'Well I don't like it, and so I tell 'ee,' stated Wragg, interrupting his reverie. 'It smacks of deceit, you not telling 'em who you really are. And I saw the way you looked at that young lady. You don't want to be raising any hopes there, Master Peregrine, not with you as good as promised.'
Perry's good mood vanished. 'I have no intention of raising hopes,' he said coldly. 'I merely want to continue my acquaintance with Monsieur Coutras. I need to know more about him to decide if it is worth offering him an alternative home so that I may have the castle for my own use, once I am married.'
'Aye, and that's another strange thing,' remarked Wragg, clearly too incensed to care about overstepping the boundaries between servant and master. 'You ain't even tied the knot yet and already you are talking of getting away.'
'That's enough,' snapped Peregrine. 'I'll be damned if I'll let you criticise me. Any further insolence from you and I'll turn you off without a character.'
Even as the words left his mouth Perry realised how ridiculous they sounded. He could never dismiss such a loyal servant, and Wragg knew it. Perry glanced across and saw the groom was staring straight ahead.
He said contritely, 'I beg your pardon, Wragg. You are right to speak up when you think I am in error. You have always done so in the past, have you not?'
'Not that it ever does any good,' muttered the groom, a black frown creasing his brow. 'Too stubborn by half, you are, and never takes notice of anything I say.'
'Ah, but then you have the satisfaction of saying I told you so.' Perry smiled and held out his hand. 'Forgive me for my cross words, and cry Pax with me, old friend!'
Wragg scowled even more. 'Go to, your grace. I knows you didn't mean it.' He sat up straighter in the saddle and added, so his master would know he had been forgiven, 'And you's one who will go his own way to the devil, no matter what anyone says!'
CHAPTER THREE
When they reached the Greyhound, Perry sent his coat and boots off with the landlady for brushing and shut his mind to what his valet would say when he returned to Cullenmore.
He enjoyed a solitary dinner in his room and then sat reading by candlelight. As he set about trimming the wick he thought that dinner at the castle would have proved more amusing than sitting alone here in his room, but he did not regret it. It had occurred to him, when the Frenchman issued the invitation, that the sudden addition of a guest at the dinner table might put an undue strain upon the family's limited resources. His impression had been that they lived simply and the sudden addition of a dinner guest might well cause embarrassment. At least by deferring his visit until tomorrow they would have time to prepare a little.
Perry found himself wondering if the burden for arranging everything would fall upon Miss Coutras. At Cullenmore there was an army of servants to provide for his every whim. As duke he only had to lift a finger and someone would be there, ready to do his bidding. However, as a young man he had lived a much easier life in town with friends far less wealthy than himself, and far less grand. He knew that in small households the mistress must oversee everything herself, and Monsieur Coutras' household was definitely small, he had seen no more than two servants. Would Sophie Coutras be so busy cooking and cleaning that she would be too exhausted to enjoy herself at dinner tomorrow evening? He hoped not, he had the impression that she had a lively and enquiring mind and he would like to talk more with her.
He shifted in his chair as Wragg's cautionary words came back to him. It was not that he had any romantic inclinations towards her, of course not. He liked her brothers, too, and wanted to know more about the whole family before he decided whether to give up on his idea of having the castle for his own private retreat. After all, he was not a monster, and would not wish to turn the family from their home if it would make them unhappy.
Peregrine spent the following day riding around the area. He was not quite sure just what farms here belonged to him, and he was loath to announce his presence formally just to find out. The land appeared to be in good heart, and the animals healthy enough, but there was a shabbiness about some of the farm buildings, although he had no idea if these properties were all part of the Cullenmore estates. He recalled Hugh Coutras mentioning the land agent, Grieves. The Coutras family did not appear to like him, but Perry would want to be sure of his facts before he made himself known to the fellow. It would not be a good start if it appeared the new duke was ignorant of just what he owned.
