An Affair Downstairs

by Sherri Browning

  “It’s good to see you, Brother, but you’re a scary sight.”

  Logan ran his hands through his hair. “I haven’t had a proper bath. I didn’t want to leave you.”

  “Not like that.” John laughed until it became a wheezing cough. “I mean, I must be in sorry shape for you to have come. You haven’t been home in years.”

  “Eight years.” Logan nodded. “Nice to see the place hasn’t changed much. And you’re right. You were in sorry shape. Ellen thought she was going to lose you.”

  “John.” Ellen came bounding into the room. “Of course I knew I wouldn’t lose you. I finally saw our chance to get your brother home.”

  “Do you see how married people lie to one another, Logan? She’s sparing me from knowing I was on the brink. What do you think now? Will I live?”

  Tears glistening in her eyes, Ellen placed her hand on her husband’s cheek. “Dr. Hall will be here shortly. He’ll have a better idea. But I’m thinking yes.”

  The doctor did deliver good news. With the fever breaking, John had a strong chance of full recovery. Logan had planned to stay only long enough for John to recover, but it seemed only fair to spend some time with his brother before setting off again. Eight years was a long time to be apart, and Logan had to admit that he’d missed being part of a family.

  On the third day after John’s fever had passed, Logan happened to run into Grace in the garden where he’d been walking. She looked remarkably like her mother, with long, fair hair and rosy cheeks, as opposed to John and Ellen’s younger daughters with their dark Winthrop curls and pale skin.

  “Hello.” She looked up from her book to greet him.

  He’d contemplated turning around and walking the other way, but she had already seen him. He might arouse more suspicion in fleeing than in blustering on with it. Her younger cousins pushed their dolls up and down the walkway in matching miniature prams. Mrs. Leenders, knitting while she watched over the children, sat on the garden bench by Grace.

  “Hello,” he said quickly, meaning to walk on.

  “You’re the one who knew my mother,” Grace said boldly, making him stop in his tracks and turn. “I remember you.”

  Mrs. Leenders looked stricken. “I’m sure the man is busy, Grace. We must mind our manners.”

  “You remember me?” Logan asked, intrigued. “I haven’t seen you since you were a very little girl.”

  Grace disregarded authority as surely as her mother once had. She put down the book and approached him. “My mother, Julia. Julia Kirkland. I recognize you from her pictures.”

  “Her pictures?”

  “I have her sketchbook. She drew you all the time. You’re the same man. She was a brilliant artist.”

  “Yes.” He had to admit that she was. “She had a very sure hand, but I think I might have changed some in twelve years.” In Julia’s sketches, he had been a love-stricken boy of eighteen at the oldest. Julia had been drawing him since they were children.

  Grace cocked her head, as if studying him through an artist’s eyes, and her expression was so like her mother’s that Logan might have at last wept the tears he had not cried so long ago, if only they would come. “Your nose and chin. Such a broad nose and pointed chin. Some things change, but the structural lines give you away.”

  “Are you an artist like your mother?”

  She straightened, clearly proud. “I’m an artist, not like her. I’m my own sort of artist.”

  “Well, of course. And so you should be your own sort of artist.”

  “I’m going to study painting at the Royal Academy.”

  “Is that what you would like to do?” He remembered Julia sharing the ambition. “I’m sure you will. Best wishes to you, Grace.”

  She crossed her arms. “You’re my uncle. Well, not my real uncle. You’re Uncle John’s brother, which would make you my uncle if Uncle John were my real uncle, which, of course, he’s not.”

  “No.” He followed along, knowing enough to avoid becoming confused.

  “Did you know my real father, too?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry for your loss. Losses.”

  “It was an accident.” She took his hand, peering up at him with Julia’s eyes as if she knew the truth. “A terrible accident. I wish I had my parents, but Uncle John and Aunt Ellen are as good as the real thing. You could stay longer and tell me more about my parents, maybe? No one seems to know them as well as I could hope, but your face is all over Mother’s sketchbook.”

