Chapter Seventeen
The next morning, William returned from breakfast in high spirits. His father had talked about his schooldays at Eton and his time at King’s College, Cambridge. William grinned. “Father liked cricket, but not Latin. He hated porridge too, so he didn’t make me eat it, Jenny. I could choose from any of the dishes. I had bacon, eggs, and sausages. I didn’t like the kidneys. Jeremy brought me toast and pots of jam. I tried three but liked the strawberry best.”
Too much of a good thing, perhaps. She hoped the large meal wouldn’t make William sick while riding, especially if Mr. Irvine permitted another canter. His usual porridge and toast might be improved on, however. She didn’t approve of a bland diet for active children.
With Barbara skipping beside her, Jenny walked with William to the stables. They entered beneath the great arch bearing the Duke’s coat of arms, into the stable yard where Mr. Irvine waited.
Without a murmur of protest, William was mounted on the small gray mare, and he and Irvine walked their horses out of the yard.
Barbara tugged on Jenny’s hand. “Let’s visit Misty.”
Inside the stables, the gray cat sat atop the loose box wall. Barbara reached up to entice her down, but the cat leaped into the straw. A series of tiny mews rose up.
“Look Jenny! Misty has babies,” Barbara cried. “Can I cuddle one?”
Four tiny kittens, two gray, two ginger, yet to open their eyes, nudged Misty’s belly.
“Not yet, Barbara, they are too new. You know, Carrot might be their father.”
Barbara’s blue eyes widened. “Carrot must be sad.”
“He might be. What shall we do?”
“We must bring Carrot back,” Barbara ordered.
“Very well. We’ll go and fetch him. He can come and visit us anytime.”
As they crossed the cobbles, the duke’s cousin, Mr. Forsythe, rounded the corner. “It’s Miss Harrismith, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hello, Barbara.” He bent down to her. “Where is your brother?”
Barbara smiled up at him. “William’s riding. We are going to get Carrot.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Carrot?”
“Carrot is a cat,” she explained.
“Oh? Of course it is, how silly of me. It sounds like an important mission, so I shall say goodbye.” He paused. “I shall come and see William later.”
He walked away. Tall and dark with deep blue eyes, Mr. Forsythe reminded Jenny of the duke, although in her opinion he lacked the duke’s elegance. He seemed perfectly pleasant, but she was determined not to leave him alone with William.
“Pretty!” Barbara pulled away from Jenny, her attention caught by a bright blue butterfly fluttering over the ground, just as Baroness Elsenberg passed by them with a cool glance.
Outside the stable the baroness stood close to Mr. Forsythe. He briefly touched the lock of golden hair resting on her shoulder. It seemed an intimate gesture, and the baroness made no attempt to rebuff him. Their laughter floated across to where Jenny stood.
The butterfly flew away. Jenny turned to leave and found Herr Von Bremen crossing the cobbles. His attention seemed to have been caught by his sister and Mr. Forsythe. He lowered his gaze to Jenny. “Miss Harrismith. We are forever destined to bump into each other.”
“I beg your pardon, sir.” Jenny attempted to slip past him.
“Lord William has gone riding with that man, Irvine?”
“Yes. Mr. Irvine is instructing Lord William in the finer points.”
“I intend to visit the schoolroom this afternoon. William wishes to know more about the Lippiza horses.”
Jenny gave an inward sigh. “I’m sure he’ll be pleased.”
Herr Von Bremen’s gaze settled on hers. “And will you be pleased to see me, Miss Harrismith?”
“Father!” Barbara detached her hand from Jenny’s and ran to clutch the duke around the leg. “Misty has kittens!”
He widened his eyes. “I thought the cat’s name was Carrot. And wasn’t it a male?”
Barbara gazed up at him adoringly. “No, silly. Misty. She’s a girl cat!”
It pleased Jenny to see the child openly affectionate with her father. “Ah, well that explains it!” With a fond smile, His Grace bent to tug gently on her blue bonnet ribbons.
When he straightened and nodded to Jenny, however, his gaze was cool. “I see the groom awaits with your horse, Ivo. Ask him to saddle Cicero, will you?”
“Certainly.” Ivo bowed his head. “Until this afternoon, Miss Harrismith.” He walked away.
