by Regina Scott
“I don’t understand the reference,” Hannah confessed, hackles rising at the thought of how cavalierly the countess sometimes treated David. “You are a Tenant, are you not?”
“Is that with a capital T?” he teased. “Yes, I’m a Tenant, but I had no idea I had relatives still in England, let alone in the aristocracy. My four-times great grandfather came to America over a hundred years ago, and his grandson settled in Boston in time to start the tea riots. If we had aristocratic roots, they were burned right then and there. And with me being a leather worker, by her ladyship’s standards, I’m not even good enough to be a merchant. I’ll simply have to marry above my station.”
The bread was harder to swallow than she had thought, and she washed it down with a draught of cider. “Yes, I understand.”
He set down his own slab of bread and cocked his head, eyeing her. “That was a joke, Miss Alexander. I’ll marry as I please.”
She felt the color flooding her cheeks again and bowed her head. “Of course you must do as you see fit.”
“That,” he murmured, cupping her chin and tilting her head up so that her gaze was forced to meet his, “is the most sensible thing you’ve said all morning.”
It took everything she had to pull away. “I seem to be having a difficult time being sensible where you’re concerned,” she admitted.
“Then stop trying,” he quipped, winking at her. He took a mouthful of the bread and chewed contentedly. The breeze ruffled his silky hair. She could easily marry this man. But joke as he would, he needed to marry an aristocrat if he was to be accepted socially. Hannah squared her shoulders.
“Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?” she demanded.
He raised an eyebrow. “Dangerous? To whom? How?”
“To both of us! You asked that we be candid, my lord. Surely you can see the difficulties coming. The very fact that you feel we must hide our meetings proves as much. Gentlemen may be able to laugh off such clandestine meetings, but we women have reputations to consider. Even in America there must be some expectations of young ladies having chaperones.”
“You’re a chaperone,” he grinned. “I have never felt safer.”
Hannah threw up her hands. “Will you be serious? Do you want to be thought of as less than a gentleman?”
“I am less than a gentleman,” he reminded her, not unkindly. “And rather proud of it. And I assure you I won’t breathe a word of any of this to anyone, except perhaps to our grandchildren.”
Hannah caught her breath, but he merely winked at her again and went on munching. “Tease,” she accused him.
He grinned again. “Better to laugh than to cry. Besides, you English worry too much.” He leaned back on his elbow as if to prove that he was immune to such petty concerns.
“Not so!” Hannah felt compelled to defend her country. “It was our Andrew Marvel who said ‘seize the day.’”
“A man after my own heart,” David proclaimed. “Tell me, Miss Alexander, what day would you seize if you could?”
She could think of one at the moment, but didn’t dare voice it. “I’d study classical painting. And I imagine you’re one of the few who won’t be shocked by that fact.”
“Not particularly,” he admitted, taking a sip of cider. “Should I be?”
“Oh, my yes. In classical painting, the models are nude, you see. It isn’t considered proper for a woman to view nudes.”
“Only to stand as a nude model before male painters,” he said with arched brow.
“Ah, but those aren’t ladies. Still, I’m not unhappy being relegated to portraits. People are so fascinating to study. I think I shall be quite good at it, if I ever get the chance.” She realized she was bragging and blushed.
“I’d like to see your work,” he declared. “Do you have any pieces in your sketch book?”
She breathed a silent prayer that she had not yet started to draw him. Surely the picture would confess her feelings. “A few.” Shyly she pushed the book at him. He set down his cup and began to thumb through the pages. Abruptly he stopped, peering closer. The next few pages were turned slowly and thoughtfully. Hannah held her breath.
When he glanced up at her, his face was more serious than she had ever seen it. “These are very good. I can almost imagine I know these people. I could care about them. You have a gift, Miss Alexander. You must use it.”
“I intend to,” she replied, and at that moment, she meant it with all her heart. His praise warmed her, all the more precious for its rarity. He nodded, returned the book, and resumed his contented munching.
All too soon, he declared it time to return to the house.
“We still have our exploring to do,” he reminded her when she protested. He climbed to his feet and offered her a hand to help her up. As he pulled her to his side, she found herself against his chest, his mouth scant inches from her own. She did not so much as blink as he moved to close the distance.
Chapter Eight
“Miss Alexander!”
Asheram’s call broke David’s concentration, and he jerked up before his lips could meet Hannah’s. At the foot of the hill behind them, he saw a carriage and horses. Asheram was climbing the hill. Although a moment ago she had looked so sweet he had longed to kiss her, Hannah now thrust herself away from him as if he had burned her and smoothed down her skirts. She looked as adorable as she looked guilty. He winked at her, and she blushed.
“Miss Alexander,” Asheram panted as he reached them. “You must return with me. Miss Ariadne Courdebas has taken ill.”
The blush disappeared. “Oh, dear, I was afraid of this. It’s probably just an upset stomach, but she’s forever thinking she’s dying of some dread disease. I’d better see what I can do.”
The fierce look on Asheram’s face told David it was useless to argue. He bent and crammed the remainder of their picnic back into the knapsack “I’ll come with you.” They hurried down the hill to the vehicle.
