by Carola Dunn
“I cannot think his lordship would care to be described as a fieldmouse,” she whispered back.
Rowena hurried up to her chamber to change her habit for a morning gown. When she returned a number of other visitors had arrived, so she managed to snatch a few words with Lord Farleigh before he left.
“Thank you for saving me from a scolding, if not a full-blown scandal,” she said. “I own I was surprised at how quickly you came up with an ingenious explanation, for I thought you a patterncard of straightforwardness.”
“Anything to serve a lady, ma’am. I but twisted the truth a little, for you did mention stiffness and I did arrive early.”
And he was eager, she thought with satisfaction, only it was to see her, not Millie. She kept this to herself and said instead, “Now tell me how to explain it when I am too stiff to move tomorrow.”
“I hope you will not be, for I was going to suggest that we meet early to ride about my orchards. Surely it cannot be thought improper if you bring a groom?”
“Not improper, perhaps, but unwise. I had best see whether Anne will accompany me, too. We might meet you by accident on our way to the village.”
“I see your ingenuity is quite equal to my own. I expect I can persuade Bernard to join me, to amuse your cousin while we inspect the trees. Nine o’clock?”
“Nine o’clock, my lord.”
Though nine in the evening in the rose garden would have been more romantic, it was an assignation of sorts. She hugged the knowledge to herself.
“Rowena!” Millicent interrupted her thoughts. The only guests still present were ladies and as such of no interest. “You have your head in the clouds, I declare. Was Lord Farleigh talking to you about me again?”
Rowena cast her mind back over the morning’s conversation. To her relief, she remembered his lordship saying that her cousin would be bored by farm talk.
“Yes, he did speak of you.”
“What did he say?”
“I do not recall his precise words. Something about your interests.”
“My interests?” Millicent appeared to be trying to summon up some subject in which she was interested. Rowena could have listed them for her: marriage, clothes and her own beauty.
“He considers your interests to be entirely feminine in nature, I collect.”
“Well, of course. I daresay you shocked him with some comment about his orchards. I hope I am not so foolish as to attempt to display an interest in such masculine matters as agriculture.”
“He did mention farming.”
“You see? I assure you, it is fatal to pretend to a knowledge of such matters. Gentlemen prefer young ladies to admire their abilities, not to rival them. I am telling you this for your own good, Rowena. I believe you might attach the curate if you set your mind to it.”
“Thank you, cousin. I will bear your advice in mind.”
“It is a pity that his lordship has not more conversation. Mr. Ruddle is always au fait with the latest London fashions and gossip, and he talks charmingly. Lord Farleigh is sadly abrupt at times, I fear, and he dresses so countrified I declare it quite puts me to the blush sometimes to be seen with him. Dear Mr. Ruddle is always complete to a shade. How I wish that he had a title!”
Her wistfulness surprised and touched Rowena. She had not realized that her cousin felt such a definite preference, even admiration, for Mr. Ruddle.
She was about to suggest that a title was less important to future happiness than a true meeting of minds, but the moment was past as Millicent continued complacently, “I happened to mention to the earl that Mr. Ruddle was to take me driving this morning. He was quite green with envy, I vow.”
Mr. Ruddle entered at that moment. Millicent went off in high good humour to put on her bonnet, and Anne joined Rowena.
“What has made her so cock-a-hoop?” she enquired suspiciously.
“Are not Lord Farleigh’s and Mr. Ruddle’s attentions both in the same morning sufficient to explain it?”
“She’d have preferred to see them both at her feet at the same time. Was she reading you a scold for daring to speak to one of her beaux?”
“No, that was what made her happy. Your plan is working like a miracle. Every time she sees me talking to the earl she is sure we are discussing her charms, and today I was able to confirm it.”
“Never say his lordship was praising her to you! I had thought better of him.”
“All he said was that she would be bored by our talk, but she managed to read that as a compliment. Of course, that is not quite the way I repeated it to her. Have you noticed that she is much more polite to me in company recently? I believe your words have borne fruit there, too.”