“What is to happen this afternoon?” The duke demanded.
“Herr Von Bremen is to visit the schoolroom. Lord William wants to learn more about the Lippiza horses.”
She saw his fingers tighten around his crop. “As long as it is only about the horses, Miss Harrismith. It is not my policy to have my guests mingle with the staff.”
Her first instinct was to protest, but she could only watch open mouthed as he strode away toward the stables and the waiting threesome. It was the second time he’d been irritated when she was in the company of the German gentleman. Was it her, or Von Bremen who had annoyed him? Or both of them? It was frightfully unfair, and it cut her to the quick to think he might believe such a thing of her. Did he compare her with the former governess? Might he expect her to run off with the German, or perhaps a footman? Annoyed at not being able to defend herself, she tied her green bonnet ribbons firmly then clasped Barbara’s hand.
*
Some hours later, Andrew returned to the stables after putting Cicero through his paces. The chocolate brown stallion was always up for a good gallop. Ivo and Raymond had joined him when the path offered a good straight run. Then, laughing, they’d ridden back to Greta, who grumbled that a sidesaddle was too restricting.
As they walked the horses home, Raymond recalled his holidays at Castlebridge while the old duke was alive. “It was jolly fun, wasn’t it, Andrew? We got up to all manner of high jinks. Remember when we hid in the priest hole in the library? My mother looked for us everywhere. She almost had a fainting fit when we burst out in front of her. Her maid had to run for the smelling salts.”
Raymond was the only one apart from himself who knew every secret place in the old house. But Andrew couldn’t bring himself to believe his cousin would harm William. All his attention seemed focused on Greta, who so far had done little to deter him.
When he’d brought Greta here, Andrew had expected it to be the perfect opportunity for them to grow closer. But the opposite had occurred. It was Ivo who tried to bring them together. During their evenings Ivo made sure he partnered with Raymond at cards. And today, he’d distracted Raymond by riding alongside him and engaging him in conversation, which left Andrew and Greta alone. The man wanted the marriage, of course, if he was rolled up and needed an infusion of funds.
Trouble was, Andrew felt disinclined to be convivial. In fact, he’d begun to wish them all to Jericho, especially when Greta encouraged Raymond to make a fool of himself. He’d been struck by a dismaying realization. Greta’s beauty and charm had blinded him to her less attractive qualities. He hadn’t considered it particularly important that he wasn’t madly in love with her when they were courting in Vienna. But coming home had changed him. Here at Castlebridge, where he’d once been so content, made him want that life again.
Society being what it was, men often did not marry for love. Instead they took a mistress. But it would not suit Andrew to escort a beautiful wife to dinner parties and balls and have her flirt with other men. Or for him to have a mistress. A hollow life which did not attract him at all. As soon as he could he would put an end to his and Greta’s association, although he was sure she already knew it. It was just Ivo who did not.
Andrew dismounted at the stables. The others handed their horses over to grooms and called goodbye. He raised his hand in farewell as the earlier scene which had taken place here with Miss Harrismith caused him to feel
some regret. What had got into him? He’d been unjust. She’d done nothing to warrant him cautioning her. He sensed she would have liked to object, but she merely raised her chin, while beneath the brim of her poke bonnet, her gray eyes had darkened with reproach.
He led his stallion into the stable stall and took a moment to lean over the loose box wall to see the kittens. Dashed cute they were, but before long the stables would be overrun. Good ratters, they would turn out to be, perhaps some of his tenants would like them. Squire Grimshaw’s daughter, Sally, might like one for a pet. When the kittens were a little older he would ride over and invite her to choose one.
He settled Cicero into the stall and took down the curry brush from its hook. Working with the ease of long practice, he swept it over the horse’s back. Miss Harrismith didn’t appear to welcome Ivo’s attentions. But to Ivo, flirting with a pretty woman was as natural as breathing, despite Andrew’s warning to leave the governess alone. He was a good looking man, Andrew had to admit, with the same golden hair and cornflower blue eyes as his sister. Would Miss Harrismith find him so?
Andrew brushed over Cicero’s withers. He wondered what was needling him. What harm could Ivo do in the schoolroom with an armed footman outside the door, just supposing he wished to? Andrew frowned. He still didn’t want the man anywhere near Miss Harrismith.
