Robert found nothing to object to in the plan itself, save for the fact that Cecily had not given him time to respond. It was a dratted nuisance that she had chosen that particular day for their quest. He had promised the day to Hart, Northmere and Beaumont – they had been intending to go hunting.
He would have to find some way around it. He wouldn't leave Cecily disappointed for the world. Besides, he was as intrigued as she was by the possibility that there was more to the story of Lord Thomas and Lady Letitia than the family legends told.
"I say, Beaumont," he said, finding the Duke making his usual early breakfast. "I wonder if you can help me regarding a slightly delicate matter. I find that I have a certain duty to perform this morning that cannot be put off."
Beaumont folded his newspaper and regarded Robert suspiciously. "You are calling off the hunt?"
"Not at all! You fellows must certainly go without me. No, I simply find that I will not be able to join you."
Beaumont was too clever to push Robert for an explanation. He knew when a man had a secret that would not be told. "You wish me to make some excuse for you?"
"If you would be so kind."
"I will give it some thought." Beaumont returned to his newspaper, but Robert knew that his quick mind was turning the problem over as he read. "I take it that Hart mustn't know about this…certain duty?"
"Not if I can help it." Robert realised that he was still clutching the letter in his hand. Thank goodness Beaumont was doing his best to ignore it! The man could really be relied upon in a pinch.
"Has this anything to do with how Hart came across his black eye?" asked Beaumont. "I have no desire to land myself in the middle of a brotherly brawl."
"Hart fell from a horse, as you well know," said Robert smoothly. Beaumont was not put off.
"I don't know that I entirely like all this secrecy and danger, Scarcliffe. You invited us here for a summer of relaxation, not intrigue. You and Hart have come to blows over something, and any man with half a wit can see it."
Robert sighed. He let Beaumont's accusation hang in the air for a few moments as he considered how to answer it. It would not do to tell the whole truth, naturally – he trusted Beaumont, but he could not ask him to conceal a matter of such magnitude as his trysts with Cecily – but an outright lie was out of the question. Beaumont would see through him in an instant.
His fingers caressed the letter Cecily had written to him as he answered, "We fell out over a woman. We are friends again now."
"And yet you are asking me to lie for you." Beaumont's tone was decidedly annoyed. "Very well. What if we say that I have a matter of private business that calls me to Loxton, and that I have asked you for your opinion on it?"
"Heaping one mystery atop another? Does that seem wise? Besides, that would mean you will also have to miss the hunt."
Beaumont cleared his throat. "It so happens that I do have a matter of business that calls me to Loxton, and, though I was not intending to deal with it today, I may as well take the opportunity to help you out at the same time. If you order a carriage for both of us, I will ride with you as far as the Loxton road. Then we will part, and go about our separate business. You will do me the courtesy of not enquiring as to what it might be. I have not pressed you for information, after all."
Robert tried to suppress a smile. When Beaumont was serious, as he was now, he hated to be smirked at. "We both have our secrets. And what if Hart asks me what manner of business requires my opinion?"
Beaumont raised a cool eyebrow. "If I tell him it is private, he will not dare."
It certainly was useful to have a powerful Duke for a friend. Satisfied, Robert sat down to make a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast. He would need fortification for the day's adventures.
As it too often did these days, his mind drifted to Cecily. What was she doing at that moment? What hour of the morning did she rise? What were her daily habits? Every minor detail of her time was as fascinating to Robert as the climactic scene in a brand new play. He wanted to know Cecily deeply, intimately, completely. He wanted to memorise the way she took her tea and the way she tied her bonnet.
In short, he had an insatiable hunger to begin a life with her full of happy domestic minutiae. The ordinary had never seemed so extraordinary as when Cecily performed it. Their enforced separation cut him deeper with each passing moment.
Robert was so absorbed in his thoughts that he barely noticed his father entering the room. The Duke of Beaumont, fortunately, was not so remiss.