Based on Hannah’s words and his own assessment of the girl, David was surprised to find on their return that Ariadne appeared to be quite ill indeed. She lay ensconced in the huge bed of the room she had been given, her normal rosy complexion a ghastly white. The bright light in her eyes told David she was delirious.
“I’ll send for a doctor,” he promised Hannah, who immediately took off her bonnet and cloak to help the maid minister to the girl. David thought about staying as well, but Asheram motioned him out into the corridor. Hannah offered him a regretful smile as he left.
“I’ve sent Weimers for Dr. Praxton,” his friend explained. “I’m sure Miss Alexander is capable of handling the girl until he arrives.”
“She shouldn’t have to,” David snapped. “Where’s everyone else? Her ladyship seems only too happy to play hostess until she’s inconvenienced.”
“Lady Brentfield and the other young ladies are downstairs while her ladyship’s and Priscilla’s things are moved to the east wing. Her ladyship did not want to take the chance that this illness was contagious. She has a Season to consider.”
David snorted. “But it’s all right to expose the other girls and Miss Alexander?”
“Would you like me to remove their things as well?” Asheram asked.
“Not until we’re certain this is dangerous. You saw the girl, Ash. What do you think?”
To David’s surprise, his friend looked up and down the corridor before drawing David farther from the open door. “I think Miss Ariadne may have been poisoned.”
“What!” David quickly sorted through possibilities then shook his head. “You’ve been listening to her ladyship, Ash. The Earl of Prestwick may be a bit miffed with me, but you can’t think he’d drug an innocent girl. What would he gain by it?”
“You assume it was the earl. From what the young ladies tell me, Ariadne began feeling unwell on the carriage ride over. They cut short their visit when her condition worsened. She collapsed before they reached Brentfield. I suspect she was poisoned at breakfast.”
> “But by whom and why?” David persisted, peering more closely at his friend. From the first moment he had met Asheram on the boat from America to England, the older man had impressed him as level-headed and responsible. The London solicitor who had found David had insisted that David take one of the two main cabins, himself going to sleep with the other passengers in the hold rather than disturb the very important dignitary who supposedly had reserved the second cabin. The solicitor had been shocked to find that Asheram had been that dignitary.
David had found it amusing that the solicitor continually tried to put the man in his place, and Asheram continually rose above it. The older man’s serious demeanor had been a challenge, until David realized that Asheram’s stiff comments often carried a biting humor. He could see no sign, however, that his friend was trying to make light of the current situation.
“Ash, this doesn’t make any sense,” he protested. “How could Ariadne have been poisoned under our noses? Mrs. Abbot had over a dozen dishes on the sideboard at breakfast. All of us ate some of one thing or another. Yet Ariadne is the only one sick.”
Asheram sighed. “My lord, you must believe me. I’m beginning to suspect that Lady Brentfield is dangerous.”
“Lady Brentfield? Her ladyship isn’t even dangerous in whist,” David countered. “Oh, I might tremble if I had a daughter looking to get married. I have a feeling her ladyship could be vicious if she thought Priscilla’s place was being threatened. But Ariadne Courdebas is no threat to her. Priscilla is three times as beautiful and four times as talented. No, Asheram, I refuse to believe I’m in any danger from her ladyship.”
“Very well. I’ll try another direction to get through to you. Will you believe you’re in danger from Hannah Alexander?”
The thought was so ridiculous that David gave it up and laughed.
Asheram shook his head. “You simply can’t see it, can you? How can a man so wise in the ways of the world be so stupid when it comes to self-preservation?”
David raised an eyebrow. “Just who got so caught up in a card game that he wagered his own freedom?”
“But I nearly won!” Asheram protested earnestly. When David continued to eye him, he stuck out his chin. “Very well. You’ve made your point. Cards are my weakness, and they would have gotten the better of me that night if you hadn’t interceded. I don’t know what came over me to want to play with the crew. I will be forever in your debt. Let me return the favor. This dalliance with Miss Alexander is dangerous, to both of you.”
His words were remarkably like those Hannah had uttered on the hill that afternoon. He had heard the excuses about his reputation, and he rejected them. “How am I endangering her?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
“That got you, didn’t it?” Asheram chortled triumphantly. “You refuse to think of your own well-being, but you’ll think of hers.”
“Answer the question.”
“Very well. I know you too well to think you’re playing with the woman. Although if you were, I might point out that you will ruin her reputation, and she will never get another teaching post or a decent painting commission again.”
“I’m not playing with her, as you put it,” David said, knowing his annoyance was out of proportion with Asheram’s fatherly advice. “I need her help to locate the art treasures. And I like her.” He paused, remembering their kiss in the passageway the day before. He wasn’t sure why he had taken that liberty with her, but her sweetness had stolen his breath away. Already “like” seemed far too subtle an emotion. He shook himself and continued. “I’m not out to take advantage of her. My intentions are honorable.”
“Just as bad. You may not understand the social customs here yet, my lad, but I’ve seen far too many of these mixed-class marriages. She’ll never be accepted as your countess. Even your children, if you have any, will have a devil of a time.”
