“'Not that he's ever been accused of mistreating his women, but there have been so many of them! You will understand, from being acquainted with his dark good looks, that he has attracted half of the unattached young ladies, but his preference seems to be for married or not so respectable ones! Honestly, I believe I know half a dozen women who would not scorn a small tête-à-tête with him. Not including myself, of course!’”
“Oh, drat!” he muttered. “And here I was planning to seduce her when I returned to town."
There was a great deal of laughter in his voice, but I paid no heed to it. I had already realized that I shouldn't have read the whole of Bethany's letter to him, but it was too late by then. At least he would understand exactly what I had learned of his true character.
“To continue,” I said, in a monstrously cool tone of voice. “'He is rumored to have some interest in Marguerite Larson, and to have had a short term affair with Molly Winslow, but neither of them has ever said a word. So perhaps it is all fantasy. Except! I did myself see him once leaving the home of a rather questionable woman at seven o'clock in the morning. Do not ask me what I was doing up at that hour, for it is not half so interesting as it sounds. My dearest husband is planning to...’ Well, that is all she has to say about you."
He considered the gossip with Olympian calm. “There are always tales about unattached men, Catherine. I'm not saying that I haven't done my share of courting of the ladies, but I've never harmed anyone."
I humphed at him. “So you say. Well, this is not the sort of record my sister would wish to hear, and I very much fear that she should be apprised of it."
He considered this with impartial detachment. “She won't like the fact that it's gossip, of course, but she'll be inclined to believe the account of a woman as well-placed and sensible as Lady Sutton. It will certainly shatter her illusions about me."
“Don't you care?"
His black Hessians gleamed in the sunlight and a breeze played with his thick, dark hair. Never had he seemed so uninterested and inaccessible as he did then. He might have been one of the London blades musing on the Season's collection of maidens. An arrogance that I hadn't witnessed before clung to him like a glove. When he spoke, it was with a voice quite different than his usual one. This one drawled in a lazy, offensive manner.
“I shouldn't want her to hate me, of course. That would be most distressing.” He sounded suddenly just like all the men I had met in London, and I wanted to run away from him. But he kept me there with a stern look from those intense eyes. “Now your mother is a different matter. I shouldn't like it at all if she were ill disposed toward me. But I think, yes, I feel quite sure, that this report will not damage me in her eyes."
“No,” I admitted, miffed beyond bearing. “Mama hasn't a prudish bone in her body."
“Still, I would suggest that you withhold the letter for a few days. Until everything is settled."
“What is there to be settled?” I asked him sharply.
“This highwayman business, for one thing. I think I really must make a concerted effort to apprehend the fellow, so that no rumors can find their way back to London. Your brother would expect as much of me."
If he had spoken of our working together to discover who the highwayman was, I would have felt a little better toward him. As he didn't, I rose abruptly and gave my skirts a dismissive shake. “Well, that has nothing to do with the letter. I cannot promise you that I won't show it to anyone. That is a matter on which I will have to make up my own mind."
He had hastened to his feet and now bowed smartly. “As you wish, of course, Miss Ryder. I'm sure you know how best to handle your own family."
Not that he believed it for a minute. It was just one more of his fancy phrases, part of the imitation he was enacting of a Bond Street beau. How I hated it! But it struck me that it was the role he'd played with Amanda all along. I couldn't imagine why he thought it would do anything other than repel me.
* * * *
If Amanda hadn't pestered me the next morning about not doing my share of the chores, I probably would not have been so blunt with her. But I had continued to oversee exactly those who had always been in my care: the dairy maids, the laundry maids, the stable boys, and every other outdoor employee at Hastings. Her duties seemed much simpler to me, and tidier, just directing the indoor staff.
“You will never learn to manage a household if you continue to skulk about in this fashion,” Amanda informed me. “Mama has told you that you are to help me choose the menu. You won't have the slightest idea how to go on if you ever marry."
Mama had mentioned that I might, if I wished, ask the cook for dishes I particularly liked. She had never suggested that I share the duty of choosing meals with Amanda.
But I could see what it was. Amanda thought that Sir John was paying more attention to me now and she was afraid that he meant to ask me to marry him. Which made her very cross. I thought it was as good a time as any to disillusion her as to his character.
“If you must make such an untrue statement, I wish you would not link it with the idea of marriage,” I protested. “You aren't to be thinking that Sir John Meddows means to make either of us an offer. No such thing! I've long suspected he had a most deplorable reputation, and my dear friend Bethany confirms it in her letter."
“You have solicited gossip from Lady Sutton!” How indignant she was, trying to hide her curiosity. “You know it is wrong to gossip about people. How could you listen to slanderous tales of Sir John? Why, he's your own brother's very best friend."
“I daresay it doesn't bother Robert one bit that Sir John is a rake. In fact, it probably brings him into contact with just the sort of women he wishes to know at this time of his life."
“Catherine! I'm ashamed to hear you speak in such a fashion. And I never, ever considered that Sir John would make either of us an offer. And I'm sure your friend Lady Sutton is quite mistaken on this head."
