Born to Be Wilde: The Wildes of Lindow Castle Page 7

  “How would you feel if I told you that you looked ill?” she asked from between clenched teeth.

  “I daresay it would depend on whether I was ill or not.” He looked at Diana. “Don’t you agree with me that Miss Gray has shriveled, for want of a better word?”

  “So now I’m not an autumn leaf but a raisin?” Lavinia inquired.

  “Your beauty won’t protect you from consumption,” Parth said flatly.

  She instantly went from feeling insulted to feeling nonplussed. Her “beauty”?

  He considered her beautiful?

  Before Diana could answer, Lady Knowe intervened. “Lavinia hasn’t got consumption, Parth. Far from it. A young lady who has so many suitors necessarily finds herself going about London at all hours.”

  “How foolish of me to insufficiently appreciate the exertion required to be so adored.” A muscle leapt in his jaw.

  “Lady Knowe is jesting,” Diana said. “We have spent the entire day working on my trousseau. In truth, I am longing for any activity that doesn’t involve clothing. Bring on your suitors, Lavinia!”

  “On that subject, I would be most happy to escort all three of you to Astley’s Amphitheatre tomorrow night,” Parth said. “I took the liberty of inviting an old school friend of mine, Oskar Beck, an excellent fellow.”

  “I know who that is!” Lady Knowe exclaimed. “He’s that prince who owns a sizable chunk of Norway, isn’t he?”

  “An exaggeration, although his proper name is Holstein-Sonderburg-Gottorp-Beck, and he is third or fourth in succession to the throne of Norway. Relations are so entangled over there that he’s in the succession for Denmark as well. North and I were good friends with him at Eton.”

  “Excellent!” Diana said enthusiastically. “He sounds like someone we shall like immediately.”

  It was transparently obvious that Oskar Beck was being brought along in order that Lavinia could entrance him into marriage. Parth had not only found her a husband; he’d come through with royalty, no less.

  Lavinia was trembling with the impulse to scream, but instead she snatched up her drink, tipped back her head, and drank it down. It burned her throat just as she realized that she’d picked up Lady Knowe’s glass instead of her own.

  She convulsed into a breathless coughing fit, recovering herself to find that Parth was pounding her back and nearly shouting at his aunt. “Did you ask the doctor to check her lungs?” he demanded.

  “Glory be,” Lavinia cried, stumbling away from him.

  “Brandy sometimes goes down the wrong way,” Lady Knowe said, ignoring Parth. “Sit down before you fall over, my dear.”

  “How can you drink that stuff?” Lavinia croaked, sinking into a seat. “I thought it was my sherry.”

  “Oh, no,” Lady Knowe said, going over to the sideboard and pouring herself another glass. “Brandy is quite a different beast from sherry.”

  “I’ll try a glass of that,” Diana said, following her.

  “Simpson must fetch a doctor,” Parth said, looking as stern as a Puritan preacher at the pulpit.

  “I don’t need a doctor,” Lavinia said, her throat still raw. “I was merely caught unawares by that lethal drink.”

  “It’s quite nice if you sip it,” Lady Knowe observed. She had seated herself on the ruby sofa again, hands around her newly poured glass. She looked mightily amused, Lavinia noticed with annoyance.

  Parth strode from the room, and Lavinia could hear him barking at Simpson out in the corridor. “Wonderful,” she groaned. “Now he’ll have some infernal doctor poking at me all night. Oh! He drives me mad!”

  “That sounds like an accusation,” Diana said, smiling broadly. She had seated herself beside Lady Knowe and was sipping her brandy in a ladylike fashion.

  “It’s a statement of fact,” Lavinia said. “Parth Sterling cannot seem to be courteous to me.”

  “Parth doesn’t like to worry,” Lady Knowe said. “I don’t know many men who do. His parents died of a fever within days of each other when he was very young, and that changed him. How could it not?”

  Parth came back into the room as if nothing had happened, picked up his glass, and remarked, “Dr. Lancer should be here within the hour.”

  Lavinia stood. “Did you not hear me earlier, when I informed you that I was perfectly well?”

  His eyes met hers, and she was startled to see that instead of his usual chilly indifference, he looked . . .

  Something.

  Angry. He was probably angry.

