But Peregrin couldn’t say what it was about Sutton that made him so uneasy. There was something about the way he looked at Reynard, something covetous. There was something in the way he spoke to Peregrine, something derisive. Something that reminded Peregrine all too sharply that he was penniless and without prospects in a world where one’s income was one’s measure, and that Sutton would be perfectly happy to bring him down if he thought Peregrine climbed too high.
How could he tell that to William? There was a time when he would have told William anything… but his marriage to Grainne had changed all that. These days, Peregrine, afraid the depth of his feelings towards Grainne would be misinterpreted by her husband, concealed more of himself to William than he shared. William was more her husband than his friend; that was to be expected. But it made life with him harder.
Maybe it was all over, he thought sadly. Maybe this really was the end of a beautiful friendship. Since they had been boys at Eton… God, how long ago it had all been! Since William had been protecting him from the boys who laughed at his hand-me-down uniforms, taking him home for the school holidays instead of seeing him go back to his cousins’… Peregrin shook his head. It wasn’t over, but it wasn’t the same.
“What?”
William had seen him shake his head. “Nothing. A fly.”
William grunted. “And the Dean girl is coming, Grainne says. A note from her mother this morning, accepting Grainne’s invitation. So we shall have two house-guests.”
“The Dean girl?” Peregrin attempted to keep his voice even. “The quiet little blonde?”
“The very one.”
Peregrin swallowed. This was happening, then. He tried to keep his voice casual. “She says she wants to learn to ride horses. That’s why Grainne invited her, apparently.”
“Well, she’s coming to the right place.” William thought for a moment, his face going introspective as it did when he considered his horses. “You can mount her on Rosie. They’ll get along perfectly.”
“The old broodmare?”
“The very one.”
“She was the dam of Flybird.”
“And of Lonely Soldier.”
“Lonely Soldier! I thought he was out of Marcher.”
“Oh, no, Marcher was dead and buried by the time Lonely Soldier was foaled. I remember because my father had Marcher’s hoof made into an inkwell, and I was afraid of it.”
“Well I’ll be damned! I rode a colt by Lonely Soldier once that was the smoothest horse I’d ever sat upon. He galloped like a charger and took fences like a cat.”
“He won a thousand pounds at Ascot.”
“But he was really made to jump.”
And so on and so forth, the men descended into horse talk and their differences melted away. By the time Grainne had come cantering back to join them, they were deep in discussion about the colt Peregrine had such high hopes for.
It was a bright sunny day in spring, they were on their way to the country, all three of them were close as brothers and sisters, and their horses were sprightly and eager beneath them. Peregrine was able to quite forget all about the Dean girl whose luminous blue eyes haunted his dreams, or Lord Sutton and his covetous looks at the chestnut colt, or about his fear that William had discovered his infatuation with Grainne, and simply enjoy, for a little while longer, being in company of his favorite people in the world.
***
But of course it could not last.
The next night saw them tumbling from a carriage, journey-worn and bone-tired, in front of the half-circle marble steps of Tivington Abbey. The gracious Georgian entrance hall that William’s father had built in front of the old medieval stone abbey was lit from end to end with blazing candles in each window, and the staff had gathered on the stairs to welcome the little family home from London. Peregrine felt his spirits rising at once, for Tivington had truly come to feel like home to him. In all his years of being passed from the cold garrets of Eddington’s drafty old pile of stone to the echoing rooms of Eton, he had never been so happy as in the months he had spent here, with his friends.
And then, as they were filing into the open doors, full of thoughts of good food, soft chairs which did not sway from side to side or rattle over potholes, a glass of wine, there was a clatter of hooves from behind. The three turned and saw Lord Sutton’s carriage was already pulling up behind the Archwood vehicle.
“Oh, what good time he makes!” Grainne exclaimed, not sounding a bit put out. “He will be able to sit down to dinner with us, what good luck.”
“We’ll stop here and wait for him,” William said, tucking his arm around his wife’s waist and beaming down at her.
