly in her seat.

After the meal - a bit more generous due, no doubt, to their guest - Lucy was told by her cousin to go upstairs to bed.

"You need your rest," she snapped at the girl, "and I am far too busy to sit with you until - or if - the gentlemen join us in the drawing room."

Lucy reluctantly agreed, but only because it was expected of her. She actually had packing to finish and a few more rumors to spread. Not to mention figuring a way to get her trunk downstairs without being seen.

That was easier than she thought. A footman came up and asked her maid if Miss Lucy's trunk should be put in storage, as per her father's request. The maid made much over the fact that her young lady had been too ill to go with Miss Harte, and how it was too late, unfortunately, to send her off. He agreed and took the trunk, the maid escorting him down the hall.

"You're to be down in the stable yard before dawn, Miss Lucy," she said with a wink as she came back in to ready her charge for bed.

They left early the next morning, as planned.

"I left Minerva a letter," the baronet told his daughter. ‘I suggested that we no longer needed her assistance and I thanked her for helping us through our period of mourning. I strongly hinted that an extended visit to Cousin Harriet in Scotland would make a good holiday for her after dealing with us for so long."

"Cousin Harriet could squeeze blood out of a turnip," Lucy muttered. "She ought to feel right at home."

After Amy had been woken every couple of hours through the night, she was pronounced well enough to nap the next morning, and she slept through a visit from her father and sister. She didn't even know they were in residence until Lady Linvale breezed in that afternoon looking like a cat who had gotten a canary.

"It is the most wonderful thing, my love!" she softly exclaimed, aware that Amy might have the very devil of a head. "Everyone is so concerned about your accident. Now, you just sit up here and I shall let them all come in for a few minutes."

Amy, in a befuddled state, was not so sure her accident had been a wonderful thing, but she went along with Lady Linvale, who was quite pleased about something.

"I must not tire you out," she was told as that lady plumped up pillows and helped her into a lacy bed jacket that did not belong to her. "So the most important visitors may come in first."

Amy leaned back against her pillows and sighed. Surely ‘important' did not mean Lady Cynthia, and she was definitely not receiving any of the gentlemen in her bedchamber, so who could...

"Amy!" Lucy squealed as quietly as possible and ran forward to give her sister a hug.

"Lucy! What are you... Papa?" Amy burst into tears at the sight of her father. She hadn't realized until that moment just how much she had missed them both.

"There, there," he said awkwardly, dropping a kiss on her forehead and patting her shoulder. "Your young man said you had been injured, so we came as soon as we could."

"Cousin Minerva..."

"I fully expect Minerva to be gone by time we return home," her father told her.

"Which will not be until after the Winter Ball!" Lucy said with excitement. "Papa has agreed to stay at Lady Linvale's invitation!"

Amy could not help but smile at her sister's enthusiasm, despite her headache.

"But we must not keep you from your rest, my dear."

"You said ‘my young man,' Papa?" Amy wondered. After all, she had no such thing, as far as she knew, and if one of those Armstrong men was passing himself off as one, he had another think coming. "Who might that be?"

Lucy giggled. "Lord Linvale, of course! He even spent the night before bringing us here today. Cousin Minerva was in knots trying to figure out what was going on."

Lucy would have stayed and said more, but Lady Linvale was ushering them all out of the room before admitting Miss Winters.

"I'm sorry you were hurt," she said, bringing in a tray with two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits. "Ned did not mean it, you know." She sat down by the side of the bed and handed Amy a cup.

"I know it was an accident. Do not trouble yourself that I have taken the professor in strong dislike."

"Thank you," the companion said with relief. She picked up the other cup and sipped at her tea.

"You are quite the champion of that gentleman, aren't you?" Amy asked shrewdly.

Before Miss Winters could reply, but not before Amy noticed her furious blush, there was a knock on the door. Sally, coming out of the dressing room, admitted Lord Linvale and Professor Armstrong, both bearing bouquets.

"We dare not come in," the viscount said, although he was eyeing Amy intently, to ascertain the extent of her injuries, as well as he could from his distance. Sally took the flowers with a smile and the gentlemen bowed to Amy.

"We look forward to seeing you among us again soon," the professor said. Then they were gone.

"Isn't he a handsome man?" Miss Winters asked.

"Very," Amy agreed.

"You must help me gain his attention, Miss Harte," Miss Winters suddenly pleaded.

"Lord Linvale?" Amy replied more sharply than she had intended.

"No! I was speaking of my cousin, Edward! You thought I meant Cousin Marcus?"

It was Amy's turn to blush.

"You will help me?" Miss Winters pleaded.

"I'll do what I can," Amy promised.

Chapter 7

Elsewhere, Lady Linvale had whisked Sir Lionel off for a private coze, leaving Lucy with the major, the vicar and Lady Cynthia. Charlie had gone to the Vartons' house to tutor his friend. Lady Cynthia, extremely put out that both Miss Hartes were attracting attention, was trying to punish the younger one by ignoring her.

Lucy, enjoying the sole attention of two Armstrong brothers, could not care less what Lady Cynthia was doing. Cynthia, actually, was playing the pianoforte loud enough that they were required to raise their voices to speak.

"I am very happy to finally meet you, Miss Lucy," the major said on her right. She was seated between the two gentlemen on a settee.

"Thank you, Major Armstrong."

"You must come see my vicarage whilst you are here, Miss Lucy," the vicar added.

"I should love to. And you, Lady Cynthia?" she called, an imp of mischief gleaming in her blue eyes. "You will come with us? I am certain there will be parishioners to visit, the sick to tend and babies to play with." She got a cold shoulder in reply.

"There are plenty," the Reverend Armstrong assured her.

"I am looking forward to it, sir. Shall we set a day when my sister is able to accompany us?"

"The apothecary says your sister may get up tomorrow. If she is up to it, might I suggest the day after?" the viscount said, coming into the room.