“What, that he might eventually notice her spite? I hope so, for it will make your life more comfortable. Also, her improved disposition towards you makes it more likely that he will offer for her and rid us of her altogether.”
“He deserves better.” Rowena winced at the thought.
“Even Mr. Ruddle deserves better.”
“I am not so sure that Mr. Ruddle could do better. I think Millie has a real fondness for him, and he cannot need her fortune, so I daresay his affection for her is equally genuine. What is more, he is not likely ever to look beyond the beauty of her features to see the mind within. I believe they might be very happy together.”
“Possibly.” Anne was impatient. “But she is not likely to take him while there is a chance of catching an earl. We must think of ourselves. Now that you have your Vixen and Millicent is less vixenish, pray say you do not mean to seek employment at once?”
“Oh, no, I cannot go away now. Not until Lord Farleigh is able to go on without me, and there is a great deal more to teach him.” She was about to disclose the meeting planned for the morrow when her aunt called to her.
With the earl in the offing as a suitor, Lady Grove had belatedly decided that Mr. Ruddle’s groom was not a sufficient chaperon. Rowena was to join Millicent in the phaeton. She went up resignedly to fetch her pelisse, for there was little warmth in the September sunshine.
Not until that evening did the opportunity arise to tell Anne of the next day’s rendezvous with Lord Farleigh. As she wrapped herself in a warm though shabby robe to go to Anne’s chamber, Rowena was shocked to discover that she did not want her cousin to accompany her. She hesitated. It was necessary, of course. It had even been her own idea, to render the encounter unexceptionable. And the captain would be there, too, she was sure, for she had faith in the ex-major’s powers of persuasion.
“Captain Cartwright will be there?” asked Anne with sparkling eyes. “I shan’t have to sit there on poor old Rocinante listening to the two of you spouting on about crop yields and weed control? I’ll come!”
Rowena retired to bed to ponder her own reluctance. It was all too easy to understand. She had foolishly allowed herself to fall in love with Lord Farleigh.
Nothing else could explain the pain she felt when he hurried to Millicent’s side with admiration in his eyes. Nothing else could explain the joy of being with him, the way the pressure of his fingers on her hand still lingered hours afterward. Only love could explain her longing to meet him at dusk among flowers, to be crushed in his arms.
She was lucky to be meeting him in the morning in the orchards, she reminded herself, lucky to possess the knowledge he needed. That he liked and respected her she was certain. An impoverished earl could not afford any deeper feelings for a girl without a penny to her name. Were she the most beautiful creature in the world there would still be no hope. Instead, she paled to insignificance beside her cousin.
Damn Millie, she thought, beating her pillow with her fists, and she cried herself to sleep with the earl’s handkerchief twined about her fingers.
CHAPTER TEN
“Go ’way, it’s still dark.”
“It’s after eight,” insisted Anne’s urgent voice.
“After eight!” Rowena sat up suddenly and moaned as every overused muscle in her body protested. She slumped
back. “It can’t be, it’s still dark.”
“It’s pouring with rain. Do you think they will expect us?”
“I don’t care. I hurt all over when I move.”
“Lord Farleigh might ride in this weather, but surely he will not let Captain Cartwright risk his health with a wetting?” Anne pulled the curtains open to reveal grey sheets of water falling from the invisible sky.
“No one in his right mind would go out in that. Go back to bed, and on the way tell Minton I want a hot bath at nine and I don’t mind how much she grumbles.”
Rowena was almost glad of the double excuse of the weather and her stiffness for not meeting Lord Farleigh. She needed time to compose herself after her realization of her feelings for him. The last thing she wanted was to let him guess that she loved him, for it could only lead to embarrassment for him and humiliation for her.
She lay back and watched the rain lancing down, cold, metallic, indifferent.
The hot bath soothed the worst of her aches and towards noon the downpour began to slacken. By mid-afternoon it was reduced to a light drizzle. That was not soon enough for Millicent. All morning she grumbled at being confined to the house with no visitors, and she insisted on Rowena bearing her company, though she found fault with everything she did or said.