The fresh air and exercise gave Perry an appetite and by the time he rode to the castle he was ready for his dinner. As he trotted over the bridge the big double doors swung open and he saw Armand and Hugh waiting for him. A manservant took his horse and the boys escorted Perry to the house, chattering as they went.
'We are dining in the winter parlour,' Armand told him. 'I wanted us to eat in the great hall, like knights of old, but Sophie thought it would be too cold.'
'Hush, Armand.' Hugh admonished his brother and turned a faintly anxious gaze upon Perry. 'The parlour is perfectly comfortable, Mr Wyre, I assure you. We shall not be at all cramped. And it is closer to the kitchen.'
'Now that is an advantage,' agreed Perry, grinning
'Yes, there is a good chance it will arrive hot at the table.' Armand elbowed his brother out of the way and squeezed himself next to Perry. 'Do you like lamb, sir? Sophie went to the market today and fetched a whole leg for us.'
'Excellent,' declared Perry. 'Lamb is by far my favourite meat.'
'I am glad,' confided the boy. 'Because it is my favourite too. Sophie thought you might prefer beef, but Mr Hobbs isn't butchering the cow until next month. He might have done it early, if Sophie had spoken to him, because he is sweet on her―'
Hugh gave his brother a nudge. 'That's enough Armand, there was no question of Mr Hobbs slaughtering the animal early, because we couldn't eat it at a day's notice.
Perry shuddered at the thought. 'What a bloodthirsty subject. Shall we talk of something else?'
'I did want to ask you about your horse, sir,' said Hugh. 'She is a fine animal. There is some Arab in her, I think.'
Perry answered readily and encouraged the subject, which lasted them until they reached the great hall, where they found Paul Coutras and his daughter waiting for them. He had explained that as he was travelling he had nothing more formal to wear this evening, which might account for his host's plain coat but he thought it more likely that the man had no other. Perry did not think any the worse of him for that, he had seen enough of men who lived beyond their means.
His eyes strayed to Sophie. She, too was simply attired. To one accustomed to London Society he was well aware that her cream muslin gown was not the latest fashion, but the embroidery at the neck and sleeves was exquisite and as fine as any he had seen in town. She had tamed her hair into a topknot with a few golden curls framing her face and the simple coral necklace at her throat emphasised the slender elegance of her neck. Perry thought she looked charming, but as he made his bow to her he bit back the compliment, recalling Wragg's warning about raising false hopes.
'I trust the boys have not talked you into the headache,' said the Frenchman in welcome. 'They see so few visitors, you see.'
'No, no, they have entertained me regally,' Perry winked at the boys. 'As befits princes.'
'I am so sorry they embroiled you in their foolish games,' put in Sophie, distressed. 'And I believe they took money from you, too―'
Perry raised his hand to stop her. 'The sixpence was honestly earned, Miss Coutras, for they ferried me safely across to the island. I have no cause to grumble about that.'
'You see,' said Armand, giving his sister a resentful look. 'I told you we had done nothing wrong.'
Watching the emotions flitting across Sophie's face, Perry knew she wanted to return the money and felt a stab of alarm. He did not want that. It was only a few pence, a mere trifle, but clearly she had no wish to be beholden to him.
'Indeed, they have not,' he said, smiling at her. 'Your brothers are most resourcef
ul, ma'am, and are to be congratulated. I pray you will not blame them, nor deprive them of their wages.'
She did not look satisfied, but since everyone else was laughing she could hardly press him to take back the sixpence.
'Very well. Shall we go in to dinner?'
Sophie had little experience of entertaining, but she thought the winter parlour looked very well with the table covered in a snowy white cloth, the best glasses and cutlery set out just so. She had spent the day shopping, baking and cleaning with Joan, and hoped Papa's guest would appreciate the effort to make everything comfortable. Not that gentlemen usually noticed such things, she thought wryly, only the lack of them.
She took her seat at one end of the table, flanked by her brothers, with Mr Wyre sitting at the far end, beside her father. She was glad to have some distance between them, even a little, because she was finding Mr Wyre's presence disturbing.