"Marcus!" Lady Cynthia exclaimed. "Where have you been all day? Come here!"

He nodded to Lucy and his brothers and went to stand next to his cousin, She instantly abandoned her playing, stood and began to whisper in his ear. Lucy continued to flirt mildly with the other two gentlemen, although she had to admit that the major, above all others, captured her attention the most.

Upstairs, the professor sat in the hallway outside Miss Harte's room, concerned for that lady's welfare. He felt terrible that she had injured herself in his laboratory and he worried about the best way to apologize. Marcus had sat with him a long while, but now he had gone to check on Miss Lucy. Perhaps Cousin Ellie could help him. She had a knack for knowing the right thing to do.

His cousin opened Miss Harte's door at that moment and came out with a tray of tea things.

"How is she?" he demanded, jumping to his feet.

"She is resting comfortably. I believe she will be allowed to join us downstairs tomorrow." She stood there expectantly, thinking he might offer to carry the tray, like he often did, but he was preoccupied with Miss Harte.

"I wonder if I might get in to see her for a moment," he mused.

Miss Winters lost her temper. She was not angry at Amy, of course. That lady had already offered some excellent advice to help her win Ned's affection. But Ned was another story altogether. "Ooooh!" she cried, picking up a cup and pouring its half-finished contents over his head. He yelped in surprise.

"Shhh!" Miss Winters admonished with a smirk. "We cannot disturb Miss Harte!" With a smug smile and a feeling of having gained some of his attention, she took the tray off to the kitchens without a backward glance.

That evening, Lucy brought up a tray for her sister and then settled on the bed while Amy ate.

"Can you believe it? Custard! Soup! Warm, fresh bread! You are living like a queen!"

"You are queer in the attic if you think custard and bread are the height of luxury, dearest. I shall have to blame Cousin Minerva for such a condition," Amy said sympathetically, although her eyes twinkled with merriment, as did her sister's. "I am sorry you had to stay behind last week. How is your cold?"

"I am as right as rain," Lucy assured her. "And so envious of all this male company! Miss Winters is nice, of course, but I cannot warm to Lady Cynthia," she confessed.

Amy was not surprised. Who could warm to the girl? She stopped spooning up custard long enough to pat her sister's hand.

"The Armstrong men are as handsome as I remember," Lucy continued. "And so courteous! You must have made a very good impression on his lordship. Imagine coming all that way to tell us of your injury in person! He could have easily sent an express. How is your head?"

"Fine when I am not confronted with prattle-boxes like yourself."

Lucy giggled. "I know! I know! But I am so excited to be here, and I cannot help but thank your injury for that small miracle. Did you know there were three whole courses at dinner this evening? With several removes!"

"Oh, my! All I got was a custard!"

"Don't forget the fresh bread!" Lucy admonished her with a grin. "If I have to eat two-day-old bread ever again, I shall scream."

"Cousin Minerva is rather dreadful," Amy agreed. "How did she take your leaving?"

"I have no idea. We slipped out of the house before dawn, like thieves."

"Even Lord Linvale?" Amy found that difficult to imagine.

"He was as game as a pebble and he knew how to deal with Cousin Minerva at every turn. It was almost as if he knew she was the enemy. I suppose Lady Linvale told him of our 'problem.'"

Amy had to suppose so, too. She did not recall telling him anything of the sort and no one else knew. In fact, the only things she had said to the viscount had been terse replies to his taunts.

"So," Lucy said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if she could follow her sister's thoughts. "What do you think of Lord Linvale?"

Amy paused. What should she tell her sister? That the man had been incredibly rude to her? She might tell her everything later, but right now, Lucy would become indignant for her sake and might even say something to Papa. Then he might have to take action and Amy did not wish him to do that. She had to be nice about what she said without being untruthful.

"Lord Linvale is a handsome man, isn't he?" Too bad he knew it. "And he can be kind." She still wasn't quite sure what his game had been when he had gone to her home.

"Very handsome," Lucy agreed. "The major is, too."

Amy smiled as her sister launched into a comparison of all five Armstrong gentlemen. Lucy considered Charlie a mere lad, and was sympathetic, in a good sisterly manner, when Amy related parts of the ice skating fiasco.

"Professor Armstrong is in love with Miss Winters," Lucy continued. "And she with him."

"You could see that in less than a day?" Amy was astounded.

"Oh, yes! Doesn't everyone? Well, perhaps not Lady Cynthia, but then, it doesn't involve her, does it? But Miss Winters is not speaking to the professor at the moment."

"I advised her not to."

"Good." Lucy approved of that tactic. "I don't think he quite appreciates her worth."

"He will," Amy said confidently. "But only if she ignores him for a bit."

"The Reverend Armstrong is a nice gentleman. So thoughtful and attentive." Lucy moved on to the next brother on her list. "I rather like his quiet confidence, but he is so much less dashing than the major."

Did Lucy know that her eyes lit up every time she mentioned the major? Amy rather thought not. "They are charming companions," she agreed. "And asked after you almost as soon as I arrived, but I could not tell you, because you forbade me to write."

Lucy gave a contented sigh and snuggled down further in the bed to lay her head on Amy's shoulder. "I believe I will enjoy having two handsome men vying for my attention., but I shall leave Lord Linvale to you. The two of you will suit each other splendidly."

"What? I have no designs on Lord Linvale!" Amy hotly insisted. If word got about that she did, she would never hear the end of it from the viscount!

Lucy giggled. "That is precisely why he likes you, I think. You have no designs on him."

No, Amy thought bitterly, only on his brothers. All she said aloud, however, was, "He likes me? Are you certain?"

"He came to tell us about your injury, he left Cousin Minerva behind without a qualm and he talked about you all the way here. And he has haunted the hall outside today, checking on your progress."