  “That it probably is. I did know your mother very well. Your father, not as much. I was there when you were born,” he confessed, eager to give her some sort of happy information on the parents she never knew. “You cried. A lot.”

  She laughed. “Oh, that’s what you remember?”

  He nodded. “Your mother was delighted by it. She said it meant that you were healthy and strong, like her.”

  “And then she died.” Grace said it so matter-of-factly. And then she died. But of course, Grace had never known her mother and didn’t have the memories that still haunted Logan.

  “In fact, yes. Not long after she remarked on your health, her own gave out and she died. She was sorry not to be able to watch you grow. She’d been very much looking forward to raising you.”

  They both had, Julia and Logan. The plans they’d made. They were going to go to France and on to America, far enough away that her husband could never find them. Logan would raise the child as his own. Julia would take his name. Logan’s greatest mistake was in allowing Julia to convince him to wait until she’d given birth before they could slip away. Stanhope wouldn’t hit her while she was expecting a child, she’d said. Julia had wanted her ailing father to see his grandchild before he died. If only Logan had trusted his instincts and spirited her away sooner.

  “Thank you.” She squeezed the hand she held, surprising him. “It’s good to know. I’m sorry that she died.”

  “So am I. Quite sorry. You should have had the chance to know each other better.”

  “If you stayed longer, you could tell me so I would know.” Those eyes! Her mother’s eyes, blue as the summer sky, looked up at him.

  All these years, guilt had driven him away. Now guilt made him consider returning to Stratton Park for a longer stay. He was probably the only one who really could tell her about her mother. Messages he passed through Mrs. Leenders clearly hadn’t been enough for the girl. “One day, Grace. One day, perhaps I will come back and stay a while longer. As it is, I have duties to return to at Thornbrook Park.”

  He had Alice, though not really. He had to let go, but he found he wasn’t quite ready to leave the dream behind.

  ***

  On the day of the hunt, Alice woke with an ache at her core that could only be attributed to missing Winthrop. When she’d planned to join the hunt, she’d thought to impress him with her style and ability in the saddle. He’d once called her Artemis. With her new hunting whip, a gift from Ralston, she looked the part. But Winthrop wouldn’t see her jumping her horse over hedges or commanding her place in the field. What if he never came back?

  She needed to focus on the hunt. Sophia came with Jenks to help her dress.

  “I have something for you.” Sophia presented a small enamel box.

  “A present for me?” Alice took the box, hesitant to open it.

  “For luck. It will go beautifully with your hunting habit.”

  She looked inside. It was a cabochon ruby with seed pearls set in gold. “Sophia, it’s extraordinary.”

  “It was a gift from Grandmother on my coming-out. She said it would bring me luck in finding the right man, a husband. I should have given it to you sooner. Grandmother passed away before your coming-out, and I think she would want me to pass it on.”

  “I’ll wear it to remind me of Grandmother,” Alice clarified. “And nothing more.” Their grandmother had also given them each a sizable inheritance in case the right man never came along. Alice wanted to point that out to Sophia, but she held her tongu
e.

  “As long as you wear it.”

  Once Alice was dressed, Mrs. Jenks helped her fasten the pin at her throat, just over her cravat.

  “Perfect,” Sophia said, and she sent for Gabriel to go down with her.

  “Follow the huntsman’s lead and you’ll be fine,” Gabriel recommended. Alice nodded, pretending not to be nervous.

  “She can follow my lead.” Ralston joined them as they stepped out to the yard. “I don’t plan on leaving her side, Lord Averford. She’s in good hands with me.”

  “I hope so,” Alice said, hazarding a glance at Ralston from under the brim of her hat. He flashed that wide grin of his, reminding her somewhat of the fox they would be hunting.

  “First, the master of hounds sounds the horn and looses the hounds to follow the scent. We follow the hounds,” Ralston explained. “Simple as that.”

  “If it’s anything like last year, we’ll end up spending half the day seated around coverts waiting for the fox to come out and run again,” Averford said. “Ah, here comes Winthrop leading out our horses.”