Peregrin, silent, turned away from their marital bliss, and watched his enemy climb down from his carriage and walk towards them.
Lord Frederick Sutton, as usual, was the picture of nobility and wealth. His clothes, scarcely wrinkled despite two days of travel, clung to his imposing frame and seemed to boast of the money he’d paid his French tailor for them. He was large, he was self-important, he was proud, and he had no use for Peregrin.
Unease flooded Peregrin’s bones. Everything was going to change. The old days were gone, if Sutton had anything to say about it.
As if he heard his thoughts, Sutton threw Peregrin an arch gaze as he ascended the stairs to pay his respects to Grainne. It was a calculated look, designed to let Peregrin know that he wasn’t letting go of past grudges. He was still Peregrin’s enemy. Jeremy’s enemy was Frederick’s enemy; so it had been when they were children, so it was now. Though they were all three distant cousins, it was Jeremy who had the title and the house, and it was Jeremy who had the upper hand in every dealing, and so it was Jeremy who had won little Frederick’s friendship. And the old enmities would never die, though Peregrin could not have said why.
At last Sutton was putting out his hand for Peregrin to shake. Peregrin had to look up at him, which he hated — why did this blackguard have to be so blasted tall as well as rich and handsome and titled? The world was such an unfair place. “Lord Sutton,” he managed to say in greeting. “I hope your journey was not overtiring.”
Sutton pumped his hand with apparent enthusiasm, although his eyes still glittered with something more sinister. He favored Peregrin with a half-smile that did not reach past the corners of his thin lips. “Mr. Fawkes. I thank you for your concern. I admit, we went quickly, but the horses were full of go.” He lowered his voice, words meant for Peregrin’s ears alone. “And I did not mean to let you outrun me, you see.”
And then he burst into uproarious laughter and clapped Peregrin on his shoulder, while Peregrin stood and gaped at him. The Archwoods looked over in surprise, ready to be let in on the joke. “This fellow!” Sutton howled. “Such a good fellow, always quick with a joke!” And before they could ask Peregrin to repeat it, he was back between Grainne and William, intimately close, and they were asking him to come and settle into his summer home.
Throughout the evening, Peregrin went on bitterly regretting his decision to come to Tivington. Tea in the library, a good supper laid in the dining room, brandy in the drawing room — the only time that he felt comfortable was in the scant hour he spent in his own bedchamber, washing up and dressing for dinner. It could not have been less like the enchanting, convivial home he remembered from the year before. And it was all because of Sutton.
Sutton’s glares, Sutton’s sidelong glances, Sutton’s sardonic eyebrow lifted at him as Peregrin stumbled through some sentence which escaped him more and more with every second that glittering gaze was fixed upon him. Sutton’s easy jokes, which set Grainne to laughing with abandon, her head flung back and her eyes shining as she reveled in her freedom from London conventions. Sutton’s impressive knowledge of bloodlines and riding horses, which dominated the topics of conversation Peregrin had always been so much a part of. Sutton, Sutton, Sutton.
And then, as they sipped at their brandies — Sutton in a comfortable armchair near the fire, for
spring nights north of town were still frosty, and Peregrin as far away as possible, gazing out the window from a casement seat — Grainne brought up the subject of Miss Dean.
“This is a happy little party,” she said, beaming at the room with obvious satisfaction. “And I’m happy to say it will grow by one, when Miss Lydia Dean arrives in a week or two.”
Sutton’s head swiveled around, his interest palpable. “Does she come? You don’t say.”
Grainne’s smile faltered only a little; Peregrin supposed no one else might have noticed. “Indeed. I hear you have been taking quite an interest in Miss Dean. It is a lucky invitation, since I believe when I issued it, the two of you were not even acquainted yet.”
“Indeed, I only made her acquaintance a few days’ past, but I feel as if we have been friends much longer. Miss Dean is a young lady I do not think I can see too much of.”