“Then I’ll take her back to America,” he replied defiantly, “where she’ll be respected for who she is and not her fancy title or lack of one.”
“And leave the estate untended? You’ve objected to that from the first, or so you told me.”
“You know I have,” David returned. “I didn’t want this title, but when the solicitors assured me that the estate would be returned to the crown, and Lady Brentfield and the two hundred farmers evicted if I refused, I had to accept. It was my responsibility, Asheram.”
“And a weighty one it is, to be sure,” Asheram agreed. “You can see for yourself that the place badly needed your leadership. Even with the improvements you’ve planned, there’ll be little enough income for the first few years. But that could change, if you married well.”
“Marry for money? I’d sooner sell that Egyptian death mask.”
“Go around the trust and denude the estate of its treasures? Would you leave your sons less than you were given?”
“At this rate, I won’t have sons to worry about.” David ran a hand back through his hair. Glancing across the corridor through the open door, he could see Hannah bending over the sick girl, wiping her forehead with a cool cloth. He returned his gaze to Asheram and knew his voice sounded as desperate as he felt.
“All my life I waited for the right woman, Ash. I’d watch my assistants and friends fall in love and marry, one by one. I even tried courting a couple of times, but no one ever stirred my heart. Now, just when my luck is turning, you want me to walk away because ‘it just isn’t done’? A pox on your fine British conventions. If I decide to marry Hannah Alexander, I’ll marry her.”
“Stubborn,” Asheram growled. “There’s more of an earl in you than you want to admit. Very well. I’ve had my say where Miss Alexander is concerned. You make a fine couple.”
The last was said so begrudging that David found his anger melting. “Yes,” he agreed with a chuckle, “I think we do. Stop worrying, Asheram. Just let me do things my own way.”
“I’m beginning to think I have little choice in the matter,” his friend replied. “But don’t think you’ve won me over completely. I stand by my opinion on Lady Brentfield. She is lethal, and I wouldn’t turn my back on her if I were you.”
David clapped him on the shoulder. “With you at my side, she doesn’t stand a chance.”
Dr. Praxton, a small pointy-nosed fellow, took that moment to arrive, and Asheram ushered him in to see the patient. David waited in the corridor long enough to hear the man’s diagnosis.
“She no doubt ate something that disagreed with her,” Dr. Praxton pronounced. “I’ve left some laudanum with Miss Alexander, to be used should the pain persist. Give Miss Courdebas nothing but clear broth, weak tea, and toast for a couple days, and she should be fine.”
Asheram showed the doctor to the door, but David checked with Hannah before going downstairs to inform his other guests. He found her sitting at Ariadne’s side, reading the Bible to the drowsy girl. She rose and hurried to meet him.
“You saw the doctor?” When he nodded, she continued. “I should stay with her. For all her imaginings, she is rarely truly ill. I think it’s frightened her badly. She tells me she had visions. It sounds rather beastly. Perhaps you could have Mr. Asheram send up a dinner tray for me?”
David took her hand and raised it to her lips, warmed by her care for her charge. “I’ll bring it up myself.”
He left her blushing.
He had to admit, as he headed downstairs, that he rather liked the way the tiniest compliment brought the rose to her cheeks. Not the least arrogant, that one. Her understanding of art, self-taught at that, proved she was sharp as well. Her ladyship had lived in the house for five years, and she had apparently never realized there were secret passages, yet Hannah had caught on right away. And Hannah was far kinder and more thoughtful toward the visiting girls than her ladyship, who had invited them here in the first place. Hannah Alexander was definitely a rarity among the few British women he had met so far. In fact, he couldn’t think of a single thing at that moment that he disliked about her.
After the
loyal scene upstairs, the blue room was a disappointment. The remaining girls were huddled in chairs near the windows while Lady Brentfield reclined on the divan across the room, calmly shuffling through correspondence. She seemed completely immune to their worried glances and hushed conversation. The girls scrambled to their feet as he entered, calling out their concerns. Lady Brentfield’s gaze flickered up momentarily, and he would have said that the only thing she felt was annoyance at the interruption.
“Dr. Praxton has been here,” he explained to the girls. “It isn’t serious. Your friend will be feeling better in a day or so.”
“I told you she was pretending,” Priscilla said, tossing her head so that her golden curls fell in artful disarray.
“I wish she wouldn’t be so missish,” Daphne said with a sigh.
“Is it contagious?” Lady Emily wanted to know.
“No,” David replied, eyeing Lady Brentfield and remembering Asheram’s warning. “In fact, it appears she was poisoned.”
The letters slipped from Lady Brentfield’s fingers as if they had suddenly gone numb. Priscilla gasped. Daphne trembled. Lady Emily looked grimly fascinated.
“What do you mean, poisoned?” Lady Brentfield asked slowly, as if her breath was held tightly in her chest. She rose from the couch and stood staring at him, ashen. It was an interesting reaction, but not, David thought, necessarily indicative that she had had a hand in the deed. He suspected that any hostess would react so at the news that one of her guests had been poisoned.
“Something at breakfast didn’t agree with her,” David said by way of explanation. “To her, it was a poison. Evidently, the rest of us were immune.”
