“I had it commissioned the very day after you agreed to marry me. Then we decided to wait to make a public announcement until after your sister’s wedding. I’ve had it for over a month and each time I look at it, I worry you won’t like it.”
“It’s perfect.” I reached up to caress his cheek. “I can’t imagine anything more beautiful.”
He blew out a breath of relief and, taking my hand, dropped a kiss into my palm, and another on my lips, then moved to return the ring to his pocket.
I stilled his hand. “Wait. May I not try it on?”
“No, you may not.” The box disappeared into his coat. “I know you can’t wear it yet, and I refuse to put it on your finger only to take it off again.”
I stared in disbelief, my mouth drooped open. “What was the point of showing it to me only to put it back in your pocket?”
“What is the point of a betrothal that must be kept secret?”
I went numb. Had he torn off his clothes and jumped into the fountain, I couldn’t have been more stunned. “What do you mean?”
He turned his face to the sky and let out a groan. “I shouldn’t have said that.” Taking my arm, he led me back to the house. “Let’s continue our tour. I think better when I’m moving.”
We stepped back into the gallery and headed toward the north wing, side by side, our hands behind our backs. I was still too shocked to speak. After a few minutes of nothing but the sound of our heels clicking on the marble floor, he took a deep breath.
“I well and truly mucked that up.” He snuck a glance at my face. “Since I have no idea when our betrothal can become public or when our wedding will take place, I’ve become somewhat anxious.”
I cannot describe the relief I felt in that moment. Though he’d just presented a ring, I’d been almost certain I’d lost him. With relief, came anger. “Don’t ever frighten me like that again. If you objected to keeping our engagement secret, why didn’t you say so when I suggested it?”
He pretended to grimace at my sharp tone as he opened a door and we entered a library. “I don’t mind keeping the news between us, but we’ve made no plans, we’ve set no date. I fear you’d be content to stay betrothed indefinitely. I, on the other hand, wish to marry you.”
His words struck home. I’d been so caught up in Lily’s wedding plans, that I failed to make any of my own. But he spoke another truth, one I didn’t care to admit—I might very well be content to stay betrothed indefinitely.
We left the library and moved throughout the house, but I have little memory of anything he showed me. We discussed how we’d tell Rose, (together), how we’d tell my mother, (I’d handle that), and how soon we’d marry (as soon as the banns were read). But we never touched on the topic that concerned me the most. What role would I play in this partnership? Before I could bring that up, Fiona arrived to collect me for our visit to the vicar.
“Are you showing Frances where to find you, brother dear?” She rested her arm on the railing of an elegant staircase.
I glance up its length. “Where does this lead? I thought we were in the working part of the house.”
“On this floor, yes,” George said. “But upstairs is the bachelors’ wing. It’s an addition to the second floor, running over the kitchens and alongside the old nursery and schoolroom. It’s to keep the unmarried ladies of the house safe from those lecherous bachelor visitors. There’s a second staircase farther down the hall.” He waggled his brows. “In case you do need to find me.”
“I see, but as family, why are you staying here? Surely your brother keeps a guest room for you in this house?”
He smiled. “I usually stay in a large and beautifully appointed room at the back of the south wing, looking out over the maze and gardens. When I realized your mother would be joining us, I put her in that room.”
Fiona rolled her eyes as I sighed and, I’m certain, took on the look of a lovesick puppy. “How kind of you.” Honestly, the man thought of everything.
“That’s all very nice,” Fiona said. “But we really should be off, Frances, or we may miss the vicar.”
“Where is Lily? Is she not coming with us?”
“I believe she and Mr. Kendrick are exploring the grounds.” Fiona gave my arm a tug, but I kept my feet firmly planted.
“What do you mean she’s exploring the grounds? She should be coming with us. It’s her wedding after all.”
Fiona waved away my protest. “I suggested as much, but she feels you will make the right choices. It seems she’s happy for a few moments alone with her fiancé and doesn’t wish to go.”