Peregrin sucked at his teeth and took a pull of brandy to hide his disgust. Oh, how he despised Sutton’s oily words and smooth delivery! And, more to the point, he did not like to think of Sutton with Miss Dean. Lydia Dean was small, and delicate, and needed to be taken care of. Look at how she had run right under those horses’ noses! She needed protection, and some odious overbred brute like Sutton was just the sort of man she needed protection from.
“She comes to learn to ride,” Grainne was explaining. “She wishes to overcome a fear of horses. I told her there was no place more sure to change her opinion than Tivington.”
Sutton nodded his head. “If anyone is looking for true horsemanship, they will find it here.”
“And it will be nice to have a little female companionship,” Grainne continued. “All of you boys, all the time! She is only a little younger than I am. We get along very well. I think it shall be a wonderful summer.”
“Indeed,” Sutton purred. “I am looking forward to every day of it.”
Not I, Peregrin thought, looking towards the window, but all he could see was his own reflection: a petulant expression, a pair of gold-flecked brown eyes which had grown watchful and worried, sun-bleached hair falling over his brows. His hair needed cutting, he thought. He would have to ask Lewis to do it. Tomorrow, after he worked the colt.
At least he still had the colt.
***
But the colt, it seemed, was not enough. He could not get Miss Dean out of his mind. The thought that she would soon be in the house, with her sapphire eyes and her pale skin and her anxious expression when she thought no one was looking… he remembered the feel of her in his arms, light as a bird, fluttering and frightened. He wanted to hold her close to him again. He wanted to feel that surge of sensation again. God! No one had ever made him feel like Miss Dean had! And of course bloody Sutton wanted to get his claws into her!
He flung down the book of blood-horse lineage he had been flipping through and Grainne looked up, surprised. They were both researching bloodlines in the library; the day outside was wet and gray, and the horses were left to their own devices in the stable-yard for the afternoon.
“Whatever is the matter?” she asked, eyeing the ill-used book.
“Why did you ever invite her here?”
Grainne, to her credit, did not pretend she had no idea what he was talking about.
“Perry, darling, I thought it obvious. The girl is in love with you. I wanted to see if you could be persuaded to feel the same. I felt badly for her, and anyway, she’s really a dear. You could do much worse.”
“I can do nothing at all — I cannot afford such a girl. Her parents have turned down men with fortunes — I possess nothing that they want in a husband for their daughter.”
“Oh, about that — I was going to tell William to give you a stewardship as a wedding-gift. How does Longcastle sound? It is a bit out of the way, to be sure, but the grazing is top-notch and there are fifty stalls in the stable yard. Think about that, the two of you will be all set up with your own house.” Grainne smiled, well satisfied with herself. “As if we would leave you to starve!”
Peregrin shook his head. “It does not matter. They will never have me without fortune and title.”
“But she will have you.”
He looked up.
“And so why is Sutton here?” he asked suddenly. “He was chasing her in London, you know.”
“Oh that.” Grainne looked sulky. “To be truthful, I had nothing to do with that. I believe William wanted to show off his horses to him and then refuse to sell him any. He had been grousing that Sutton was being too smug about his chances at Epsom. You know William can be so competitive.”
“Yes.” Peregrin sighed. So William’s determination to show off the Archwood horses was jeopardizing Peregrin’s position at the house and his horse and getting in the way of his courtship of the Dean girl — but what was he thinking! There was no courtship of the Dean girl! “What makes you think she will go against her parent’s wishes and have me, especially with Sutton here openly pursuing her? He is clearly every mama’s choice.”
“You will have to persuade her of that yourself,” Grainne said, tilting her head and arching one fine brow. “She is not like me — I’m just a nag, and I could have run away but chose to wilt within my locked bedchamber until William came back for me. What if he hadn’t come back for me? I would have been lost. But she’s a fine filly, a well-bred blood-mare, and she will not creep through an open gate unless you lead her. No matter how much she loves you, she has never been given her head. She wouldn’t know what to do with her freedom. It’s up to you to show her how sweet it is.” She paused. “Or will you let her go through the sales ring, to the highest bidder?”
