by Sandy Raven
Just then a tiny hand tugged at Michael’s coat, demanding attention. He leaned down and lifted the littlest girl, who looked to be about four years.
“Well now, who is this? It cannot be Sophia.” Michael looked at Christina and back at the girl in his arms. “For my Sophia was but a babe when last I saw her. This must be... Olivia?”
“No!” the child cried, shaking her head of blond curls.
“Emily, then?”
“No!” Elise watched as the little one giggled and squirmed in his arms.
Michael gave the infant an overstated look of shock. “Sophia? Really? Well, you certainly have grown into quite the young lady, my dear. Before you know it, we’ll be hosting your come-out.”
“Not before mine,” the oldest shouted.
“Mine either,” said the middle child.
Little Emily tossed her curls, and feigned an air of superiority. “You always have to agree with whatever I say. Can’t you think for yourself, Olivia?”
Emily’s target put her hands on her hips, stomped a foot and huffed. “Mama, she’s being mean to me!”
The Baroness closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and made all the introductions with the children, and afterward attempted to usher everyone inside, so the servants could begin unloading the baggage. Elise reached into the coach and brought out her basket of kittens. When she lifted the lid and allowed the kittens out onto the lawn to stretch their legs, the girls squealed in delight.
“You’ve got three new best friends,” the baroness said to her.
“Are they for us?” Olivia asked. “Uncle always brings us treats, don’t you Uncle Michael?”
“Can we keep them?” asked Emily.
“I want this one,” chimed in Sophia.
The Baroness looked helplessly at Elise. “Children, these are Lady Elise’s kittens. You cannot want her to part with her pets. Just as you wouldn’t want to part with your goose, Olivia. Or your dog, Emily.”
“Well, while she’s here, we’ll take care of them. Can we?”
Elise laughed. She leaned over and petted the head of Tiger, in Sophia’s lap. “Well, it’s supposed to be a secret, but I guess since your grandmother isn’t here, I might tell you, but only if you promise not to say a word.”
All three girls nodded. “We promise!”
“This is Tiger,” she said, then pointed to the other kitten in Emily’s arms. “And that one is Naughty. They are your grandmother’s birthday presents from me. I want to surprise her when she opens her basket Saturday.”
“We won’t say a word,” Emily said, then looked to both of her sisters. “Will we?”
“We won’t tell.”
“Thank you, then, for caring for the kittens during this week. I’m sure they’d love to have some children to play with. Just be careful not to get them too tired. They’re still babies and need lots of sleep.”
Michael watched as she managed his trio of nieces just as easily as she managed the two children in the park. He looked at his sister who shared an approving smile.
“How did this happen?” she whispered. “I want to know all the details.”
“It just...” Michael shrugged his shoulders. “It just did.” His gaze never left Elise’s slender form as she crouched next to the girls.
“Are they boy kitties or girl kitties?” Sophia asked.
“These are little boys,” Elise replied. “And as everyone knows, boy kitties are more affectionate than girl kitties. So I hope your grandmama will adore them as much as we do.”
Michael wanted to tell Elise that this boy kitten had a great deal of affection for her. Thinking on it, perhaps he would do just that later tonight.
Baroness Vance spent the afternoon in her room writing a short letter to her sister, Lady Knebworth. In this missive, she stated that she’d just met the next countess and approved of their brother’s choice. She added a post-script as well, telling Sabrina she would never in a hundred years guess who the young lady was.
Once she sealed the letter, she sent a courier to Bath with instruction to place the note in Lady Knebworth’s hands personally.
CHAPTER TEN
Later that afternoon, after she had unpacked and had some tea, Michael sent word asking Elise if she would meet him in the library and perhaps take a walk with him. She’d changed from her traveling dress to a summer day dress of fine muslin and felt more suitably attired for the unusually warm weather they were experiencing. As she entered the foyer, she wondered where the library might be. A gray-haired liveried footman stood near a doorway, so she asked, “Could you tell me where I might find Lord Camden?”
The man nodded and moved with a slight limp down the hallway. “Follow me, my lady. I was to bring you along when you came down.”
Elise was happy to see that her family wasn’t the only one who kept on elderly retainers in service if that was their wish. The trend of having only handsome young footmen was a rather shallow one she thought as she followed the elderly footman down a long hall. The man stopped and knocked on a door, then opened it after they heard Michael bid Elise enter. She thanked the servant, then stepped past him into a long, dark paneled library with several reading tables, each with comfortable, deep chairs positioned around it, and three separate alcoves with sofas and chairs arranged so that each cluster offered privacy of conversation within the grouping. Michael stood near the enormous fireplace with wood stacked for the evening fire if it became necessary. He had one booted foot on the brass tinderbox and one elbow resting on the mantle. When he turned his lazy smile to her, she wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. She hoped that looking at him would always take her breath away.
She noticed he had changed into his country attire and was wearing tan breeches with a plain white shirt and unbuttoned waistcoat, having dispensed with the formality of his jacket in this warm weather. He looked comfortable here in this setting, the embodiment of a country gentleman. No artist could have painted a more perfect setting for this man. Her heart gave a lurch inside her chest.