I heaved a sigh and considered dragging Lily off with us, but from the set of Fiona’s jaw I could tell she wanted no interference in the wedding plans, even from someone as consequential as the bride. Ultimately, I gave in.
* * *
Our visit with the vicar proceeded splendidly. The church was perfectly picturesque, seventeenth-century stonework, placed in a bucolic setting and enclosed by a stone wall covered in vines. Fiona assured me the greenhouse at Risings could provide flowers in abundance. Lily was sure to be thrilled with it.
Once we showed the vicar the license, he became most accommodating and set the date for Saturday morning, six days hence. He was also helpful with his suggestions for decorating the church and where to find assistance for that task.
I was confident our decisions would please my sister, but I decided to bring her out here before the wedding so she could see everything for herself and give her stamp of approval. Within two hours, Fiona and I had settled everything and were on the wooded path for the short walk back to the manor. The sun, shining through the trees, dappled the ground before us and dry leaves crunched underfoot.
“You and George might consider holding your ceremony here,” Fiona said. “Have you discussed a venue for your wedding?”
“We haven’t considered a venue, but we were making plans for the wedding just this morning.” I chuckled. “It was the first time we’ve discussed any details. George was worried that I planned to put off the wedding.”
She examined me through narrowed eyes. “Do you?”
“Of course not.”
She placed a hand on my arm and came to a stop. “There’s something you’re not telling me. This should be the happiest time of your life. Something must be wrong, or you would have taken every opportunity to make your plans weeks ago. Now, tell me what it is.”
“What could possibly be wrong?” I took a step to move on, but she tightened her grip on my arm and refused to budge.
“Fine, if you must know, I’m a little shy of marriage in general. I’m worried I’ll be relegated to the role of wife and mother and deposited in the country to rusticate.”
“George has no country home.”
“You know what I mean.” Though I wasn’t entirely certain she did. George’s work for the Crown was confidential and I had no idea how much Fiona knew or suspected. Would I be a part of his work, or would I sit at home and worry about him?
“Considering your marriage with Reggie, I think I understand, but George is nothing like Reggie, and you will be a wife and mother. Is there something else you wish to do? Something of which he wouldn’t approve?”
How to explain it? “I simply wish for us to be partners. I don’t want to take a subservient role in our marriage.”
“Ah, I think you’ll handle that beautifully, my dear.” She gave me a warning look. “But if you’re truly worried, you should discuss your fears with George. If he senses your hesitation, he may think it means you’ve changed your mind—that you no longer wish to marry.”
A knot tightened in my chest, recalling my fear of losing him just a few hours ago. “I’d never want him to think that.”
“I wouldn’t worry, dear. My brother is too cocksure of himself, and far too determined, to allow you to change your mind.”
“He is rather confident, isn’t he? But you are right. I should talk to him about my concerns.”
I tur
ned at the sound of shouts and excited voices farther up the path. We shared a curious glance then hastened our steps. Ahead of us was George and two men I didn’t know—estate hands by the look of their dress. One of them held the reins to a skittish horse, who became even more so when Leo rode up and dismounted. As the groom moved both horses to the side of the lane, he revealed another man lying facedown on the ground.
A sense of dread tickled the back of my neck. There must have been an accident.
Chapter 4
Fiona and I covered the remaining yards to where the men gathered around the downed man. One of the estate men, a very young man indeed, assisted George in turning him onto his back. Just as we reached them, the man on the ground howled with pain. I cringed, but at least the cry meant he was alive.
“What happened?”
George steadied the downed man, while his younger assistant wiped the man’s head and face with a cloth, looking for signs of a head injury, I assumed. As he was currently covered in dirt, grime, and a jaw full of whiskers, it was impossible to tell if there was also blood.