"He did not!"

"He did. I think you have an admirer, Amelia Harte."

"I think it's time for bed, Lucinda."

"May I stay in here?" Lucy pleaded. "Then I can help if you need anything."

Amy was easily swayed, but only because she had missed her sister terribly. "All right, but tell the maids where you are so no one worries about you not sleeping in your own bed."

Lucy grinned and ran off to collect her nightclothes and inform Sally of her whereabouts.

The next day was uneventful as Amy got back on her feet. Miss Winters was still ignoring the professor and Charlie had added himself to Lucy's growing list of admirers, but otherwise the house was quiet.

The plan to have tea at the vicarage was met with approval by everyone but Lady Cynthia, but when she learned Lord Linvale was to go, she agreed to be one of the party. Only Sir Lionel and Lady Linvale were to stay behind, she because she had ball arrangements to tend to and he because he had discovered the Linvale library.

The viscount had hired a couple of sleighs and horses from the village and they sat on the frosty front drive the morning of the outing. One was hitched to a pair of bays and the other to one black and one white horse. Each sleigh seated four to six people, although room was not required for the vicar, who had gone ahead.

Lucy had already accepted an invitation to sit between Major Armstrong and his youngest brother, leaving Amy to sit with the professor. She was getting tired of hearing that gentleman's apologies for the accident, and she knew she was only in that particular seat because Miss Winters silently refused to share a sleigh with him.

That lady, oblivious to the expression on Lady Cynthia's face, climbed in to sit with Lord Linvale in the other sleigh, leaving Cynthia to either squeeze in with them or sit in the back. She finally chose the rear seat, no doubt, Amy thought, to keep from crushing her skirts.

Amy was distracted from that thought a moment later by the sight of Lord Linvale's glove-covered hands as they picked up the ribbons. How had she never noticed before how broad and capable-looking they seemed?

"Don't you agree, Miss Harte?" the major was asking. She did not answer, but when he followed her line of sight, all he could see were either the reins in his brother's hands, or the black horse's rump. "I was saying to Miss Lucy that there were plenty of indoor activities here at the manor. Don't you agree?"

Amy came out of her trance to see three people in front of her waiting for a reply.

"Oh, yes. Skating, sledding, ice fishing..."

Lucy giggled and turned to her companions. "Never mind her. I'm sure there are games and puzzles, billiards..."

"You play billiards, Miss Lucy?" Charlie eagerly asked.

"Not very well," Lucy confessed. Amy almost snorted. Lucy excelled at indoor games like cards and billiards, having spent a lot of time indoors because of constant ill health. She nudged Lucy just the smallest bit from behind, but her sister ignored her.

"We would be happy to help you improve your game," the major offered.

"That would be lovely," Lucy innocently agreed.

The viscount chose that moment to spring his horses, and the major quickly followed suit. They spoke of other activities then, including the ball, until they reached the vicarage.

Chapter 8

The Reverend Armstrong came out to greet them and quickly ushered them into a warm parlor. A sour-faced old woman was waiting to serve them tea, and when she was introduced as Mrs. Timmons, Amy and Lucy both looked at one another in surprise.

"Are you related, by chance, to Sally Timmons?" Amy enquired. Lucy nodded. They were sharing Sally, and both had gotten to know her fairly quickly. The transformation of the vicar's housekeeper from prune-faced to a kinder countenance was remarkable.

"Indeed I am, miss," she replied. "She is my late husband's niece. The Timmonses have long been in service to the nobles in this area." After that, Mrs. Timmons offered to give them a tour of the house, which was quite large. Miss Winters and Lady Cynthia were invited to join them, but only the companion accompanied the girls.

"The vicars have very often been supplied by the Armstrong family, which has provided the funds over the years to expand what was once a small stone cottage," Mrs. Timmons explained as she showed them about. "You can see part of the original house here..." They were in the kitchen. "There are six bedchambers upstairs and we have two parlors, a dining room and a study."

Once they had seen the vicarage, it was suggested by someone that they view the church, but all agreed it should be after they had eaten. It was over seed cake and cups of a very strong brew that the reverend received the message that a Mrs. Barlow's husband had died and could he come straight away?

He exchanged a look with his elder brothers and agreed. "Would you all care to join us?" he invited his company. "The Barlow family is large and the children will be in need of some assistance."

"I will join you, then, if I may," Amy offered. She knew all too well what it was like to lose a parent and wondered how old the children were.

"I shall come, too," said Lucy. Miss Winters and the professor were quick to agree. Only Lady Cynthia and Charlie declined.

Wraps were promptly found and they wedged themselves into one sleigh, leaving the other for Lady Cynthia and Charlie, who would then be able to return to the manor at their leisure.

The Barlow house - hovel, in Amy's estimation - was but a short drive and she could not help but contrast it with the warm, secure farmhouses around it. Several small children were outside playing in filthy snow and inside the small, two-story dwelling could be heard the sound of wailing.

The vicar went in first and then beckoned to the viscount. By the time the major and the professor escorted in the ladies, they were not to be seen, although the murmur of voices could be heard from an adjacent room.

In addition to the three urchins outside, Amy counted eight children total, with the eldest a frightened-looking lad of about fourteen. Lucy and Miss Winters sat down with the glum children by the hearth. Amy followed the gentlemen over to the older lad and took his hand while she introduced herself.

"I'm Miss Harte. I take it you are now the man of the family? What may I do to assist you?" she gently asked.

"Yes, miss, but we don't need..." He looked at the major, who nodded encouragement. "We could use some food, miss."

"And shoes for the little ones?" she asked softly.

"Yes, miss."

Amy looked about. "Do you have enough blankets and warm cloaks for the children?" Everything was so threadbare, including their clothing, and the room was cold.

"And you will need some firewood. Shall we set about securing some, Ned?" The major did not wait for his brother to reply, but as he headed out the door, the younger man was right on his heels.

