“Misty‘s leg was crushed by a carriage wheel when she was a kitten,” Lady Charlotte explained in a soft voice. “The break could not be repaired, so the leg was removed. She has thrived well.”
“Animals are most resilient, are they not?”
“Sometimes far more than people.”
The cat was large and furry, with big green eyes and pronounced white whiskers. Normally, Daniel ignored cats, but he reached out to pat the animal on the head.
Both Lady Charlotte and the animal stiffened.
“She is afraid of strangers,” Lady Charlotte said.
“I mean her no harm.” The cat sniffed his hand suspiciously, then raised her chin slightly. Daniel obligingly scratched the top of her head, running his fingers behind her ears. She stretched her neck toward him and began to purr loudly.
“How strange,” Lady Charlotte exclaimed. “She likes you.”
“Females do, on occasion.” Daniel smiled.
Lady Charlotte blushed and lowered her gaze. “There are some who might be offended to see Misty walk so oddly, but I begged for her to be saved when she was injured and my brother indulged me. I suppose you could say he has a soft spot for cripples.”
“As any decent man should,” Daniel responded. “It‘s proper to show pity for those less fortunate.”
She shot him a startled look, and then a charming blush raced upward from her throat creating two rosy spots on her cheeks. Daniel remembered when making inquiries about the earl for Rebecca there had been mention of a sister who was a cripple. But surely that information had been exaggerated, for he saw no cane or crutch in sight to aid the lady when she walked. Perhaps there was another sister?
“Do you have other siblings besides your brother?” Daniel asked.
Her fingers went still. Misty squirmed on her lap and she allowed the cat to jump down. It scampered off into the bushes. “No, ‘tis just the two of us. And Mother. What about you, Mr. Tremaine? I have met your sister, Rebecca. Do you have additional family?”
“No other siblings and our parents are deceased. There is a stray cousin here and there, but no family with which we share a close relationship.”
“I imagine you and your sister are very close.”
Daniel felt a stab of regret. They had been close when they were children. But he had been gone for such a long time and so much had happened. To both him and Rebecca. He wondered if now that he was back in England they would be able to recapture the family bonds they had once shared so effortlessly.
“Do you ride, Lady Charlotte?” he asked, deciding a change of subject was sorely needed. “I know the hour is late, but I would appreciate the chance to enjoy some fresh air after being cooped inside my carriage for most of the morning. Will you join me?”
“I…uhm…” She stopped to clear her throat. She kept her eyes downcast and hidden, but he saw her fingers twined together in her lap, revealing her agitation.
“There are easily two to three hours of daylight remaining,” he prompted, for some reason not wanting her to refuse.
She lifted her head, and he saw a flicker of yearning dance across her face. “I suppose it would not take me long to change into my riding habit.”
“Excellent. If you will excuse me, I shall speak with the head groom to make the arrangements and then also change. Shall we meet back here in half an hour?”
“Yes.” She smiled suddenly, and the radiant expression completely transformed her face. For an instant she almost seemed pretty.
He hastily bowed, then left. Returning twenty-five minutes later, Daniel was delighted to see Lady Charlotte already mounted on her horse. She had seemed so shy and hesitant when she accepted his offer, he half-expected her to send her regrets and avoid him.
“Ah, you are a serious rider,” Daniel commented when he was close enough to view her horse. It was a magnificent animal, white with gray hindquarters and a thick silvery mane that flowed to its shoulder.
“I confess I do love to ride,” she said. “There is nothing more exhilarating than the sound of hooves hitting the ground, harness jingling, rider and horse moving as one. It makes one feel so joyful and alive. I imagine it is as close to flying through the air as a person can achieve.”
Daniel was surprised at the passion in her voice, the rapture on her face. As he swung himself up to the saddle of the chestnut gelding the stableman had chosen for him, Daniel could easily think of something else that was even more exhilarating and pleasurable when two were joined as one, man to woman.
Fortunately, he had the brains to hold his tongue. It would hardly be prudent to shock the earl‘s sister on his first afternoon. Despite her somewhat advanced age, it was clear she was an innocent miss. But even more obvious, she was a lady.
“Shall we?” she asked, with a lighthearted smile.
Daniel let his mount prance for another moment, then deftly brought the spirited horse alongside Lady Charlotte and her mount. He followed her lead down the gravel drive, but they turned off almost immediately onto a grassy incline.
“Ready for a bit of a run?” he asked as the open valley stretched out before them.
“Splendid idea.” She touched her heels to the horse‘s flanks and raced ahead. He followed immediately.
They thundered over the turf and Daniel exalted in the feel of the brisk wind whipping against his face and tugging at his hair. Side by side they galloped across the open field, startling birds from their roosts, forcing the occasional squirrel to hurry out of their path.
Suddenly, Lady Charlotte‘s hat came free and flew off onto the grass. Daniel reined in his mount, turned around and trotted over to retrieve the errant bonnet.
“I believe this is yours,” he said, extending his hand with a gallant flourish.
She brushed a smudge of dirt off the top of the bonnet and hastily pinned it back on her head. It listed awkwardly to one side. “Gracious, I must look a sight,” she said in a breathless pant.
