Free Autumn Rain by Anita Mills Page B

again. "Have you ever been to Scotland, Lady Kingsley?"
    "I'm afraid I haven't been anywhere," she admitted, warming to his easy manner. "But I should like—"
    "When that Corsican upstart is gone, we'll tour the Continent," Arthur cut in abruptly. "Your pardon, sirs, but we tarry overlong, and it appears the musicians have started playing."
    With one hand on his cane and the other on her elbow, he propelled her past the two men. When they were nearly out of earshot, she heard the earl tell the viscount, "There is none quite as vigilant as an old man with a young wife, I'd say."
    "Feel, for the chit, though," Leighton responded. "Almost indecent. Ought to be a law."
    "She's fifteen, I am told."
    "Still—"
    "I didn't come to ogle the infantry, George—I've business with Ashton before I leave the country."
    Instinctively, Elinor looked for her father, but he seemed to have disappeared. Beside her, her husband motioned to Charles Kingsley, and the boy gulped the last of his punch before coming over.
    "It's the custom for the host to lead the first country dance, my dear, but my leg pains me tonight. I'd watch Charles take you out."
    "Oh, but I—"
    His eyes narrowed. "I am told you have been taught to dance—did Ashton misinform me on that head also?"
    "Also?" she echoed, trying to follow him.
    "He promised you would be a credit to me."
    Stung, she retorted, "I danced as well as any at Miss Roberts's academy, my lord."
    "So I expect to see."
    Not wanting him to know that she'd eavesdropped before, she asked casually, "Why were you surprised to see Lord Longford if Papa invited him?"
    "The man's pride makes him a fool, Elinor. Suffice it to say that he's brought a scandal down on himself, and when it's out, he'll suffer for it. He'll be given the cut direct."
    "What sort of scandal?"
    "It's too sordid for your ears," he said dampeningly. "There you are, Charles—when the first set forms, you are to lead Elinor out."
    "Me, sir?" The boy reddened. "Uh—don't know m'left foot from m'right. Be better if—" He cast about wildly for someone to take his place. "Uh—Crawford— or Pennington—or—Dash it, sir, but I don't dance with females!"
    "Charles—" There was no mistaking the pained tone.
    "Yes, sir."
    "That's better."
    The old man released Elinor's arm and sought one of the chairs that lined the wall. Charles looked helplessly at her. "Hope you don't mind if I count," he muttered. "I ain't no hand at this."
    "Miss Roberts said if one showed spirit, no one would notice the style." Then, perceiving that her husband was beyond hearing, she asked, "How old do you think the earl is?"
    "What earl?"
    "Longford."
    "Don't think—I know. Fellow's five and twenty. Had that from Fenton," he added importantly. "Connected to him—or was." He squinted toward where Longford lounged, a glass held absently in his hand, his mien one of utter boredom, then Charles frowned. "Shocking bad ton." He lowered his voice and leaned closer to speak for her ears alone. "What I know would keep everyone in this room from talking to him."
    "Papa said he was rich."
    "Rich!" he snorted. "Fellow's deuced lucky at the tables! And it don't hurt that he came into this world with a silver spoon stuck in his mouth, I can tell you! Mad Jack's son," he added succinctly, as though that ought to explain everything.
    "Who's Mad Jack?"
    "Was," he corrected her. "He's dead."
    "Then who was he?" she snapped, betraying her irritation.
    "Longford's father."
    "Sometimes, Charles," she told him severely, "I think you are a slowtop."
    "As you are even younger than I, I shall choose to excuse that remark," he retorted. Nonetheless, he explained, "Mad Jack distinguished himself in the American thing—would have been lionized if we had won. Fought under Burgoyne—a colonel, I think. Don't know the whole tale, mind you—before my time, you know. But he was a rich rounder, too, from all I ever heard. Had a real eye for the beauties. And they had an eye for him. I think he