He rubbed Cicero between the eyes, put down some hay for him and went in search of Irvine.
Chapter Eighteen
In the schoolroom, the quiet afternoon was disturbed, first by Herr Von Bremen, who, after greeting Jenny in the playful manner she’d come to loathe, pushed back his golden hair with a hand and sat down with William. He launched into a description of the white Lippiza horses and soon had the boy hanging on his every word.
Jenny drew Barbara into a quiet corner to read to her. The child curled up on Jenny’s lap on the rocking chair and immediately fell sleep.
“A charming scene,” Von Bremen said. “Your lap looks most inviting.”
Jenny glared at him while William chuckled.
They were interrupted again when Mr. Forsythe entered. “Miss Harrismith.” He nodded to Jenny and turned to the children. “High time I visited you two scallywags,” he said. “William, how do you go on? I remember the last time I was here, you had some splendid drawings of horses. Do you have any more?”
“Yes,” William jumped up. “I am going to draw some Spanish horses, like the ones Herr Von Bremen has been telling me about.”
Flushed with excitement at the two men displaying such an interest in him, William ran over to the bookshelves to fetch his sketchbook. He handed it proudly to Mr. Forsythe.
Jenny watched as Forsythe flicked through it, making random comments. He seemed kind, but she wasn’t prepared to trust him. “Jolly good work, William.” He gazed around. “Now where is this Carrot I’ve heard so much about?”
At the mention of the cat’s name, Barbara opened her eyes. “Carrot is in the stables with his family.”
Jenny had expected tears when they said goodbye to Carrot, but the little girl had accepted it without a qualm. “You will find Carrot with Misty and her newborn kittens, Mr. Forsythe,” Jenny explained.
He smiled. “There are kittens? Then I shall certainly visit them.”
The door which Jenny had barely shut, opened again, and the duke strolled in. He raised his eyebrows. “Quite a gathering. You’re here too, Ray.”
“Came to see the children,” Mr. Forsythe said.
He looked uncomfortable and Jenny wondered why.
“Father, Herr Von Bremen has been telling me about Lippiza horses,” William said.
The duke nodded. “There might be something on them in the library.”
“Could there be, Father?”
“Perhaps Miss Harrismith would search for it.”
“I’d be happy to,” Jenny said.
The duke opened the door. “Miss Harrismith? A word outside?”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
While attempting to decipher the critical glance Herr Von Bremen had cast her, Jenny settled Barbara down on the chair with a picture book.
His Grace had wandered a little way along the corridor, his arms behind his back. He paused in his stride for her to join him. “Are you managing the change in routine?”
“Yes, quite well. Lord William is enjoying his rides with Mr. Irvine. Apparently, the gentleman is showing him a few of the riding skills he learned during his time fighting Napoleon. And there are no longer any complaints about riding Lavender.”
“Good. Nothing has happened to concern you?”
“No,” she had begun to trust that they were at an end. “Is it possible that they were just random accidents?”
“I can’t afford to think that, Miss Harrismith. And neither can you. We must remain alert.”
“I plan to, of course.”
His gaze sought hers. “We must not let anything, or anyone, distract us from our vigilance.”
She flushed, and her fingers toyed with the brooch on her bodice. “I am aware of that,” she said shortly.
“I am confident of your good judgement. But things happen… Should you be invited to go for a walk with any gentleman, other than myself, of course, I prefer you did not.”
He turned and continued along the corridor. The former governess’s behavior obviously still played on his mind. Did he think all women were so irresponsible? She bit her lip, he would be right to have that view, she supposed, having left her home to take up this position.
She frowned and hurried after him incensed at the injustice of the veiled criticism. “I am not in search of a husband, Your Grace,” she said, her anguish making her sound horribly stiff. “If that is what lies behind this conversation.”
He swung around, his eyes troubled. “Why ever not, Miss Harrismith?” he asked in a gentler tone.
She gasped. “Why? Because I value my trusted position here.”
His dark brows snapped together. “You are skilled at evasion, Miss Harrismith. Most women wish to marry, do they not?”
“I did, once…”
“What changed your mind?”
If only he didn’t sound so concerned. She feared he would make her cry.
