Page 14 of The Earl Next Door
The hoydens were so loud, he would have sworn toanyone they were standing in the room right beside him. Irritably, he checked to see if the window had been properly closed. It was secure. Glass panes and wood were no match for the girls’ gleeful merriment.
It wasn’t natural to be that boisterous so early in the morn. The sounds they made would have sent winces through him whether or not he’d dipped once too often in the brandy last night—and Lady Wake was probably the reason he had. He had a devil of a time keeping his mind off her and on his card games.
With an annoyed jerk, he pulled the draperies together, dragged himself back to the bed, and tumbled down. He wrapped the blanket high on his neck and around his shoulders. Closing his eyes, he planned to ignore the sounds outside and sleep for several more hours. Then get up at a reasonable, more normal time.
But the noise didn’t stop. Gaiety from next door continued. Grew louder. Girlish giggles and frolicking. Sleep continued to elude him as frustration built. It was the jubilant, youthful sounds of free spirits enjoying life. He hadn’t actually heard such happiness since he was a boy at Eton and given an occasional day to play without instructions of any kind. Perhaps he wouldn’t have minded the girls’ loud cheerfulness so much if it had been at a different time of the day.
When he wasn’t home.
Sleeping.
Lyon inched the blanket up and over his ears. He turned from one side to the other seeking relief. In desperation he rolled onto his stomach, pulled the pillow from beneath his head, and tightened it over his ears with his hands.
Nothing was going to block the sounds. Their voices could penetrate anything. Each squeal seemed to drill through his skull like a hot lance. He couldn’t drink enough brandy to make him sleep through the clamor. For the sake of his sanity and the other neighbors as well, he had to put a stop to this nonsense and not let it go on any longer. There was nothing else to be done to restore order to the neighborhood.
Shucking off the blanket and pillow, he tossed them away, hopped off the bed, and went to his shaving chest. Shaking off the chill of the morning, he splashed a double handful of frigid water onto his face. He then quickly stepped into his cold trousers and buttoned the front flap with one hand while hastily pulling his shirt over his head with the other. There was no time for collar, neckcloth, or waistcoat. Not even stockings.
Frustrated, he shoved his bare feet into his boots as he tucked the tail of his shirt beneath his waistband. In his haste, he forgot about his usual method of dressing. He grabbed his stag-colored coat on the way out the door. At the last moment he thought about his uncombed hair but decided all he needed to do was rake through it with his fingers while hurrying down the stairs. Presentable enough for a flock of young females who were disturbing the peace, he argued with himself.
Lyon stomped out the back door and across his lawn, and jumped over the low garden wall. He skimmed down the tall yew hedge that separated Lady Wake’s garden from the schoolhouse. He walked along the side of her house to her back garden, his head and ears pounding with every step. A natural-stonepathway led him to the archway the countess had stared at for so long a few days ago. Passing underneath it, he saw the little girls romping and playing to their hearts’ content.
Smiles and happiness that he hadn’t been able to see from the window brightened their faces. The sight gave him a moment’s pause and more than a little doubt concerning his intentions. Perhaps he was being a bit hasty.
But then, a shrill shriek shuddered through him, underscoring his headache once more.
Why, he didn’t know, but he’d always assumed girls were quieter, calmer, and more genteel than rambunctious schoolboys. He could understand little fellows exhibiting such uncontrolled behavior. But, whether boys or girls, this was an ungodly hour to be outside running about and disturbing the neighborhood. He would ask them to be quieter and suggest they find a different time of day for their playfulness. Perhaps in the afternoon, when he was usually gone from home.
That should do it and put an end to such nonsense today and every day.
“Girls,” he called in a normal voice.
Not a one of them paid him any mind. Perhaps they couldn’t see him. Or hear him. Small wonder with the commotion going on.
His quest continued. Impatiently, he stepped closer and called louder, “Girls! Girls!”
In an instant they all stopped. Not just the laughter, but their arms, legs, heads, and bodies became motionless, too. In fact, everything surrounding them went quiet. Distant horse and carriage traffic seemed to suspend sounds, as well. But only for a second or two. The smallest miss, who looked to be no older than eight or nine, started screaming, and hell broke its chains. All the girls started screaming at the top of their lungs. Not with the earlier joyfulness, but with terrified sounds.
Good lord, what did he do wrong? They were acting as if he were a wild boar charging toward them and they feared for their lives.
Lyon didn’t know what to do. His ears drummed, his head hammered, and his heart slammed against his chest. The girls huddled together, locking their arms around one another, looking at him as if he were a monster that had been unleashed and was getting ready to devour them. He’d never seen or heard anything like it. When it came to women and ladies, Lyon knew what to say and do. How to charm or coax them into understanding whatever situation they might be in at the time.
He didn’t know anything about girls.
A tall buxom woman about the age of his aunt Cordelia came running out of the building and down the three steps, two younger women following behind her. Good, he thought. Someone strong to calm and settle the girls. But no. She started yelling at him to go away, as she gathered the girls around her.
“Wait,” he said, in a reassuring voice. “No, no, don’t worry, girls. It’s all right. There’s no need to be afraid of me.”
But then he must have done the inconceivable and walked closer to them. Though he didn’t think it possible, the screams became louder. They couldn’t havebeen more frightened if he’d been a ghost that had risen from a grave in the dead of night.
Lyon stopped moving and held out his arms and hands as if he were showing a thief he had no purse to steal.
From the other side of the yew hedge he heard, “What in the name of heaven is going on out here?”
Bloody hell.
Lyon knew that lovely voice. Lady Wake sounded out of breath, as if she’d run down three flights of stairs. He turned and saw her rushing under the vine-covered trellis with her dark brown skirts swirling about her legs. His stomach tightened at the sight of her. She hurried over to where the girls were huddled near the front of the school door.
“Mrs. Tallon, is someone hurt?” she asked with evident dismay. “Stung by a bee? Bitten by a spider? What?”
