Lord Crawford strolled in in time to hear that last. “I must assume you object to Richmond because it is open to the public?” he asked Robert. “I have a small property not far from London on the banks of the Thames. Perhaps a party might go there. It is not public, and my people may be warned to watch for strangers. It has very nice gardens and a strawberry patch famous throughout the region that should be coming into fruit about now. Would that be an acceptable substitute for Richmond, my lady?” he asked turning to Elizabeth.
“I think it sounds unexceptional.” She looked to Robert, a wide-eyed hopeful look that had him chuckling as he gave permission.
“I fear I cannot join you on this expedition,” Crawford continued. “Cressida and I will be returning home tomorrow—which means you and I must have a discussion concerning my granddaughter, Lord Halford.” Robert agreed, gravely, that such was indeed necessary. Lord Crawford went on to Elizabeth, “I will send a letter to the house steward at River Castle that he is to be prepared for you whenever you may wish to come.” He bent a thoughtful look on Françoise. “I shall tell him to hire extra groundsmen as added protection.” Then he spoke directly to his granddaughter. “My child, this isn’t how I’d planned to tell you, but you might like to pay the property special attention. I’ve given you a life interest in it, you see.” Françoise stammered thank-yous at the same time Elizabeth questioned why her company was leaving so suddenly.
“Elizabeth!” scolded her husband. “It is rude to ask!” She blushed when everyone chuckled. “But I don’t understand, and I wish to do so. I thought it was decided they’d stay until the beginning of next week.”
“Cressida made the decision last night ... I think you’ll find she’s content to go.” When Lord Crawford noted Robert’s eyebrows rising he added, “We miss our son and wish to see for ourselves how he goes on.”
A sardonic look crossed Robert’s features, but he held his tongue. Elizabeth was not so well-schooled in properly reticent behavior and words spewed from her. “Content? To leave London in the middle of the season? Because she wishes to see her son? Cressy? I don’t believe you!”
Crawford laughed. “It does sound a trifle havey-cavey, does it not? But you will see.”
They did see and were bemused by the interesting fact that it was true. Cressy was content to leave for the north at her husband’s side! But before they left, Lord Crawford had a long discussion with both Sir Frederick and his brother-in-law concerning Françoise. The girl would not be safe until the comte’s pursuit of her had come to an end, but they were agreed that the girl should remain in London for the season. If nothing were settled by its end, then she, her grandmother, and her companion were to be escorted under heavy guard to Crawford’s home in the north and new plans would be laid.
At some point something must be done about the comte. Sir Frederick suggested he be forced into a duel which would put period to his ambitions once and for all.
“I won’t say the notion has no merit, nephew,” said Lord Crawford, “But, for the moment, things can be allowed to drift as they are in the hopes the man will either give it up and go home or, alternately, put himself into a position from which he can be permanently but legally removed from my granddaughter’s life. We all wish her safe and secure, but a duel must be a last resort.” He glared at the other two and, reluctantly, they agreed. “Good,” said Lord Crawford and added unexpectedly, “Now that you are no longer my heir, Frederick, I find I like you very well. I’ve no desire to lose you to that man’s random but lucky shot—I am not wrong, am I, in assuming it would be you who would challenge him?”
The picnic at River Castle was postponed twice. Once it rained and then Harriet came down with what she considered a stupid chill. She suggested they go without her, but no one would have it so. Then, in a cross and invalidish way, she worried that no one could properly watch out for Françoise while she was confined to her room.
“Nonsense,” said Madame, who visited Harriet toward the end of her convalescence. “I myself have enjoyed going out among the English ton again. Imagine! There are still men and women whom I met at Versailles when I was only a girl. And,” she added a trifle tartly, “they talk of something other than the past, unlike Marie de Daunay! Me! I have had a very interesting time chaperoning our little package of trouble.” Her eyes twinkled. “I think it might be generous of you to remain ill for another day or two. The Dowager Lady Porrison holds a Venetian breakfast, and I wish to attend. She, too, visited France when we were young, and I believe she was enamored of the man I eventually married. At the time, I was most upset whenever he was polite to her.”
