Earl's Well That Ends Well (The Way to a Lord's Heart #5) - Jane Ashford Page 0,81

Lord Macklin.

“In doing so, you would enter another world,” he said.

“And that is the adventure,” said Miss Deeping. “I do understand.” She didn’t seem entirely reconciled to the idea.

“May we see them?” asked Miss Finch.

“When they are more fully recovered,” answered Teresa.

It was agreed that she would send word when this time came, and the group started to break up. But they had scarcely pulled on their gloves when Chirt marched in with a large figure at his heels. “Miss Julia Grandison,” the butler announced in a deeply aggrieved tone. Arthur had no trouble interpreting his expression. Chirt resented the chaos that had overtaken his well-ordered household. And he was just waiting for the right opportunity to express his outrage. “She did not care to wait below,” the man added in sepulchral tones.

“What do you think you are doing, visiting a man’s home?” boomed a familiar voice as the formidable lady sailed in behind him. She raked the young ladies with her harshest glare.

“Señora Alvarez is here,” said Miss Deeping.

“Indeed? Well, she should know better. Or perhaps be better.”

“I can only aspire,” said the señora. Arthur stifled a laugh.

Not waiting for an invitation, Miss Grandison took an armchair as if it was a throne. “The most extraordinary rumors are flying about town,” she said. She frowned at Arthur. “They are saying you have filled your home with opera dancers, Macklin. Dozens of them!”

“There are only…” began Miss Deeping, then fell silent as both Teresa’s and Miss Grandison’s sharp gazes swung to transfix her.

“Well,” continued Miss Grandison. “What have you to say for yourself?”

“Nothing,” Arthur replied. He had to keep reminding himself not to gaze at Señora Alvarez like a lovelorn boy. He could think of nothing else since that searing kiss. He ached for her, day and most particularly night. To be so near and not touch her—it was maddening. His only consolation was the conviction that she would welcome his suit when they were done with this visit. Which already felt interminable.

“I beg your pardon?” said Miss Grandison.

“I owe no one explanations,” he replied.

“You will allow malicious tongues to wag?”

“I doubt I could stop them.”

“How fortunate to be a man,” murmured Miss Finch. Señora Alvarez gave her an appreciative sidelong glance.

Momentarily, Miss Grandison seemed at a loss. Clearly, she had expected to mow down opposition. But for what purpose? “I wish to speak to these opera dancers,” she said then. “At once.”

Ah, that was it. “About your brother?” Arthur asked.

“I require only a bit more information.”

“No,” said Señora Alvarez.

Miss Grandison turned on her. “You do not wish to make an enemy of me, my good woman.”

“I would rather not. But I will not expose the girls to your interrogation.”

Arthur agreed with this. They were in no shape to endure the formidable lady’s questions.

“I believe I can talk civilly to anyone,” said Miss Grandison.

“Your idea of civility will intimidate them,” said the señora. “Find out about your brother from someone else.”

Miss Grandison made a sour face. “The men close ranks, you know. And many of the women as well.”

Señora Alvarez looked as if she was quite familiar with this tendency.

“Those who recall me under the overturned punch bowl seem to rather enjoy the memory. I’m sure I made a most amusing picture.” The older lady’s tone was bitter.

“I am sorry.” The señora sounded sincere. “But would it not be better to let the past go? Is it really necessary to humiliate him? What about your brother’s wife? Do you give no thought to her?”

“He treats her with contempt,” replied Miss Grandison coldly. “But she is too timid to pay him back herself. He ought to be taken down a peg.”

The three young ladies looked as if they agreed with this description, which was telling. There was a short silence. Arthur saw no need to fill it. Señora Alvarez was more than holding her own. She was the equal of anybody.

“I will ask the dancers more about your brother,” she replied finally. “When I think they are up to it. I cannot predict what day that will be.”

The two women’s eyes held. Neither wavered. Arthur decided one would have to judge the face-off as even, ending in mutual respect.

“Very well.” Miss Grandison stood and hovered at her full impressive height. “I will bid you farewell. Are you girls coming with me?”

“We will stay a bit longer, ma’am,” said Miss Finch. Only to avoid Miss Grandison’s company, Arthur thought.

“I am not your chaperone” was the disapproving reply. “I suppose you may behave