Ianthe and the Fighting Foxes: The Fentons Book 4

by Alicia Cameron

  When Ianthe finally joined them, she and Audley rode a little ahead of Sally and the groom who had slowed his horse's trot to accompany her.

  'Sally is a dear, is she not, Audley? I have only just met her, but I expect that she will become my closest friend in England.'

  Audley paused a little. 'Your friend is more unusual than I believed at first.'

  'Oh, is your pride hurt? When I looked back at you two, she did not always seem amused by your fatal charm.'

  'Do not be vulgar, Ianthe. You are no longer in Paris and must mind your manners.' She laughed up at him and he knew her to be enchanting. 'Don't play those tricks with me. I remember you with missing teeth.'

  She grinned and said, 'So you do. Mr Fenton said something similar to me in London. But you are only ten years my senior, I believe.'

  'It is so. But since I first met you when I was seventeen and a man grown, I shall never be able to think of you without mud on your nose. I believe you were making a pie.' He laughed. 'How does Cherie go on?'

  'She is determined on her course at present and will not mind me.'

  'I do not doubt it. She cannot go on so, surely?'

  'I will think of a way,' Ianthe looked at Audley suspiciously, 'but you are avoiding my question. How is it that Sally is not captivated by your legendary address?'

  'I forgot that I had met her before. But worst of all, I mounted her on Missy.'

  Ianthe giggled. 'I could see by her enthusiasm that she was a true horsewoman. I should have said something when they brought out the mare.'

  'Yes, you should, Ianthe,' he drawled. 'Now I think about it, I lay it all at your door.'

  'Well, but I was so pleased to see Purity again that I thought only of myself. I am sorry, Audley. But did Sally really scold you?'

  'Not precisely. But nearly. It amused me.'

  Ianthe was silent for a moment, searching his profile. 'Audley — dearest Rob — do not try to charm my friend simply because she did not fawn at you.'

  Audley jerked his body and turned to look directly at Ianthe's serious face. 'I do not behave in that way.'

  She smiled sadly. 'I have seen you, my friend. Any hint of reserve in a lady's manner to you has you determined to thaw her.' He looked stunned. 'But do not do so to Sally, I beg. I do not think that the Richards' situation is provident — and I do not wish you to raise—'

  He laughed, but still looked a little ashamed at this glance into his own character. 'Expectations? Do not fear, my dear Ianthe. Your friend tells me she could never forgive a man who mounted her on a slug.'

  Ianthe laughed too, though not all her fears were dispersed. 'I am so fortunate to have met with a woman of such spirit at Studham! It would be so dull without her and Lady Richards to watch me tease those Foxes.'

  'Is it too dreadful?' asked Audley, concerned. 'If you are become more uncomfortable, send a line to me. Or come here.'

  'And then we would be in the suds, for you told me you have no female relatives in residence! But I may let you convey me to London to Mr Fenton and Lady Aurora if the need should arise.'

  'Will it?'

  'Oh, I don't think so,' said Ianthe breezily, 'I am too amused by them at the moment. They all disapprove of me so much, you know, and I shall make them feel their burden before I go.'

  'Burden?'

  'Oh, they try that all three of us, the Richards and I, shall know our burdensome place.'

  'What a household. I'm sorry, my dear.' Ianthe cocked an eyebrow at him. 'Oh, yes. I am very sorry for the Foxes. They are too ignorant to fear you.'

  Ianthe laughed.

  Chapter Five

  Fox Tries and Fails

  'Never mind, Sally,' said Ianthe in the gig back to Studham. 'The marquis has promised a better ride for you tomorrow.'

  Sally shrugged and shuddered. 'Now I am only hoping we can get back into the house without being seen. The servants might not mention…'

  Ianthe looked at her friend's hands, grasped tightly on the side of the gig, and her tense body. How could a girl who disdained the Marquis of Audley be the same one now terrified as they approached the house? 'Do not fear. I have a gift for the clandestine. Lady Fox shall not know.'

  Sally relaxed a little. 'How does one acquire a gift for the clandestine?' she asked, more playfully.

  'One has a spy for a father!' Ianthe whispered the last in her ear so that the groom who was driving could not overhear.

