*****
The next two days brought rain – icy rain which was very nearly sleet – and all houseparty activities were, of necessity, constrained to the house. Charity felt completely trapped, for she could not spend all day in her rooms, yet when she ventured into the parlour, Lady Anne was waiting, and singled her out, drawing Charity into conversations where she could mock her in subtle ways. Ways which were getting less and less subtle, the longer Charity managed to appear to ignore them.
The only thing which had lightened her days had been the moment, yesterday, when she had been walking along the Long Gallery, admiring the paintings of the Duke’s ancestors in the rather watery light which came through the tall windows which lined one side of the room, and had discovered, on a window ledge, a feather. It seemed a very strange place to find one, but she supposed that it was possible that a bird had come in, when the windows had been open on a day with less inclement weather.
She had gathered it up with a smile, gently stroking it flat, and tucked it away in the pockets of her day gown.
Today, there had been no such bounty and, after a morning spent in the library, her mother had insisted that she join everyone else in the parlour. She had tried to slip into the bay window seat, and simply read, but almost as soon as she had moved in that direction, Lady Anne, and the other young women who tended to spend their time with her, had descended.
“Dear Lady Charity, do join us! We were just discussing the merits of being outgoing, compared to being more reclusive.”
Miss Woodfield looked at Charity, and smiled – a smile reminiscent of a cat who had just trapped a bird beneath its paw. Charity forced herself not to shiver, and simply waited for whatever they might say next. Miss Woodfield spoke.
“And we thought to consult you, dear Lady Charity, for you are such a perfect example of the reclusive…”
Lady Anne tittered, and gave Charity a look which threatened, even whilst being camouflaged as sweetness.
“And I, of course, stand on the side of being outgoing. I cannot imagine how dull it must be, to hide away all the time, like a mouse. How do you bear the tedium?”
Charity forced herself to consider carefully before she answered.
“There is no tedium to bear, Lady Anne, when one is clever enough to amuse oneself.”
Lady Anne looked at her, obviously shocked, and for just a moment, Charity was proud of herself – not only had she not just blurted out her first thought, but she had managed to choose words which were the complete truth, yet still subtly suggested that Lady Anne was not very intelligent. Miss Woodfield looked interested, as if she had not expected Charity to be capable of such a riposte. Then she spoke again.
“But Lady Charity, what is the point of amusing oneself, alone? That most certainly is not likely to attract the attention of a Duke… and surely, you are here for the same reason that all of us are…”
Charity swallowed, wishing desperately to escape them. To continue this conversation would test her to the utmost. She wanted simply to tell them, very impolitely, to leave her alone. Which of course was what they wanted – they desired to discompose her so badly that she would behave inappropriately in front of everyone. She lifted her eyes for a moment, and discovered, to her horror, that the Duke stood a very short distance away, and was observing the interchange closely.
Lady Anne and the others could not see him, for he was behind them. He… she was quite sure that he winked at her. Shock filled her, and Lady Anne spoke again, obviously displeased by her silence.
“Lady Charity, did you hear what Miss Woodfield said? Do tell me – you are here in the hope of attracting the attention of the Duke, aren’t you? Although it seems most unlikely, that you could achieve that, surely that is why you are here?”
Irritation filled Charity, and all thought of restraining her response departed her.
“I am here because I was invited to this house party, Lady Anne. That, and nothing more. Should the Duke consider me worth spending time with, so be it, but I have no intention of attempting to influence him in any way. Such manipulation is beneath a lady of quality.”
It was far too bluntly spoken – shockingly so, and Lady Anne’s face made that abundantly clear to her. Behind Lady Anne, the Duke was still watching, his expression one of amusement.
“How… how dare you imply… you dreadful chit. I should….”
“What should you do, Lady Anne?”
The Duke’s voice was low, richly resonant. He stepped up to stand in a position where Charity was to one side of him, and Lady Anne the other. His expression now was one of polite interest, and Charity envied him the ability to be so calm. Lady Anne almost spluttered, desperately trying to school her face to an expression of simpering delight at his presence, rather than the somewhat ferocious look she had turned on Charity moments before.
“Ah… I… Your Grace.”
Lady Anne curtsied and the Duke smiled, a socially polite smile, which might cover thoughts a great deal different in nature. It was, Charity thought, so very much in contrast to the genuine smile he had given her, that morning on the sea cliffs.
“Yes, Lady Anne?”
“I was just commenting, Your Grace, that I should thank you for hosting this delightful house party.”
Charity barely managed to keep her expression bland – the gall of Lady Anne! And the foolishness of her – did she really think that the Duke would be so easily deceived? Apparently, she did.
The Duke considered her for some moments, as the silence stretched, and Lady Anne began to look uncomfortable – the simpering smile on her face becoming a little less so.
“I see. Then you had best thank my mother, as she is the one who has organised all of… this.” He waved his hand as if to include everything around them, “Personally, I often find such events somewhat dull, no matter how hard my mother tries to ensure that everyone is entertained.”
Lady Anne gaped at him, then quickly restored the false smile to her face. He had as much as implied that she was dull, without ever needing to say so. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips compressed, before she caught herself, and restored that supposedly charming smile again.
