“Except,” Summerton reminded her, “Baver is alive, and Old Jake and his family are in a tenants’ cottage. So it appears we have been played for fools.”
“Old Jake is here?” Again she leaned back, deflated. He frowned over the inconsistencies. He rather liked the girl who dared allow herself to sit against the back of the chair. He needed a woman who did not.
“Yes, Old Jake is here,” he confirmed. “I will take you to him tomorrow but first, where were you going and who was helping you?”
“Manchester, by myself,” she said, too quickly.
“That’s a lie.”
Regal as the queen, she said, “Why ever would you say that?”
Because someone signaled her from the woods and her maid had disappeared. He wasn’t ready to admit he knew either of those things until he learned what tonight’s search revealed.
“A young lady does not travel cross-country without escort.”
“I wasn’t traveling as a young lady.”
“You would need a companion. Someone to confirm your disguise. You couldn’t approach a market stall for food or coachmen for tickets or whatever you needed without risking discovery. You needed someone in front of you.”
She fussed over the closing of the banyan in her lap, tracing the design of the fabric. “I’m very resourceful.”
“Humph.” He sat back, watching her.
“What will you do with me now?”
“You heard what I said to my aunt.”
She wouldn’t look at him, her gaze on her long, delicate fingers caressing the silk binding of the robe, much as a child touches a favored blanket. “I’m not certain I understand.”
He couldn’t tell if she was being coy. “The bridal journey.” Her head snapped up. “Surely, you were aware of the bridal journey.”
“That’s why she didn’t unpack my things?” She’d turned, toward the duchess’s rooms.
“Your abigail?”
“Yes,” she turned back, intrigued. “Normally, she’d be busy as a bee unpacking everything, brushing out wrinkles and the like. When we arrived, she barely unpacked.”
“You didn’t know?” She shook her head, no sign of coy ignorance. “I see. Well…” He’d never suspected she’d been kept in the dark. “We will remain here for three, possibly four days and then go on our bridal tour.” This caught her attention. “A promise negotiated with the marriage.”
A bloody nuisance with so much to be done here at St. Martins, but he would be paid handsomely to see this through. See it through he would, especially after the catastrophe of a wedding night.
Which had never happened.
At least not the part he’d anticipated.
Or, to be fair, what she’d anticipated.
“My uncle’s way of getting me out of the country and out of his way.”
“Do you think so?” he queried. “I was told that your father’s greatest wish was for you, his adored daughter, to have the same opportunities as a gentleman on the Grand Tour.”
“Oh, dear.” She sat back, hand to mouth. “He did say that, quite often. But he was not well enough…”
He thought she might cry, cleared his throat and stared down at his boots rather than deal with such raw emotion. “The plan has always been to bring Eleanor as a companion.” Caroline would need a companion when they reached Vienna, as he was expected to participate in the congress being held there.
He’d not taken his heritage for granted. He’d made a point of being actively involved in the government, preparing for his place in the House of Lords. He had a role to play in Vienna. The whole itinerary had been based on that.
He looked up to see if she understood. She glared back.
It had been a long night.
“I’ll see you to your chamber.”
“Thank you, your grace.”
“There is a footman stationed outside your rooms, another in the grounds below.”
“Comfortable accommodations for a prison.”
He didn’t respond to that or speak of the dowry. A touchy subject. He wondered if she knew it did not come in one lump sum, but in three parts. The first was delivered today. An equal amount would be dispersed when they returned from the bridal journey.
The third—well, if he failed to win her over by the end of the journey, he would have to consider the very real possibility of not receiving the last allotment, or the promised yearly annuity.
After gaining her promise to marry and negotiating the marriage settlement, he’d worked night and day to design a scheme to rebuild his heritage. All the dominoes were lined up.
During this bridal journey, his men of affairs, secretaries, and stewards had explicit instructions.
A mere start to his plan to save his lands, improve his holdings, and ensure his tenants prospered. His plans stretched far into the future. They would take time, but ironically, he imagined they would benefit both husband and wife, and their progeny.
After this fiasco he’d either be a bride-less fool or a foolish groom.
Neither held much appeal.
CHAPTER 4 ~ First Day Welcome
“Summerton!”
Like a gong announcing Caroline’s entrance, a large silver serving lid clattered to the fall. The reverberating crash echoed around the dining room.
Hitches scowled at the poor startled servant, as if it was that man’s fault, and not Caroline’s shocking display. She’d charged into the room like some sort of fishwife.
Embarrassed, but deterimined not to show it, she stopped halfway to the table and smoothed her skirts with righteous dignity.
Summerton set his paper aside and stood with the utmost solemnity.
Of course he would. Elegant sophisticate. He knew how one behaved. Not a glimmer of reaction to her behavior. Probably expected as much. After all, he’d met her loud and crass father.
She knew better, knew how to behave. Mostly. She’d been trained to keep her early common years neatly tucked inside. But evidence always managed to slip out, in the worst possible ways. At the worst possible times. Especially when she was tired, or upset.