  Sally laughed and the ladies successfully re-entered by a side door and Sally summoned a maid to call for her mother and moved off to her own chamber. As she changed into morning dress (a corded cambric in a warm fawn colour that complemented her hair) her mother joined her.

  'Sally dear. Did you enjoy your exercise?'

  'You could not call it exercise. It was more like being conveyed in a sedan chair. The marquis gave me his grandmama's mare.'

  'Oh dear, and I know how much you longed for a ride!' her mother sympathised and began unpinning and re-pinning some curls to restore Sally's simple hairstyle. She paused, playing with a curl, and her silence let Sally know what was coming. 'And — was the marquis polite?' her mother asked, a trifle too casually.

  A small untruth would be better here, judged Sally, uttering a prayer for forgiveness in her head, than to keep her mother hoping for the impossible. 'He rode ahead with Ianthe and I did not much speak with him.'

  'I suppose they must be intimate acquaintances. Do you think he has intentions? To wed the marquis would save her from the fate of staying at Studham.'

  Sally, who did not like to lie to her mother, only said, 'They looked very well together, I think.' She paused here to consider this. She had not yet caught that middle-aged woman's habit of setting all and every male and female to partners. Could Audley be wooing Ianthe? It was certainly possible — he was handsome and eligible, and she was too fascinating. And they certainly were intimate. Somehow Sally knew already that Ianthe Eames was not a woman who would wed merely for security. Even in this dire situation, she seemed to carry her own security with her, in her extraordinary personality.

  ***

  Passing Ianthe in the hall, Lord Fox nodded her into a small sitting room. Ianthe Eames entered, then raised her eyebrows in enquiry at him. Fox looked slightly conscious, but said, with a serious expression, ’I have something to say.' Ianthe nodded, and he drew a breath. 'If you are bullied by my stepmother, Miss Eames, tell me. I shall know how to deal with it.'

  'Shall you?' Miss Eames said below her breath, but Fox caught it and flushed. 'I should say, thank you very much…' Miss Eames' voice tailed off.

  'But?' Fox enquired, nettled.

  'Well … I'd as well set your namesake into the hen house to appease the chickens.'

  Fox blinked, then his eyes narrowed at the insult. 'Do you mean to set yourself against me, Miss Eames?'

  'Oh no, not an enemy. A friend.' She smiled at him. 'Will the weather improve do you think? I shall take a walk in the grounds this afternoon.'

  He was continuing to eye her narrowly. 'To survey my estate?'

  'Well—' she shrugged.

  'Dull country for you, I suppose.' His voice had taken on a sarcastic tone.

  'Well—' she seemed to be agreeing.

  The eyes snapped again, and he said, temper breaking, 'Do you have any notion of manners, Miss Eames?'

  'I have wonderful company manners. They are frequently remarked upon,' she informed him cheerfully.

  'I cannot say I have noted them.'

  'But then sir, we are family are we not? No need for company manners.'

  He was no match for her brightness, so he tried a more direct tack. 'What did you find to amuse you in my offer of aid with my stepmother?'

  She smiled. 'It is simply that I should not ask an inept driver to show me how to use the ribbons. You can barely contain your reaction to each word Her Ladyship issues.' Fox looked slapped. 'If you should wish some aid in dealing with your stepmother,' she added consolingly, 'do not hesitate to ask me.'
>
  He shot her a venomous glance. 'Madam! I must suppose that your beauty has forgiven your behaviour in Paris. It will not do so here.'

  'You think me beautiful?' asked Miss Eames, enchanted. 'Thank you.'

  'That was not my meaning,' he said grimly

  'But it is your admission. Thank you, my lord!' she declared, clasping her hands together theatrically, 'I shall treasure those words.'

  Fox looked at her fluttering eyelids with dislike. 'Can you not be insulted?'

  'Certainly. You did so on the first occasion of our meeting.'

  He searched his memory and alighted on it. 'My offer to make provisions for you? I saw that you took it amiss, but I did not mean to offer an insult.'

  'Possibly, but it recalled those who did, and proved that at this time I am more easily insulted than normal. Usually, you know, I do not prick up at every little thing a sour mouth may offer me, like a child.'

  'I know how to take that, I suppose.'