“None of us were here to see,” George said. “But it appears the horse threw him.” He turned his gaze to the man’s leg, twisted in a frighteningly unnatural position. I winced at the thought of his pain. “And it further appears he’s been injured.”
George turned to the young man assisting him. “You work with Gibbs, don’t you?”
The man bobbed his head, and I recognized him from the train station, helping to organize the servants and bags. “Yes, sir. John Winnie. I’m Mr. Gibbs’s assistant.”
“Well, Winnie, go check the stables and see if you can find us some sort of litter. Gibbs won’t be walking on that leg anytime soon.”
“And have someone fetch the doctor as well,” Fiona called to Mr. Winnie’s retreating back. “He’ll need medical attention.”
George instructed the other man to go with Mr. Winnie and return Gibbs’s horse to the stables. Mr. Gibbs was awake and taking in his surroundings. Aside from a few scratches, and the obviously broken leg, he seemed otherwise intact. He let out a groan.
“Don’t try to move,” George said.
“Can you tell us what happened, old man?” Leo asked. “Did you take a fall?”
Gibbs released a growl. At first, I thought it was due to his pain, but apparently, anger had taken over. “Haven’t taken a fall since I was in short pants. This was no fall. We ran into something in the road. Felt it hit me in the chest just before I went down. Yanked back on the reins. Lucky this beast didn’t stomp all over me.”
“Lucky indeed,” I said. “What a terrible accident.”
“No accident.” The man tried to turn my way, then grimaced in pain with the movement.
“Lie still,” George instructed. “You don’t want to move your leg until the doctor has seen to it and set the bone.”
The man lay back on the path with a grumble. “No accident,” he muttered.
Leo made his way to my side, leading the gray horse behind him.
“He must have run into a low branch,” he said. The path looked as though it had been in use for hundreds of years. It was quite spacious and surrounded by trees that appeared very grand and very ancient. I saw no sign of any low-hanging branches, but perhaps this was not the time to point that out.
I jumped as the horse nudged my arm with his nose. “Have you been riding, Leo?”
“No, I was just on my way, when we heard the caterwauling. I rode out this far to see what had happened.”
When I looked up the path behind him, I couldn’t see the stables, but I knew they were just around a turning. “You didn’t get very far, did you? Everything seems to be in hand here if you still wish to ride.”
He gave me a grin. “I believe I shall. I don’t often have a chance for a good run.” He mounted the gray and cast a cautious glance at the steward. “If you’re certain I can’t be of any use here?”
I waved him on. “The men are returning with a litter now. Go while you still have good light.”
As Leo rode off, John Winnie pulled the litter up beside the injured steward and George bent to help lift him. The men decided the steward’s cottage was the closest building and arranged to transport him there. As they seemed to have everything under control, Fiona and I made our way back to the house so we could direct the doctor to the patient upon his arrival.
* * *
What remained of the afternoon skittered by quickly. I spoke to Lily about the arrangements I’d made with the vicar, broke up an argument between two of Leo’s sisters, and changed out of my dusty clothes into something more suitable for dinner, a new aubergine silk with a lace ruffle on the left side running from my shoulder and curving around to meet the short train. By the time Bridget finished my hair, dinner was only an hour away, the gentlemen had returned from the shoot, and I happily chatted with Lottie in the drawing room.
We’d barely finished discussing her wedding when Charles interrupted our little tête-à-tête. “Cousin Frances,” he said, seating himself beside his new bride, “I’m delighted you and your family were able to join our little group after all. Hazelton said you’d try to put him off, but he was determined. He does tend to get what he wants, don’t you think?”
I parted my lips to answer, but he continued.
“But you definitely have a mind of your own, and if you chose not to come, I was certain you’d stand firm. Still, I didn’t know which of you would be victorious.”
Lottie attempted to stop his loquacious explanation with a jab of her elbow. Unfortunately, she held her teacup in that hand, and as Charles leaned forward, she jabbed only the sofa, sloshing the liquid onto her skirt.