“Actually, I prefer the bonnet set on your head at that angle. It makes you look daring and dangerous.”
Daniel grinned and Lady Charlotte predictably blushed. He was enjoying himself. The fresh air was invigorating, the riding excellent, the company congenial.
By unspoken agreement, they kept to a more sedate pace, urging the horses into a walk, angling down a hill, then starting up the next rise. They stopped when they crested the hill, the panoramic view a magnificent sight.
“Will you tell me something about yourself, Mr. Tremaine?” Lady Charlotte asked. Her horse bent his head and nibbled contentedly at a few remaining shoots of green grass he managed to find. “I believe I heard someone mention that you are involved in various business ventures.”
“I will gladly tell you if you are truly interested, though some would say it is vulgar to speak of finance to a lady.”
Her eyebrows wrinkled. “Why? In my experience, most ladies seemed to like money a great deal.”
Daniel stared at her in amused surprise. She was not being coy or flirty, she was merely stating her opinion. One he agreed with, to a large extent.
“The majority of my business holdings are in the American Colonies, but since returning to England I have started several new projects.”
She pressed him for details. Believing her interest to be genuine, he told her of the coal mining project in Cornwall, then mentioned his most recently completed real estate project in the Cotswolds.
Even as Daniel spoke, a part of him was concerned that she would find his ambitions crude and unworthy. In her world men were wealthy by birth and expected to live as cultured gentlemen of leisure. Most indulged in a life filled with privilege and pleasure. Or, like her brother, in service to queen and country as influential men of politics.
She would no doubt find him a most peculiar fellow and for some reason that rankled at him. She asked a few more intelligent questions and Daniel relaxed. He was pleased at her grasp of matters, flattered at her genuine admiration for his accomplishments.
> “You have led a most adventurous life, Mr. Tremaine.” She tugged at the base of her riding glove, pulling it tighter on her hand. “Is it true that in the Colonies there is little regard for class?”
“Not precisely. Those with wealth lead a far easier life than those who are poor. Yet in America, a person is mostly judged on his merits and accomplishments rather than family lineage and connections. Most appealing for me, however, are the endless opportunities. The possibility for great wealth and success exists for every man.”
“And every woman?”
Daniel laughed. “Not really. Americans are progressive, not crazy.”
She shifted slightly in her saddle, her features serious. “I have read and heard all sorts of stories. Are the women truly bold?”
“I met a few who were more outspoken, but I do not believe they are in the majority. By and large, the women I encountered dress and act and speak like ladies. ‘Tis actually the men who display a marked difference. They are endowed with more spirit than most and display a sense of daring and adventure.”
“Are you saying Englishmen are stuffy?”
“To do so would be to proclaim myself a stuffy, formal man.”
“Oh, horrors.” She chuckled softly and Daniel decided he liked the sound. Perhaps it would not be so dreary and difficult to spend the next few weeks at Windmere.
He turned his head and met her eyes. In them he saw so much sweetness, so much innocence. In the faint afternoon light she suddenly looked young, almost whimsical.
She was not a pretty woman. Her features were too plain, her coloring too ordinary. There was a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and wisps of her hair had come loose when she had repinned her hat. Yet her eyes were sparkling with intelligence and charm and there was something he found indefinably appealing about her.
Daniel‘s eyes dropped to her lips. A strange exhilaration arose in him, along with the sudden urge to kiss her. To bury his hands in her hair, inhale her sweet female scent, to frame her face and hold it in place so his mouth could cover hers.
His desire rose and he cursed himself for being a fool. It was beneath him to have such base thoughts about a true lady.
Still, he found himself wanting to draw closer. Daniel‘s masculine instinct told him she might welcome his attentions. But she was so sweet, so delicate, he could not bring himself to touch her.
Her horse neighed, prancing an anxious step backward. The mood was effectively broken.
“The sun is setting quickly.” Lady Charlotte remarked, her voice breathless. “We need to return. It will soon be time to change for dinner.”
Daniel shifted his gaze down to the valley where the golden red orb was starting to dip below the horizon. “Are all the meals at Windmere formal?”
“Usually. But especially when there are guests.”
Daniel shrugged, reminded anew at yet another difference in their worlds. While he always washed and freshened up before his evening meal, he did not change into formal evening clothes every night. Nor did he see the need for such a pretentious practice.
Together they turned their horses and side by side rode back to the manor. A groom stood at the ready to take their horses to be cooled, watered and fed. Daniel dismounted and turned to assist Lady Charlotte, but she shook her head slightly to discourage him, remaining on her horse while a stable lad held the reins.
Oddly disappointed that he would be unable to slip his hands around her waist and lift her down, Daniel bowed in farewell. “Thank you for a delightful afternoon, Lady Charlotte. I will see you at dinner.”
“I look forward to it, Mr. Tremaine.”
Charlotte kicked her heels lightly into her horse‘s flanks and the animal obediently moved forward. Once inside the dimness of the stable, she allowed a groom to help her down. It took several moments for the strength to return to her limbs. Her leg tingled and ached and she held steadily to the servant‘s arm before taking a few awkward steps. As she moved she could feel the blood gradually flow through her leg.