“Not a bit of it,” I assured her cheerfully. “Shall I get the letter and read it to you?"
From the flash of anger in her eyes I could tell that she was remarkably cross with me. Amanda was far too principled to contemplate slapping me for my insolence, but she was likely to run to Mama with tales of my misdeeds, so I suggested a compromise. “Mama, of course, need know nothing of this. She's determined to be charmed by Sir John, and his presence seems to calm her."
That brought her around a little. She sniffed delicately. “Except for the night when she would speak with Papa. Did Sir John ever mention that occasion to you?"
“I don't think so, directly. He probably thought very little of it. He's a most tolerant man, you know."
“Obviously. I would never dream of upsetting Mama. If she's attached to the baronet, it may distract her from her grief."
I only wish it had. “She would be more distracted if he carried one of us off and married us, but Bethany's letter suggests that it is the dalliance and not the sticking point that is his specialty."
Since she seemed receptive enough by then to hear the whole, I explained what my friend had said. Amanda's lips twitched with disapproval and her eyes narrowed as she said, “Not at all the sort of man he has passed himself off to be. Whatever can be the point of his playing such a game?"
But I didn't want her to know about all the other untoward things that were going forward. She was likely to have a fit of the vapors or burst into floods of tears. When Amanda didn't know what to do about a situation, she cried. Not a very useful substitute for action.
“He's only come to look out a pair of horses for himself, and one for Robert, and I daresay he doesn't know how to behave himself other than to make himself pleasing to whatever ladies he finds available.” This just slipped out of my mouth, but the more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that it was true. And the more melancholy I felt.
Amanda sighed and clasped her soft white hands together. “Well, it won't do any harm to have him around for our Public Day. He's just
the sort of man who could make the whole occasion a huge success—dance with all the girls, talk about sporting events with the other gentlemen, and make the servants feel most comfortable in their entertainments. Charming men are so very useful. It's such a pity they aren't honorable."
Such cynicism was unlike Amanda and I worried about her. But only for a moment. Then Sir John appeared at the door of the summer parlor, where we were sitting, a broad smile on his face and a devilish gleam in his eyes.
“I wonder if I might join the two most delightful young ladies in the country,” he said. His gaze was full upon Amanda, an intent, knowing expression on his face. I felt quite sure he must have overheard a good bit of our conversation.
Amanda lost her composure. Her hands fluttered about at her waist almost as if they had a life of their own. “Oh, I don't ... Uhm, you mustn't ... Really, I should go to see Mama on the instant. She will wonder where I have gotten, and scold me for being so long about the linens.” She gave the briefest of nods to Sir John before fleeing on her little slippered feet at a pace one could only describe as a run.
“Now, what could possibly have taken possession of your sister?” He turned his knowing, intent expression on me, hoping, no doubt, to throw me into disorder as well. At the same time he continued into the room, walking right up to me.
“You know very well what has happened. I have been forced to enlighten her as to your wicked reputation."
“Wicked?” He took a step closer to me, moving with that uncanny grace that made my hands tremble. “Don't you mean passionate? Or perhaps dangerous? Don't you find me a little bit dangerous, Catherine?"
His silky voice was not meant to threaten me, but to remind me of how very enchanting he could be. Though I tried to resist the pull of his voice and his eyes and his nearness, I could not so much as back away from him. “N-no,” I insisted bravely. “I don't find you dangerous, Sir John."
He caught hold of my trembling hands and brought them to his lips. It was no use pretending that he had no effect on me. His mouth brushed the skin on the back of my hands, and my fingers tightened over his.
“Aren't you tempted to run away from me, as your sister did?''
I had begun to feel reckless. “Not at all. I'm perfectly capable of restraining your ardor and making you behave yourself."
“I can't think why you would believe that.” His grin was meant to entirely destroy me, which it very nearly did. Only by remembering where we were, and that a servant or even my mother could appear at any moment was I able to tug my fingers from his grip.
The gleam in his eyes alarmed me. I very much feared that he intended to kiss me right there. With a little skip backward I put myself momentarily out of his reach. “You wouldn't dare kiss me in such a public place."
“Rakes aren't concerned with such things, you know. We have only a burning desire to have our way with innocent young ladies. A true rake would no doubt ravish you right here on the Axminster carpet."
He was teasing me, of course, but that special light had appeared in his eyes, and I did wonder if he mightn't kiss me. Not that I would have minded, save for someone seeing us. That possibility was too great; I had yet to sink to such folly. With a stern look I strode to the door, informing him grandly, “You will do nothing of the sort. If there is ever anything of that nature forced upon me, I shall have my brother challenge you to a duel."
“There's not much of that going on anymore.''
“I don't care,” I cried. “I shall have him put a bullet through your heart."
He shook his head with wounded astonishment. “Would you do that? How very uncomfortable I should be. Do you, by any chance, know whether Robert is a decent shot?"
Far be it from me to admit that my brother could do little with a pistol, though he was fairly accurate with his birding gun. “Never mind that. My reputation would be protected."
He considered this with wry skepticism. “Nothing about a duel protects a lady's reputation. In fact, that reality couldn't be farther from the truth. A duel merely causes everyone to talk about her and wonder what she did to lead some poor fellow on."
