by Candace Camp
If she were not here, Constance thought, perhaps Dominic might be more agreeable to marrying as his family wished. Without the distraction of his attraction to Constance, he might talk to Muriel more, might spend time with her and find…what? That was the problem. Muriel was a cold, disagreeable snob. Constance could not imagine Dominic even liking her, let alone falling in love with her. And Constance’s absence would do nothing to change Muriel’s character. Nor would she condemn Dominic to a lifetime with Muriel, even if she had the power to do so.
She was resigned to the fact that Dominic would not be in her life in the future. They would part in a few days, and eventually he would marry some other heiress, one who was—she hoped—better than Muriel Rutherford. But right now, surely Constance’s being here would not be ruinous to him or his family. Even if Francesca did have financial problems, Constance could not really believe that she would want her brother to marry someone like Muriel.
It would not matter in the long run, Constance told herself, if she stole a few days of happiness with Dominic. There would be no harm, surely, in her riding about the estate with him today, as he had asked her to last night. The only harm, she thought, would come to her own heart.
She knew that she was perilously close to loving Dominic, that every moment she spent with him pushed her nearer and nearer to that state. Some part of her yearned to know that love, to feel all the happiness that such emotion could bring. Another part of her feared it. She had loved before and been pained to lose it, and she knew that what she had felt before for Gareth, both the love and the pain, would pale before what Dominic could bring to her heart.
Constance went to her wardrobe and pulled out the riding habit that Maisie had brought to her two days after their excursion to the village church. It was made of a deep blue velvet and had belonged to Francesca when she was younger. It had been left here at Redfields, and it had required only letting out the hem to fit Constance. Francesca, even though she had been ill, had set her maid to altering the outfit, an action that had touched Constance deeply. She had known Francesca only a few weeks, yet she was kinder than her own cousins or aunt. Maisie had also found an old pair of Francesca’s boots in her closet, and, fortunately, Constance’s feet were the same size, so she was able to wear them.
Constance hesitated, thinking again about Dominic’s absence for the final portion of the last evening. Perhaps he would not wish to take her riding this morning. Perhaps he regretted what he had told her, or perhaps he had changed his mind about Muriel and realized that he must marry her, no matter what. Constance’s heart clenched inside her at the thought.
At that moment Maisie popped her head in the door to see if Constance was ready to have her hair done. “Oh, going riding, are you, miss?” she asked, and came over to take the skirt and jacket from Constance’s hands. “I’ll just press this, then, while you’re at breakfast.”
“I—I am not certain I will be riding,” Constance equivocated.
“No matter. ’Twill be ready. Now, what would you like for your hair today? Something simple and well-pinned, I should imagine, if you’ll be riding.”
Constance agreed and let the woman begin working her artistry.
Minutes later, when she walked into the dining room, Constance found more people around the long table than were normally there. Dominic was seated at the farthest end of the table, beside his father. Across from him, Constance noted, were Lady Rutherford and her daughter. Dominic seemed engrossed in talking to Mrs. Kenwick and her son Parke, who sat between Dominic and Francesca. Constance glanced at Dominic and quickly away, very aware of the eyes of the Rutherfords on her.
Next to the Rutherfords were the three Nortons and Lady Calandra, the Duke’s sister. As Constance slid into the empty seat beside Francesca, Calandra swung toward her with a friendly smile.
“Hello,” she greeted Constance. “Rochford finally gave in last night and let me stay over. He, of course, went home in the carriage.” She rolled her eyes. “The estate manager and the books cannot wait, it appears.”
“I am glad that you are still here,” Constance replied honestly, having liked the lively young woman on sight.
“Oh, yes,” Elinor Norton agreed emphatically. “The more the merrier for our ride.”
“Ride?” Constance asked.
“Did you not know? Lord Leighton is showing everyone about the estate this afternoon,” her sister Lydia chimed in.
“Sounds like a jolly good time,” their brother, Sir Philip, agreed.