  “Winthrop.” Alice’s head shot up. “When did he arrive? I thought he was going to miss the hunt.”

  “Miss the hunt? He wouldn’t dream of it. Winthrop’s been at my side these last six Holcomb hunts at least.”

  “Don’t worry, Lady Alice,” Ralston whispered. “Mr. Winthrop will stay with Lord Averford. We’ll find our own way through the crowd.”

  “I’m not worried, Lord Ralston. Thank you.”

  “It’s a crowded field. More ladies than usual. Over thirty.” Was Ralston suggesting that he could have his pick? Did he expect her to be grateful?

  “I’m glad of it. Some men think women have no place in sport. I would love for a woman to take the prize this year.”

  “Perhaps it will be you, Lady Alice.”

  “It won’t be Junie Sentleden.” Alice nodded to June on the sidelines, where she stood with Lord Brumley choosing refreshments from the buffet. “Sadly, she’s not dressed to hunt.”

  “Your horse awaits, Lady Alice. Come, let me help you mount.” Winthrop appeared at her side and bowed dutifully. “Lord Ralston, your groom requests a word with you.”

  “I’ll join you in a moment.” Ralston headed off.

  “Thank you, Mr. Winthrop. A surprise to see you here.” Alice followed him to Lord Averford and the horses. “I hope all is well with your brother, not that you informed me you were going. I heard it from my sister.”

  “I left in a hurry, Lady Alice.”

  “Still, you could have said something. I thought we were friends.” She felt he owed her some little bit of courtesy, even though he owed her nothing.

  “I hope we are.”

  “And yet, you also didn’t send me word that you were coming back. I haven’t heard from you since…” She shook her head. “What was I to think?”

  “I’m sorry. I hardly know what to think of it myself, if that helps any. And then there was the letter from Ellen with word of my brother’s rapid decline. Please, if I’ve offended you, forgive me.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. He could hardly do much more without arousing suspicion. “You must know that I never intended to avoid you on purpose.”

  She softened. What was he to do, really? He couldn’t very well go looking for her or be caught sending her notes. And if his brother had been as sick as all that…“There’s nothing to forgive. I really do hope your family is well.”

  “My brother has recovered, thank you. Bronchitis, not contagious. At least, no one else in the family seems to have come down with anything like it. I arrived at Thornbrook Park last night and headed to Holcomb House this morning.”

  As they drew nearer to Lord Averford, she tried to appear as though they were having a simple conversation. “Brutus made the journey well?”

  “The horses came with Grady days ago. He’s rested and ready. I hope you got more practice in taking him over hedges and fallen logs.”

  “There wasn’t time. I hope my skills will suffice.” She hadn’t ridden since her day out with Ralston, and there were few reasons to lead Brutus over obstacles then. Their path had been mostly a clear one. “Brutus makes up in agility what he lacks in speed.”

  “You are skilled, but have a care riding with Ralston. Rumor has it the earl likes to show off and will go out of his way to leap obstacles when he could easily go around.”

  “He informs me that there are thirty women riding today. I’m sure some of them will be impressed with Ralston’s skills, but I won’t be among them.”

  “Because you don’t wish to marry? You might want to rebuff him a little before he finds the opportunity to ask. I see the way he looks at you, Alice. It’s only a matter of time. And you don’t seem to be in a hurry to be rid of him, despite your protestations.”

  At last, was she to see a hint of jealousy from Winthrop? Her nerves tingled with hope that he hadn’t entirely vanquished his affection for her after all. She risked meeting his gaze and became instantly flooded with desire. His heavy-lidded eyes mirrored her own intense attraction.

  “Logan,” she said suddenly, daring to stroke his whisker-roughened cheek. “Why must everything seem so impossible?”

  “Anything is possible. Just not as likely as we might wish. Please, stay focused on the hunt. Don’t take any foolish risks.”

  She already had, risking her heart to the estate manager. He helped her into the saddle, lingering beside her until Gabriel, on horseback, joined them.