  “He will listen to your lungs and heart and examine you,” Parth said, as if he were speaking to a small child who had come out in red spots all over her face.

  No, because one would try to soothe a child, and no matter what was in his eyes, she heard only indifference in his voice.

  Behind her, she heard Lady Knowe muttering something sotto voce to Diana.

  “What?” Lavinia snapped, swinging about.

  “The two of you are as entertaining as a Punch and Judy puppet show,” Lady Knowe clarified.

  Parth threw a long-suffering glance at his aunt, then turned back to Lavinia. “Miss Gray, forgive me for expressing concern. Would you feel better if I insisted the doctor see you in order to ensure that you do not give an illness to my elderly aunt?”

  “Elderly!” Lady Knowe barked. “Gone too far this time, my boy!”

  “I don’t know what regrettable set of circumstances allowed you to grow up imagining yourself the cock of the walk, but you are not,” Lavinia said, forcing herself to speak evenly. “You are a rude, condescending man, with appalling manners and worse taste.”

  “Don’t stop now,” Lady Knowe cried encouragingly. “‘Appalling Parth’ was my favorite!”

  “North will be so sorry to have missed this evening,” Diana put in.

  “I apologize,” Lavinia said, seating herself. “My response was quite uncouth.”

  “I needn’t anticipate further insults?” Parth asked, his tone lazy. Lazily dangerous. Dangerously lazy?

  Primitive instincts prickled all over Lavinia, but she didn’t allow her gaze to waver. “No, I shall not call you jesting names, because that’s all they were,” she said. “A way to try to divert everyone’s attention from the scorn you have always shown me.”

  His brows drew together.

  “You have.” Her voice was frosty . . . firm.

  He just stared at her. Fine. He needn’t admit it, but they both knew she was right.

  Just now he was regarding her with all the haughty arrogance of Henry VIII, before the man grew so rotund. Back when the king’s royal countenance threatened to behead a woman if she didn’t bow to every one of his wishes.

  Lavinia straightened her spine and summoned the politeness drilled into her at the elite seminary she had attended. “Mr. Sterling,” she said, pitching her voice to an exquisite condescension, “I am grateful to you for your concern. If I feel unwell, I shall summon Dr. Bosworth, our family physician. Perhaps you have heard of him, since he treats the queen.”

  Parth’s lips eased into a smile . . . a genuine smile. “Well played.”

  Was that a concession?

  “An excellent retort!” Lady Knowe agreed.

  Lavinia spun on her heel, and with one look at her face, Diana leapt up. “My cousin and I will dine in my chamber,” she said, swooping over and grabbing Lavinia’s arm.

  “Miss Gray is welcome to retire after my doctor has listened to her lungs,” Parth said cordially.

  Not a concession, then.

  Lavinia decided it was better not to answer that statement. Instead, she marched away, Diana at her side.

  At the door, she paused and looked back. Parth was raking one hand through his tumbled curls and speaking emphatically to his aunt.

  Diana muttered something.

  “What was it you said?” Lavinia asked.

  Parth wasn’t looking at her, so it didn’t matter that she was staring.

  “I said, ‘He really is beautiful.’�
�

  Lavinia gaped at her. “Parth?” Then, before she thought better, an objection tumbled out. “You’re betrothed to North. You’re not allowed to look at Parth!”

  Diana giggled and put an arm through her elbow. “Come along, or he’ll turn around and catch us ogling him.”

  If Lavinia had whipped around any faster, she would have woken up the next morning with a stiff neck. Without another backward glance, the two of them made their way upstairs to Diana’s chamber.

  “You can hide here,” Diana said. “Come on, sit down. I’ll ring for our supper to be brought up.” She reached over and pulled the bell cord. “No one can compel you to be examined by a doctor.”

  Their retreat was disrupted by Lady Knowe, who barged in without even a token tap on the door. “Oh, good,” she cried, “no one is unclothed. My dear Lavinia, Parth is being a protective ass, but you must forgive him.”

  “It wasn’t his insistence on my seeing the doctor as much as his utter lack of civility,” Lavinia flashed back.

  “Yes, he was disagreeable, wasn’t he?” Diana agreed from her bed, where she was propped up against the pillows. “Quite surprising, really. He’s always been lovely to me, even when I was a mere governess and beneath his notice.”