“And now you wish to gloat.”
“Would I do such a thing?” Harriet just looked at her mistress who chuckled. “You must remember, my dear, that when one reaches my age, there are not all that many pleasures left to one. If I gloat a trifle that I won the prize ... well!” She shrugged, an exceedingly graceful Gallic movement.
“Can you not go if I’ve left my chamber?”
“Of course, I may. I am teasing you, my child. And I can tell you one gentleman who will be exceedingly perturbed if you are to remain much longer above stairs. I would not put it past him to come up and see for himself that you are recovering.”
Harriet blushed. “If you refer to Sir Frederick, I could believe anything of that man.”
“Why will you not agree to marry him?” asked Madame curiously. “Do not answer,” she added, gently, “if you would rather not, but the marriage would be an excellent solution to your future since he assures me he is able to maintain you in a life of luxury and wishes to spend his life making you happy.”
“That,” said Harriet, “is the trouble right there. Happy. I am so happy when I am with him. I cannot believe how I feel, how wonderfully content to be in his company. And then,” she said, staring into the corner of the room, “I wonder how soon it will end. When will some other woman catch his eye, and when will he stray from my side to pursue her? I don’t think I could bear it, Madame,” she finished, her eyes filled with a pain caused by the mere anticipation of pain.
“My dear, are you not a trifle idealistic? Men stray. Even the very best of them will look and wish they were free to do more. Heavens, child, women do the same, do they not?” she asked rhetorically—which was just as well since Harriet could not have answered, such a notion never having occurred to her. “Your Frederick, of course, is of the breed who may or may not do more than look and wish, but if he strays, then I think you’ll never know of it.”
“Is that not worse? Never knowing? To never be certain? To always wonder ... won’t such constant suspicion come between us and cause unhappiness?”
Madame stood up and looked down her nose at her granddaughter’s companion. “You must come to your own conclusions, child. I think you do the man an injustice with your suspicions and your fears and your lack of trust in him, but I am not the one he wishes to wed so perhaps it is easier for me to look at the man with clear eyes.” She went to the door, and her hand on it, turned for a last word. “I will not drive out to this River Castle, so you will oblige me by regaining your usual good health by Friday. You may then join the party. Françoise is very excited at the thought of owning property—even if it is no more than a life interest. There is no keeping her back, I’m certain, no matter how much I’ll worry while you are all off on this injudicious jaunt.”
“You do not approve? It is to be, I believe, a rather large party.”
“A large party does not necessarily mean security.” Madame’s brows rose in polite arcs. “Can you promise me, for instance, that Frani will not take it into her head to indulge in an impromptu race which will carry her far from the main group of riders?”
Harriet bit her lip. “No. I can only promise that some of us will ride like the wind after her.”
“The men will watch her. You must not put yourself in danger, Harri. Frani will, if she so indulges, be chagrined she has broken all her promises to behave; if you
were hurt because she’s done so, she would be heartbroken, so leave it to your escorts, my dear.”
“Perhaps we are making mountains, Madame,” suggested Harriet. “Perhaps she will behave.”
She did. Françoise rode sedately with the rest of the party out to River Castle. At last the group rode in between wrought-iron gates set into posts built like miniature, stylized, towers with crenelated tops. Tall rhododendrons lined the drive, which curved along the inside of the fence for a distance and then, turning, opened onto broad gardens which, from this point, went straight down to the river. Off to the side was the house. Everyone pulled up, leaving Françoise somewhat apart so that she had a good view.
The girl’s eyes widened. “But it is not a castle at all! It is ... I do not know what it is!”
“What it is,” said Robert, Lord Halford, in a bemused tone, “is a veritable jewel of a Gothic cottage! You are to be congratulated, Mademoiselle Françoise. Lord Crawford has given you one of the most perfect examples of the cottage orne I’ve been privileged to see.”
“It is so strange,” said a confused Frani.
Robert chuckled. “So it is. But that is exactly as it should be. The philosophy of such a cottage was that it intrigue and bemuse. Do you wish to explore?”