Amy took that opportunity to retire to a corner with the young man. She had seen families like this before on her father's estate. "What shall you do now that you are responsible for your family?" she wondered.

The Barlow boy was unable to reply, because he had spied Lord Linvale standing behind her and had jumped to his feet.

"Will you excuse us, Miss Harte? I would speak to Mr. Barlow privately for a moment."

"Of course." She looked at the viscount, but could not guess as to his mood. Moving over to Lucy's side, she suggested they bring in the children. Miss Winters was already putting a kettle on the meager fire and when the tots outside protested coming in, Amy and Lucy promised hot tea, even as they wondered how they were going to provide it.

Fortunately, a servant arrived from the vicarage with a packet of tea and some biscuits, and a box of food was shortly delivered from the manor. It seemed others had not been idle. Lucy began the daunting task of cleaning up the children, Amy tidied the main room and Miss Winters brewed tea, passing around mugs of it before starting on a stew for dinner. By the time the gentlemen returned with more wood and Mrs. Barlow came out of her room, appearing red-eyed and wan, the young ones were warmed by the tea and eager to be fed.

Lord Linvale had taken the Barlow boy for a walk, but the lad came bursting back into the cottage with the news that his lordship was taking him on as a stable hand and they would be able to continue living at the cottage.

While the others were off tending to the Barlow family, Charlie Armstrong was driving his cousin back to Linvale Hall. If Lady Cynthia's tirade was any indication, he was doing a poor job of it.

"Do you have to drive so slow?" she asked.

"The horses can only go so quickly through the drifts, Cousin Cynthia," Charlie said for the tenth time through gritted teeth.

"Marcus had no difficulty earlier!"

"Marcus was driving on a cleared road behind another sleigh," Charlie reminded her.

"What has that to do with it? If you do not hurry up, I shall have to take over. I'm considered quite the whip, you know," she said proudly.

"You think you can drive this better than I am?" Charlie slowed the horses down even further, his eyes snapping with anger and not a small bit of challenge.

"I most certainly do! Give me those ribbons!" she insisted.

Charlie hesitated only a moment before handing over the reins. "Let us see what you can do then."

Lady Cynthia slapped the ribbons on the rumps of the bays and they started up again at the same slow pace at which Charlie had been driving them.

"See? They have to pick their feet up to get through the snow."

"This would not be a problem if we had used the same road we came in on. Why are we going this way?"

"Because it takes us into the back of the stables instead of to the front of the house."

"But I'm cold! You cannot expect me to walk from the stables!"

"The horses are cold, too!" He noticed she was pushing those horses harder than he had and he became concerned. "Slow down! Who told you that you could drive well?"

"Mr. Hardy did, last summer at Papa's house party."

"Hardy is a mutton-headed chap who was obviously trying to turn to you up sweet. Give me those reins."

"No! You said I could drive, so I am driving!" She pulled the reins out of his grasp and the horses went off the road to the right. Alarmed, Charlie pulled on the ribbons below her hands, guiding the horses back to the road.

"You ham-handed cow! You're going to land us in a ditch!"

"Don't be silly, Charlie," she replied, ignoring his insult. "There aren't any ditches in the winter. They are filled with snow." She yanked the reins away again and the horses turned off to the right once more.

"That makes about the worst sense of anything I've ever heard, you bacon-brain!" he shouted.

"You've never been nice to me!" she shrilly replied. They continued to squabble, paying no attention to the horses until one of them fell through the snow with a squeal.

"Told you!" Charlie got out of the sleigh and waded slowly through the snow to unhitch the wild-eyed horses, speaking softly to them as he led them carefully to the road.

"What about me?" Cynthia demanded, standing up in the front of the sleigh. "Come get me, Charlie! Now!"

"I cannot! I have to hold the horses," he called back. "Come on. Climb out of there and help me walk these two home."

"If you think I am going to lead a smelly horse back to the house in all this snow, you are much mistaken, Charlie Armstrong!"

"Suit yourself. Stay in there and wait for Marcus to possibly come this way or wait for me to send someone for the sleigh."

"Charlie!"

"It's your decision," he said airily, heading off with the horses. He got about twenty feet, Cynthia screaming behind him the entire time, when Farmer Owens' son Bart appeared.

Bart Owens was a tall, strapping man in his mid-twenties, with shaggy blonde hair and bright blue eyes, who had been a friend and playmate to the Armstrong brothers in years past. Back then, even Marcus had not been so high in the instep that he hadn't played and fished and hunted with the local lads.

"Mr. Charlie!" Bart called.

"Bart! Am I glad to see you. Give me a hand, will you?"

The farmer's son reached for a horse, but Charlie shook his head, a very evil thought forming in it. "Not the horses. I've got them under control. No, I need you to retrieve my cousin from the sleigh. Could you take her to your house until someone can come drive her home? I fear for her health if she stays out here much longer."

"A young lady?" The taller man scratched his head. "I don't know..."

Charlie recalled that Bart was shy around females, having been raised alone by his father. Still, he was Cynthia's best bet to getting warm, since she insisted on staying behind. "She will get frostbite, most likely, if she continues to be exposed to the elements," he cajoled. "Could you not escort her to your father's hearth? I am certain he will know what to do with her.

Bart nodded and bowed respectfully before trudging off through the drifts to collect Lady Cynthia.

Charlie continued the slow journey home, but he could not resist one backward glance. With a grin he watched as Bart Owens unceremoniously slung Cynthia over his shoulder like a sack of grain and carried her off to his house. Her screams of protest rung in Charlie's ears long after he was out of range.

"How could you do such a thing, Charlie Armstrong!" Lady Cynthia shouted, stomping into the drawing room a couple of hours later only to find everyone else warm and cozy, toasting crumpets by the fire and drinking tea.

