Free Frederica by Georgette Heyer Page B

his eyes were cold, and unpleasantly cynical. Even his smile had seemed to be contemptuous, curling his lips, but leaving his eyes as hard as steel. Then she had said something that had appealed to his sense of humour, and the metallic gleam had vanished in a smile of real amusement. Not only did it warm his eyes, but it transformed him in a flash from the aristocrat of haughty composure to an easy-mannered gentleman, with a strong sense of the ridiculous, and considerable charm of manner. Within minutes he had pokered up again; yet there was not a grain of starch in him when Felix had bounced into the room; he had answered all his and Jessamy’s questions with patience and good-humour; and had looked upon both boys with kindness. He had borne the cavalier treatment meted out to him by Miss Winsham with indifference; and the gaze which he had fixed on Charis had been deeply appreciative. Frederica entertained no doubt that it was admiration for Charis that had caused him to change his mind, but what it was that had brought the malicious glint back into his eyes she could not guess.
    She looked doubtfully at him. His brows rose; he said: “Well?”
    “I ought to have been a widow!” she exclaimed in a vexed tone. “Yes, and if I had a particle of sense I would have been!”
    The expression she mistrusted vanished; his eyes held only laughter. “You will be!” he assured her.
    “That’s of no use!” she answered impatiently. “If I were a widow now —” She broke off, quick merriment in her face. “Well, of all the abominable things to say—! I do have the family in charge—that’s because I’m the eldest—but I’m not tyrannical, or—or vixenish! At least, I don’t think I am!”
    “No, no!” he said soothingly. “I am persuaded you handle the reins in excellent form. I wish you will tell me how, if you had had a particle of sense, you could have become a widow? Or why you should wish to: have you a husband concealed about you?”
    “Of course I haven’t! I meant only that I ought to have pretended I was a widow. Then I might have chaperoned Charis myself, and you need not have dragged your sister into it.”
    “Oh, I haven’t the least objection to doing that!” he said.
    “Yes, but she may object very much! After all, she isn’t even acquainted with us!”
    “That shall be rectified.” He held out his hand. “I must go now, but you shall hear from me within a day or two. Oh, pray don’t pull the bell! Recollect that I’ve become a member of the family, and don’t stand on points with me! I’ll usher myself out.”
    This, however, he was not obliged to do, since Felix was lying in wait for him in the hall, and escorted him out to his carriage in a very civil manner which had its root in his determination to wring from him the promise of a visit to the foundry in Soho.
    “Have no fear!” said his lordship. “The matter shall be attended to.”
    “Yes, sir—thank you! But you’ll go with me yourself, won’t you? Not your secretary?”
    “My dear boy, why should I? I daresay Mr Trevor knows far more about these mysteries than I do.”
    “Yes, but—Oh, do come yourself, sir! It would make it first-rate!”
    The Marquis believed himself to be hardened against flattery. He thought that he had experienced every variety, but he discovered that he was mistaken: the blatantly worshipful look in the eyes of a twelve-year-old, anxiously raised to his, was new to him, and it pierced his defences. He was capable of giving the coolest of set-downs to any gushing female; and the advances of toadeaters he met with the most blistering of snubs; but even as he realized how intolerably bored he would be in Soho he found himself quite unable to snub his latest and most youthful admirer. It would be like kicking a confiding puppy.
    So Master Felix Merriville, presently racing up the stairs again to the drawing-room, was able to inform Frederica triumphantly that all was right: “Cousin Alverstoke”