Françoise kicked the side of her mare and moved forward. “Oh yes. Do let us explore!”
As Frederick passed him, an erstwhile groundskeeper came out from the bushes and asked for a moment of the gentleman’s time. Frederick recognized the guard from when he and Robert had reconnoitered some days previously. He reined in and pulled over. “What is it, man? Has someone attempted to gain entry who is not on the list?”
“Your party is the first to arrive although I understand there are carriages to follow. My work would be easier if you were to go over this list here and tell me who has come. You all rode by so fast I couldn’t very well ask for names, now could I?”
“I’ll check the list.” Frederick scanned it. “I believe only two carriages follow. One carries these three women,” he said and pointed where he meant, “and the other Her Grace, Joanna, Duchess of Stornway. Both will have attendant riders, but the duchess knows the problem. If she does not object to the riders, you may safely allow them entry.”
“Very good, sir.” The man slid back into the shrubbery and disappeared while Sir Frederick, impatient to rejoin Harriet, rode on.
He found her seated on a bench in the shade of a rose-covered rustic and staring at the thatched-roof house. “Do you find it too grotesque?” he asked, making her jump. “I’m sorry if I startled you,” he added contritely.
“I didn’t see you and, yes, you startled me, but that’s all right,” babbled Harriet, flustered at his sudden appearance. She gathered her poise and added, “Grotesque? I think I do, but Françoise will love it. She and Monsieur de Bartigues have already had a quick tour with the others trailing behind. Now I believe she is exploring the gardens—also fully chaperoned by a large group.”
“Do you think I’m scolding you for leaving her alone? I am not. She knows her danger but, here, within the walls, she should be safe enough. You cannot be at her beck and call every moment, Harriet. Nor should you be. She cannot grow and mature if she is never allowed to err.”
“Ah. But to err at this particular moment might be to ruin her whole life!”
“Yes. But as you say, she is with a large group. Even if it disperses—as it will, the grounds are not so large that she will ever be out of view of one or two—” He chuckled softly. “—over and beyond Yves, of course, who will not leave her side.”
Harriet nodded. “That’s what I thought,” she said, keeping her features sober with an effort.
He smiled down at her. “You can be very nearly the minx your charge so often is, can you not? You were not worried for a moment for her safety. Are you tired?”
“The ride was, perhaps, a bit more than I should have attempted so soon after leaving my room. So, yes. I’m tired. But I’ll be fine after our peaceful hours of pleasure here. Don’t worry about me.”
“I cannot help but worry. Did Madame tell you I was near to breaking every rule of proper behavior and coming up to see for myself how you did?” He grinned, his teeth a white flash in bronze skin. “Ah. You blush.” He seated himself and reached for her hand. “Do you think I would not?”
“I know very well you would if you decided it was the thing to do—and bedamned to convention.”
“Tut tut. Such language.”
“I fear I’ve more of my tongue-valiant father in me than is sometimes quite comfortable ... Sir Frederick,” she added, “did it seem to you there were some in today’s party who avoided me?”
“What?” Frederick, who had been playing with her fingers, stilled. “What are you talking about?”
“I wished to speak with Lady Massingham and she made a ridiculous excuse not to ride by me. Then there is another side to it. In the past Lord Ashford has paid me no particular attention, yet today he seemed to positively haunt me, laughing at the oddest moments. I understand neither of them.”
“I didn’t observe what happened because I was on the watch for ambush,” said Frederick slowly, resuming his distracting touches on her fingers. “About what did Ashford wish to talk?”
“He asked my opinion of various people in the ton, how I saw them.” Harriet’s eyes widened. She clenched her free hand into a fist. “Surely not!”
“Surely not what?”
She looked up, having, in her consternation, forgotten he was there. “What? Nothing. Never mind...” She freed herself from his grip, turned slightly away from him.
“Something agitates you to the point where you become incomprehensible, and I’m not to mind?” Before she could respond he went on. “I do mind. Very much. What is it, Harri?”