If only, her heart sighed. He felt something for her he said, asking for time to figure out what it was. She wondered if it were possible to help persuade him in his discernment? But if she did, would he resent her if, at the end of the week, he decided they did not suit. That was reason enough not to manipulate the situation.
“I hope you’re finding everything to your satisfaction.” His smile broadened as she neared. “Is your room comfortable?”
“Very,” she replied. “Not even Bridget can find anything to complain about.”
“High praise indeed.”
“Indeed.” She suddenly felt as foolish as a fresh-from-the-schoolroom miss, without the wit about her to converse adequately. Where was her tongue now? Did it just disappear with his declaration of feelings—such as it was. “I seem to have lost my words.”
“Me too, minx.”
“Why, I wonder? Until this morning, I had no problem communicating with you.” His cynical hazel-eyed gaze melted her. She conceded, “Oh, all right, granted, it was more like ranting, raving, and nagging. But still, I was never at a loss for words.”
“True.” He held out a hand to her and she went to him. Leading her to a table with open ledgers, he said, “These are my uncle’s breeding charts and pedigrees, but before you delve into them, perhaps you might like to go out to the barns with me and see some of the horses yourself. Also, I thought we might ride in the morning—if you’d like.”
“I’d love to.” He then led her out the open French-style doors and across the lawn, following a path around the side of the house and down a terraced lawn. Three long buildings lay ahead. Layed out in a large U-shape and built of brick with slate roofs, the buildings were set near each other, yet many yards apart, forming a large stable yard in the center.
“I like the arrangement of the barns.” As they approached, she noted the efficient and organized layout. “It’s convenient and safe enough in case of fire. You wouldn�
�t have all your livestock in one building, and the structures themselves wouldn’t collapse, only the roofs.”
“You’ve a good eye. For that’s exactly what happened to my uncle when he first started out—a fire burned the original barn down to the stones. It devastated him. Hay is kept in a separate barn, a safe distance away, and only enough to feed is carried in each night.”
He introduced her to his head groom and his stable manager. Both men welcomed her, and answered her questions. Elise found both men to be very knowledgeable. Soon they were leading forward the stallions, discussing which traits each tended to pass on to their get. In the next barn they saw the mares, some with foals at the side, and again they talked about the select conformation and traits they bred for. In the third building, they saw the end product—two and three year olds. At this stage in their maturity, a horseman with an educated eye could see what well-bred animals these were and estimate with some accuracy how they would finish out.
“Make no mistake, these are not riding horses. They’re bred for a ground-covering pace that can be sustained for hours, but not necessarily a smooth one. They’re meant for carriages.”
“But the pair you had in the park, their backs didn’t sway as one would expect with a pacer,” she stated. “Are those two intact?”
“Unfortunately, no. They were gelded to make them more manageable in town. Why?”
“Why else does one need a stallion?” She gave him a sly grin. “I was hoping to breed them. As I see it, men have been breeding ladies riding horses for centuries. I thought it was time a knowledgeable lady took matters into her own hands and developed a mount that was pleasing to the eye, comfortable to ride, yet could keep up with the pack in a hunt. So, I’ve decided to recreate the old-style palfrey, only with more substance and bone than a delicate or hot breed.”
“War horse palfreys?” When he began to laugh, she stopped him with a stern look.
“Not at all!”
“A hack, then?”
“I very much dislike that term,” she said. “Especially for a horse that is calmer in temperament than the hot-blooded Irish racers that are so popular these days. In truth, more often than not those horses are unsuitable mounts for a lady. Not only unsuitable, but uncomfortable as well. You men don’t have to ride perched in a sidesaddle taking all the jarring in the body. You ride astride with a foot in each stirrup using your knees to absorb the motion of the animal in your legs. As society will not allow us to do the same, I thought I’d do something about it.”
They returned to the library, and began their discourse of the merits of breeds and cross-breeding of which Michael knew very little. Elise thought it sweet that he pretended interest enough to listen, and did not seem to think any less of her as a lady for her plain-speaking on the subject. More importantly, she’d found her words again. This she could converse about without sounding like a nervous school girl. For this was her realm.
After the tour of the barns and gardens, Michael promised to show her the various fields and pastures on their rides during the week. The sun hung just over the western horizon and they turned toward the house. Elise stopped in her tracks, wondering how he was going to explain her presence to his family.
As though sensing her nervousness, Michael said, “You have nothing to fear. You’ll see, it will be a quiet week with family.”
Elise wished it were as simple as that. Later, she entered the drawing room where Michael said they would gather before dining and found him alone, his sister and her little ones nowhere around. She’d rushed through dressing for dinner for fear of being unforgivably late. Elise drew closer to where he stood near the terrace doors, wine glass in his hand as he stared out upon the graying light of the evening garden.
“I got caught up making some notes and lost track of the time,” Elise offered.
“Not to worry. Christina is not down either.” He raised his glass to take a sip of his wine.
Just then a footman arrived with a tray, she lifted a glass and sipped the unknown liquid which turned out to be punch. All for the better, she needed to keep her wits about her.