No doubt he was right, but I wasn't going to listen to any more of his roguish chatter. It was meant merely to intrigue me. And I had no intention of being intrigued by the rascal. I gave one more huff, with my nose elevated to its most exalted height, and stalked from the room. As the door closed behind me, I could hear him laughing delightedly. The fact that he didn't follow me was cold comfort.
I returned to my room and slumped on my bed, intent on having a good session with myself about what was happening to my heart and my senses. Sir John seemed to have invaded both of them, drat the man. He had come from nowhere, gotten me stirred up, and might disappear at any time. He could even slip away back to London before the Public Day Mama was planning.
And I didn't know what condition I'd be in when he left. Something told me that I'd gotten far too attached to him in this short space of time. But I told myself, quite firmly, that it was nothing of the sort. Merely one of those sensual attractions that one read hints of in the more lurid novels of featherbrained young ladies such as Amanda, who was forever begging me to listen to just this one passage that I would surely swoon over. Yet here I was about to swoon over Sir John, who had done no more, according to his lights, than flirt with me when none of the rest of the family was around.
Well, I would just have to rid myself of this nonsensical attraction to Sir John. All it would take was resolution on my part. To clear my head and rid myself of some of my spleen, I slipped down the back stairs and headed for the stable. Lofty seemed to sense my disposition and we fairly flew down the trail that led to the spring. This was as far away from the pond as I could get. No use dredging up all those uncomfortable memories.
There was the dull murmur of summer insects and a very light breeze coming across the afternoon fields. I let Lofty have her head and I clung to her like a burr. You can only do that in the country, let loose that way. In London, even in Hyde Park, you had to ride at a very modest pace, never galloping at all. Even here, when I was younger, someone had always accompanied me. But I had shrugged off that restriction years ago.
When we reached the spring I dismounted to stand in the tall grasses and allow her a chance to lap at the cool, fresh water. I suppose I was daydreaming, for my mind certainly wasn't on any specific thought when I glanced up and saw Sir John, astride Thunder, watching me with an almost dumbstruck expression on his countenance. And there wasn't the least sign of arrogance or condescension to him in that moment.
Goosebumps sprang up on my arms, and I ducked my head to avoid the intensity of his gaze. There was nothing frightening about him; it wasn't that. He simply made me feel as if I were the only person who existed in the world, and I was unexpectedly overcome by shyness. Then, quite suddenly, he swung Thunder about and galloped off.
He was good on Thunder. Robert would have appreciated his skill; I was moved by his grace and power. But the moment he was out of sight, I began to doubt my own eyes. He hadn't spoken or in any way acknowledged my presence, and I began to think that he had been a figment of my imagination. That sort of thing could happen, if you rode out in the heat without your bonnet, as I had done. The gurgling of the spring, the cozy warmth of the sunlight...
I felt more confused than ever and sat down on a tussock of grass to consider what was happening to me. Though I stayed there for some time, until Lofty nudged me to get my attention, I reached no conclusions. When I arrived at the stable, Thunder was not in his stall and Sir John was nowhere about.
* * * *
I happened to encounter Cousin Bret in the hallway. He was in a decidedly bad temper.
“Who gave Sir John permission to ride Thunder?” he demanded without preamble. “This is the second time in three days that he's taken Thunder out."
“Why shouldn't he ride Thunder?” I asked. “Sir John is a superior horseman and a great friend of Robert's. Of course he has our permission
to take out Thunder."
Cousin Bret gave a grunt of annoyance and tugged angrily at the sleeves of his tight-fitting blue superfine coat. “It's very inconsiderate of you to offer him that privilege when you know Thunder is my choice of your stables."
“You're both guests at Hastings and I can't see why one of you should have exclusive access to Thunder. He's a difficult horse to manage, but Sir John has more than sufficient skill to exercise him properly.” I considered this a diplomatic way of putting it; I could have told Cousin Bret that we found him only marginally able to control the horse.
He frowned prodigiously. “I think you overestimate Sir John's skills. He would do well to leave Thunder to me. Especially as I might wish to ride him late in the day and would want him fresh."
“Where would you ride him late in the day?” I asked, wondering if he would make such a request if it was to go highway-robbing that he had in mind.
His shoulders lifted in a negligent shrug. “To visit my friends in Cambridge. To go for a ride. No special reason."
“I hope you don't ride him off the road. Robert would be devastated if Thunder injured himself in any way."
“I'm sure you needn't worry about my riding.” His smug voice and condescending air may not have been calculated to raise my ire. Or they may have. “But I do, every time you ride him,” I snapped.
Cousin Bret was impervious to my snubs. He laughed and walked away from me without further ado. Oh, how I hoped it turned out to be he who was our highwayman!
Chapter 11
It took me a long time to discover where Mama was. Not that there was anything particularly odd about her being in the attics. She was wont to disappear among the treasures of her youth on occasion, and one would find her putting on the bonnets she had worn as a bride and a new wife, posing in front of the mirror.
Miss Ryder's Memoirs Page 12