“How sad for you, Your Grace. I will do as you say, and thank your mother – but… is there no way in which I might… make the party more entertaining… for you…?”
Charity blinked, stunned at how blatant and improper that question was.
She took the opportunity to carefully move away from the conversation, whilst everyone’s attention was focussed on Lady Anne. She slipped back, and then turned, planning to go to her mother’s side.
As she did, she heard the Duke’s reply – still spoken calmly, but with steel in his tone.
“Lady Anne, I do not believe that there is anything… anything at all… that you could possibly do which would achieve your aim. Do not waste your effort – I am sure that there are far better things you could turn your energies to. And now, forgive me, ladies, but I must speak with some of my other guests.”
Charity kept moving towards her mother, who stood near the fire, chatting with the Duchess. She hoped that Lady Anne had understood the Duke’s meaning, and would cease her attempts to trap him – but she was not, truly, hopeful of that. The woman was determined, and remarkably unpleasant. But what had the Duke thought – what had he meant by that wink?
She did not know, but at least he had broken up the conversation before Lady Anne could attack Charity more than she already had – and Charity suspected that he had done so on purpose, to help her. The idea of that made her feel warm inside.
She reminded herself, yet again, that he was unlikely ever to regard her with more than friendship. Saving her from Lady Anne just now was simply his way of repaying her for saving him from the woman a few days earlier. Nothing more. She must keep that truth in mind at all times, lest she foolishly hope for more than she could reasonably expect
*****
Rafe felt anger slice through him like a knife, brin
ging a cold sharp edge to his thoughts. He was not a man who grew hot headed with anger – rather, he became cold, calculating, and precise. Lady Anne drove that anger to a fierce pitch. He had heard every word of that conversation – a conversation specifically designed to attack Lady Charity, and to provoke her to respond without thought, out of hurt.
He had been deeply impressed by the way in which Lady Charity had managed – given what she had told him, out there on the sea cliffs, about her tendency to directness. But he had known that she needed help, when she had made that declaration about her purpose for being here – that had been blunt enough to indicate that she was distressed indeed.
He needed, now that Lady Charity had escaped Lady Anne and her cohort, to escape them himself. He would ask his gentlemen friends to the billiards room – a location to which Lady Anne was unlikely to dare to follow. But… part of him would have preferred to stay, to seek out Lady Charity, and make sure that she was not further distressed.
He could not allow himself to do that, however – it would single her out, and make her even more of a target for Lady Anne and her friends – which he would never wish to do. He must simply hope that the morrow dawned clear, and that she might venture out. If he met her on the fields again… then, perhaps he could express his concern.
Chapter Six
Charity woke early, and lay there, as the pre-dawn light filtered through the slightly open curtains. After a moment, she pushed the covers back, and went to the window, peering through the gap in the curtains. The day looked clear – no rain or snow, and no wind.
She turned away, and rang for Maggie. It was the perfect sort of morning to walk, especially after two days of rain. As Maggie did up the annoying row of small buttons on her gown, Charity considered what she would do – should she walk to the cliffs again? Or actually go to see the stables? Or perhaps the home farm? She weighed up the options, and decided to do two of those things – to visit the stables, and indulge in a few minutes of seeing horses, before slipping out along the lane towards the cliffs again.
“Maggie… will you come down with me? I want to go to the stables – I miss Kestrel so. But to go there, I need you, for propriety. After that, I will slip away for my normal walk, and you can come back up here.”
“Of course, my Lady. Your mother won’t wake for quite some time yet, so I should be back by the time that she needs me. I’ll just get my coat.”
Charity slipped her pelisse on, and gathered up her basket. Maggie soon returned, and they went out, down the servants’ stairs, and across to the stables.
There was some activity there, as the grooms and stableboys went about their business, mucking out stalls, refilling haynets and water buckets, and doling out morning feeds. They looked at her curiously, but did not object to her presence. She walked down the long line of stalls, pausing occasionally to hold her hand out for curious horses to sniff, before running her gloved fingers down their faces in greeting, or scratching just above the eye ridge, where most horses loved to be touched.
Maggie hung back near the doors, just watching her, content to let her wander. The maid had known her a long time, and knew that she was most competent around horses. Towards the far end of the long building, Charity stopped before the stall of a mare whose blood bay coat was a close match for the tone of Charity’s own hair. The mare was magnificent – well conformed, her coat gleaming. She turned, a mouthful of hay dangling, and eyed Charity for a moment before stepping across the large stall to stretch her head over the stall door to sniff at Charity.
Charity held out her hand, relaxed, and stood still as the mare inspected her. When she did nothing more, the mare nudged her hand with her nose, and Charity, laughing, obeyed the command, and caressed her face, then scratched gently about her ears, and the ridge above her eye. The mare leant into her touch.
“I see that you are used to horses, Lady Charity. Sage seems rather taken with you, and she won’t talk to everyone.”
Charity started, her hand falling back to her side – a situation which was greeted by another firm nudge from the mare.
“Your Grace! I did not hear you approach. You seem to have a talent for taking me unawares.”