Constance’s gaze went to Dominic for the first time. He looked at her rather ruefully, but said only, “Miss Woodley has already agreed. You cannot back out on me now.”
“When we heard Lord Leighton was planning a tour of the estate, we could not help but want to join in,” Elinor went on happily.
Constance looked toward Muriel, who gazed back at her smugly. Constance had little doubt who had spread the word that Dominic was planning a “tour” of the estate.
“No doubt you will be going as well, Miss Rutherford,” Constance said mildly, allowing none of her irritation to show in her voice.
“Yes, indeed,” Muriel replied with a thin smile. “I would not miss it for the world.” She stood up, pushing back her chair. “Now, if you will excuse me, Lord Selbrooke, I must see to some things.”
“Of course, Lady Muriel.” The Earl beamed at her and returned to his conversation with her father.
Constance swallowed her disappointment. Clearly Muriel had overheard Dominic’s plans to take Constance around the estate, and she had seized the opportunity to deny them the time alone together. Given the stony set of Dominic’s face, Constance did not think that Muriel had helped herself very much. She might have outmaneuvered him, but she would not have endeared herself to him.
It was better, anyway, that they had company, Constance told herself. She could enjoy the time together, but she would not have to worry about how to deal with the wayward passion that always threatened to overcome her when she was alone with him. It was much better. Really.
“Are you coming with us, Francesca?” Constance asked.
Francesca shook her head. “No, I think I am too recently recovered. I shall stay with Mama and the other ladies.”
Cousin Margaret was quick to inform them that she planned to go, as did Lord Dunborough, Mr. Willoughby and most of the young men. Indeed, it seemed that of all the young people, only the shy Miss Cuthbert and Cousin Georgiana, afflicted by a fear of horses, would be staying behind with Francesca and the older women.
“Lord Leighton has promised that we shall go to a promontory from which one can see the entire valley,” Lydia Norton announced.
“I am not sure I should want to go so high,” Cousin Margaret demurred.
“It is a bit of a climb,” Calandra told them. “But when you get to the top, you can see the whole countryside.”
“And we shall have tea in the summer house,” Elinor Norton put in.
“It sounds wonderful,” Constance agreed.
She applied herself to her food, letting the excited chatter of the others swirl around her, and attempted to adjust her expectations for the day.
Later Constance left the table with Francesca and walked with her up the stairs to their rooms. When they reached the door of Constance’s room, she smiled a goodbye at her friend and started inside. But she came to an abrupt halt, sucking in her breath in a sharp exclamation of dismay.
There, on her bed, was the dark blue riding habit, which Maisie had obviously pressed and laid out for Constance to wear. But it would never be worn now, for dozens of long rips ran across the skirt and bodice, reducing the garment to shreds.
“What is it?” Francesca asked, hearing Constance’s gasp and following her into the room. When she saw what lay on the bed, she let out an exclamation. “Sweet heaven! Who could have done such a thing?”
“I don’t know,” Constance replied, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “But I have a good idea.�
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“Yes, I do, too.” Francesca walked over to the bed and looked down at the torn garment. Then she turned to Constance, a dangerous light now glittering in her eyes. “Don’t worry. We will not allow Muriel to get the better of you so easily.”
Constance smiled at her friend, warmed by Francesca’s ready sympathy and eagerness to help. Clearly, any worries she had had that Francesca might prefer Muriel for her brother were not true.
“But how? We already used your old riding habit.”
“You shall simply use the one I brought with me,” Francesca told her. “Maisie can let out the hem in a flash. The party is not leaving for another hour or so. And I shall borrow my mother’s riding habit. It will not matter if it is a trifle large. I have no one I need to impress today.”
“But I thought you were not going,” Constance replied.
“I wasn’t,” Francesca told her grimly. “But Muriel has changed my mind.”