It had nothing to do with his behaviour towards her, which was perfectly proper. If anything, his greeting had been a little cool, but when he had smiled at her, with such a look of understanding in his dark eyes, her heart had jumped in the most alarming way and her thoughts had become so scrambled that she could think of nothing sensible to say.
Thankfully, Papa and the boys were all eager to talk to Mr Wyre during the meal, and Sophie was able to regain her composure and to consider why their guest should make her feel so on edge. She decided it was because he was so much younger than any other gentleman Papa had invited to dine here.
And so much more attractive than anyone else I have ever met.
That idea made her hands tremble. She could not deny that she had dreamed about falling in love, but given her situation and lack of fortune, she thought it unlikely that any gentleman would offer for her and had resigned herself to spending her life looking after Papa and the boys. Then Mr Wyre had arrived yesterday, tall, dark and undeniably handsome; it was inevitable that she should find him attractive.
She gave herself a mental shake. It would not do to build up fantasies about a stranger. It could only lead to disappointment. She turned her mind instead to the food. Mr Wyre seemed to be enjoying his meal, even though it was only three courses. He had partaken of the soup and sweet pudding, followed by the halibut, and she was gratified when, upon her father's bidding, he accepted a second helping of the lamb. When Joan brought in the final dishes, she thought the sweetmeats and small bowl of nuts looked a little frugal but she need not have worried, they all fell upon the syllabub she had made from the first of the gooseberries.
After dinner she shepherded Armand and Hugh out of the room and left the gentlemen to their port, but when they announced that Mr Wyre had promised to play a game of Lottery with them, she knew it would be useless to expect them to retire early.
'He is a great gun,' declared Armand, preceding his sister into the drawing room. 'I will go and find the cards. I know there is one new pack in the cupboard. Hugh, you had the other to play patience, where did you put them?'
The boys went off to hunt for the playing cards and counters while Sophie made herself comfortable in one of the armchairs that flanked the fire. She folded her hands in her lap, at a loss to know what to do. Joan would have the tea tray prepared and ready to bring up when she rang the bell, so to go down to the kitchen and check would most likely cause offence to a servant who had been with the family since Sophie was a child. Neither could she retire to her room, for it would look very impolite if she was not there to greet the gentlemen when they came in.
But how long might that be? She glanced at the clock. Papa had been known to sit talking for hours with old friends like Reverend Mostyn or the stationer, Mr Bonworth. She hoped that would not be the case tonight. Not because she wanted to have Mr Wyre's company for herself, of course, but the boys would be very disappointed if they only saw their guest for a few minutes before they went to bed.
Then an even more alarming thought came to her. What if Papa brought his guest to the drawing room quickly because he was bored with his conversation, or thought him a dullard? Papa was a scholar, an intelligent man who did not suffer fools lightly. And Sophie realised that she really, really did not want to discover that Mr Wyre was dull, or a fool.
Thus it was that she listened with some misgiving to the sound of footsteps crossing the hall little more than a half-hour later, but when the gentlemen came in, she noted with relief that they appeared to be on the best of terms. Papa was making his way towards his usual chair and Mr Wyre headed for the chair beside Sophie, until Armand put himself in his way.
'You have not forgotten that you promised to play Lottery with us, sir, have you?'
Papa tutted and remonstrated mildly with his son. 'My dear boy, pray allow us a few moments peace.'
'But if we delay it will be time for the tea tray,' reasoned Hugh, who was already pulling chairs up to the round table. 'And after that Sophie will insist that Armand goes to bed.'
Perry moved towards the table.
'Then, if Monsieur Coutras does not object, by all means let us play now.' He turned his gaze upon Sophie and she felt it immediately. Hot, like a beam of sunlight. 'Will you be joining us, Miss Coutras?'
'I do not think―' she began but her brothers instantly remonstrated.
'You must, Sophie, we cannot play with just four of us,' cried Armand, 'and besides, you are always the luckiest player.'