I smiled in contentment. It was comforting to see some things never changed. “Were you successful in the field today, Charles?”
“Yes, indeed.” He grinned, revealing two lovely dimples. Charles was more than ten years Lottie’s senior. Though the aforementioned dimples and his thick blond hair, coupled with his boyish charm and energy belied his age, this difference was a fact that troubled me when it first became apparent his interest in her was of a romantic nature. Fortunately, my concern was for naught. He and Lottie seemed perfectly happy with one another.
Lottie dabbed at her skirt with her napkin and sighed. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take this to my maid right away, before the stain sets.”
The dark spot had grown across her skirt. “I’m sure she’ll be able to set it to rights,” I said “At least I hope so. That color is perfect on you.” Indeed, the soft pink brought out the auburn in her hair and emphasized her brown eyes as well.
Charles rose and offered her his hand. “I shall go up with you. Not long before the first gong, so I should change for dinner as well.”
“Did you happen to see Mr. Hazelton on your way in, Charles?”
“He was headed to the earl’s offices not twenty minutes ago.”
I watched the two leave the room and rose to my own feet. I’d taken Fiona’s words to heart about discussing my concerns with George. A house party was not likely to allow for much privacy, so if he was alone in his office, now would be the best time to approach him.
Fiona was right. I didn’t want to give George the impression I had second thoughts about marrying him. I slowed my steps as I reached the doorway. In a manner of speaking, I did have second thoughts, but it was due to my previous experience of marriage and nothing to do with George or my love for him.
But how on earth could I introduce the subject?
I pushed myself past the doorway, through the hall, and down to the lower gallery. The house was massive, but if I remembered correctly, the offices were in the north wing, toward the back of the house. With every step, I became a little less determined to have this conversation. What if he did believe a wife should stay in the background, and I could no longer play a role in his investigations?
The office loomed ahead of me, the door closed. I gave myself a mental shake. Better to know n
ow.
I knocked.
Leo opened the door.
Leo? Bother. Apparently, there was a meeting taking place. Leo waved away my protests and gestured me inside the room where I found not only George, but Fiona’s husband, Sir Robert Nash, Arthur Durant, Mr. Treadwell, and John Winnie. Nash and George were seated in deeply cushioned chairs, Durant and Treadwell leaned against a large mahogany desk, and Winnie stood at attention beside it.
“Forgive the interruption, gentlemen. I only wished to speak to Mr. Hazelton, and I can do so at another time.”
“No reason to leave, Lady Harleigh.” George stood and, taking my hand, led me over to his vacated chair. “I daresay you wish to know how Mr. Gibbs is faring.”
“Of course.” In truth, I’d forgotten all about the steward and his accident. Leave it to George to assume the best of me. “His leg looked quite mangled,” I said, attempting to sit on the edge of a chair that seemed bent on swallowing me into its depths. “Is it broken? Is he in much pain?”
“Even worse when the doctor set the bone,” Nash said, making a twisting motion with his hands. “He’s going to have a slow recovery, I’m afraid.”
George placed a hand on the back of my chair. “He has a sister in the village. The vicar came by with a wagon to transport him to her cottage. The doctor dosed him with laudanum for the trip, and we cushioned him as much as possible, but I suspect as soon as the drug wears off, he’ll be in some significant pain.” George grimaced. “But he’ll be better off there where he’ll have someone looking after him. He’d never be able to manage on his own.”
“I’m pleased to hear he has someone to care for him,” I said. “But how will you get on without him?”
He nodded at John Winnie. “This young lad has been assisting Gibbs for the past month and seems willing to step in.”
Mr. Winnie couldn’t be more than twenty. His light brown hair, oiled, combed back, and cut just above his collar was clearly an attempt to look older, but his lanky form and the sparse patches of whiskers on his cheeks and chin proved him to be quite a young lad indeed.
A Lady's Guide to Mischief and Murder Page 4
