The Dubious Miss Dalrymple

The giant grinned, showing the gap between his teeth—the sight of which immediately transported Leslie into another bout of ecstasy—and gently patted the young man’s blonde head. “Glugg, glugg,” he crooned affectionately.

“That is it!” Elinor exclaimed, the high pitch of her voice clearly indicating that she was about to fly into the boughs. Alastair privately commended her restraint, for he should surely have exploded long ago had he been so pressed. “Leslie, excuse yourself,” she ordered in a voice that brooked no opposition, and her brother meekly left the room, turning only once, to wave goodbye to Hugo.

She then turned to Alastair and said coldly, “Mr. Bates, as you are living on the estate, we shall doubtless be forced to deal with each other from time to time—at least until I can have my brother’s solicitor make other arrangements for you. But for the moment, sir, I ask nothing from you other than that you retrieve your cane, whistle this brute to heel, and remove yourself from these premises at once!”

Alastair, who had grown heartily sick of Hugo’s attempts at the culinary arts over the past weeks, eyed the veal hungrily before giving in to the inevitable. The evening had been a shambles from odd beginning to even odder end. But, knowing that tomorrow was another day, he wisely motioned to Hugo, and the two of them headed for the door.

They had just stepped onto the porch—the heavy oak door slamming behind them, obviously propelled by the gentle hand of their hostess—when an insistent “psst, psst” came from the bushes.

“Who’s there?” Alastair whispered, looking about in the darkness as Hugo growled deep in his chest.

The bushes rustled behind them, and out stepped Lily Biggs, her hips undulating wildly as she approached, as if she were trying to navigate her way across a mound of feather pillows. “G’evenin’, yer lordship,” she crooned, batting her eyelashes at her master. “Mum told me yer was back, but I didn’t believe it. She says I’m not ter say nuthin’ about knowin’ yer neither, or else I’ll get my backside switched.”

“Your mother is a very wise woman, Lily,” Alastair said, idly inspecting the impressive cleavage revealed by the snug white peasant blouse and wondering just when it was that the once angular young girl had developed the soft, enticing body of a woman. Had it really been that long since he’d visited his smallest, yet favorite, estate? “You won’t betray me, will you, my little darling?”

With a toss of her head, Lily’s long, dark hair re-settled itself on her snowy white shoulders as she stood toe to toe with Alastair, her firm young breasts pressed invitingly against his chest. Reaching up with both hands to smooth his neckcloth, she grinned and purred, “And what would be in it fer little Lily, d’yer suppose, iffen she was ter do as yer says? I love yer beard, yer lordship,” she continued, lightly stroking his face. “It’s so golden—like the sun or somethin’—and so fuzzy.”

Now, here was a dilemma to tax the brain of the wise Solomon himself. Alastair had been without a willing woman for more than a month—quite possibly a new personal record he wouldn’t wish bruited about among his acquaintances. It would be nice having an unattached, willing female so close to hand—although he supposed he could just as easily import one from the city if he so wished.

Besides, Alastair had known this child since her birth, and would never do anything to betray Billie Biggs’s faith in him. But at the same time—could he trust this willful child to keep his secret if he insulted her by turning down what she was so obviously offering?

“Lily, I—” he began at last, not really knowing what he was going to say, just as the oak door swung open in a rush and he looked toward it, praying it was Mrs. Biggs come to his rescue.

But, alas, just as it had been with the veal he’d hoped to enjoy, he wasn’t going to be that lucky.

“Here, Mr. Bates, you forgot your—oh, good Lord!” Elinor exclaimed, her arm halting in the action of tossing Alastair’s curly-brimmed beaver at him. “Oh, this is beyond anything low!” The beaver came winging toward him, to be deftly snatched out of the air by Hugo, who then sat the undersized thing atop his own oversized head. “You lech! Let go of that poor, innocent girl this instant!”

“Miss Dalrymple,” Alastair began hastily, silently cursing his continuing run of bad luck, “this isn’t what you think. Let me endeavour to explain.”

He turned toward the doorway, slapping Lily’s greedy hands away as he tried to explain. “Leave go, Lily, for God’s sake,” he hissed angrily. “Don’t make this any worse than it is.” He looked up into his hostess’s angry face. “Miss Dalrymple—please listen to me!”

“Listen to you? Listen to you!” Elinor exploded, grabbing hold of Lily’s elbow and yanking her up the steps and into the foyer. “I have two eyes, don’t I, Mr. Bates? There is nothing you can say that could possibly erase the evidence my own eyes have delivered. You may be a veteran, but you are no gentleman. Kindly keep to your cottage until I speak to my brother’s solicitor—and don’t try to approach this house or any of its inhabitants again. Do you hear me?”

“I should think they heard you in Dover, madam,” Alastair replied tightly, his pride stung. “And once again, Miss Dalrymple, I bid you good night. It has truly been an experience.” Feeling he had gotten in the last word, he then limped off into the night, Hugo, as Elinor Dalrymple had so imperiously ordered, at his heels.

“HERE THEY COME! I can see the bow of the boat hitting against the waves, turning them white. They’re about to land.”

“Quietly, your lordship, quietly,” Captain Geoffrey Wiggins admonished in a fierce whisper. “There are three of us and twenty-five of them. I don’t much like the odds.”

Alastair pushed his prone frame more closely against the body-sized hollow he had dug in the sand, kicking out his left foot as some hungry insect feasted on his ankle bone.