“Thank you, Hodges,” she said, smiling her appreciation at the groom. “I believe I can manage now.”
She limped forward, holding tightly to the wooden stall. Her leg cramped as her hip suddenly seized. A flash of anger and pain tore through Charlotte. But it was not the physical pain that caused her greatest suffering, it was the anguish of her deformity.
She waited for the discomfort to pass, all the while despising her body for its ugliness. And she despised herself too, for being a coward, for trying to deliberately hide her infirmity from Daniel Tremaine.
But then she recalled the kindness in his eyes, the softness of his voice, the delight of his company. It had been a thoroughly wonderful afternoon. One that would have been ruined utterly if it had ended by revealing the truth, for she felt certain she would have seen pity in Mr. Tremaine‘s eyes, or even worse, disgust, when he discovered her affliction.
Slowly, Charlotte walked back to the manor, entering through a little used side door.
“Goodness, Charlotte, have you been out riding?”
Charlotte turned and smiled at her mother, assuming her riding habit and windblown hair had given her away. Her cheeks still held the blush put there by Daniel Tremaine‘s invigorating company, but her mother would merely assume it was the result of the crisp air.
“At his request, I took Mr. Tremaine on a short tour of the estate,” Charlotte answered.
“Really? Well, that was most accommodating of you.”
Charlotte smiled at her mother‘s decidedly shocked expression and continued up the stairs to her bedchamber. Dinner was to be served in a few hours and she wanted a warm bath before the meal, along with sufficient time to fuss with her appearance.
As she waited for the maids to fill the copper slipper tub with hot water, Charlotte firmly told herself she needed to be sensible. Daniel Tremaine was merely being polite, or else he just needed a riding partner today. He had not intentionally sought her company. Yet he did seem to enjoy it.
Charlotte was not a woman given to flights of fancy, to starry-eyed romantic dreams. She had no illusions about herself. She knew all too well that she was a vulnerable female, starved for male attention and affection. It was therefore logical that she would be drawn to Mr. Tremaine‘s powerful charm.
It meant nothing. Nothing at all.
“No cap tonight,” Charlotte recklessly decided as she began to dress for dinner.
“Yes, my lady.” With a surprised lift of her brow, her maid, Lucy, carefully set the lacy spinster‘s cap to the side.
Charlotte took a deep breath. “I was wondering, do you think there might be a way to fix my hair so it is not so severely pulled away from my face?”
“Oh, yes, my lady.” The maid‘s eyes brightened with delight. “There are any number of styles that would look lovely on you. You do have such pretty hair.”
“Not really,” Charlotte mumbled as the maid brushed it out.
Yet when she glanced in the mirror she had to admit that she looked different with her hair styled out of its usual prim knot, the scrap of lace she constantly wore no longer on her head. Her long, brown shimmering tresses were draped around her shoulders, shiny, thick and slightly wavy, softening her features, making her look younger.
“‘Tis a shame we can‘t leave it just like this,” Lucy commented.
“Mother would be scandalized,” Charlotte said with a nervous laugh.
The maid smiled in agreement. Charlotte sat patiently, allowing Lucy to coil and twist and braid and work her magic on the long brown strands. She did not wince or flinch, even when the servant had to tug hard or use the very hot curling tongs.
“All finished,” Lucy finally announced, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Do you like it?”
The maid held up a large mirror so Charlotte could admire the back as well as the front. The artful decoration was truly a masterpiece. The maid had woven a few small white flowers among the curls that set off the
darker color of Charlotte‘s hair and brightened her entire face.
A warmth curled inside Charlotte, along with a frisson of excitement. In years past she had always dreaded the holiday season, the house filled with people, the days and nights a continuous round of social events.
To survive, Charlotte remained in the background, withdrawn into her own tight little cocoon so that nothing and no one could upset her. Often, she would avoid as many of the larger events as possible, to save herself the misery of being ignored, or worse, pitied.
Yet this year her nerves seemed to have dissolved, replaced by a faint edge of hope. She found herself humming with each ungainly step she took toward the drawing room, her heart filled with anticipation and restless excitement, her mind replaying her cousin Marion‘s teasing words about matchmaking.
Perhaps husband hunting truly was a year-round pastime.
———
Rebecca sat in a chair in a corner of the drawing room amid the crush of guests gathering to await the call to supper. A steady hum of conversation drifted around her. The group of ladies and gentlemen closest to her sought to include her as they discussed the latest London gossip. Rebecca pretended to listen, nodding and smiling, yet she had no real interest and nothing to add since she knew none of the people involved.
Though never a master at casual conversation, she usually was not so tongue-tied when in company. But the day had been filled with wonderful moments and what she really wanted was the chance to be alone, to reflect on her thoughts and emotions toward Lily.
She had stayed in the nursery, playing with the paper dolls and later reading a story Lily requested, until an afternoon snack had arrived for the children. Reluctantly, she had taken her leave, promising to return tomorrow.
Rebecca could hardly wait.
The Christmas Countess Page 8