"I beg your pardon, Cousin Cynthia, but I could not leave you out there to freeze," Charlie innocently replied.

"You left me to be manhandled by that ... that ... pig person!"

Everyone looked on in amusement, having already heard of the incident from Charlie.

"Isn't that a bit harsh, Cynthia? After all, he is a pig farmer, and an excellent one at that," said the major. "I've no doubt the sausage you partook of so willingly this morning came from his place."

"But ... but..." she stuttered. "You don't know how ill I was used at that farm!" Her cousins looked at each other in alarm.

"He did not harm you?" the viscount asked, having come in behind Lady Cynthia, whom he had just retrieved in the other sleigh.

"He dared not lay a finger on me! However, that place you call a farmhouse was most horrid! They did not offer me tea and I was forced to view their new piglets!" She shuddered.

Lord Linvale, to Amy's surprise, chuckled. "Forced to see piglets? How terribly you were abused!" Everyone laughed.

"Well, it was suggested and I was so wretchedly bored and you would not get there fast enough! How could I refuse?"

"Poor, poor Cynthia," Charlie said with a straight face. "When I asked Owens to take care of you, I had no idea he would torture you with ... piglets!"

Porter cleared his throat as he stood in the drawing room doorway, a pained expression on his face. "Begging your pardon, my lord, Lady Linvale, but a, er, gift has arrived from the Owens farm. For Lady Cynthia."

"See, Cynthia? The Owneses are very kind to send you a reminder of your visit." The viscountess was grinning.

"But I..."

A footman came in with a small black piglet tied to one end of a rope. The little fellow stopped to snuffle Porter, who sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward, before trotting happily over to Lady Cynthia. The footman, gingerly holding the rope, gave it to the lady as quickly as he could and backed away. Lady Linvale excused the servants and they went gratefully back to their posts.

"What am I going to do with this?" Cynthia demanded.

"Send him to the kitchens?" Charlie suggested.

"Name him?" Amy said.

"Excellent idea, Miss Harte!" the major exclaimed. "Because you cannot return it, cousin. That would be in very poor ... taste."

"Or porcine taste, as the case may be," Amy agreed with a laugh.

Cynthia did not like being laughed at. "Fine! Then you name it!" she challenged Amy.

"All right. Let's see..." The little piggy was black. "How about ... Smokehouse?" Everyone but Cynthia laughed. "I'm sure I can do better, though. Why not ... Rasher? No, no, I have it!" she said excitedly, her face flushed with laughter. "Hamlet!"

They all applauded her efforts and she stood and curtsied.

"Hamlet it is, then," the viscount agreed. Amy looked at him quizzically. Why was he being so nice?

The little pig snorted, as if satisfied that the task of naming him had been completed, and he sat down complacently on Lady Cynthia's feet.

Chapter 9

"Did you see the look on Lady Cynthia's face when the little pig sat on her?" Lucy crowed. "Famous!" The two sisters had retired to Amy's room after dinner that evening.

Amy grinned. She was glad someone here could share her sense of the ridiculous. She had been so lonely without her sister to confide in.

"Yet, I don't understand how you can be so hard on Lord Linvale! He has been more than amiable since before our arrival."

Amy groaned. If she heard one more time that the viscount was a saint for bringing her family to her, she thought she might be ill. Lucy had finally been told what his lordship had said to Amy on her arrival, and how he continued to hold her to blame for his brothers' actions towards her, and yet Lucy still found it difficult to believe.

"Do you know why he made Jem Barlow a stable hand?" Lucy asked, seemingly bent on keeping the viscount in a good light. Amy did not know, nor did she want to. But Lucy was going to tell her anyway. "Because he has a way with horses. Almost as if he can communicate with them. Lord Linvale plans on grooming him for the position of stable master one day, if you will pardon the pun."

"How do you know all of this?"

"The major is a font of information. And, of course, the funds will not go amiss in the Barlow household." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "The father drank all the money away..."

Amy was not surprised. "That is most obvious. When did you speak to Major Armstrong?"

"This afternoon... He showed me the conservatory." She had the grace to blush.

"So that is where you were when you were supposed to be up here dressing for dinner!" She thought Lucy had been cutting it rather fine. "And?"

"And what?" Lucy was looking everywhere but at her sister.

"What sort of things does Lady Linvale have in her conservatory?" Amy had no idea - the only time she had been in there was to have a good cry. But she could not resist twigging Lucy about her 'tour.'

"Oh, you know ... Orchids and palms and other ... plants."

"Hmmm ... Did he try to kiss you?"

"What? Oh, no, no, no!" Lucy's countenance was dreamy, however, as if she had wished him to.

"I take it you are in here to ask me if you can share a bed again?"

Lucy giggled. "Of course! I've already told Sally that I will be here."

Amy sighed and shook her head, mumbling something about sisters as she climbed into bed. However, she was glad, once again, that Lucy was there.

At the Harte home, Minerva was in a royal rage.

Kick her out after all she had done for them? How dare they! And how dare they all leave without her permission? She was in charge - hadn't she done everything she could to make herself indispensable to Sir Lionel? And he had the nerve to suggest she go to Harriet in Scotland? No, thank you! Her sister was so tight, she could squeeze blood from a turnip! Minerva was glad she was so much more generous than that.

At least she had an idea of where to look for the Hartes. They were at Linvale Hall, in Sussex, near Brighton. She would go there herself, then, and pay a little visit. Especially to Amelia, whose fault this all was. If she had not accepted an invitation from Lady Linvale (and how did such a letter get past Minerva?) all of this would not have come about. Little Miss Amelia, who had managed to attach a viscount in just a few days, was going to pay.

All Minerva wanted was to step into the late Lady Harte's shoes, in name as well as position, and have her own establishment. The family part she could do without, especially now that she had seen just how loyal the Harte sisters were to her. Ungrateful wretches!

