suppose,â she decided. âThen there is no help for it, is there? If you are caught, we will have to see the girl established. I would not for the world behave shabbily to your wife, Tony, and Iâd not see her cut by the ton either. Mind you, I do not like it that she is a Cit, but if she carries on the Barsett line, Iâll give her her due.â
âInterrupted by a timid knock at the door, the old woman barked impatiently, âYesâwhat is it?â
The door opened slowly to admit Mrs. Buckhaven bearing a small tray of sweet cakes. âCook did not have many left,â she apologized as she set the tray down.
âSweet cakes! Humph! Ring the bell-pull and see if thereâs aught substantial left of dinner, Bucky! Mânevvyâs nigh famishedâainât you?â she asked Tony. âWell, whilst you eat, we shall plan how best to present Miss Cole this Season. Buckyââshe turned her attention to her companion againââwe are opening Davenham House for a party in honor of mâniece-to-be. Tonyâs marrying an Original! And, Bucky, do get my glass and a penâweâve got a guest list to plan. I mean to set the ton on their ears! Invite everybody! Give âem enough to gossip about each other soâs theyâll leave the gel alone!â
âEverybody, Aunt Hester?â Tony asked, suppressing a grin.
âEverybody! Donât mean to leave any of âem out! Rakes, gamestersâthe whole lot of âem!â
âBut, Your Graceâthe Season calendar is set for April, I am sure,â Mrs. Buckhaven ventured timidly.
âNonsense! Londonâs thin of company yet, ainât it? Besides, âtis Davenham House I am opening to them, Buckyâtheyâll come.â
Chapter 9
9
H aving spent a sleepless night tortured by her fears for her father and nightmares of Lord Lyndon, Leah rose early and invaded her fatherâs chamber. To her relief, he looked much better, his color having improved greatly, and he was his usual irascible self. As she entered the room, she heard him muttering to his valet, âDamned Frenchie doctor.â
âI collect you were wishful of your morning coffee,â she greeted him as she took a tray from the retreating footman. âWell, Dr. Fournier says âtis not a restful drink, and thereforeââ
âI say hang Fournierâaye, and his prohibitions also,â he grumbled. âAfore long, thereâll not be a thing left to enjoy. A man might as well die and take his chances with perdition.â
Having listened to the doctorâs opinion last night that her father did indeed have a weak heart, she forbore to argue for fear of oversetting him. âHumor him and see to his rest,â heâd advised. So she held her tongue and set the tray on a bedside table, saying brightly, âYou have not even looked to see what Monsieur prepared this morning, have you?â
âDonât have toâten to one, it ainât fit for a man.â He raised his head to watch her lift the warming cover, then lay back. âPorridge! Ought to have knownâpap fit only for a babe, I tell you! Well, I wonât have it, miss, and so I have told Wilson already! âIf âtis some damned horse mash,â I told him, âI donât want it.â â He eyed her with disfavor and shook his head. âAnd now here you bring it back to me.â
Unperturbed, she reached for the napkin and tucked it under his chin. âIt will not make you as bilious as sausages will,â she observed mildly as she dipped the silver spoon into the bowl. Leaning over him, she held the spoon in front of him and waited.
âOverreaching yourself, ainât you, missy!â he snapped. âI ainât a babe to be fed.â
âOf course you are not,â she said soothingly, âbut you must eat if you are to feel better. Hunger makes you ill-tempered,