  She smiled. 'You probably do.' There was a short pause, which seemed a prelude to an explosion from Lord Fox, but Miss Eames cut him off. 'Oh, and about that advice on how to deal with your stepmother. If you do not trust to a mere female, you may watch Lord Audley on Sunday! I'm quite sure he'll be an inspiration to you!'

  Lord Fox made a growling sound and stormed from the room.

  ***

  Ianthe thought of Lord Fox’s eyes as he had tried to be kind to her. She had seen from the first that a gentle man lived beneath his frustration and rage and had been a little sorry to rebuff him. However, to set him on to attack his dreadful stepmother in her defence would have been to wound him again, for he had no idea how to deal with the woman. Also, it was somehow fun to tease and shake him out of that protective shell he always wore. His face, when she challenged him, had another expression than that brooding, bottled rage look that he displayed to his family. It was angry — but engaged. The tawny eyes lighting up, the face suddenly handsome and alive. She liked that face and meant to prick him often, just to see it again. He was too set in his misery. It was easy to see how it could have happened. What would her own personality be like if she had been brought up not by her roguish, laughing Papa, but by the horrid, unloving Lady Fox?

  Not long after she arrived in her room, a package was delivered by an interested footman. It had arrived by carrier, said the servant, and that was all he knew. It was heavy, and it contained a rosewood box with elegant brass boulle work decoration. She did not recognise it, and letting it rest on a table, Ianthe gazed at it for a moment, perplexed. She opened it somewhat fearfully, and the periwinkle blue silk of the interior shocked the eye. Inside were some wrappings of soft cream felt, and Ianthe took each one out and laid them beside the box carefully. The box now contained only one thing — a torn piece of paper on which the words were written in a careless hand: Tout ce que j'ai pu trouver encore — All I could find as yet.

  'Antoine!' breathed Ianthe.

  With trembling fingers, she unwrapped one of the bigger parcels. A tear fell when she saw the ruby collar that had been her mother's spill into her hands. The next was a string of pearls, long and beautiful, and unsuitable for an unmarried young lady to wear. Ianthe, now dressed in a rose silk evening dress of a peculiarly stylish cut, wrapped them around her neck three times and admired in the looking glass how they still hung down to nearly her waist. She had done so a hundred times before, even when she was small enough that they reached the floor — had pranced around a room wearing them until her father bade her to return them to the box (another more elegant enamelled one, belonging to her mama) and only be patient until she was older.

  She felt very old now. All of the pieces brought back memories to her — her father's cluster of curls and rakish smile. She remembered the places they had hidden these things on their travels, sometimes sewn into garments, sometimes in the shabbiest sacking, under a reeking pile of stolen laundry. The diamond studs for her hair, the pearl droplets for her ears, the silver pendant with the lock of her mama's hair. A miniature on a blue ribbon of Papa's mother, with powdered hair and the pearls about her neck. A tiny plain silver snuffbox caught at her throat. It was Papa's own, carried in nearly all his disguises, and was dented and scratched, reminding her of its many adventures.

  Her fingers searched briefly once more. The amber pendant her father had bought her was the only thing missing.

  She sank to the ground in a puddle of silk. 'Papa!' she called out and wept the tears she had kept at bay since her arrival. Sally, come to see her toilette for the evening, found her thus and sank down with her, holding her while she cried.

  Chapter Six

  The Second Ride

  Next morning, Sally — still in a holy terror of getting caught — ran downstairs dressed for the ride, following the completely unconcerned figure of Ianthe Eames. Her friend had on yet another enchanting riding dress, in a dark pink colour, with an interesting little hat of the same colour perched high. Sally admired the black French braiding that gave the dress a military air, set off by the veil on her hat.

  Lady Richards, in her night attire, clutched a banister and kept watch in the hall for passers-by with the utmost in concentration. Ianthe smiled at Sally as they finally achieved the door. 'All's safe!' intoned Her Ladyship in a whisper as they passed. Sally smiled too. The sight of her mama starting to creep back up the stairs in a stealthy fashion was amusing but affecting too.

  Somehow, the lackey who held the door open seemed to be Ianthe's servant, rather than Fox's, for Sally swore he almost gave her a wink as he held the side door open and said, 'The gig's ready, miss! No groom, as you ordered, miss.'