After all the time and effort she had invested in showing how well suited she was to be their father's next wife ... Come to think of it, Miss Lucy was just as duplicitous as her sister.

Minerva settled down in a drawing room chair and thought about her options. Murder was out, although a bit of maiming would make her feel better. Ugly rumors about the girls and the viscount - who had been taken in so quickly by the both of them - would be better. After all, when had Miss Lucy even been able to speak to the man to coerce him into taking them to Linvale Hall, unless she had gone into his room that night? No wonder he was now her willing slave. If Minerva had thought such an action would have worked on Sir Lionel, she would have done the same thing ages ago. Too late for that now.

Hollering for her bags to be packed and a coach to be secured for the next morning, she decided to go to Sussex as soon as she could to see what damage could be done.

Amy left Lucy sleeping soundly the next morning, dressed herself rather than disturb Sally, and slipped down to breakfast. The only other person abroad that morning seemed to be Miss Winters, who was more than happy, she said, to have such a congenial companion with which to break her fast.

"I hope you had a pleasant night," Miss Winters said as Amy fixed a plate, took a seat and poured a cup of tea.

"Very much so. My sister has been sleeping in my bed, so happy is she to see me once again. "

"Miss Lucy does seem the naturally happy sort."

"She is," Amy agreed. She scraped some butter across the top of a piece of toast before reaching for the jam pot. "Hmmm, strawberry! And you, Miss Winters? Did you have a good night?"

"No. I am next door to Lady Cynthia and I am unsure whether the snores I heard all night were hers or the pig's."

"Why, Cousin Ellie!" the professor exclaimed, stopping in the doorway. "That is the first time I have ever heard an unkind word from you!"

Miss Winters turned her head away and did not answer. Amy felt sorry for the professor at that moment. He looked so stricken, she had to do something to get these two together. The silent treatment had probably gone on long enough. But that task was made more difficult when Miss Winters excused herself, her breakfast half uneaten, as it had been the other day. It was a wonder the girl got any nourishment at all.

Once she was gone, however, the professor wasted no time in bringing up the subject of Miss Winters.

"Do you know, Miss Harte, why my cousin has been ignoring me?"

"I do, sir, but it is not for me to say why. You should ask Miss Winters."

"But that is just it!" he said dejectedly. He bypassed the sideboard filled with food in favor of a cup of tea. "I have no idea how to approach her or know what to say."

"How do you feel about her?" Amy asked. If he could tell her, he could tell Miss Winters. "I know. Why don't you pretend I am Miss Winters and you can tell me what is in your heart. It might help you form the words you wish to say to her."

"Would you do that?"

"Absolutely," she assured him.

He came over to sit next to her at the table, angling his chair so that he faced her. She smiled to encourage him and he took one of her hands in his.

"Cousin Ellie, er, Miss Winters ... Ellie. Since you have come to live with Mother, I have been impressed with the way you have taken care of her. I know you have your pride and while I often quizzed you on accepting more from the family, I've also admired you for the way you don't take advantage of your situation." He faltered.

"Go on," she urged. "I think you are doing fine so far."

"Thank you." He squeezed her hand. "I know I have not been here every day, but when I have visited, I have seen nothing but a sweet, caring young woman. The changes you have wrought on this family have been remarkable. You have shown presence of mind, compassion, intelligence and a sense of humor since your arrival and I cannot help but admire you. I should like to have those special qualities in my life on a permanent basis." He sat back and regarded her seriously and Amy, a bit choked up, had the sense to remember to break into applause.

"Bravo! Will you go now to speak to her?" she wondered.

"Now?"

"Of course. While these things are all fresh in your mind. And don't forget to profess your undying love. Ladies like to hear such things. That was a brave thing you did -- now think of how much braver you will be when you lay your heart at her feet."

"Now?" he repeated in a quivery voice.

"Now," Amy firmly replied. He left the room slowly, as if going to his doom, but he finally disappeared from view. She heard him say something to someone in the hall, but she had gone back to her tea and toast and paid it no mind. He was probably asking a footman where to find Miss Winters. To her surprise, Lord Linvale came storming into the room.

"What the devil was that all about?" he demanded.

Amy, having recovered from the shock of his sudden appearance, tried not to laugh. She picked up her cup and took a sip of tea. "What?" This time she had the confidence in knowing the professor's goal was not herself. Linvale could rant and rail at her all he wished. While he did so, his brother would be off somewhere attempting to win the lady's hand. Knowing what she did of Miss Winters' feelings, it would not be difficult.

"Pray, what is so amusing, Miss Harte? My brother's proposal to you?"

"Proposal? Please, Lord Linvale, let us not get started on your idiotic belief that I am here to steal one of your precious brothers from under your vigilant nose!" Vigilant, her foot. Amy would wager he knew nothing of Lucy and the major in the conservatory...

"Idiotic! I heard with my own ears just now that my brother is quite taken with you and that he has admired you since you arrived."

Amy burst out laughing. "Oh, yes! He admires me so much, he went running off as soon as he had disclosed his feelings!"

"Ned has been known to be shy around females," he admitted. "What was your reply? Did you accept? Are you to become my sister?" He looked thunderous.

Amy calmly sliced into the ham on her plate. "Eavesdropping is such a naughty habit, my lord. One never hears the entire story, do they?" She took a bite of meat, enjoying Linvale's discomfort far more than she was sure she should.

He took the chair his brother had so recently vacated and stared at her.

"You are too smug. Is your head swollen after hearing Ned say you have shown compassion, intelligence and a sense of humor?"

"I am feeling very smug, actually, because your brother was practicing those words on me so he could say them to Miss Winters."

The expression on the viscount's face was more than she had hoped for.

"Are you saying that Ned ... And Eleanor..."

She thought it was a good thing he was already seated.

