Sophie had just changed and returned back to the drawing-room when she heard the sound of carriage wheels coming up the gravel path. She peeked out from behind the drawing room curtains just in time to see Colonel Northcote secure his equipage and ascend the six steps to the front door. To her surprise, he was not in his regimentals but wore an expensive jacket of blue superfine, which moulded his fine, broad shoulders to perfection. His muscular legs were encased in a pair of biscuit coloured pantaloons and his black Hessians were so highly polished that you could see your face in them.
The maid ushered him into the drawing-room where Sophie was waiting with her Aunt and Uncle to receive him. Her Uncle stepped forward extending his hand. ‘Ah, Colonel Northcote, delighted you could make it, dear boy. Apart from a brief introduction last night, it has been many years since I saw you last.’
‘Yes, I am sorry that we did not get much opportunity to speak last night but there were so many guests and I failed to spot you in the crush.’
Lord Wyndholme winked. ‘Well as for that, I escaped to the billiard room with Lord Hamilton senior. These affairs quite fatigue me. You do understand, don’t you, dear boy?’
Harry smiled. He did understand. He remembered Lord Wyndholme from days of old and he had not changed. If he could wangle his way out of a tiresome party he would, but he was also good natured enough to stand as his wife’s escort whenever he was required. He was too absorbed with his prime blood hunters and his hounds to take much interest in anything else.
‘Of course, I understand, Lord Wyndholme. I only hope you enjoyed your game,’ he replied.
Lord Wyndholme was grinning at him and changed the subject. ‘Indeed I did. Well, it does not seem that long ago since you were climbing trees and getting up to mischief with Stephen and my boy, Sebastian. You were just a boy when you left for the Peninsular and just look at you now.’ He pointed to the scar on his temple. ‘Although I see you have brought home a permanent souvenir.’
Colonel Northcote liked the easy manners of Lord Wyndholme. He had always been a kind father to Sebastian and he was a patient and indulgent husband. Harry raised his hand to the offending disfigurement. ‘I have your son to thank that it is not much worse.’
Lord Wyndholme put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. ‘I know, Sebastian wrote to me about it. I am only glad he was there to perform such a service for you, and that you are alive and well to tell the tale. I am only sorry to hear about your brother Stephen. Talavera in 1809, wasn’t it?’
Colonel Northcote appeared melancholy for a moment. ‘Yes, he was an officer in the 23rd dragoons and was killed in a Calvary charge. Advances were made but the charge was reckless and the casualties to the dragoons was heavy.’
‘Indeed, I remember the account in the newspaper well,’ replied Lord Wyndholme sympathetically. ‘Lady Caroline Lamb’s brother, Lord Ponsonby speared that attack, did he not? I believe Wellesley was greatly grieved at such heavy losses.’
‘Yes, Wellesley reviewed the tactics of his Calvary after that. He thought them far too rash for their own good, but it was too late for Stephen.’
Lord Wyndholme put his arm around the Colonel's shoulder and led him toward the rear garden. ‘An unfortunate business, but I am glad you made it, my boy. Now let us put all this melancholy behind us and have something to eat. It is such a lovely day, and as we have not had many of them this year, what, with all the poor weather, we thought we should make the best of it. Lady Wyndholme thought that a light luncheon would be much more pleasant in the garden. As you are quite an old visitor to this house, I did not think we needed to stand on ceremony. I hope you do not mind.’
The Colonel had no objections and they all retired to the back lawns where Lady Wyndholme had laid out a sumptuous feast of cold chicken, ham, salad and fresh new potatoes coated in cook’s delicious herb dressing.
He turned to his hostess. ‘It would be a pity to waste such a lovely day and I am honoured that you have postponed your trip to Newcastle to entertain me.’
Aunt Caroline looked a little confused, and Colonel Northcote gave a blushing Sophie a mischievous look. Almost feeling guilty to have embarrassed her, he turned his attention back to his hostess, who just raised her hand nonchalantly. ‘Oh, today is Sunday. I would not be going to Newcastle today and this is more pleasant, do you not think so?’