Michael looked at her with soft hazel eyes, which appeared more brown than green in the evening light. He smiled, the subtle act sending a thrill running through her. “What were you making note of?”
“Listing the physical traits of my mares and those of your stallions we saw today.” She sipped her punch and debated if she should tell him more. He seemed genuinely interested, so she went on. “I’m thinking of breeding my mares to a few of them, but I want to see your studs move again. This time not on a line like today, but free moving in the fields, under saddle if they are broke to ride, and in the harness. One of the main things I look for is whether the horse is naturally heavy on the forehand, I want a horse that uses his back end properly, and when they are on a line they can be trained to hide that flaw.”
He cocked his head and looked at her curiously. “Funny, I remember that old groom you have saying those same words a few years ago at Tatts when he was there looking for some mares.”
Elise lowered her eyes. Her entire body grew hot as she felt the shame clear to her toes. She hoped he didn’t make the connection that she and Beverly where with Old Ned that day in Hyde Park Corner three years earlier. “Old Ned taught me everything I know. It’s only natural that some of his ideas made sense to me and I continue to put them into practice.” She sipped from her cup and finished her drink. Then an awkward silence hovered over them. She needed to change the subject so he didn’t remember that day with any more detail than he already did.
The footman came for her glass and she refused another. “I wonder where everyone is?” She sounded too chipper, even to herself.
“My sister must be chasing children to bed.”
“Not anymore, brother,” said the Baroness as she glided into the room, taking the cup the elderly butler filled for her. Michael’s sister grinned, her eyes warm and friendly. “The girls wanted to take the kittens to bed with them. At first I wouldn’t allow it. Kittens should sleep in the kitchen. But in the end, the girls won out. Sophia had already fallen asleep with one kitten clutched in her arms. I didn’t have the heart to disturb her or the kitten.”
“Just so you know, those kittens were her idea, not mine,” Michael teased, pointing at Elise.
“Mother will adore them,” the Baroness said reassuringly. “She has a soft-heart for anything furry.”
Dinner was announced, and the three of them moved into the dining room. The long, medieval-style table held scars from hundreds of years use, but it was polished to a high sheen and looked to be lovingly maintained. The chairs on the other hand appeared only a mere one hundred years old, having more curves in the back and legs. Michael’s sister sat to his left, and Elise to his right.
“I don’t seem to remember Mama liking my furry mice when I was a child,” said Michael as the footmen delivered the first course and the butler began to fill their wineglasses.
“That’s because you were foolish enough to bring them into the house. If you’d left them outside, she’d never have known about them and they likely wouldn’t have wound up inside Lady Montague’s belly.”
At Elise’s gasp, Christina clarified, “Lady Montague was mother’s cat. A most foul-tempered creature if ever there was one.”
“Let’s change the subject, shall we?” Michael said. “We don’t need to talk about my pet rodents’ mortality as dinner is being served.”
“All right. So, brother, why the change of plans for mother’s birthday? Sabrina and I had matters well in hand for the party to take place at her house in Bath.”
“I realized that Ren hadn’t been here in many years, and his bride never. He hasn’t seen the changes to the place and I wanted to show him my improvements. You know that sunken Turkish bath was his idea. He has one at Haldenwood, complete with hot running water.”
“I went to have a peek at it.” Christina turned to Elise. “He told me about the bath�
��s construction in his last letter. You should see it, Elise. It’s not complete, but the painted tiles are laid and the workers are installing the pipes for hot water. When my husband arrives, I hope to get him to have a look. Hopefully I can convince him to build one for us as well.”
“Of course,” Michael replied. “Where is your husband? Off on a mission for the Crown?”
“He wouldn’t say. He’s been secretive of late, so I assume so. I did send word for him to come here instead of Bath. I expect him later in the week.”
“When did you arrive?” Elise wondered how long Michael had planned this change in arrangements and why?
“Michael wanted me here immediately,” the Baroness replied. “The girls and I arrived last night and fell directly into our beds. It had been a very long day of travel.” She looked at Michael and said, “Your driver grumbled that we would never arrive with all the stops we made.”
Interesting, she thought. So this was a last minute change, and to ensure his sister was here at the necessary time, Michael sent his own driver. Elise wondered what prompted this alteration in plan. “When are your mother and sister arriving?” she asked.
“Later in the week,” Michael replied.
“Oh, they’ll be here sooner than that, I think,” his sister said, suddenly finding her plate most interesting.
“I see.” Michael’s voice clipped, even taut.
“When are your brother and sister-in-law coming, Elise?”
“Tomorrow morning,” she replied in between spoonfuls of soup. “Ren had some business to attend to that prolonged their leaving.”
“Are they bringing the baby?”
“Yes.” Elise grinned. “He’s such a good baby, and growing so fast that if they left him behind for a week, they might find him ready for school upon their return.”
“So true,” Christina said. “I can hardly believe Sophia is five years old now.” She turned to Elise, beaming with pride for her children, and said, “It seems like only yesterday, when my oldest, Emily, was born.” Looking at her brother, she added, “Speaking of the girls, I promised them you would take them for a ride in the morning.”