He laughed, and the warm rich tone of it made her quiver inside.
“I do not mean to!”
Sage nudged her again, and Charity automatically reached for her, caressing, even though her eyes still rested on the Duke.
“She is beautiful, Your Grace – all of these horses are, but this one – Sage – really caught my attention. She reminds me of my own mare…”
“Ah, so you ride? So many ladies rarely do, preferring carriages. Do you ride… energetically? Or are you more prone to a gentle wander about the countryside?
“Your Grace, are you asking me if I am useless on a horse – are you attempting to politely discover if I actually ride, or simply let the horse carry me about at a walk?”
As she said it, Charity felt herself blush again. There she was, being too direct, as always. What if he was offended? But he smiled – that devastating smile which made him look handsome beyond belief, and laughed again.
“Lady Charity, I am so used to having to be delicate with my phrasing, lest I offend one of those fragile flowers of the ton, that I quite forget that there are women capable of directness. I find your forthrightness delightfully refreshing.”
Charity met his eyes, stunned, wondering for a moment if he could possibly be serious. There was nothing but sincerity in those deep brown eyes.
“Oh. Well… that makes you a most unusual man, Your Grace.”
“I find myself flattered by that statement. And yes, Lady Charity, I suppose I was attempting to ask you about your level of skill as a rider.”
“I… my mother would berate me for being too proud – but yes, I am a good rider. I am more like to ride in a manner not too dissimilar to that in which I speak – to launch myself into things before putting much careful thought into it. I have, therefore had to learn to ride well, if only to save myself successfully from the scrapes I get myself into. Mother long ago refused to watch me ride, lest I give her too many new grey hairs. She is more the type who prefers a sedate walk through the countryside.”
She was babbling – she knew it, and what had she said! Oh, now he would think her foolish! But he laughed again – a full bodied sound of genuine delight, and she felt the blush rise in her cheeks.
“Wonderful! Then… as Sage seems rather taken with you – would you like to ride her?”
Charity did not stop to think, as usual – the words came tumbling from her mouth.
“Oh, thank you, Your Grace – I would very much like that! I have been missing my mare, missing my rides.”
“I was just about to ride, as it happens – I do so almost as many mornings as I walk. Would you like to come with me – accompanied by a groom, of course, for propriety?”
For a moment, Charity felt her heart lift with joy. Then, almost as fast, that joy came crashing down.
She did not have a riding habit with her.
Her mother had not expected there to be any chance of her riding, and had told Maggie not to pack it. She felt, in that instant, close to tears. Sage nudged her again, instinctively knowing, as horses did, that she was unhappy. She caressed the mare, grateful for her sympathy.
“Your Grace… I would be absolutely delighted to… if I could. But… I do not have a riding habit with me. I did not expect…”
*****
Rafe had been startled when he had walked into the stables, and seen Lady Charity there. He had followed her down the row of stalls, coming up to her as she stopped at Sage’s stall. The mare was kind, but strong willed, and a good judge of character – he had seen her snap at people whose character he knew to be less than ideal, as often as he had seen her seek to be touched and spoken to by those who were more kind by nature.
As he watched, the mare demanded attention from Lady Charity, who gave it with every evidence of pleasure. So foc
ussed was she on the horse that she quite jumped when he spoke to her.
And now, after an exchange which was as unusual as every exchange with Lady Charity seemed to be, he had rashly asked her to ride with him – which was not at all the way to avoid making it seem as if he singled her out for his attention! She had instantly looked delighted – and he could not crush that delight – he would simply have to deal with the reactions of the others.
But, just as he was about to speak again, her face crumpled into misery, and she spoke, her voice far softer.
“Your Grace… I would be absolutely delighted to… if I could. But… I do not have a riding habit with me. I did not expect…”
His first thought was ‘well, that should be easy to resolve, my mother is a slim woman, not too different in size from Lady Charity – surely she will have a habit that Lady Charity might borrow’. And that thought was immediately followed by the recognition that, should he ask his mother such a thing, she would instantly interpret it as meaning that Rafe was rather taken with Lady Charity…
He had just trapped himself. He had already asked her to ride with him, and he had seen how much she truly wanted to ride – he could not, simply could not, allow something so minor as a piece of clothing to prevent her from having that enjoyment. He would have to do it, would have to ask his mother.
“Lady Charity – whilst that does mean that you accompanying me this morning is not possible, I do not think that it is an insurmountable obstacle. I do believe that my mother may be able to assist you with a habit, which would allow you to join me on another morning. I will enquire of her, and let you know the answer.”
She gasped, and met his eyes, her expression shocked. He was not sure why – he did not think that he had said anything truly out of place – a little unusual, perhaps… but… then that expression changed to a smile – a smile which lit her face and made her eyes sparkle.
“Your Grace, that is beyond kind of you. I will be more grateful than I can express, should it be possible. But now, I am keeping you from your ride. I will just spend a little more time with Sage, then go for a walk. Enjoy your ride – may it give you a sense of peace to carry into the day.”
The Duke's Christmas Vow: Regency Romance Page 5