Page 37

NEVER SAYE NEVER

L illy had what she had long considered one of the most dreadful habits in the world.

In the face of any sort of difficulty, strain, or strife, she wept.

No matter that it was not her own difficulty, it made her cry.

It did not even need to be a real difficulty; some hapless heroine in a novel or in the life of a friend of a friend, even some ancestor long dead, and she would weep for their plight.

“A gentleman despises a weeping woman, Lilly,” her mother often admonished, but she could not help herself.

Efforts at restraint would often result in an unladylike hiccough or snort, sometimes an inelegant spurt of mucus from her nose, and then the weeping would come. Best to just let it proceed apace.

Strangely, however, in the face of these astonishing events—Georgette engaged?

Truly? And without a word said to anyone!

—Lilly was beset by a most peculiar sensation.

She wanted to scream, and perhaps kick or punch something.

She raised a finger to the corner of her eye and confirmed that it was quite dry.

A good thing that, for here came Saye, and the last thing she wished to do was to weep on his shoulder.

He was blithe and mildly disdainful, and rolled his eyes when he arrived. “Lord, what a scene, and from Little Georgette no less! I had always thought her the least insane of all my relations, yet there she went, rattling away like some operatic diva on the stage. I daresay?—”

“Saye!” Lilly gasped at his rudeness. “She was upset!”

“Upset,” he scoffed. “’Tis her own fault for falling in with such a?—”

And that was it. It was too much atop all the shock and dismay of moments earlier, to have him be so...so... Saye about it all. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “Must you… Must you be so…so ridiculous all the time?”

Her words obviously shocked but did not discompose him. Indeed, she hardly thought discomposure was possible for him; he drew up and, if anything, seemed amused. Rage flooded her, making her itchy and hot.

He raised one perfect brow. “Ridiculous?”

His insouciance further stoked her ire. “Yes! This whole party—the absurd, makeshift dining rooms, silly pigs, and ridiculous tableaux —they are designed to do nothing but hint at scandal and amuse you.”

Infuriatingly, Saye only raised his hand and began examining his fingernails. “To be fair, Aurelia ruined my plans for the tableaux . I am quite put out.”

Lilly could only gape at him. She was aware, vaguely, of Sarah placing a hand on her arm, but she shook her off. She could not have answered for the justice of it, but every bit of upset she had experienced over the whole of this absurd week was presently focused on Saye.

“This! This is why a woman would much prefer to marry a ‘Blanderson’ or a ‘Ball-Sack’—because…because a woman needs stability and sureness of purpose, someone who will always be there for her, by her side. Not…not some absurd bon vivant whose first object is forever and always his own amusement!”

Saye levelled her with a look she could not interpret. Her own anger was so great, she could not imagine he felt anything but the same, yet his tone, when he spoke, was maddeningly dismissive.

“Firstly, women who settle for the likes of those two are stupid. And secondly, I might observe that Ball-Sack, despite his stability, was too busy coddling his own smacked arse to concern himself with you.”

Lilly flushed hot and opened her mouth to make a scathing retort, but found her mental faculties had deserted her. In any case, there was not time. Scarcely had the words fallen from his lips than Saye turned and walked away.

She did weep then, and Sarah, who had been silent and wide-eyed throughout her entire speech, grabbed her arm.

“We must go and find Georgette.”

“Yes, we must,” Lilly said, her anger still at a boil. “And once we do, I am ordering my carriage and taking myself away from this place!”

Saye exited the drawing room, taking great care to walk with all the dignity of his station. He permitted himself one outward display of his exaltation—a single, decisive clap of both hands as soon as the door closed behind him.

Hard on his heels came Darcy, all frowny-faced and anxious. “Saye, what on earth was that?”

“Darcy!” Saye said warmly. “My dearest cousin. How grateful I am to you!”

“Grateful? What do you mean?”

Saye gave him a firm clap on the back, then slung one arm around his shoulder as they walked through the great hall. Darcy shrugged his shoulders to try and dislodge his clasp, but Saye did not allow it. “Did you see that in there?”

“Did I see your cousin announce her engagement to the most ineligible man under this roof?”

“What? No, not that bit. ”

“Oh, then you mean did I see the woman you love dressing you down? Yes, I did. It was not pretty.”