  Lavinia wrinkled her nose. “He’s not that sort.”

  “What sort is that?” Lady Knowe asked.

  “A man who would look down on Diana for working as a governess.”

  “Certainly not,” Lady Knowe said, making herself comfortable in a chair by the fireplace. “He’s not exactly a member of polite society himself.”

  “Why isn’t he?” Diana asked. “He was the duke’s ward, wasn’t he? Who were his parents?”

  “His father was an excellent fellow,” Lady Knowe said, a nostalgic look crossing her eyes. “Good old Oswald; we grew up with him. He was the only surviving son of a squire, but there was nothing for him to inherit, so he left for India. We never saw him again.”

  “If Parth’s grandfather was a squire, then Parth has a greater claim to polite society than I have,” Diana pointed out. “My grandfather was a grocer.”

  “Parth has every right to dance the night away at balls,” Lady Knowe agreed. “If only he didn’t find them so confoundedly boring. He’s always refused to attend events outside the family, and then of course he began making money hand over fist, which was considered somewhat disreputable—though that opinion has changed now that he opened his own bank. I expect it would have been different if his father and mother had returned to England.”

  “So Mr. Sterling planned to return?” Lavinia asked, fascinated despite herself.

  “Oh, yes,” Lady Knowe said. “After Oswald fell in love and married Uma, Parth’s mother, he sent Parth to be educated here, and planned to bring his family home in a few years. He and Uma ran out of time.”

  “That’s so sad,” Diana said, sighing.

  There was something dreamy about her tone that surprised Lavinia. She glanced over and saw that her cousin had brought her glass with her. “What are you drinking?” she asked.

  “This lovely brandy,” Diana said. “So Parth’s father fell in love, and sent their son back to England to live with the duke, and then he and his wife both died. Sad. So sad.”

  “Have you eaten much today?” Lady Knowe inquired.

  Diana shook her head. “I see why you like brandy. It feels powerfully . . . powerful. I like it more than sherry.” She finished her glass.

  “Drunk as a fizzle,” Lady Knowe concluded.

  Diana giggled. “Did I ever tell you how much I like North? Because I do. And he’s such a wonderful father to Godfrey.” She began humming a little tune.

  “How are you feeling?” Lady Knowe asked Lavinia. “I doubt you’ve eaten much today either.”

  “I hadn’t time after breakfast,” Lavinia said. Then, to change the subject, because she did not wish to invite further remarks about her figure: “Diana always used to get tipsy on one glass of Rhenish wine, and it seems she hasn’t changed.”

  “Light-headed,” Lady Knowe said. “Whereas it seems you are like me, my dear. We can drink like sailors. Have you rung the bell for supper? I told Parth that I’d join him after the doctor’s visit.”

  “Yes, I did,” Diana said. She had put away the glass, slid down in the bed, and folded her hands above her waist. “When I am dead, I shall lie just like this, with North at my side, and we’ll be together for all eternity, like Romeo and Juliet.”

  “Good Lord,” Lady Knowe said, giving the bell a firm tug. “I’m ordering you some tea, Diana, and you’ll drink every drop of it. I’ll have some toast brought up as well. And I have an idea: When the doctor appears, we’ll point him to Diana.”

  “Brilliant idea!” Lavinia exclaimed.

  The lady twinkled at her across the bed. “It’s not as if the doctor will know which of you is which. I don’t approve of Parth’s behavior this evening, and so I told him. He shouldn’t have described you as wasting away, nor me as elderly. I prefer to consider myself around thirty-seven. At most, thirty-eight.”

  “That’s a good age,” Diana said. “When I am thirty-seven, I will have been married to North for many years.” She sighed happily.

  When Simpson knocked on the door and announced the doctor’s arrival, Lady Knowe ushered him in and gestured toward the bed. “Your patient, Doctor.”

  “There’s a strange man in the room,” Diana observed, unnecessarily.

  The doctor glanced at her and set his traveling case down within easy reach.

  “My dear Lavinia, you must stay away from all hard drink in the future,” Lady Knowe informed Diana. She turned to the physician. “Miss Gray had quite a violent fit of coughing, and Mr. Sterling is worried that she has an infection of the lungs. Or consumption. Or something else.”