Rowena rebelled. She decided to go out on Vixen despite the rain and her lingering soreness. Millicent was already in such a snappish mood that defying her wishes could not make her more ill-humoured. She was about to slip out of the parlour while her cousin was talking to her aunt, intending to change into her habit before mentioning her plans, when Mr. Ruddle was announced.
His arrival made her departure much easier. As she left she heard him declaiming his resolve to prove his devotion by venturing forth regardless of the risk of taking a chill.
As she came down the stairs some fifteen minutes later, the butler was opening the front door to admit Lord Farleigh and Captain Cartwright. She paused, fighting an urge to run down to greet him. He glanced up and saw her and a smile lightened his stern features.
“Miss Caxton, well met.” He handed his hat and gloves to the butler and came towards her. “You are dressed for riding! What an intrepid soul. I confess that Bernard and I were driven in state in her ladyship’s closed carriage.” As she joined him at the foot of the stairs he added in a lower voice, “I trust you did not go out this morning expecting to meet us? I was sure you would not, or I should have gone myself.”
Rowena forced herself to laugh, though his nearness shook her. “Anne and I decided we had no taste for drowning. It has nearly stopped now, though, and I thought to go out for a short ride. I was shockingly stiff this morning.”
“What, even though you walked in the shrubbery for an hour after riding yesterday?” His voice was teasing.
“Would that I had. I must exercise a little or it will be worse next time. I daresay the rain will not melt me.”
“I’d have ridden over myself, if Bernard had not chosen to come, too. We wanted to be sure you had not expected us this morning.”
He turned away for a moment as a footman came to relieve him of his coat. Rowena dithered. She did not know whether it was worse to look rude by leaving or to look foolish by staying after telling him she was on her way out. She wanted to stay, just to be in his presence, but watching him flirt with Millicent would be painful.
“How do you do, Miss Caxton.” Bernard was bowing to her. “I hope you do not mean to desert us the moment we arrive.”
“No, do not go,” said his lordship, seconding his friend. “We must make plans for tomorrow.”
“Yes, Major!” She laid her fingertips on the arm he offered and allowed him to escort her back into the parlour as the butler announced them.
The gentlemen made their bows. Millicent beamed at the earl, to Mr. Ruddle’s obvious chagrin. His lordship, however, immediately rejoined Rowena, while Captain Cartwright stayed by Aunt Hermione, chatting about the dreadful rainstorm. With a show of indifference, Millicent turned back to her faithful admirer.
His lordship grinned at Rowena. “I can always count on you and Bernard to let me know when I am being dictatorial.”
“I beg your pardon, my lord,” she said with a conscious look. “It is most improper in me to... to call it to your attention.”
“To roast me, rather. On the contrary, I am glad of it. It is more difficult than I had supposed to rid myself of my army habits. Lady Farleigh is herself in the way of issuing orders, so she does not notice my bad manners.”
“I am sure an earl, or a countess for that matter, is as justified in issuing orders as a major.”
“In certain circumstances, perhaps, but not when attempting to arrange a rendezvous with a pretty young lady. Shall you and Miss Anne be able to join us tomorrow, think you, if the weather improves?”
Rowena felt her cheeks grow warm and prayed he would not notice. “I... I expect so, sir. I must ask Anne, of course.” Nothing, she vowed, should be permitted to prevent tomorrow’s meeting. “Ah, she has torn herself from her book. Anne!”
Entering the room, her cousin curtsied to the earl, but her eyes were on the captain. He glanced up and smiled at her, bowing slightly, though he did not rise from his seat beside her mother. Satisfied with this meagre attention, Anne turned to Rowena and the earl.
“Good day, my lord. I hope you and Captain Cartwright did not go out this morning. I shall be excessively angry if you dragged him out in the rain.”
“What an odd notion you have of me, Miss Anne! Having struggled to bring him alive across France and England, I’ve no intention of losing him to an inflammation of the lungs, I promise you.” Lord Farleigh’s tone was teasing.
“It will likely be fine tomorrow, Anne,” Rowena said. “I mean to ride down to the village early. Will you come?”