  “Mount up, Winthrop. They’ll be starting soon.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Before he could return to them, Ralston rode over to Alice’s side. “Should we make a friendly wager?”

  “A wager, Lord Ralston? Of what sort?”

  “If I’m the one to corner the fox, you’ll kiss me.”

  It seemed a safe enough risk. At worst, it would cost her a kiss. At best, the hounds would corner the fox and the huntsman would be the first to get to it. “And if I corner the fox?”

  He shrugged. “You could choose the same prize, a kiss.”

  She laughed. “But that’s a pointless bet. If either of us is victorious, we get the prize.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What if I choose a different prize?”

  “Preposterous. Why would you want anything else?” He winked and jerked the reins, charging ahead of her before she had a chance to protest. She caught up a minute later. “Get ready, he’s going to sound the horn.”

  She looked around for Logan and Gabriel, but had lost sight of them in the crowd. The master sounded the horn, and the dogs sprang into action. There were supposedly two hundred riders, but they were easily outnumbered by fox terriers, foxhounds, and little scruffy dogs she couldn’t name but that she understood were famous for bravely scurrying right into the foxholes after their prey.

  From the middle of the pack of hunters, Alice and Lord Ralston followed the incessant woofing and howling to the first covert. Within minutes, before the back of the pack had even caught up, the hounds snuffed out a red fox so gorgeous and sweet that Alice had a moment’s hesitation. How could they frighten such a lovely little thing? Even worse, to stand back and watch the hounds tear into her. But as the rest of the pack caught up and the hounds raced on to the next covert, excitement bubbled in her veins. The thrill of the hunt! A feeling she knew at last. It was perhaps livelier than her pursuit of Winthrop had been, but every bit as jolly.

  Catching Winthrop had been more rewarding, alas, but she wanted him again, perhaps all the more when she finally spied him not far behind the master of the hunt. Winthrop had fine form on a horse. She suddenly didn’t know if the tingling in her veins came from hunting or from her memories of lovemaking, but she charged Brutus into pursuit so that Ralston had to try to keep up with her. The next covert was some way off. The fox had outstripped the pack and burrowed into a dense thatch of greenery.

  The dogs, noses to the ground, sniffed everywhere and seemed a little confuse
d at being eluded.

  “Stay alert,” Ralston assured her, catching up. “The grounds crew was out at dawn making sure the burrows were all filled in.”

  “The poor thing has nowhere to hide.”

  “Exactly. Any moment now.”

  “It seems a bit unfair.”

  “We don’t want the riders getting bored, now do we?”

  A little tuft of red appeared in the brush and suddenly the dogs were over the other side, charging ahead. Horses followed.

  On it went for what seemed like hours. Ralston rode dutifully by her side, commanding his horse to make graceful leaps over any object in the way, while she rode easily around most of them. Every time she thought she would be close enough to speak to Logan again, he charged ahead after the pack.

  A surprising thing happened at the next covert. The dogs went in sniffing and two foxes appeared. Much confusion ensued, with the master and half the hounds going one way and some dogs and riders trailing off in the other direction. By the next few coverts, the pack had thinned to only a few riders, and Alice began to think they’d set off after the wrong fox.

  “Follow me,” Ralston said. “I think I can see where all this is headed. We’ll beat the fox to the next covert and perhaps force it into the open together.”

  “I—” She was about to protest when Ralston’s horse charged off. She wanted to end the hunt with Winthrop. If only she could find him again. “Here we go, then.”

  She braced herself and went off after him, leading Brutus over a tall fence that she wasn’t sure he would clear. When he did, she wanted to stop and compliment him on his performance, but Ralston hadn’t looked back or slowed down. She raced ahead, following, more pleased by his plan when she thought she saw Winthrop and Lord Averford joining in from the opposite direction, perhaps after the second fox. Ralston’s horse leaped some fallen logs, clueing Alice to prepare Brutus for a similar feat. Brutus cleared the logs and stumbled, possibly not expecting the puddle that followed. Alice held on, but the momentum drove her forward even after her horse had stopped.