"Good morning, my dear Marquess!" he exclaimed, rising from his seat with a perplexing degree of enthusiasm. "I trust the day finds you well?"
"Tolerably, tolerably," sighed Robert's father, lowering himself into a chair with a wince of pain. "If you were hoping to find me preparing for my departure, Your Grace, I'm afraid I must disappoint you. I will be troubling you young bucks for some time to come, I fear."
"Not at all!" To Robert's surprise, Beaumont rose from his comfortable chair and went to sit at the Marquess's side. "You must recover your health completely before you think of travelling!"
The Marquess gave him a crusty smile, pleased with the attention. "I'm afraid that, at my age, the notion of recovering one's health completely is quite out of the question. But I thank you for your concern, Your Grace."
"I am particularly glad to see you this morning," Beaumont continued – making this the longest conversation he had ever maintained with Robert's cantankerous father – "because there was a particular matter I wanted to discuss with you. I have had some time now to explore the woodland around Scarcliffe Hall, and I must say I find it exceptionally well-maintained…"
"Oh, you must address all your enquiries about land management to Robert," said the Marquess, gesturing towards his son. "He is the expert!"
"No!" said Beaumont, a little too sharply. He positioned himself in his chair so that, in order to face him, the Marquess had to look away from Robert. "No, my dear Marquess, I believe that there is no other explanation for your superior landscape than several decades of good management, and so I find that I must ask you several questions…"
As he spoke, his right hand crept behind his back and clenched into an urgent fist. Robert understood at once that he was being signalled – but why? What reason did Beaumont have to distract the Marquess?
It was then that Robert realised he was still holding Cecily's letter in his hand. He felt a shiver of fear as cold and sudden as though someone had spilled a water-ice down his back.
With his father suitably occupied, Robert crunched the letter into a tight ball and tossed it into the fire. It was too warm a day for the fire to be lit, but the letter would be burned to a crisp that evening.
He felt a pang of regret at destroying a thing which bore Cecily's handwriting. How sentimental he had become! He touched the place on his chest where the Balfour ring lay, concealed beneath his clothing.
Soon, if all went to plan, he and Cecily would each wear more lasting tokens of their love.
"Are you cold, Robert?" asked his father, eyes darting from the Duke to fix on Robert.
"Cold, father?"
"You are standing by the fireplace." The Marquess's gaze narrowed. "Is something the matter?"
"Not at all. I was simply stretching my legs." Robert did not sit back down at the table, but walked towards the door as though pacing in idleness. "About that particular errand of yours, Beaumont?"
"The private matter?"
"Yes, that's the one. I will go and see about a carriage for the pair of us."
"You're not hunting today?" asked the Marquess. Robert cursed his natural lack of guile. He was not at all cut out for intrigue.
"I find I have a personal matter which calls me to Loxton," said Beaumont lazily. "Hart and Northmere will have to hunt alone."
The Marquess looked for a moment as though he were going to ask further questions, but the icy glare of a Duke was enough to reduce any man to silence. "I'm sure the other
gentlemen will get along without you."
"Quite." Beaumont took a sip of coffee. "I will be with you shortly, Scarcliffe. Thank you for your assistance in this…private matter."
"It's my pleasure," said Robert, quite honestly. His heart was beating at a rate of knots as he left the breakfast room. His father was not an easy man to deceive.
As he went to the stables to set about ordering a carriage, his mind kept drifting back to the balled-up letter he had left in the fireplace. He would not be truly safe until it was burned.
How certain could he be that his father had not noticed it?
Robert tried to quell his rising nerves. Even if the Marquess had noticed the letter, it would be highly irregular for him to go so far as to retrieve and read it. Besides, he was almost positive that it had not been seen.
He really had nothing to worry about at all.
Chapter Nineteen
Cecily was not at all nervous as she waited on the tree-lined road for Robert's carriage to appear. It was a beautiful, clear summer's day. Shards of light fell green and gold through the overarching trees, illuminating everything with an ethereal beauty. The air itself seemed to sing a tune of hope and future promise.