  Diana managed to push herself up on her elbows. “You may listen to my lungs, Doctor. My name is . . . my name is . . . Lavinia Gray!” she finished triumphantly.

  “I fear I gave her too much buttercup syrup,” Lady Knowe told the doctor. “Excellent for a cough, as I’m sure you know, but somewhat befuddling.”

  “That woman is intoxicated,” the doctor stated. “She also has red hair and a pointed nose.”

  Diana sat all the way up. “I do not have a pointed nose! That’s an insult. No duchess has a pointed nose.”

  Lavinia had been gazing out the window into the back gardens, but at this exchange she turned about.

  “Miss Gray was described to me as a young woman with golden hair and the smile of an angel,” the doctor added, a distinctly sardonic note in his voice.

  Lady Knowe laughed into the silence that followed his statement. “Darling Parth. One does continue to underestimate the man. No,” she told the doctor. “That is your patient on the bed—although you ought to apologize for the insult to her nose. The lady in question has a lovely nose.”

  Dr. Lancer obediently leaned over Diana, who smiled up at him drowsily.

  “It doesn’t matter about my nose. He’s already agreed to marry me, and he can’t back out now, even if he wanted a duchess with a better nose.”

  “I am glad to hear it.” The doctor bent and listened to her lungs, but found nothing wrong with them, to no one’s surprise. Then he asked, “May I palpate your chest, Miss Gray?”

  Diana glanced over at Lavinia. “Never say I don’t love you.” She turned back. “Please be gentle; my breasts are quite tender these days.”

  “Are your menses regular?” the doctor asked, straightening up.

  “I don’t remember,” she answered, closing her eyes.

  As the doctor prepared to leave, he took one more look at Diana, now peacefully slumbering, and stated, “Recent speculation suggests that imbibing spirits may inhibit an unborn child’s growth.”

  Lady Knowe took a step forward. “Miss Gray is not carrying a child, and I’ll thank you to hold your tongue around an innocent, Doctor!”

  “Just so,” he said, his face imp
ervious.

  “Thank you for coming to our house at this unappealing hour,” Lady Knowe said, in a kinder tone. “I am sorry you were summoned here on a fool’s errand.”

  “The health of a future duchess is always important.”

  Lavinia sighed. “You recognized Diana.”

  “The popular prints of Miss Belgrave appear to be fairly accurate,” the doctor said. “My wife is fancifully inclined, and she collects images of the Wilde family. I believe she feels that Miss Belgrave’s life has been a tragic one; she is of the impression that the lady is engaged in menial labor as a governess. I shall be happy to inform her that Miss Belgrave is in good spirits, shall we say?”

  “Nice pun!” Lavinia said, deciding she liked the doctor.

  The doctor looked at Diana, who had rolled on her side and was now fast asleep. “May I suggest that this wedding take place with some celerity?” With that he bowed, bid them good night, and took his leave.

  “‘Celerity’?” Lady Knowe demanded, once he was gone. “What on earth is that man talking about?”

  “It means speed,” Lavinia said. She sat down beside her cousin and gave her a gentle nudge. “Diana, wake up.”

  “No,” Diana groaned.

  Lady Knowe plumped down opposite Lavinia. “No rest for the wicked!” she said cheerfully.

  “That doctor believes you’re carrying a child,” Lavinia said, nudging Diana harder this time.

  “There’s no chance of that.” Diana’s voice was calmly certain.

  “Oh, thank goodness!” Lavinia exclaimed.

  Lady Knowe looked across the bed at her. “Many a child’s been born six months after a wedding, my dear. Please don’t show me a prudish side. I like you so much.”

  “I’m not prudish, but I am very interested in Diana’s wedding gown. Babies change one’s figure quite dramatically.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that!” Lady Knowe leaned over and gave Diana a poke. “Wake up, Diana. Most gently bred young ladies have no understanding of their own bodies, and nothing I know about your mother leads me to believe you might be any better informed than the rest.”

  “Must you both jab me awake? Going about London is more exhausting than being a governess,” Diana complained, finally opening her eyes. “My mother was very informative. She told my sister and me everything about bedding men.”