"I had no idea..."

Amy took a small amount of pity on him and patted his hand. "If Miss Winters' previous reactions are any indication, his suit will be very welcome."

"What? I cannot allow it!" He stood too quickly and his chair fell backwards.

"Oh, no!" Amy protested. "You cannot inflict your view of females onto your brother! I am sorry if your life did not turn out the way you planned, but your plan is not the professor's!" She had to think of some way to stop him from ruining his brother's big moment.

"Are you quite finished, Miss Harte?" he asked haughtily.

"Not quite." Picking up her cup of tea, now cold, she dashed it against the front of his breeches. "Now I am," she said sweetly and rose gracefully from her chair. "Who knows what sort of grief your brother will come to while you are changing clothes?" With a sly smile, she walked out of the room. Of course, he might hunt Ned down in wet clothing, but something told Amy the man was more fastidious than that.

Chapter 10

Amy had given Lucy an abbreviated version of that morning's events when she returned to her room, and they speculated as to how long it would be until a happy announcement was made. They did not have long to wait. As Lucy sat up in bed eating toast and Amy allowed Sally to fix her hair for the Sunday morning service, Lady Linvale burst in without knocking, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks flushed.

"My dears, you will never guess what has happened!"

Amy and Lucy exchanged smiles. "Something has occurred? It is only 10 o'clock!" Lucy exclaimed.

"Whatever is it?" Amy wondered.

"Something exciting! Ned has made an offer to Ellie and she has accepted! Isn't it wonderful?"

"Prodigiously!" Amy agreed with a wide grin. Sally stepped back, which allowed her to rise and hug Lady Linvale. "I am so thrilled - they are such a perfect couple."

"Indeed they are!" Lucy chirped. She set aside her breakfast tray and hopped out of bed to join them.

"I have already extended an invitation to the neighbors to join us for dinner this evening to celebrate."

"How fun!" Lucy was always ready to meet new people.

"And we shall have all sorts of reasons now to rejoice at my ball! There will be games and prizes, dancing and the crowning of the traditional king and queen. I make this party open to everyone, you know. All our tenants and the villagers will be here. Merchants ... farmers ... even servants!"

Amy could not imagine that going over very well with Lady Cynthia, but she could dredge up no sympathy for the protests she knew would be forthcoming.

"Cynthia may very well use the occasion to thank the Owenses for her cute little pig," her ladyship said with a wicked grin. "They always attend the party!"

The three of them exchanged amused glances and then burst out laughing.

Amy had not registered the fact that "the neighbors" were the Vartons, but it was brought to her attention when they arrived that evening. She had not seen Miss Varton since she had been so boldly chastised for taking away Charlie's attention.

"Hmmm..." Lucy said in her ear. They were seated together on a sofa in the drawing room. "Have you met the young men?"

"When we were skating," she whispered back. "That is the infamous Miss Varton."

"Ooooh! I must meet her now."

They watched as Charlie bounded forward, earning a pleased smile from Miss Varton. Lady Linvale brought the elder Vartons over to meet first Sir Lionel and then his daughters, whom were delighted to be introduced such friendly-faced people. Lady Linvale placed Mrs. Varton next to Amy, and they immediately engaged in conversation.

"Thank you for such a kind note," Mrs. Varton said. She had sent a tearful letter and a bouquet of hothouse flowers to Amy as soon as her sons had told her of the skating accident. Amy had been more than happy to send a note in reply, despite Miss Varton's harsh words. "We had a full report from Lord Linvale, later, and we cannot be more grateful to you." She patted Amy's hand.

"Thank you, but anyone would have done the same." Once again, though, his lordship surprised her and she did not know what to think of him. Fortunately, since she had soaked his trousers, he had been avoiding her.

Miss Varton approached and was made known to Lucy, who looked on with interest as the young lady indicated to her mother that she wished to take her place on the sofa. Mrs. Varton excused herself, saying she wished to congratulate the happy couple, and moved on. Her daughter sat down, but looked everywhere except at Amy.

"I wish to apologize for my ghastly behavior, Miss Harte," she finally said, her voice soft. "I was so worried about losing Charlie's attentions, I acted horribly. Can you forgive my jealousy and the things I said?"

Miss Varton was looking at her now, and seemed sincere. And since Amy was still rather heart-whole and had never had any interest in Charlie in the first place, other than as a friend and amusing companion, what else could she do? "Of course, Miss Varton."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you for not telling anyone else what I said, either!"

Amy had told Lucy, of course, but no one else. "How did you know that?"

"Charlie would have given my ears such a blistering, did he know, and Lord Linvale would never forgive me, either."

"But..."

"He spoke so glowingly of you to Mama and Papa, my conscience was quite pricked. When we were invited to dinner, I was so happy to be able to see you again." She leaned over and addressed Lucy. "You were not here, then, were you?"

"My father and I delayed our visit until I could recover from a slight cold."

"But you are well enough for the ball tomorrow night?"

"Yes, thank you, I am. Have you attended one of her ladyship's parties before?"

"Last year! I was newly turned sixteen and so thrilled that Lady Linvale included me for the first time. That was where I first danced with Charlie," she said dreamily. Lucy giggled and Miss Varton blushed.

Lord Linvale delivered glasses of sherry to them and moved on, but was replaced a moment later with Charlie and Major Armstrong. They engaged Miss Varton and Lucy in conversation and Amy, feeling de trop, looked about for somewhere to go.

Miss Winters and the professor were speaking quietly between themselves, Lady Cynthia had cornered the viscount and the older people were getting to know each other as well. That left the vicar and the Varton boys so she excused herself and joined those gentlemen.

"Miss Harte!" The Rev. Armstrong welcomed her with a smile. "You remember Mr. Varton and Mr. Daniel Varton?"

Amy allowed that she most certainly did and curtsied politely.

