Carola Dunn Read Free Page B

Tom will lend you his arm, will you not, my love?”
    “To be sure,” said Lord Danville, advancing. “My arm is at your cousin’s disposal and my wardrobe at my brother’s.”
    Of course, he was Tom’s brother, thought Rebecca as her host and hostess helped her unsteady steps up the stairs. There had been something familiar about him, but she had been in no case to ponder it. She glanced back.
    “I demand an explanation.” Lady Parr’s penetrating voice reached her. “What sort of scrape has that foolish child fallen into now?”
    Lord John stood dripping on the flagstones, towering over the short, stout lady.  “I’m dashed if I know the details, ma’am,” he said with indignation, “but I’ll go bail Miss Nuthall had no intention of taking a swim. Sort of thing that could happen to anyone.”
    Rebecca heard Lady Parr’s disbelieving snort as they reached the landing. Lord John’s ingenuous defence warmed her.
    The hot bath Muriel and her abigail hurried her into completed the thaw. She was ready to go down and make her excuses to Lady Parr, but Muriel insisted on putting her to bed with an extra eiderdown and a cup of broth.
    The kindness made tears rise to Rebecca’s eyes. A distant memory of a childhood illness returned: Mama and Grand'mère had cosseted her thus, and Papa had brought marzipan and a wooden monkey on a stick. She had long since discovered that it was best not to think of those happy days, for they made her life in her uncle’s house the more unbearable by comparison. Yet now she was free of him, perhaps she dared allow herself to remember.
    “If you are sure you feel well enough,” Muriel was saying, “I shall bring Mary to see you in a while.”
    “Pray do. And then I must explain to Cousin Adelaide how it all happened.”
    “There is no need for explanations, Beckie dear. We are just glad that John was there to make himself useful for once. Now, I must go and see that he has been made comfortable. Try if you can sleep a little.”
    Rebecca watched her bustle out, smiling at her firmness. Timid as Lady Danville seemed in her mother’s presence, she ran her household with the greatest aplomb, and would doubtless make an excellent duchess one day.
    All the same, Cousin Adelaide must have an explanation sooner or later. Muriel and her abigail had delicately avoided commenting on Rebecca’s lack of clothing under John’s greatcoat. Doubtless they would not spread the word, but would John himself be equally reticent? His sister-in-law had commented more than once on his disgracefully rakish ways, his irresponsibility. Rebecca shuddered to think how utterly she had been at his mercy, and still she was not free of him. He might think it an amusing story, or even suppose that it gave him licence to pester her with his attentions.
    She resolved to avoid him as much as possible. That was not likely to prove difficult, for he would hardly seek out the company of Lady Parr!
    If she had heard the conversation in the bedchamber just across the hall, it would have confirmed this supposition.
    “Not even his Grace’s orders could have persuaded me to come within a mile of the place if I’d known you had that devilish woman visiting,” grumbled Lord John, stretching carpet-slippered feet to the fire and sipping at his bumper of brandy and hot water.
    “Family.” His brother was apologetic. “She won’t be here more than another fortnight, for even Muriel won’t put up with her longer than that. I’ve developed a veritable plethora of ways to ensure her departure on time. But tell me just why we have been honoured with your presence. His Grace’s orders, you say?”
    “I’ll tell you when you have explained to me who Miss Nuthall is.”
    Thomas, Viscount Danville, heir to the Duke of Stafford, had never been known to refuse an invitation to speak. “Rebecca Nuthall is a distant cousin of Muriel’s. Lady Parr’s maternal uncle was married to...”
    “Cut line, Tom! I can do