Lady Grove had rung the bell and was ordering refreshments. Captain Cartwright left her and came up to them at that moment.
“Do say you will come, Miss Anne.’’ His look was warm. “I depend upon you to help me chaperon this careless pair, who are too involved in their agricultural studies to observe the proprieties.”
Anne was slightly flushed. “Oh, yes, I shall be there, but I hope you meant it when you said you ride slowly, for my Rocinante is a regular sluggard.”
He laughed. “Rocinante! Well, one cannot expect more from Don Quixote’s horse. Did you read Smollett’s translation? Is that what aroused your interest in Spain?”
Lord Farleigh exchanged a glance with Rowena as the other two delved into one of their literary discussions.
“Rowena, pray help me pour the tea,” called Aunt Hermione.
Abandoned, his lordship sped to Millicent’s side. Rowena saw her cast him a melting look and then ignore him to continue her conversation with Mr. Ruddle.
“Oh, dear, I hope Millicent knows what she is about,” murmured Lady Grove.
“I believe she means to make his lordship jealous.” Rowena doubted, to judge by the earl’s sardonic expression, that her cousin’s manoeuvre was having quite the effect intended. Was he at last beginning to see that her character was less attractive than her face?
As if conscious of this possibility, Millicent addressed a remark to Lord Farleigh. He responded politely, and came to fetch two cups of tea. These he presented to Millie and Mr. Ruddle, and promptly returned to the tea tray.
“Here is your cup, my lord.” Rowena expected him to carry it back to sit with Millie, but he took a seat beside her. “Will you have a Banbury cake?”
“Thank you, my favourite. I hope your cook puts plenty of currants in them, ma’am.”
“Oh, yes... to be sure... I shall tell her always to put in plenty of currants.”
“Delicious.” He demolished half the little cake at a single bite. As Lady Grove called Anne to fetch tea for Captain Cartwright, he whispered to Rowena, “You see, I grow quite adept at polite nothings.”
“At least you did not order my aunt to make sure there
are enough currants in future!”
“Speaking of currants, though of a different kind, I find I have several acres of red- and blackcurrant bushes. No doubt they are in as bad shape as my orchards. What ought I to do with them?”
“They will need pruning in November, but the red and black need to be done quite differently. It is difficult to tell you without showing you. Is your bailiff truly so ignorant?”
“To tell the truth, I think he knows a good deal. What stymies me is his inability to explain, but I have shown him your suggestions and he agrees with all of them. I believe that given the opportunity and the means, he can carry out orders perfectly well, and the men seem to work well for him. We need to establish a chain of command: you tell me what to do, and I tell him.”
Rowena crowed with delight. “That makes me a colonel, does it not? Splendid! Have another Banbury cake.”
“Is that an order, ma’am?”
With one eye on Millicent, Aunt Hermione broke in anxiously, “Of course my niece would not presume to give you an order, my lord. Rowena, you must not speak so familiarly.”
“It was a joke, ma’am,” Lord Farleigh assured her. “Miss Caxton’s manner is perfectly unexceptionable. Tell me, do you think this weather will continue for some days yet?”
As he listened courteously to her ladyship’s rambling predictions of flood and disaster, he flashed a laughing glance at Rowena. His eyes invited her to share his amusement at this display of his ability at small talk.
“I think it will be fine tomorrow,” she told him hopefully.
No sooner had the visitors taken their leave than Millicent rounded on Rowena.
“I suppose you think that Lord Farleigh will notice you in riding dress,” she said spitefully. “You will do anything to draw his attention. Mr. Ruddle was shocked to see you so inappropriately dressed for the drawing room.”
“Just because you are terrified of horses!” snorted Anne, as usual bringing down her mother’s wrath upon her head.
It was on the tip of Rowena’s tongue to declare that she had stayed at his lordship’s specific request. She decided instead to escape while all attention was on Anne, and she rode quietly once around the park in the mizzle. She knew that horses had nothing to do with Millicent’s pique. The trouble was that her cousin was no longer willing to believe Rowena and the earl were only discussing her charms.