“London Seasons and dowries are expensive.”
“I understand.”
And yet she feared he didn’t. “I cannot blame my father, there are four children still at home. Bella and Beth yet to see married.”
“However this fails to explain why you have chosen this life instead of marriage.”
Why was he so intent on discovering the reason? How much could she tell him? “I refused a gentleman’s generous offer and my father was so angered by it he told me to leave home.”
“You refused?” His quizzical blue eyes met hers. “Despite knowing you would be placed in service? And with the knowledge that the marriage might have aided your siblings? But why?”
The question she hoped he wouldn’t ask her. Jenny bit her lip, her heart galloping. “I’m afraid I shall not tell you the reason, Your Grace.”
He arched his eyebrows. “You won’t?”
“No.” Amazed at her effrontery she pivoted to hurry away before she burst into tears and almost tripped over her feet.
He took her arm to steady her, his fingers strong and warm through her sleeve. “Miss Harrismith! I’m sorry I’ve upset you. It is your safety that concerns me, and I confess a wish to understand what brought you here. Of course, I consider myself most fortunate that you did come, but…” He shook his head. “We will say no more about it. Allow me to escort you to the schoolroom.”
She trembled, and her deep gasps drew in the duke’s fresh smell of starched linens and soap. The touch of his fine wool sleeve beneath her hand rattled her further, and she was unable to think of anything to mend her rude outburst, struck by a fear that he was not done with her. That he would prod her with more questions.
But he said nothing more. Was it bemusement that rendered him
silent? Surprising indeed that anyone as lowly as a governess would deliberately withhold information from him. But would he now let the matter rest?
At the door he released her arm and stepped away. “I’ve enjoyed our talk, Miss Harrismith.”
He had not of course. The fact that she’d been unhelpful to the point of rudeness, hovered for a moment in the air between them. But to tell him the truth and have him make inquiries, which she suspected he might, for he was a man who wished to right an injustice, could subject her family to unwanted scrutiny, and possibly retaliation.
Jenny suffered a spark of anger that a woman in her position must endure and remain silent or suffer the consequences.
“You’re very welcome, Your Grace.” She sank into a curtsey.
“I can’t remember anyone putting a curtsey to such good use, Miss Harrismith,” he said dryly.
He turned to George who’d sprung up from his chair and stood to attention beside the schoolroom door. “Inform the two gentlemen in the schoolroom that I am leaving. I shall go downstairs with them.”
The gentleman accepted their marching orders with good bonhomie. Relieved, Jenny watched them descend the stairs with the duke.
Inside, the schoolroom had become blessedly quiet.
Enough excitement for one day, William and Barbara were both tired, and she was exhausted. More from emotion than too much activity, for the day had passed with little physical exertion. She feared she would not sleep well. The duke remained uppermost in her thoughts. It was as if he wished to search her very soul. She had frustrated him. Well, so be it. She would not tell him the truth if he locked her in the dungeon. No one must ever know for that could harm too many she loved. Tomorrow, during her time off, she would search for that book in the library, hopefully while the duke was out riding.
*
Andrew entered his apartments to change his clothes before joining his guests in the salon. As his valet fussed around him, he raised his eyebrows at himself in the mirror. Why did he wish to embroil himself in Miss Harrismith’s affairs? Questioning her in that way had been totally inappropriate. His intention had been to warn her against the two gentleman who’d decided for some reason or other to visit his schoolroom, but it had somehow become more of an interrogation. It was just that it didn’t sit well with him, he reasoned, to see her, a lord’s daughter, in such a position. Little more than a servant, she must yearn for the life she was born to live. While he liked and admired her, there was little he could do to help her, unless she was honest with him. But she had refused point-blank to enlighten him. Even though it had obviously distressed her to oppose him. His questions got him nowhere, and he remained as much in the dark as ever. But something had happened to drive her from her home, and damn if he didn’t want to know what that was, but if he wasn’t careful, his children would lose someone they’d come to love, and there’d been no one else who’d meant that much to them since their mother died. Even Nanny Evans hadn’t been so loved. Until Andrew married, and that might be some years away, they needed Miss Harrismith.
Regency Scandals and Scoundrels: A Regency Historical Romance Collection Page 60