His obvious concern touched something in her, and she was tempted to tell him—but her better judgment restrained her. “Perhaps it is nothing. I truly don’t wish to discuss it. At least not now. Not until I may see if...”
“If ... if?”
“Sir Frederick, please. Until I return to London, I cannot confirm a suspicion which, if true ... well, I do not see how it can be true. Have you explored the cottage yet?” she asked, deliberately attempting to force the change of subject for which she’d asked.
“No.” He spoke curtly. “Harriet, at the very least, I thought we were friends. Friends share their troubles.”
She faced him, reached toward him, and he gripped her hands tightly. “I promise I will tell you if what I suspect is true. If it is not ... then I wish never to speak of it. Please.”
Frederick scraped the fingers of one hand back through the hair at his temple. He glowered. Then he softened. “So be it. Come, Harri, my love,” he said with sudden gentleness. “Let us go exploring.”
She went gladly. Twice she caught a glimpse of small groups of people who were, it seemed, talking about her. Because she was so foolish as to go about on Sir Frederick’s arm? She thought not. Once, as she and Sir Frederick approached the woman who had snubbed Harriet while riding, the lady turned on her heel and hurried off at an angle, obviously avoiding meeting them.
“I see what you mean about Lady Massingham. Do you know her well?”
“I remember her from when I was in London before. She always had a dirty neck,” said Harriet dryly. “In fact, that hasn’t changed.”
Sir Frederick chuckled. “Yes, but given the bathing habits—or should one say the lack thereof—prevalent in society, she is not the only one, surely.”
“The only one to call attention to the fact by the jewels she wears.”
“Don’t most women wear jewels? Assuming they have them?”
“But Lady Massingham always wears that same collar of diamonds. Above the necklace she is clean. Below it...” Harriet shrugged.
Sir Frederick barked a laugh. “I never noticed. She isn’t wearing diamonds today, surely?”
“Her riding dress is high necked. Besi
des, it would be inappropriate for an entertainment such as this.”
“Has that stopped her in the past?” He strolled on before she could answer. Her hand held in the crook of his arm, there was nothing for Harriet to do but walk on as well. They came to the strawberry patch, which had been invaded by others as well. Sir Frederick released her and bent to search under leaves until he found a large sun-warmed berry which he held until she opened her mouth. He popped it in and searched for another.
A servant appeared with a stack of small baskets, and they accepted one, soon filling it and carrying it off to a shady spot where Joanna sat on a rug. She was, she said, like a princess—or an invalid—awaiting the duke’s return with her berries. “I feel such a fool sitting here in this indolent way,” said Jo, her eyes flashing. “I wish I could convince Pierce I am in perfect health and must not be coddled and petted and wrapped in cotton wool. He will drive me mad, Harriet!”
“Next time you’ll know better than to tell him until there is no avoiding the question!”
“Not tell me what? That she is increasing? If she does not, I will wait until the child is born and beat her for keeping such a secret!”
The duke looked large and intimidating, and Harriet would have been a trifle afraid of him, but Jo just grinned. “Beat me, Your Grace? Hmm. I wonder what I would do in a case like that...”
He dropped down beside her and handed her the tiny basket which had looked odd in his large hand. “I would not. You know I would not ... but I would not like it, your keeping secrets from me. You know that, too.” The basket tipped, spilling berries in all directions, but they ignored it.
“Then you must stop behaving as if I’ve turned into a piece of prized china and I’ll promise not to keep such secrets from you.”
“That is a difficult promise to make, my love.”
Sir Frederick offered a hand to Harriet and, since she was feeling embarrassed by the conversation between the duke and his duchess, she took it gladly. They strolled toward the river. Out in the middle, a barge, at anchor, held a large number of rough-looking fishermen. Seeing it, Sir Frederick’s eyes narrowed. He glanced around and saw that most of the guests were drifting toward the tables set out on the terrace near the house. Word had been passed by roaming footmen that a luncheon was available for those who wished it and most, after the ride out from London, were hungry enough to hurry toward the waiting feast.
A Reformed Rake Page 24