It had been an awful, sleepless night. She’d listened to the baying of hounds, watched the sway of lanterns moving through the woods. Summerton’s spurious search party, rousting men from their beds to go out, searching, fully aware there was no one to find.
Only, she knew what they didn’t. She knew about poor Jeremy. A city lad, spooked by the country. He didn’t even like picnics in broad daylight, let alone having a team of hounds and scores of local country men chasing him through the woods at night.
Chin lifted, she placed her hands firmly on her hips, arms akimbo, just like that same fishwife. Let him see just how unsuitable she was.
“I hadn’t expected to see you, my dear.” Summerton bowed, shooing a footman away from pulling out the chair at the far end of the table.
My dear, indeed.
Tired, anxious, and cranky as a toddler without sleep, Caroline crossed to the offending piece of furniture, pulled it out herself, and took a seat. She slipped her serviette from the table, focused on placing it, just so, on her lap.
“You’ve dismissed my abigail, ordered that I be dressed in a riding habit, and now you forbid me from leaving the Hall?” She looked up then, to meet Summerton’s solemn gaze. “You do know that a riding habit is totally inappropriate for breakfast?”
Eyebrow raised, he tilted his head toward the seat beside him. “Would you mind joining me at this end of the table? Preferable to visiting with miles between us.”
It was a long way.
“Hardly miles.” She stood, with all the regal stature of the top student she had been at St. Ann’s Academy. “But as you’ve dictated so much of my day, who am I to argue with one more edict?”
He refrained from replying, proving himself the better of the two. One never argues in front of the servants.
Drawing nearer, she noted the dark circles beneath his eyes, the weariness. He was as exhauste
d and pained as she.
“We had a late evening.” He pushed in her chair as she sat. “I rather thought you would sleep late this morning.”
Caroline cleared her throat, gathered her anger. “Why ever would I do that?” she asked. “You were awake as late as I, and you’ve already been up and about and seeing to business.”
“Ah, yes, well—” he nodded to Hitches, “—if you will serve her grace this morning.”
“Of course, your grace.” Hitches excused the other servants, taking a cup from a footman, who’d been about to put it in front of Caroline. “We were informed you prefer coffee in the morning,” Hitches said, “but if you would like…”
“No.” Caroline stopped him, surprised anyone had gone to the trouble of learning her partialities. The duke certainly hadn’t. Or had he? “Coffee is perfect.”
She breathed in the heady scent before the cup even reached her hands. One sip of the rich dark brew proved Hitches knew more than what she liked. He knew how she liked it. Heaven.
“We favor our coffee strong.” Summerton frowned.
“Yes, bracing.”
“Too much so?” he asked.
She looked at him sideways, certain he must be joking, before she remembered his comment about expecting her to sleep late. She put the cup down. “Do you imagine, as a woman, I would be idle and prefer weakly flavored food?”
“No.”
Behind him, Hitches moved about the sideboard, preparing a plate. She hoped it was for her. Sleep deprivation made her exceedingly hungry.
Summerton continued. “You are far too intelligent to be idle or to lack the adventure of strong food.”
Hitches returned with the plate. “I took the liberty, your grace, of serving you a little of everything but the kippers.”
“You are wonderful, Hitches.” She held her hands in her lap as he put the plate in place, pretending she did not want to grab the silver and tuck in immediately. “You know my appetite better than I do myself.”
He bowed.
“Would you care for more coffee, my dear?” Summerton’s expression revealed nothing more this morning than it had last night.
“Yes, I dare say I would.”
“Hitches, if you leave us with a small pot, we won’t need anything further.”
“Your grace.”
Eggs, sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms and toast. Caroline made a point of cutting small bites, taking her time to savor what she would rather gulp.
Rather than pick up his papers, Summerton watched her.
“I would not be insulted if you care to read, Summerton,” she said as she took a bite.
“I’ve read enough, thank you.”
“Then perhaps—” she smiled sweetly, cutting her sausage, “—you can keep me entertained by telling me why you released my abigail without first consulting me.” She popped the bite into her mouth.
He caught her gaze as she slathered marmalade onto a toast point. “Or why you sent strict instructions that I was to wear a riding habit, but refused me the freedom to ride?” She chewed and swallowed.
He lifted the coffee pot and reached for her cup. “Eat your breakfast, my love.” He placed the full cup before her.
“Perhaps not.” Neatly, carefully, she placed her silverware on her plate. “Aside from the fact that I am not ‘your love,’ I have a very bad feeling about what you are going to say.”
He nodded.
Hunger fled.
“Who is it?”
“What?”
“Who has died?”
“No one has died, Caroline.” His much larger, much warmer hand covered hers. “And I did not release Alice. She left.”
Caroline pulled free. “But why? When?”
“I sent for your maid last night. Do you remember the interruption during our discussion? That was Hitches with word your abigail left without a trace.”
Caroline sat back. “But why?”
“You are certain she didn’t know you planned to leave?”
“No,” Caroline shook her head. “No. She was my uncle’s servant, not mine. She might have suspected I would release her, but I would have given her a reference, seen that she was safe until she found another post.”