"We are speaking of Mama's ball. May I hope you will partner me in one set?" the vicar asked.

"And I," the elder Varton brother said enthusiastically. His sibling nodded, wishing to be included on her dance card.

"I should be honored to dance with all of you." The offers made her happy. She had been isolated for so long and these requests more than made up for all she had recently endured.

"May I also assist you in filling your dance card early, Miss Harte?" The viscount had appeared at her side and she did not notice the other gentlemen melting away.

"If you promise not to say a word about me having designs on your brothers."

"I promise. If I behave myself, will you give me the second set and the supper dance?"

"If I am able. After all, we could be ordered to do differently by their majesties."

"Ah, I had forgotten about the king and queen. Perhaps we shall be fortunate to find the beans, and then we could do as we pleased amongst ourselves."

She eyed him a bit warily. Was he jesting? She did not get a chance to find out, because Porter appeared and announced dinner.

Amy rather enjoyed the plethora of gentlemen at the dinner table. Lady Linvale had so many to place about, she had put Charlie and Daniel Varton in the center; Amy was seated next to them. No one seemed to mind that they held sway over the conversation and they kept everyone entertained with stories of Cambridge right up until dessert. They had even prompted the older men, including Sir Lionel, to relate a few of their own school-day tales. But while Lord Linvale did not discourage the fellows, neither did he join the discussion. He wore a strange expression, almost one of sorrow, but Amy was not seated near enough to ask him about it.

When the ladies finally left the men to their port, Cynthia bored them to tears as she complained about the topic of discussion at the dinner table. Lady Linvale eventually persuaded her to play some music to distance her from the rest of them, and when she gladly went, the other ladies each breathed a sigh of relief.

They were breathing something entirely different a moment later. Hamlet came trotting in through the half-opened drawing room door and made a beeline for his mistress. Shouts were heard from down the hall and then shrieks from Miss Varton. The piglet that had brushed by her so quickly was covered in muddy, malodorous filth. He had left tiny cloven hoof marks on the Axminster and a large smear across the bottom of Miss Varton's white gown.

The butler and a footman had followed the piggy tracks to the ladies, but halted just inside the doorway. Mrs. Varton was calming her daughter, Lady Linvale was visibly amused, Amy and Lucy were about to burst and even Miss Winters had cracked a smile. But Lady Cynthia was the biggest surprise. She had the piglet up under one arm, completely ruining her diaphanous evening gown, and was bearing down on the servants.

"Honestly! I ask you to take Hamlet out for a walk," she chided the footman, "and look what you have allowed!" She turned the pig around to face her and made kissy noises at him. He grunted happily in return. "Come along, my little sweetmeat. Mummy is going to make sure you get a nice, bubbly bath!" With a sharp look at Porter and the footman, they all headed off to the kitchens. Lady Cynthia's baby talk to the pig could be heard in their wake.

The gentlemen must have out in the hall, altered to the contretemps by Miss Varton's shrieks, because they piled into the drawing room as soon as Lady Cynthia and her entourage disappeared.

"What in the devil is going on in here?" Lord Linvale demanded, looking from Amy to his mother and back again. Lady Linvale could not regain her composure enough to answer and indicated that Amy should respond in her stead.

"We had an extra after-dinner guest, my lord," she said. Lucy giggled and Amy nudged her. "The appearance of Lady Cynthia's little pig was a bit unwelcome and he managed to clean himself off on Miss Varton's pretty gown."

"I see." That was all he said. What else could he say, she wondered?

The drawing room was in need of an airing and had to have the pig tracks removed, and Lady Linvale suggested they repair to the music room. Miss Varton was not happy, however, with her soiled gown, and Mrs. Varton said it was time to go home.

"But you cannot! Not yet! We have to toast our happy couple!" Lady Linvale protested.

The Vartons could not argue with that, so while Miss Varton was hurried off to sponge the worst of the mud from her gown, the rest of the company adjourned to the other room.

Lucy was asked to play some light music and Porter brought in glasses and a couple of bottles of sparkling wine. While he poured and they waited for Miss Varton to return, Amy found herself in a quiet corner with the viscount.

"You were quite amused by my cousin's antics this evening," he said.

Amy grinned. "If you had seen the expressions on everyone's faces, you would have been laughing too, my lord."

"Perhaps. I am not quite sure what to make of Cynthia and her pig."

"You will have to get used to him sooner or later, most likely."

"Oh?"

"When you marry your cousin, I've no doubt her dowry shall include little Hamlet."

"Fortunately for me, I have no intention now of marrying my cousin."

"But your mother said..."

"My mother tends to exaggerate, Miss Harte. Although she had not, it appears, when it comes to complaining about your cousin. My decision, however, is of a recent origin."

"Oh." Why had he changed his mind? He was still vocal enough when it came to his brothers. And yet ... he was capable of such kindness. Hadn't he carried her all the way back to the house from the pond? She could have walked, but he hadn't even given her a choice.

He had carried her upstairs after her laboratory accident, as well. Then he had gone to collect her family. He had provided for the Barlows above what another landlord would have done. He did not side with his cousin any more when she became rude. He had raised no public objection to his brother's betrothal. What was happening?

Miss Varton returned and everyone was handed a glass of champagne. The viscount made the first toast, and then the other gentlemen took turns congratulating the professor and teasing Miss Winters. After their glasses had been filled several times over and Amy was feeling warmly muzzy-headed, she was surprised to see Lord Linvale raise his glass for another toast.

"As to marriage or celibacy, let a man take which course he will, he will be sure to repent."

Everyone laughed, thinking he was jesting, and Sir Lionel was complimenting him on quoting Socrates, but Amy did not even smile. Here was the man who had railed against his brother's marriage to her earlier that day. Amy was both triumphant and saddened that her initial opinion of him had been vindicated.

Back

Back to Novel Idea