Francesca rang for her maid and showed her the shredded habit, explaining what she wanted her to do. Maisie, after exclaiming over the damage, immediately set to work on Francesca’s riding habit, the light of battle in her eyes, and Francesca went to her mother’s room to borrow her riding clothes. Fortunately, nothing had been done to the old riding boots, because Francesca’s feet could not fit into her mother’s boots.
By the time the others had gathered downstairs for the proposed ride, Maisie had managed not only to let down the hem of Francesca’s riding habit, but also to tack and pin Lady Selbrooke’s dress so that it fit Francesca.
Francesca and Constance went down the stairs to join the others, who were waiting in the entry hall, and Constance had to hide a smile at the expression of surprise, then anger, that flitted across Muriel’s face at the sight of her. Constance gazed back at Muriel, unsmiling, a challenge in her eyes. Muriel’s face tightened, and she whipped around to face the other direction.
The next few minutes were taken up outside mounting their horses, which the grooms had brought around to the front drive. Dominic came up beside Constance, saying, “I chose Grey Lady for you. She’s a good little mare, calm and biddable, but not a laggard.”
Constance turned to look up at him, her stomach fluttering, as always, at the sound of his voice. “Thank you. I have not ridden much in recent years.”
Her mare, the horse she had ridden since she was fourteen, had grown old and slow, but Constance had not had the heart to replace her. And when the mare had died, her uncle had not purchased a new mount for her.
“I was not sure.” Dominic led her to the mare.
Constance spent some time getting acquainted with her horse, stroking its mane and talking to it. Then Dominic gave her a leg up, and she settled into the sidesaddle and took the reins he handed her. Dominic’s stallion was near hers, and he mounted, taking his place beside Constance.
The small company rode out of the yard and took the trail leading back to the farms that were part of the estate. Dominic rode in the lead, with Constance beside him.
She quickly realized why Francesca had been determined to join them for the ride when Muriel drew alongside them, looking her best on horseback, as Constance had noticed on the trip to the church.
“Come, Dominic,” she said, not even glancing at Constance. “I am sure Arion wants to stretch his legs. Let’s race to the stream.”
“I cannot leave the rest of the party,” Dominic responded equably. “I am the one showing the way, after all.”
“Of course you cannot,” Francesca agreed, trotting up beside them. “Come, Muriel, I will race with you.”
Muriel’s mouth tightened. Riding away from the group with Francesca was doubtless not what she wanted. On the other hand, she was rather caught by her own offer.
“All right,” she said with little grace, and the two women took off with a burst of speed.
Dominic and Constance watched as the two horses streaked out ahead of the rest of them. It was little surprise that Muriel won the race, for she was an excellent horsewoman. However, Francesca turned out to have won the day, for she stayed by Muriel’s side, even when Muriel dropped back to join the rest of the group. No matter how Muriel maneuvered to get closer to Dominic, Francesca managed to wedge herself between them. Constance could not keep from smiling to herself, warmed by Francesca’s loyalty.
Constance could not remember when she had enjoyed a day as much. She and Dominic talked and laughed, sometimes alone, sometimes with others of the party around them. He pointed out the various farms and crops along the way, leading them through the edge of the woods and across the meadows. He knew the names of every person they happened upon, and he could tell the history of any part of the land. It was clear from his voice that he loved the estate. It made Constance wonder even more why he had kept himself away from it for so long. Surely it could not be solely because of his parents’ desire to marry him to Miss Rutherford.
His parents were rather stiff, formal people. There was nothing in them of the easy, friendly manner that characterized Dominic and Francesca. But a difference in personality was often in evidence among family members, and it did not usually bring about the sort of distance Constance saw between Dominic and his parents. She had taken note of it throughout the week. Dominic was rarely with either Lord or Lady Selbrooke, and on those occasions when he had been in their company, he had remained there only a short time. At supper, he sat at the end of the table near his father, but that was only because the place cards situated him there. Never had Constance seen him carrying on what she would have termed an easy conversation with the older man. Anyone watching them would have supposed them mere acquaintances.