She had tied her horse to a tree a little way from the road, and retreated back into the shade each time a carriage went past. The road between Scarcliffe Hall and Loxwell Park was not exactly frequented by her acquaintances, but it would not do to be seen where she ought not to be by someone who might pass the message on to her father. Cecily had permission to ride out alone, since Jemima had woken up that morning with a streaming cold, but certainly not to leave the house and go towards Scarcliffe Hall without so much as a maidservant.
She was too happy to be truly worried by the prospect of being seen, however. She would shortly be in Robert's arms again, and that was enough to fill her with joy.
When the next carriage came rattling up towards her, she hid herself just enough to go unseen while watching to see who it might be. It was a small curricle, with the livery covered over, going so slowly that she thought it might be looking for someone. As it approached, Cecily stepped out into the road. She had seen who was driving it.
Robert leapt out of the carriage and caught her in his arms, spinning her around until she was dizzy. "My Cecily!"
"Robert," she breathed. There was such a weight of feeling behind the way she said his name that he paused for a moment before kissing her, acknowledging it with a gaze of unspoken emotion.
"I have missed you," he said, settling her head on his shoulder. "I would not have thought it possible to miss someone so deeply having known them for so short a space of time, but there it is."
"I have missed you, too," said Cecily. Her heart sang with contentment. "But it will not be long now until we are ready to make ourselves known to the world."
He tilted her chin upwards so that he could look into her eyes. "Do you truly believe that?"
"I cannot help but believe it. I have never wished for anything so dearly in my life. I cannot think that fate would be so cruel as to deny us." She let the fingers of each hand intertwine with his. "Not when our feelings are so true."
Robert kissed her again, and the sound of birdsong faded to nothing around her. The world itself was a distant dream. Nothing mattered but the heavenly sensation of his lips on hers.
Nothing – except the rapidly approaching hoofbeats which shattered the morning's quiet.
Cecily jumped back from Robert instinctively. "Somebody's in a hurry," she said, embarrassed by her fright.
"Quick, into the curricle," said Robert, offering his hand to help her up. "We must not let anyone catch us together – not until we're safely away from Scarcliffe Hall and Loxwell Park, both." He looked around, suddenly confused. "Where is Lady Jemima? You ought to be accompanied, at least…"
"Jemima was unwell. Don't be alarmed." Cecily had the perfect solution. "If anyone in Brampton should take an interest, we will tell them that we are a pair of newlyweds come visiting the area on our honeymoon."
"And if we are recognised?"
"You are very sweet, to worry so!"
Judging by Robert's expression, he did not find her laughter comforting. He untied her horse from its tree and fastened the reins to the back of the curricle, before getting in beside Cecily. He was just about to send the horses trotting when a shout rose up behind him, stopping him in his tracks.
"Robert! Wait!"
Cecily turned around to see that the galloping horseman had rounded the corner, and was none other than Lord Jonathan Hartley.
"Your brother!" she gasped. There was no possibility of hiding. He had already seen her face.
Cecily dropped her head into her hands, as though that would now do them any good at all. The memory of her last, painful encounter with Lord Jonathan was branded into her mind. The last thing she wanted was to meet with him again – especially under such compromising circumstances.
Robert put his arm around her. She shrugged him off, horrified. "Do you want to reveal everything?"
"There is nothing to hide, Cecily. I'm afraid I have never been a master of secrecy. Hart knows what has passed between us. He will not tell."
Cecily barely had time to wonder at Robert's words before Lord Jonathan reached them. He pulled his horse to a sudden halt, keeping his seat masterfully as it jerked him about, and ran his eyes over Cecily with an expression made all the more unreadable by his bruised and swollen left eye.
"You are in danger," he said, curtly. "Don't ask me how father got wind of your scheme, for he wouldn't tell me. I certainly had nothing to do with it. But he is on his way towards us this very instant. It was all I could do to saddle my horse and get ahead of him."