‘Indeed, I do,’ he replied, smiling, ‘and if it stays fine I would be delighted if you would take me up on my offer of the short drive that I suggested yesterday. Instead of coming on my stallion, Julius, I arrived in my brother’s barouche, in the hope that it would be acceptable to you.’
Lady Wyndholme beamed at the prospect. Everything was going just as she had planned it. ‘A wonderful idea, but meantime let us partake of luncheon.’ She took his arm, just as she did when he was a boy and led him to the table with Uncle Jack and Sophie following obediently behind. As they were seated she turned back to her guest. ‘Tell me, Colonel, have you any news of our dear Sebastian. He is a prodigiously bad letter writer. ’
The Colonel smiled. ‘Please lady Wyndholme, when I was a boy and played here, you used to call me Harry. I know many years have passed, but I beg of you, please continue to do so. Lord Northcote or Colonel seems so formal under the circumstances and I am actually thinking of selling out. As for Sebastian, well I last saw him at the Horse-guards just before I travelled up north and he is keeping well.’
Lord Wyndholme was heard to give an audible sigh of relief as he had not heard from his son in weeks and Lady Wyndholme sighed with satisfaction. ‘Thank the good Lord,’ she exclaimed. ‘I am hoping that now Napoleon has been captured and the hostilities are over, he will consider selling out too.’
‘As to that, I am not sure of his intentions,’ Harry replied. ‘Many have no choice as our soldiers are no longer needed, but Sebastian is such a talented and gifted officer they may persuade him to stay on.’
Aunt Caroline frowned. ‘Well, I do hope he decides to come home. One day he will need to take up the reigns of the Barony. His father is not getting any younger.’
Uncle Jack gave a snort and chuckled. ‘I am not in my dotage yet, Caroline, my love. I still hope I have a few years ahead of me yet, and I am not intending on falling off my horse and breaking my neck.’
‘Oh yes-yes,’ she said, waving her hand dismissively. ‘You know what I mean, but it would be lovely to have Sebastian home again and he did have ideas for increasing the income of the Barony for you.’
‘So he did, my dear.’ He looked at Harry and in the way of explanation, added. ‘The last time Sebastian was home he had some ideas for the planting of fast growing trees to grow as a resource for the paper industry. He thinks that it may be a valuable source of income and said he would look into it the next time he was home.’
‘Indeed,’ Harry replied. ‘Most interesting. My brother’s land is adjacent to yours. It may be an idea to consider ourselves. Do you think Sebastian would be interested in a joint venture?’
‘I am sure he would, Harry,’ Baron Wyndholme replied jovially. ‘As for me, I have my hands full with my hounds.’
Harry thought to himself that the good-natured Baron was far too indolent to make a push of his own accord.
The luncheon went on in much the same vein and Sophie, for the most part, remained silent. She had a chance to observe Colonel Northcote and was impressed by his easy manners and his address, but she could not get over the fact that he was still a Northcote.
An hour passed pleasantly and Sophie, not required to do much entertaining, was able to relax a little. Her peace, however, was short-lived as her aunt eventually sat back and exclaimed. ‘Oh dear. I have been sitting in the sunshine too long and I feel one of my headaches coming on. I think I shall have to forego your lovely offer of a drive. Oh, this is a sad disappointment, but do not let me spoil the afternoon for you young ones. Perhaps Sophie could accompany you for a little.’
She turned to her husband. ’I am sure there can be no object
ion, can there dear?’
Uncle Jack was just about to protest when her Aunt kicked his shins under the table. He grimaced in pain and then coughed. He turned to the Colonel. ‘You came in an open carriage did you say?’
Harry smiled inwardly at Lady Wyndholme’s artful but welcome manipulation but maintained a polite expression. ‘Indeed, I have, so there can be no impropriety. I promise I will take good care of lady Trevarren.’
And so it was that half an hour later, Sophie was sat in the very Barouche that she had held up over a week ago. She noticed that the glass lamp had been replaced and the damage to the paintwork had been repaired but took care not to pay too much attention, thus arousing the Colonel’s curiosity.
As they pulled away, Lord Northcote turned to her beautiful profile and grinned. ‘Your Aunt is a shocking dissembler, I doubt very much that she has a headache.’