Peregrin cast down his gaze. “She has been in the sales ring two years, and they have not yet reached the highest bidder. I cannot afford her.”
“Then you may have to steal her,” Grainne suggested gently. “But at least she will follow you of her own volition. She will not pull at the rein and try to run away home, Peregrin. At least, if she cares for you as I believe she does.”
“Grainne, please!” Peregrin dropped his face into his hands. “You mustn’t say such things. I cannot think of her in that way. She is not for me.”
“Well,” and now Grainne stretched luxuriously, like a well-fed cat, and gazed at him innocently. “I suppose she is for Lord Sutton, then. But I do not think you will enjoy watching him take her bridle.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lydia arrived at Tivington amidst a chorus of birdsong and narrowly ahead of a quickly moving thundershower, and as she dashed into the front hall under the cover of a footman’s hovering umbrella, racing to escape the newly falling drops, she could not help but wish it could have been a little more dignified.
But never mind, she was here at last.
She stood in the elegant entrance hall, admiring the modern fittings and shining mahogany furniture, and studied the play of shadows on the wooden floor as the raindrops came coursing against the fanlight above the front doors. There was a scent of apple blossom coming from a dish of potpourri on a gleaming half-moon table, and a sound of laughter coming from within the house. Lady Archwood’s laughter, she thought excitedly. Grainne.
And then Grainne was sweeping into the hall to meet her, wearing a rather loose-fitting morning dress which looked like it had seen a few too many wash-days, and pulled her into a warm embrace. When she stepped back, she kept her hands on Lydia’s shoulders and looked her in the eye. “I am so glad you’re here,” she vowed. “Those men are driving me to distraction. I need a young lady to talk to.” And with that, she hooked her elbow through Lydia’s and marched her down the hallway.
Just as she was ushered through a tall door and into what was an vast and beautiful drawing room, there was a brilliant flash and an answering boom of thunder; everyone, including Lydia, jumped, and then someone began to clap loudly, as if for a performer on stage.
“Bravo, bravo to the heavens, for giving our dear Miss Dean such a splendid announcement!”
Lydia smile
d, and blushed, and made her curtsey to Lord Sutton, thinking that of course he would make such a scene.
“Miss Dean,” came a quiet, calm voice from a corner, and she peered into the shadows of the storm-darkened room. Then a gentlemen came towards her, simply garbed in half-boots, buckskins, and a loose riding jacket.
She ducked her head in acknowledgement and nearly blurted out his name, but managed to wait, calmly, until Peregrin Fawkes was standing before her, in the flesh.
Oh! He was so handsome, he was so beautiful, like a painting, like a Roman statue. His face was so sweet and warm, no hard angles or sharp bones, just a wonderful square jaw, long sloping cheekbones, an aquiline nose, those lovely gold flecks in his eyes the only relief in all those shades of brown — brown waves of hair, brown tanned skin. She felt herself quiver a little as she extended her hand. This was nothing like the exciting apprehension that Sutton’s presence aroused in her limbs: this was a fluttery, weak, head-spinning feeling.
He took her hand, and she felt such a rush of feeling she had to close her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, he was half-bent over her hand, his eyes upon her with some concern. “Miss Dean?”
“Mr. Fawkes,” Lydia managed, her voice low and quavering. When she heard herself, she wished the floorboards would open her up and swallow her whole, but they were not so obliging. “So good to see you,” she went on, since she had no escape route open to her. “I hope you are well.”
“I am well, thank you, but you must be tired from your journey. Will you come and take a cup of tea with us?” And he stepped back and gestured to the chairs clustered near the hearth, dropping her hand in the process.
Lydia clenched her fingers together, missing the feel of him already. “Thank you —” she began, but Grainne interrupted her.
“Pardon me, Miss Dean, lads, but I’m sure she would feel more herself after a little rest in her bedchamber. If you’ll come with me, Miss Dean?” And she led the trembling Lydia from the room.
The Honorable Nobody (Heroines on Horseback Book 2) Page 12