"He knows?" Robert asked, a note of panic lending his voice an edge. "He knows everything?"
"It would seem so. He has gathered a group of men to act as witnesses, and means to make Lady Cecily's behaviour a matter of public ridicule."
"No!" Cecily gasped. "He can't – not yet – it's too soon!"
"My lady," said Jonathan, acknowledging her presence with a curt nod before he turned back to Robert. "Father has sent men through the woods on horseback to block the road ahead. I cannot say whether they have already got ahead of you. I did not catch wind of what he was about until it was too late."
"Thank you, Hart," said Robert, with feeling. "It means more to me than I can tell you that you have taken my part in this."
Jonathan gestured to his black eye ironically. "I have made my feelings about this business known. I see no use in arguing my point any further." He glanced at the road behind them, as though expecting the Marquess and his men to be already on the approach. "Not when matters have already taken their course."
"We must hide you in the forest," said Robert, jumping down from the curricle and holding out his arms to lift Cecily down with him. "Don't be alarmed. I will keep you safe."
"Father will be searching the forest," said Jonathan. "I don't see how you are to escape this, Robert. I only came to give you a word of warning."
"Neither of you has thought to ask me what I think we ought to do," said Cecily. Both men looked at her: Robert with warm admiration, Jonathan with barely-disguised coldness. She lifted her chin proudly. "I will be perfectly able to escape your father's men on my own."
"How are you to do that, my Cecily?"
"I will outride them, of course." Cecily ran to untie her horse from behind the curricle.
"You?" asked Jonathan, incredulous. Cecily mounted her horse with an elegant ease that she knew would make her prowess clear.
"You will be hard put to find a better horsewoman than me, my lord," she said. She was not boasting. It was the plain truth.
"You truly think you can escape them?" asked Jonathan. Cecily nodded. She thought, though she was not quite sure, that she saw the faint dawn of respect in his eyes. "Then I wish you all the speed in the world."
"Hart, give me your horse," Robert demanded. "I will not allow
Cecily to go on alone."
"You must not think of following me," said Cecily. She leaned down from her horse and gave him her hand to squeeze. "There is no shame in my being caught alone riding in the woods. But if you are with me, my darling…"
"Yes, I see your point," said Robert. A crinkle of unhappiness had formed between his eyebrows. It was an expression of his that Cecily had never seen before and, despite the danger, she found she had heart enough to revel in it. Each new facet of Robert was a joy to her. "I do not like it, but I am forced to agree. Hart, I will turn back with you. Let it not be said that I am afraid to face our father."
"Meet me in Brampton," Cecily whispered, before kicking her horse on. She rode away through the trees as quickly as the undergrowth allowed, letting her horse pick its way out from the road. Behind her, she heard Robert call to his horses and begin turning the curricle around.
She did not envy him the meeting he would have with his father. By all accounts, the Marquess of Lilistone was a fearsome man, even if diminished somewhat in his old age. Why, she had found Lord Jonathan fearsome enough at their last meeting, and he was only the younger son!
It was a testament to his affection for Robert that he had been able to put his mistrust of her aside to help them. Cecily felt for the first time that she would someday be happy to be a member of the Hartley family. There was more to them than she had ever suspected.
She turned her horse to the north, continuing through the woodland along her best guess at a parallel to the road. Her pace was frustratingly slow, dogged at every moment by fallen branches or thick undergrowth. At one point, she heard horsemen coming from the north, and was forced to retreat several steps until she was once again out of earshot.
It took some minutes of peace for Cecily to relax again and feel that she was far enough from the road to evade capture. The Marquess's plan had failed.
Nothing would stop her from reaching Brampton village and discovering the truth.
Chapter Twenty
Hart rode beside Robert's curricle in tense silence. Robert could not tell whether his brother was more distressed that he had met with Cecily, or that he had not confided in Hart to begin with.
The Earl's Secret Passion (Scandals of Scarcliffe Hall Book 1) Page 11