“I know,” Saye replied with a smirk. “She loves me.”

Darcy stopped, and for a moment only stared, brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“She loves me,” Saye repeated, unable to contain his grin. “Quite out of her stockings for me, poor dear. So now I shall go and fix everything with Blanderson, come back here, say my piece, and done! Better step lively, Cuz, or Lilly and I shall be married before you.”

He set off again, and Darcy followed. “Saye, Miss Goddard just lambasted you for being ridiculous and insincere. I am struggling to comprehend your confidence.”

“Delicious, was it not? And were it not for your fine example, I might become distraught over it. But now…” He shook his head gleefully. “Now I know the truth.”

“I do not see?—”

“Come! How many women in your life have ever given you a proper set down?”

Darcy took a deep breath before admitting, “One.”

“One!” Saye laughed.

“But she despised me when she did it!”

“I doubt that. If she despised you, she would have simply ignored you. ”

“I was standing before her, proposing. What was she to do, throw herself out of the window?”

“Now you are being ridiculous. Elizabeth might have hated you,” Saye conceded, “but she possessed amorous inclination enough to wish to aid you in reforming your character.”

“I do not think you understand?—”

Lord but Darcy could be tedious at times, forever wanting to discuss how once upon a time Elizabeth disliked him . Get past it, man! She’s nearly frothing at the mouth for you now, so who cares how it got there!

“What you have helped me realise,” Saye interrupted, “is that a man’s worst enemy is indifference. And Lilly just ejaculated an enormous helping of non-indifference all over me. So, will you come with me to retrieve him?”

Darcy shook his head as if to clear water from his ears. “Retrieve who?”

Saye rolled his eyes and spoke slowly, so his less adventurous cousin could keep up. “Anderson! I suppose I must cease calling him Blanderson, since he will soon be family, and Blandy will not do, of course. I shall bring him back here, and then I shall propose to Lilly.”

“I do not think Anderson can be brought back. He has urgent business in Somerset.” Darcy hastily explained the situation with Anderson’s grandmother, the sum total of which equated to nothing Saye cared two straws about.

Anderson needed to be absent for a time—enough said, and onto happier thoughts of himself, and Lilly, and the night ahead which he imagined would bring the delighted acceptance of his proposal…

followed by a bit of faire des papouilles .

“Very well, I shall simply persuade him to come back afterwards. I cannot take my carriage—it will make me too dull. To horse! And let us hope Dunbar is ready for a good gallop.” With a renewal of his delight and an amazed shake of his head, he grinned at his cousin once more.

“After all this, the happiest, wisest, most reasonable end—she loves me! I knew I could not be so beautiful for nothing.”

Saye was several miles along the road before he realised he ought to have changed into proper riding clothes.

It was not the ruination of his trousers that troubled him—someone had to keep the tailors’ pockets full—but rather the uncomfortable chafing on his arse.

Silk and saddle do not mix , he mused, particularly when one is in heated pursuit of a lovelorn cousin’s particular friend .

Fortunately, it was not long before he espied what must be Anderson’s carriage.

It bore no discernible markings, but it was on the road from Matlock, and the time was about right—he reasoned that Anderson could not have gone much farther.

With a few heels to his horse’s flanks and a wince for his poor hindquarters, he soon drew near .

The coachman looked at him with some concern, and he enjoyed the fleeting but immensely diverting notion of pretending to be a highwayman. No! No reason to terrify the wretched sod, not when he has already been roughed over in the drawing room. Instead, he politely gestured at the men to stop.

“This Anderson’s?”

“Lord Saye?” Anderson was himself already half out of the window. “What are you doing?”

“Buying you a drink,” Saye replied cheerily.

“Pig & Feathers is less than a mile ahead. See you there!” With not a syllable more, he nudged his horse to a gallop.

He was seated with two tankards of the best ale when Anderson entered, looking inordinately wary.

Saye grinned genially and gestured at the seat across from his own.

Anderson did as he was bid, but other than nodding his thanks for the ale, gave no other reply.

“You know, I have a raging sore arse thanks to my heroic dash to catch up with you,” Saye said. “A little conversation would help distract me from the discomfort. You could begin by asking me why I have come.”

“I am not sure I wish to know.”