Despite Sophie’s intrepid nature, she was quite flustered and embarrassed by her aunt’s tactics. She could not understand why the Colonel unnerved her so, and she was still annoyed at his behaviour the night before when he had the temerity to search her. In her embarrassment, she had quite forgotten the fact that he had given her the benefit of the doubt. Her cheeks flushed at the sudden recollection of the intimacy of his touch and she replied caustically. ‘I doubt it myself since she has never complained of a headache in her life, but it is hardly gentlemanly of you to say so. I am so sorry to put you to such an imposition, but we can make it a very short ride if you wish.’
The Colonel gave a loud guffaw. ‘Oh, after nearly seven years on the Peninsular it comes second nature to speak my mind, and believe me, it is no imposition at all,’ he replied lazily. ‘In fact, I am very grateful to your Aunt as I would dearly like to get to know you better. I know that you have no love for my brother but I am very different and only wish to stand your friend.’
Sophie looked at him intently. He did not look or behave like his brother and she would never have guessed they were related if she had not been told. He must have been at least fifteen years younger than the Earl. She must fight the growing attraction that she had for him. She could feel the touch of his shapely, muscular thigh next to hers and inched away from him because the sensations coursing through her body disturbed her. She must concentrate on something else if she was to keep her thoughts focused.
‘Have you made enquiries about my brooch yet?’ she asked, in an effort to change the subject.
The Colonel hesitated. He had no intention of describing the argument that he had had with Lady Northcote at the breakfast table that morning. It would only disappoint her, but he was not about to lie.
He was apologetic. ‘I am sorry Lady Trevarren, but I had no chance to speak with my brother last night, and as he had not risen from his bed before I left the Hall, I have had little opportunity to enquire of him this morning, but rest assured, I have not forgotten.’
Sophie had to be content with that but decided that she would not put too much reliance on Colonel Northcote. He seemed steady and dependable, but there again so did his brother the Earl, so she could not pay too much attention to appearances. She did not know this Northcote well, but in her opinion, his brother was a complete scoundrel and there was every possibility that the Colonel would have inherited some of the family’s characteristics.
After driving for about twenty minutes, Colonel Northcote stopped by a local lake surrounded by huge oak trees and frequented by a variety of geese and wildfowl. It was a peaceful spot and the beautiful day just added to its perfection.
Sophie twisted in her seat. ‘Why are we stopping?’ she enquired, as he walked around the barouche to open her door for her.
He reached up for her and grabbing her around the waist, he assisted her from out of the carriage. As she placed her hands on his firm shoulders, he glanced into those too familiar blue eyes. ‘It is such a beautiful view,’ he said, smiling. ‘I thought we could walk a little and linger to enjoy it.’
Sophie doubted at that moment that he was talking about the scenery for as he lowered her to the ground, he held her for longer than was necessary. She hesitated, removed her hands from his shoulders and then stepped back to brush down her skirt.
‘Yes, well, as you wish,’ she replied.
He looked once more into those familiar blue eyes. They were the exact same colour as her cousin Sebastian’s, but he had the uncanny feeling that it was not that, which disturbed him. They were beautiful, yes, but they had a mesmerising quality that he had seen before, but where?
Colonel Northcote tethered the horses to a tree on a grassy verge and the two took a stroll along the lakeside path. They had only strolled about one hundred yards when a lone horseman came galloping along the path toward them. He was young and travelling fast. Sophie held her breath because she recognised the rider instantly, but Daniel carried away with the exhilaration of speed, did not immediately spot them.
Colonel Northcote, his protective instincts taking over, pushed Sophie to the side, and she fell unceremoniously into a bush, just as the rider stopped abruptly ten yards in front of him.
‘I do beg your pardon, sir,’ the rider managed to exclaim before he realised just who stood before him. It was the gentleman that Sophie had held up that dark night on the bridle path. Daniel looked across at Sophie who had risen to her feet and narrowed her eyes in warning. Understanding her unspoken message, he decided to brave it out and only hoped that Colonel Northcote would not recognise him.
‘I certainly did not mean to frighten the lady. Please accept my sincere apologies, sir,’ he offered, still sitting astride his colt.