She felt his scrutiny, looking for truth or lies. It made her clumsy. Made her hands tremble, as though guilty, when she knew she was not.
“Would she have reason to doubt that?” Summerton took her hand again, his thumb brushing the back of it, as if to soothe. It did not. Caroline pulled free of him.
“No, I don’t think she would doubt that. I’m known to be fair to all employees, even those I do not favor. One must be when employing so many. Otherwise, resentments build.”
“I see.” He drummed the table. “There is more, Caroline, but I do wish you’d keep eating. You barely touched your dinner last night.”
Famished a few bites before, she wasn’t sure she could eat another bite.
“Just tell me what it is.”
“I did not mean to dictate what you wore, but rather thought to save time. I would like you to ride the estate with me.”
“And if I don’t ride?”
“You own a riding habit, Caroline, and I trust you are not the sort of woman to waste your time wearing something merely for the sake of appearances.”
Perhaps he’d taken more notice of her than she’d realized.
“Thank you. I would like to ride.”
“After breakfast.” He amended, adding, “And so you understand, I did not forbid you from leaving the hall. The footmen were instructed that I wished to see you, to discuss our ride. They weren’t meant to bar your way.”
She popped a buttery bit of egg into her mouth, smiling. His defensiveness putting them on more equal footing.
“I will enjoy the ride.” It would help her get her bearings. Perhaps they would visit with Old Jake and she might catch site of Jeremy. He’d not be with Old Jake; bad blood there. Jeremy had wanted to let him go as well. She’d stopped him.
She sighed, wondering if she would have time to pen a note, leave it somewhere for Jeremy, but where? How?
“While we are out, we will look for your dog.”
“I beg your pardon?” Caroline asked.
“Seigneur Baver.”
She looked up, startled. “My dog?” She blinked.
“He’s a bloodhound, Caroline. You know how they can be, following a scent, any scent. He failed to return last night.”
“Did he go out with the other dogs?”
Summerton sighed. “He took off before George could get him last night.”
“Baver always comes back,” she insisted.
“No doubt you are right,” Summerton agreed, “but this is a new home for him. If you call for him as we ride, it might help us find him.”
Caroline frowned. He was a bloodhound; scent drew him, not sound. Not calling. It would make no sense for him to run away.
Alice had left and Baver was missing. Neither was a good thing.
She put down her serviette. “I take it my other animals are in the stables. Do you mind if we see them, before we ride out?”
Summerton frowned, but nodded.
He escorted her through a grand hallway, beneath a towering foyer and out wide double doors. She’d seen it all the night before, but the scope, the height and greatness of his home, had been diminished by lantern and candle light. The view from the entrance had been hidden as well.
Two stairways curved away from the front porch, arching down, arms reaching as if to embrace anyone walking through. When they’d arrived last night, they’d driven under a portico, entering on a ground floor. They now stood on a balcony above that portico, with its sweeping view of the drive and parkland beyond. Great tall winged beasts, carved out of stone, looked down upon them.
“Goats,” Summerton told her, patting the cloven hoof of one. “A family beast, signifying victory by negotiation and policy over might.”
“They are on your coat of arms as well.�
� Her uncle tried to get her to study the history of her future family. Instead, she’d studied ways of escaping, though she did manage to learn his coat of arms as it was on everything connected to him. “Persuasive speech is in your heritage, then?”
He offered a rueful smile. “Which I failed to employ when I courted you.”
“And the wings? I’ve yet to meet a goat with wings,” she said, instead of reminding him there had been no courtship. Just an announcement of marriage.
A tickle of awareness warned even before she sensed him moving close, too close, behind her, “If I did this with wings,” he wrapped his arms about her, whispered against her ear, “I would be protecting you.”
Trapping me, she thought, fighting the panic. Not fear of him, but of her. That she liked the feel of him against her, the fence of his arms.
She stepped forward, breaking his hold.
“The grounds…” She cleared her throat, amazed words could escape at all. He really shouldn’t stand so close. “Quite extensive.”
He moved beside her. “We will ride across the land, and later we can take a carriage to show you.” He gestured, long, strong fingers so casually expressive. “This, before you, is merely the entrance park. The drive on either side leads to the north and the sound ends of the village of Hillside.”
“I see.” She didn’t, but needed to move, to distance herself. She headed for the stairs to her left.
He took her elbow. Tilted his head toward the other side. “Stables are this way.”
She hurried. He merely lengthened his stride, no doubt a more comfortable step than if he’d had to match her normal pace. “It would have suited us better to go out another door,” he admitted, as they walked around a corner without a stable in sight, “but I wanted to give you an idea of St. Martins and her lands.”
“It’s beautiful.” It was, all golden stone.
“If we’d gone the other way, you would have seen the original twelfth century hall. I’m afraid it’s in rather bad repair.”
“Will it survive?”
With her money, of course. It would take her money.
“One would hope so. It bridges the two wings.”
On their ride from London the day before, the duke had told her about St. Martins, its history, the family’s history. She’d listened, more curious than she would have thought. Today he pointed out actual places he’d referred to.
Summerton (Lady Eleanor Mysteries Book 1) Page 4