Something, she thought, must have caused a rift between them, but she had no idea what it had been. Dominic, for all his ease in talking, rarely spoke about the past or his family. The few times she had heard him mention the past, he had talked about his regiment and the days he had spent in the Peninsular Campaign. His memories of his fellow Hussars seemed much warmer than those of his family. Constance could not help but wonder what had happened.
They made their way back toward the house late in the afternoon and stopped at a small ornamental lake that lay within sight of Redfields. A summer house sat at the far end of the lake, with a pleasant path leading all the way around the small body of water.
They found two footmen and two maids in the summer house, putting the finishing touches on the afternoon tea that they had brought down in large wicker baskets from the main house. They had laid snowy damask coverings on two wooden trestle tables. On one table stood a large urn of tea, and on either side lay platters of tea cakes, biscuits, scones and crustless wedges of sandwiches.
After the afternoon’s ride, the food was more than welcome, and everyone dug in eagerly. They sat around for some time afterward, lazily talking. Sir Philip and his sisters wanted to try out the two small boats moored at the pier beside the lakehouse, and young Parke Kenwick, who seemed rather smitten with Miss Lydia, volunteered to make a fourth with them.
Shortly afterward, Francesca persuaded Muriel to accompany her on a short stroll around the lake. Muriel seemed somewhat reluctant, casting an eye toward the other end of the table, where Dominic was sitting, surrounded by his friends. However, Francesca paid no attention to her hesitation and linked her arm through Muriel’s, professing her desire to get Miss Rutherford’s opinion of the decoration scheme she was planning for her music room. Muriel could do little but give in gracefully.
Next to Constance, Lady Calandra smothered a giggle. “Francesca seems to have developed an inordinate fondness for Muriel.”
Constance glanced at her and found Calandra’s expressive dark eyes dancing with laughter. She could not keep from breaking into a grin, as well. “Indeed, she has.”
“Poor Muriel, I am sure it must be horribly frustrating for her. She wants to hang on Dominic’s arm, but she is too much of a snob not to be flattered by Lady Haughston’s attentions.”
Constance did not know
what to say to the young woman. Calandra seemed to have assessed the situation quite correctly, but Constance was unsure whether the girl was aware of the reasons for Francesca’s actions.
“Well, we must make use of the time that Francesca has sacrificed herself to give you,” Calandra went on merrily. She turned toward her host. “Dominic, you promised earlier to show us the promontory.”
“Of course.” Dominic smiled at Calandra. “You have only to ask.” He cast a look toward the lake, where Francesca was slowly strolling arm in arm with Miss Rutherford. “Yes, I suppose now would be a good time.”
“But what about Lady Haughston?” asked Alfred Penrose, who had, Constance suspected, developed something of a crush on Francesca. “Will she not want to come?”
“Oh, no,” Calandra assured him quickly. “I feel sure she would not wish it. She has seen it many times, and she is still feeling rather weak from her illness. In fact, she might appreciate it if you were to join her and Miss Rutherford on their stroll.”
“Why, yes, I suppose I could.” Penrose looked quite taken with the idea, promptly standing up and excusing himself.
Once again Constance and Calandra exchanged glances, and it was all Constance could do not to laugh. “You wicked girl,” she murmured to Calandra. “Lady Francesca will repay you for that.”
Lady Calandra giggled. “I could not resist. Anyway, having spent the afternoon in Muriel’s company, I suspect that Francesca will be thrilled to have anyone else to talk to.”
After a bit of discussion, it was arranged that Mr. Carruthers and Mr. Willoughby, along with Constance’s cousin Margaret, Constance and Lady Calandra would join the expedition to the promontory to see the view of the surrounding countryside. They set out immediately, curving away from the main house and entering the woods on the northern edge.
Calandra rode beside Constance for a time. Just behind them, Margaret was flirting madly with the blond, rather shy Carruthers. The other men led the way, winding through the trees. The ground soon began to rise, slowing them even further.