Daniel, however, could not expect to be so lucky. Colonel Northcote just took one look at the fresh-faced youth with his striking, blonde, curly hair and stepped forward reaching for Zephyrus’s bridle.
‘Why, you young varmint,’ he declared roundly. ‘I know you. Get down here this instant.’
Daniel had no intention of getting down. He knew that once he had dismounted he could not repel the strength of a grown man. He would have to rely on Zephyrus to get him out of this predicament. He pulled harshly on the colt’s reigns and as the bit dug into his sensitive mouth, Zephyrus suddenly reared, bringing his forelegs perilously close to Colonel Northcote’s chest. The Colonel, however, as perceptive as he was agile had anticipated the move and jumped back just in time. He made for another grab and would have succeeded if it were not for Sophie tugging at his sleeve.
‘Let the boy go,’ she entreated. ‘He has done no harm and neither of us is hurt.’
Sophie used her feminine charm to divert the Colonel, but she was ready for battle if he as much as laid one hand on Daniel’s head.
Colonel Northcote, distracted by her appeal, did as he was bid and Daniel took the opportunity to retreat, turning Zephyrus around and galloping from whence he came. Colonel Northcote watched as he disappeared in a cloud of dust, cursing that the boy had once again evaded him. In the daylight, he had had a good opportunity to appraise the youth, and he looked younger than he remembered him. That night he had been brandishing a pistol and was intent on protecting his sister, making him appear a little older than he really was. He was obviously of a good family because he was dressed in the finest riding jacket and breeches, and that colt of his was from good stock. He would remember that horse anywhere, with its glossy chestnut coat and the appearance of a white sock on its right fetlock.
He turned to Sophie ‘Are you sure you are unharmed, Lady Trevarren. I am truly sorry that I was so brutal when I pushed you into that bush, but there was nothing else for it.’
Sophie brushed the damp leaves and grass from off her gown and smiled tentatively. ‘Truly, I am unhurt and you only did what you thought was necessary. I am glad you let the boy go. I am sure that he meant no harm.’
Colonel Northcote looked relieved but frowned. ‘Thank goodness, but I have more than one reason for getting my hands on that young rascal. Do you happen to know who he is?’ he asked.
So
phie hesitated for a moment before answering. Answering the question without lying was almost impossible and the man was just too perceptive for his own good.
‘I have seen him around these parts,’ she replied. ‘I am sure that he is just a high-spirited local. Please forget the matter. I have.’
Hoping that he would not question her further, she bent down to retrieve her bonnet from the hedgerow. She bit her lip guiltily. She had not lied precisely, but neither had she told him the truth. She heard his voice echo in her ear.
‘Yes,’ the Colonel agreed. ‘I am sure that there is nothing wrong with him that a firm hand would not remedy. A good stint in the army would put him right.’
Sophie straightened her back at these words. She could criticise her brother as much as she wanted, but no one else was allowed to. She gritted her teeth in annoyance. ‘How can you say so?’ she re-joined. ‘That boy cannot yet be in his teens.’
‘Oh, I have seen many a drummer boy that was younger. Killed before my very eyes, some of them.’ the Colonel said soberly, conjuring up the vision of their distinctive yellow uniforms scattered about the battlefield.
Sophie looked horrified and paled at the vision of such a scene, and Colonel Northcote realised that in an unguarded moment, he had said too much. He looked at her troubled expression and quickly relented. ‘Do not misunderstand me. I mean the boy no harm, but he needs someone to correct his wild ways, and besides, I wish to ask him a few questions.’
Sophie felt guilty. Daniel was far from wild. His predicament was a direct result of her own hoydenish behaviour and her sisterly instinct moved her to defend him.
‘Well as to that,’ she retorted, a little too stiffly. ‘I am sure he has a family to see to it. All is well that ends well, is what I say. I think we should be returning back now, as my Aunt will be wondering where we are.’
The Colonel thinking that his graphic description of fallen drummer boys had upset her, apologised, and inviting her to take his arm, he escorted her back to the Barouche.
Lady Trevarren and the Emerald Brooch: A Regency Romance and Murder Mystery Page 5