''Is she now?'
Sophie heard the teasing note in their guest's voice and when she met his eyes there was no mistaking the amused twinkle in his own. He said, 'I hope very much that Miss Coutras will join us, but if she would rather not then I am sure we can find another game that will suit us equally well.'
Sophie was grateful. She was about to ask to be excused when Papa spoke up.
'Mais, certainement she will join us. Card games are a favourite pastime, are they not my dear?'
He sounded more cheerful than usual and she realised how much he was enjoying the company this evening. It would be churlish of her to sit out, so she acquiesced with a good grace and moved to the table. Mr Wyre was holding the chair for her, and she was very conscious of his hands so close to her back as she sat down. When he took the seat beside her, it was not his proximity that made her blush, she told herself, but her own foolish consciousness. She sat quietly, hands folded in her lap, while the boys distributed the counters. One game, she thought. Just one game then she would ring for the tea tray.
But it was not long before Sophie had forgotten her reservations and given herself up to the enjoyment of the game, happily making bets and showing just as much excitement as her brothers when she had a winning card. The game ended noisily, with Sophie emerging victorious and when her neighbour congratulated her she turned to him without restraint.
'It was very close,' she told him, laughing. 'I only beat you by a whisker.'
'Next time I hope to have my revenge upon you, Miss Coutras!'
He was smiling back at her and she found herself hoping very much there would be a next time. The soft chime of the clock caught her attention and she gave a little cry.
'Oh goodness, is that the time? I beg your pardon, tea should have been fetched up long before now.'
'I don't think there is any harm done,' replied her father, 'It is not so very late, you know.'
'And I am not in any hurry to get back,' added their guest. 'There is a good moon out tonight to light my way.'
'There was earlier,' she replied, getting up from the table. 'It may have clouded over by now.'
Hugh laughed. 'If it has then Mr Wyre will have to remain 'til morning.'
'Why cannot he stay anyway?' piped up Armand.
The gentleman had risen from his seat and for a moment his eyes met Sophie's and she blushed to the roots of her hair. Had he read her thoughts, did he know how much she liked the idea of his staying longer?
She turned away quickly and went over to tug at the bell pull. Behind her she heard that smooth dark voice speaking.
; 'Alas, Armand, that is not possible. My man is waiting for me at the inn, and we need to make an early start tomorrow, I must get back to…' he hesitated and ended a little consciously, 'I must get home.'
'Of course, my boy, that is quite understandable.' Her father patted Mr Wyre on the back as if he was someone he had known all his life. 'We are pleased that you decided to break your journey here. We have all enjoyed your company this evening, have we not, children?'
The boys' swift affirmation was gratifying, but Perry noticed that Sophie said nothing. She was moving two small tables nearer to her chair ready to receive the tea tray and that might have accounted for her distraction, but Perry could not be sure, and suddenly he very much wanted to know if she too had enjoyed his company.
The maid and manservant came in, bearing heavy trays laden with teapot, cups and cakes. He watched Sophie as she poured the tea. She would have asked one of the boys to carry it to him but he forestalled her and stepped up to take the cup from her own hand. Their fingers brushed and his heart leapt. He could not be mistaken, surely she had trembled a little? There was a delicate blush on her cheeks and she would not meet his eye. If only he had a reason to come back here. Then he remembered.
'Perhaps I might call in tomorrow morning,' he said, addressing himself to his host. 'I believe Hugh wanted to put my mare through her paces.'
'By Jove, I did,' cried the boy, his face lighting up. 'It would be above everything wonderful if I could take her out. Only for a short ride, you understand.'
'Then I shall do so.'
'But my dear sir, do you have time?' Monsieur Coutras asked him. 'I understood you to say your journey tomorrow was a long one.'
'It is, but we can ride cross country for some of it, which will be much quicker than taking the road. A few hours here or there will make little difference. And besides, it is the least I can do to repay your hospitality.'
Duke's Folly Page 3