  'How does James know you?' enquired Sally as they ran to the gig.

  'I spent some time in the kitchens yesterday and he was being fed by Cook.'

  As Ianthe got into the vehicle, Sally stood still, looking up at her, 'Do you really think we should?'

  'Dispense with the groom? We can talk more freely without him, can we not?' She gave a teasing smile to Sally. 'What did dear Lady Richards think she could do if a servant had passed?' laughed Ianthe.

  'Oh, she would have feigned a fainting fit or some such. She told me so when I was dressing.'

  'So that the servant might thus forget two ladies in riding dress coming down the stairs? That is too amusing.' Sally's slight smile made Ianthe turn to her. 'You are concerned…'

  'It is just that I think it is selfish of me to risk so much.'

  'Risk?'

  'If we displease Lady Fox then we may be sent off, you know. I do not have the right to risk Mama in this way.' She sighed. 'Only, I could not resist coming today when I have been promised such a treat as a decent ride. I am a most selfish daughter.'

  'Nonsense — did you not see the joy on your mama's face when she saw you so filled with anticipation? You must not concern yourself.' As they came towards Audley, Ianthe continued. 'You know, Lady Fox may say what she wants, but Lord Fox is a different matter. He would never ask you to leave if you did not wish to do so.'

  'I do not know that. He hardly speaks to me.'

  'He is not like his step-mama at all,' Ianthe assured her.

  'He has spoken to you?'

  'Not a great deal, but it is quite obvious.'

  'It is?'

  'Oh, yes,’ Ianthe smiled. ‘People who have that passionate nature are not cruel to those who have not harmed them.'

  'Passion? Lord Fox?' said Sally, astounded. But they had reached the stable yard. Ianthe thrust the reins into the hands of a waiting groom and rushed to greet Purity, while the marquis came forward to give Miss Richards his hand. She took it, but merely nodded to him and looked over his shoulder seeing no other mount than his Night. The marquis nodded to a groom who raised a hand, and another horse was led from the stables. It was a handsome chestnut, half a hand taller than Purity, built on magnificent lines. He shook his great head and kicked out with his back legs in a show of spirit, but if the marquis had expected Miss Richards to be fearful
or shocked, he was disappointed.

  Ianthe, turning to watch, saw another, smaller horse in the stable door, ready, she was sure, to be brought out if Miss Richards were to falter. But Sally, breathless with joy, moved forward without hesitation and caressed the stallion's head. 'You beauty!' she breathed. And before Ianthe herself had mounted, Sally, without the aid of a block, was on his back, one leg slung around the pommel, adjusting her skirts. How strong she is, thought Ianthe. Sally leaned forward and breathed to the stunned Audley, 'Thank you, my lord.'

  Audley returned to himself at this and moved forward, stroking the neck of the horse. 'This is Sapphire. He's a little strong, so if you desire another mount, then—'

  'Oh, how could I? Thank you for trusting me with him.' Sally was not looking at the marquis as she said this, but only reaching out and calming the twitching horse, patting his neck and communing with him, even as the groom fought to keep him from moving. As Ianthe mounted Purity, she saw that it worked. The horse was calming with the gentling and whatever Sally Richards was whispering near to his ear. She watched as Audley, hoisted by his own petard, was arrested. Ianthe's eyes narrowed. She had seen that look but once before. She moved Purity forward. 'Mount, sir! We two must return to Studham before breakfast or face the consequences. Delay us not!'

  Audley did so and they all moved off, he leading the way. When Sapphire came abreast, they walked on in quietude for a moment, he surprised at the silence from Miss Richards. Eventually he said, 'How do you find him?'

  'Oh, he is twitching because we are walking, once we get to shake off his legs in a canter, he'll settle.'

  'Ah,' said Audley, wondering at his own lack of address. He glanced over at Miss Richards, and she blushed.

  'Thank you so much, my lord.'

  He sighed. 'You said so already.'

  Instead of the impertinent response, she blushed deeper and looked at the horse’s neck. Ianthe, on the other side, said, 'Let us canter.'

  They did so, and soon they were both privileged to see Sally Richards' back. She rode forward, and before long he saw that she was kicking in a gallop. He pulled up to watch, and when Ianthe noticed, she rode back to him.