Page 19 of Snowy and the Seven Doves
Regina leaned forward to touch Margaret’s knee. “Be careful, Margaret. I do not trust Lord Snowden, and Mr. White is intent on some end of his own. I do not want you caught in the middle.”
A knock on the door was followed by the entrance of her butler. “My lady, Lord Snowden has called. I have said I would ascertain whether you were at home.”
Before Margaret could reply, Lord Snowden pushed her poor servant out of the way so he could enter the room. “Lady Charmain, I must speak with you. That man you were with last night. How well do you know him? How did you come to be escorted by him, with your chaperone nowhere in sight?”
Margaret would have answered the first two questions, if vaguely, but the third annoyed her. She stood, adopting her father’s chilliest manner. “You will explain to me what business it is of yours, Lord Snowden.”
“What business?” he spluttered, and then repeated the words. “Whatbusiness?” He drew himself up and tucked his thumbs into the pockets of his waistcoat. “It is the business of any sober and responsible gentleman, to defend and protect misguided young women of their acquaintance.”
He removed one hand to wave a finger in her face. “Particularly those without male relatives to perform that office.”
“Lord Snowden, you overstate your right to that office,” Regina informed the man. “Lady Charmain has many male advisers and friends, including her maternal uncle who is her trustee, my husband, Lord Stancroft and Lord Deerhaven. But even if she did not, you would not have any right to question her behavior.”
Lord Snowden’s mouth curved in a placatory smile, but it did not reach his eyes. Grey eyes, but not silver grey like his son’s and Snowy’s. No, his eyes were more the color of slate, with a corona of gold around the pupil. It was more the expression than the color, though, that made them like snakes’ eyes, cold and pitiless.
“It is good to know the lady has friends to look out for her, Mrs. Ashby,” he said. “Perhaps I should be addressing my concerns to those gentlemen, for I fear she has been poorly advised.”
He turned back to Margaret and widened his smile and his hands. “Indeed, I was precipitate, dear Lady Charmain, for I am not yet your father-in-law, though I know my dear Edmund has hopes.”
His chilly eyes narrowed as he watched her for a reaction.
“Precipitate indeed,” Arial commented. “Since, as I understand it, Lady Charmain has given no special signs of favor to Mr. Edmund Snowden.”
Lord Snowden fought a visible struggle to control his tongue and his temper, before he said, “I see I was mistaken to think I would be able to have a sensible conversation with you, Lady Charmain, especially in the company of your friends.” He managed to make the word ‘friends’ sound like a word from the gutter.
“If you came here merely to insult me, Lord Snowden,” Margaret told him, “I think you should leave.”
He took two paces toward the door, then spun around and shook his finger at her once more. “The man is a dangerous charlatan. Do not be seen with him again, Lady Charmain. For the sake of your reputationandespecially your good health.”
He stormed out of the room, and a moment later, they heard the front door bang behind him.
Pompous bully.
“Well,” said Regina. “If Mr. White was looking for a reaction from Lord Snowden, I would say he has succeeded.”
*
Lady Charmain’s horsewas being walked back and forth in front of her house when Snowy arrived. He tied his hired gelding to a tethering ring on the street and was mounting the stairs when her front door opened, and she exited.
He stepped back to admire her riding habit. Or, rather, the curves displayed in the jacket and skirt that hugged her torso. “My lady, I trust I did not keep you waiting.”
“I suspect you are a few minutes early, Mr. White. I confess, I was watching for you out of the window.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You were eager to ride today?”
She paused as she waited for the groom to bring her horse over. “My great aunt is in fine form today, Mr. White. I had no wish to be embarrassed by whatever she chooses to say to you.”
Her honesty should be expected by now, but it always astonished him. Aroused him, too, which was perverse. “She objects to you riding with a low life from the slums,” he suggested, though whether he sought to spark her temper or to show understanding, he could not have said.
“Her opinion,” Lady Charmain retorted. “Not mine.” Not for this lady a polite and civil answer. The truth about her aunt, unvarnished.And about her own thoughts on the matter, too?
“May I toss you up into the saddle, my lady?” he asked, bending to make a stirrup of his hand.
She put one neatly booted foot into his care, grasped the pommel, and leapt, so all he needed to do was continue the impetus upward. With a graceful twist in the air, she landed in the saddle, then busied herself arranging her legs and skirts. “Thank you, Mr. White.”
“A pleasure, my lady.” And a truer word was never spoken.
He mounted his own horse, and they paced off in the direction of the park.
